Thai edition - missing the smiles

 One of Dhaka's great advantages is its vicinity to other Asian countries. 

A couple of hours flight took us to Thailand's Hua Hin for the holidays two weeks ago. 

We had a little family reunion with 50 per cent of our descendants.

Thus, the observations are from Thailand. As usually, based on pure ignorance and highly personal experiences.

We stayed in the outskirts of Hua Hin, a royal beach resort. 

The city was full of tourists, just like us, enjoying the warm climate, the beaches and the delicious food. 

Our village, Khao Takieb, offered less alternatives and a quieter life, perfect after Dhaka's cacophony and craziness. 

Long walks in fresh air and in minimal clothing were balsam for a Dhaka body and soul.

One thing I wondered: the land of the smiles. 

Where were the smiles?

Many locals were indifferent, some even arrogant. 

I have great understanding for people whose income depend on filing tourists' dirty nails or massaging their pink flesh. I wouldn't smile either. 

But still, back in Dhaka this week I went to a local store and was drowned in personal service, jokes and laughter.

In Thailand it was wonderful see a more organized society than that in Bangladesh. 

A couple of days in Bangkok showed that it's possible to create a functional infrastructure even in a huge city. 

The skytrain system was effective and fast, the metro no worse.

The most memorable experience were the waterways. We took an commuter express  boat for people  coming to and from work from the northern outskirts of Bangkok. For a euro or two one moves very - really very - fast along the rivers. 


The boats are overcrowded and you have to be both fast and brave (I am none) getting on and offboard.  

The King is very important in Thailand. No more comments.

The last day of this year will end quietly in this household. The authorities have decided that people in the city have to be at home latest at 8 pm on New Year's Eve. 

Happy 2016!

Fragile

People usually associate Bangladesh with garment industry, cheap t-shirts, sweatshops, Rana Plaza, tragedy.

It is true, but business life in Bangladesh is much more versatile. One of the fast growing branches is the ceramics industry.

Last weekend one of the high positioned female diplomats here invited a bunch of women to a tour to a ceramics factory just outside Dhaka. 

Shinepukur's factory produces about 20 million pieces of ceramics and bone china annually. It's a huge heap of cups, plates and mugs. Beautiful things. You don't actually need them but you cannot get enough of them. 

The factory produces all the brands you and I used to have at home or at least we were dreaming of them. 

Later, we couldn't afford the products and the Western owners of the companies outsourced their production to Bangladesh. 

The prices came down a bit, the quality a little more, but we are buying again.

Now the Bangladeshi people have work, the employees in the Western countries are probably unemployed. We have a bad conscience. This is globalization, it hurts. 

The factory employs round 3000 people who work in two shifts from 6 am to 2 pm and from 2 pm to 10 pm. 

Naturally, for very little money, at best 4000 taka (50 euro) per month. 

The conditions were not wonderful but not totally awful either - otherwise the company wouldn't give these tours. 

Compared with Western standards many things are done manually and without visible safety measures. 

Safety at work is generally not a big issue here. 

Asphalt making is so dangerous and old-fashioned that even cavemen would look like astronauts. The workers melt stones to asphalt on fire, as fuel they use pieces of surplus clothes. Everything is done by muscle power.

Finishing a high rise building's facade can be done by two men sitting on a bamboo ladder. They were chatting, I was sweating.

Finally: Facebook was unblocked today.

Handmade in Bangladesh

"Madame wants the bread sliced?", the man behind the bakery's counter asked.

"Yes, please", I was gladly surprised since I hadn't seen a slicing machine in Dhaka so far.

Well,  I didn't this time either. In came a young man who took a knife and started slicing my bread. 

Most things are very handmade in Bangladesh.

Preparing food by hand is one thing, eating it with hands is another. 

I know, there are many countries where people eat with their hands. Bangladesh happens to be my first encounter with this phenomenon. 

Mixing rice and sauce with fingers to a mouthful is an art far beyond my abilities. Eating with a hand is not a privilege of the poor people, I have seen well manicured, diamond ringed fingers in the same activity. The most extreme experience was a dinner where a totally burkha covered woman ate with her hand, lifting the veil for every bite. And didn't make a mess.

Restaurants appealing to more Western clientele don't forbid eating with fingers but they try to discourage it. They have signs asking the customers to "enjoy your food with the utensils provided by us".

Dishwashers are not so common. Rather, there is house help washing up a heap of dishes several times a day, every day. 

Poor people wash their clothes by hand but I was shocked when I read in the newspaper that local hospitals in Dhaka get their laundry washed in the Buriganga River. The water quality in the river is mildly said suspicious and the bed linen will certainly not become very sterile.

Garbage recirculation is also done manually. Young boys (they are usually young boys) hang over their garbage vans on wheels, sort out everything by bare hands. Extremely dirty, hard and dangerous work.

Bangladeshi hands are also able create the most beautiful handicrafts and art work. Needle, thread, colors and skills create wonderful pictures, textiles, design utensils. I have become totally addicted to local painters' work. Visual arts actually deserve a separate posting.

Otherwise. We are still "without" Facebook. Officially. The local newspaper revealed that even the Government uses VPN services and thus disregard their own Facebook ban. Many ministers and high officials have been posting actively during the ban, now in its third week.

It is also winter time, they say. The temperature is below 30 C (86 F) and local people wear jackets, hats and scarves. 

Big hearts and open arms

 

 Hospitality in Bangladesh is overwhelming. I have experienced the same extreme cordiality regardless of the host's financial or social status.

As a guest one is treated like a king, no matter how poor or rich the host is. Surprising and very touching.

Not only are the guests served massive amounts of food but also gifts.  It's hard to know how to express enough gratitude when one leaves with both stomach and hands full. And has only newcomer embarrassment to offer in exchange. Lesson to learn here.

We were in a heavy hospitality rain during a few days trip to Chittagong Hill Tracts last week. The Hill Tracts is an area in the southeastern corner of Bangladesh, bordering India and Myanmar. 

Banana trees grow in the slopes, the nature is green, the air fresh. Cows and goats wander in the middle of the roads.  There are vast forest areas, blue waterways and nice hiking routes.

The region is beautiful but poor and troubled. Years of conflicts between the Bengali and the indigenous population have harmed the economic and social development. 

We (again I was allowed to join my husband on a field trip) visited the town of Rangamati and a little island in the Kaptai Lake, a man made lake created as a part of a hydroelectric project. 

The inhabitants of the island have very little but thanks to a development program the housing, income and education situation is better. 

A teacher who earns 2000 taka (25 euro) a month was teaching the kids about the different countries in the world. Many places seemed to be rather remote from this island. 

The parents have also learnt how to present their issues to the authorities. Most of them had never been into a public office before. 

And they had a lot of issues, can just think how desperate the local officials are now. 

Otherwise the government is still blocking the social media. The blockade is not totally effective thanks to VPN services.

Hope that everybody takes the Prime Minister's photo as their temporary profile picture when Facebook is back.  

Joy at the intellectual candy store

It's always interesting and rewarding to be in the company of more intelligent people than one self. And in my case the outsmarting is a no-challenge.

Dhaka Literature Festival this weekend was a three days event offering an intellectual candy store for book lovers, academics, thinkers and the rest of us. 

The event arranged by Dhaka Tribune at the premises of University of Dhaka was a wonderful, positive surprise in the middle of the rather insecure and grey situation here otherwise. 

The festival offered dozens of interesting debates with well known writers and scholars. Lots of people - well of course, this is a city with 20 million people - a beautiful setting and a schedule that was on time. A new and encouraging experience.

Sometimes you hope that things would never stop. I had this feeling while listening to Professor Rehman Sobhan. No mistake here, I had no idea who this guy was. But what a star!

His eloquence, knowledge and humour took the audience through the recent history of Bangladesh, or the march to independence through his personal memoirs.

Enough candy now and back to reality: we are still blocked from the social media. Kids, keep on sending e-mails.

I have a feeling that things can now turn to normal or even better or then to even more devastating chaos.

The war criminals are still waiting to be hanged and the opposition leader returns to Dhaka from a few months stay in London tonight. 

The pictures are even more awful than normally, blame Iphone.

Edit: This rather - hm - explicit newspaper illustration states the situation now.

Black out in Bangladesh

Life in Bangladesh is not boring. 

Often surprising. Most of the time rather arduous.

Sometimes a little frightening. 

This Wednesday the Bangladeshi government shut down the internet for an hour and a half, first time ever.  

Facebook, Facebook Messenger, Viber and Whatsapp services have been blocked since then. And at the writing moment they still are. 

Sorry kids, no messages from Mommy. Maybe you are just happy for this.

All these measures were taken for security reasons after the Bangladesh Supreme Court upheld the sentences of two men convicted of war crimes during the Independence War against Pakistan in 1971.

The two men convicted are to be executed. By hanging.

They were convicted of genocide and rape. 

For a newcomer all of this is both brutal and incomprehensible. 

Part of the opposition called for a general strike (hartal) on Thursday. 

The effect was rather lame but enough to make the life of the average Bangladeshi even more difficult. 

The no-show continued on Thursday night at a more more private scene. No tap water. 

The water came back, eventually also the social media network. Finally maybe also the more normal life.

Tranquility in a tea garden

 

The terror attacks in Paris are deeply shocking and sad.

In the middle of grief solacing pictures from the tranquility of a tea garden in the northeastern part of Bangladesh.

A long, solitary walk in a tea garden should be mandatory to everybody. An unending, hilly forest of tea bushes is bound to make one a more thankful and better person. 

Once again, I was lucky enough to follow my husband to a meeting, this time to a little village called Lalakhan, close to the Indian border. 

The area looks like a paradise with beautiful trees, colorful flowers, a turquoise river, fresh air, shy children and sweet baby animals.

The night in Lalakhan was so silent that you could almost hear the stars twinkling. Accompanied by a large chorus of frogs, a wonderful combination.

Like in many other places in Bangladesh, here too people work extremely hard for very little money. 

But this is a beautiful place to struggle. 

People make a living on collecting low quality coal from the bottom of the river. And since labor force in Bangladesh costs next to nothing, everything is done manually. 

Men stand in the water, dive, catch and collect coal. The coal is sold to brick factories which use it as fuel.

Some fill sand bags sold to the construction business, others collect pieces of firing wood from the bottom of the river.

Sylhet is also the "Tea Bordeaux" of Bangladesh. Blame the British. They started tea gardens here and made the whole world addicted.

Lalakhal Tea Estate is now owned by a Bangladeshi company but it's still a showcase of the colonial time and style.

The tea company offers a small income, primary education, health care and no big future plans for the 5000 people living inside the tea farm. Many of them work, live and die there.

Most of them are hindus. Women work in the fields, they pick tea leaves and earn round 80 takas (less than a euro) a day.

Men work in the factory where the leaves are dried and cut. 

In the living quarters the tea workers have small houses, they get water from the wells for an hour twice  a day, they wash their clothes in the river. Many have cows and sheep, everybody has a mobile phone.