A nation in red and green

Bangladesh was dressed in red and green this week. The country celebrated its 45th Victory Day on Friday. 

The streets were crowded with people in red and green clothes, scarves and hats - the colors of the young nation. Cars, rickshaws, bikes, shops and office buildings were decorated with national flags in all sizes and shapes.

Bangladesh had a very bloody birth, followed by much violence and suffering. There has been a lot of progress but for a newcomer the country still looks like - I apologize - a mess. But the society seems to be functional, in a Bangla way.

I was lucky to be invited as a spouse to the President's Victory Day reception on Friday afternoon. Thousands of people were listening to patriotic music and mingling in the presidential garden, physically very close to thousands of poor people just outside the palace.

My husband attended the formal celebrations relay which started at dawn by wreath laying and continued by a military parade. 

I followed the parade on tv - it was a show-off of national pride and military muscles mixed with political propaganda.

Every single piece of the armed forces from fighter planes to attack elephants and army excavators were exhibited.

It is very dusty during the winter in Bangladesh but in the parade everything looked brand new and shiny. 

Photo credit for the parade pictures goes to my husband, the rest are my mobile phone shots.

On the personal note I feel very blessed just now. Both of my "babies" are visiting us in Dhaka. The whole family can be together for a couple of days. 

Happy holidays!

Super gloom

Lesserwisser has been hibernating a while. Actually I would like to wake up round 2020 and hope that the world still exists, people are wise and live in peace and harmony.

Unfortunately, the future looks more like I observed the super moon over Dhaka. Not very bright, not very big, rather super gloom. (Sunset in the picture above).

Terror, killings and violence are just escalating in Bangladesh. Recently the target have been Hindus and Santals. 

Hindu homes and temples in the eastern part of Bangladesh were under fierce attacks after a local youth allegedly shared a Facebook posting that Islamic hardliners said denigrated a holy site for Muslims.

Muslim hardliners protested and demanded action against the Hindu youth, who is illiterate and probably didn't write the posting.

Later at least four members of the indigenous Santal community were killed and more than thousand Santal families were forced to abandon their homes in the northern part of Bangladesh due to a land dispute. Santals belong to one of largest indigenous tribes in the area.

Radical islamism is tightening its grip of Bangladesh. This is also clearly visible in the streets of Dhaka where more and more women go more and more covered.

The pictures are taken from our building's roof top - the only place we can be outside in addition to expat clubs.

Life in Dhaka for foreigners gets more and more limited day by day. The streets are full of armed police men, check-points and security people. One is not supposed to walk at all. At the same time the traffic is, if possible, worse than ever. 

We are lucky to have the rooftop. With a pool, or rather an overgrown tub.

But I will never swim there after I saw a maid washing clothes in the pool. She had hung the washed items in the trees.

But not all is bad - I will start at a new part time job this week. At the moment the temperature is very pleasant, the air is not as polluted as in the winter and the mosquitoes haven't arrived yet.

Bangladeshi Star Wars

Terror attacks, earthquakes, demonstrations, suffocating traffic, extreme poverty, incredible wealth, misery, happiness, corruption, hope, despair.

Plus many other things.

Over 400 days down - who counts - some 300 to go - who counts.

Suddenly I am a senior in Dhaka. Now I have a faint idea of directions, places and people. I can tell where to get a haircut, what to wear, who to tip, what to eat and what not.

Still, every day in Dhaka is a big surprise - inspiring but also exhausting.

During the first year here I have become an expert in protecting myself. Due to the circumstances.

The day starts with brushing my teeth with filtered water to avoid diarrhea. This is worth mentioning since exactly today I have spent most of the day close to the bathroom.

The Dhaka water quality not only eats one´s inner organs but also hair. I have lost half  of my hair and will probably be totally bald when we move from Bangladesh.

Next: one lotion to protect the skin against the sun, another against mosquitoes.

All-body-covering clothes against stares and giggling. This never works, my wrinkled facial skin is a major attraction anyway.

At home we have two metal coffins full of equipment in case of an earthquake. Plus a satellite phone.

Seven locks, iron bars, armed guards before entering a car with tinted glasses for transport. 

Metal detectors at the entrance of the grocery store. Bullet proof windows. Armored cars. No-stay at the rooftop terrace because of potential snipers.

The list gets longer and longer, more and more advanced daily.

The security measures in Dhaka have become a kind of star wars between  embassies, organizations and companies. The bigger the guns, the safer the lives of the employees.

Maybe.

The security measures rule out the bad but also the good.

This is what the terrorists want: deprive people of their normal life, suffocate them with security and isolation, finish with insanity.

My private "counter terrorism" consists of small walks where I can observe the wild, crazy, inspiring life in Dhaka. 

Today´s pictures show how sewer renovation is done in this city. Talk of stamina, muscle power and low tech.

Tens of thounsand of (mostly) men have dreams of making a fortune in the Gulf states as foreign workers. They line up for hours for a medical attest in the heat or heavy rain or both.  

Often they have to borrow at least two years` salary for the paperwork and travel costs before they can earn any money.  Many never manage to pay their debts and end up working as badly treated slaves.

Every year half a million leave Bangladesh for a job in the neighboring countries. Manpower is number two export source after the garment industry.

Time for a little break from Dhaka, back in November.

Rivers of blood - wearing a saree

The morning of Eid-ul-Azha was rainy. People were slaughtering cattle in heavy showers. The animals were screaming, blood was flooding, poor people were gathering in front of better-offs´ houses for pieces of meat.

The rain continued, so did the slaughtering. 

The sewage system in Dhaka is not functional and soon the streets were flooded with blood and water.

We were driving in rivers of blood. The sight was both unique and shocking. 

I felt awful for the rikshaw pullers who had to pedal in the bloody mess. 

Eid-ul-Azha is the second largest Muslim festival, a very important celebration for all Bangladeshis. It´s all about sacrifice and devotion.

Unfortunately, the slaughtering part is too tough for me.

This year I was, however, looking forward to Eid since I was invited as a spouse to official arrangements and would wear a saree for the first time ever.

First times are hard. And this was not an exception.

The outfit consists of 5-6 meters of fabric, a petticoat and a short top. 

The fabric is draped elegantly around the body, with the help of the petticoat and safety pins. 

It looks easy. 

I tried the draping myself and ended up as a mummy. Decided to get help on the day of the event.

The top required more filling than I am blessed with. I was advised to wash the top so that it would shrink. 

Well, it didn´t but it was torn - and in relatively strategic places.

I repaired the holes and "fixed" the size. Handicraft is not my specialty. Not a good start for my saree career.

Finally the Eid morning came. But not the lady who was supposed to drape the saree. She didn´t pick up the phone, time was flying.

Internet tutorials were not very helpful unless I wanted the mummy version.

Desperation was close until our wonderful driver solved everything quickly. He connected me with a lady who did a good job. I was wearing a saree!

It was hard to walk, difficult to breathe and impossible to use the bathroom. 

But well worth the sacrifice. 

Selfies with cows and scares

 According to newspapers, life in Dhaka is becoming normal again. Locals are back in the streets, stores and cafees. Dhaka is as it should be: crazy busy, loud,colorful, sleepless, never ending - an Asian NYC.
Still, I have a feeling that somebody or something is tearing apart the society. Please, let me be wrong.



Eid-ul-Azha, the second biggest religious festival of the Muslims, is just round the corner. Cows, sheep, goats, camels will invade the city. Social media will be filled with cowfies - selfies with cows, a big thing in this country.
The  creatures will first be decorated, celebrated, cowfied and then slaughtered with a machete in the street. And finally served at lavish dinners.



After the brutal and bloody terror attack two months ago I am afraid that Eid this time will be a traumatic experience to many.  Bloody machetes and carving of carcasses in the streets are not exactly healing things.
Last year , the parking lot in our previous building became first a cowshed and then a slaughterhouse. Days after the celebrations, househelps were washing bowels and crushing bones in the basement. Weeks after, I felt the smell of blood.



We foreigners still need to stay at home. No stores, no cafees, no walking for us.
Therefore it was good to get a little breather in Myanmar a couple of weeks ago. One day with meetings, one day with sightseeing. Good to take pictures again. 
Based on thin and hasty first impressions, Myanmar looks like the new Thailand. Wonderful nature, rich history and genuine smiles. Amazing drive in a country that only recently was under the rule of an oppressive military junta.

House arrest

Back in Dhaka though this is not the same city I left some weeks ago. 

I arrived to a depressed, wounded place.

Dhaka is still bleeding after the July 1. terror attack where 20 people were killed in a most brutal way.  The attack was targeted at foreigners and secular Bangladeshis. Consequently, the security measures here are really, really strict now.

This is a klondyke for barbed wire sellers, surveillance equipment business and security companies. Dhaka is full of green police uniforms, patrol cars and even police boats.

The city cannot be safer than this  but still all foreigners are grounded. Many embassies and foreign companies have made spouses and children leave Bangladesh.

At the moment there are two places where one is allowed to go: work and home. And the transfer between these destinations has to be done by car, preferably with dark tinted windows. Irrespective how ridiculously short the distance is.

So, at free time the options are to stay at home, be at home or alternatively remain at home. 

In our case the house arrest has so far been easy since we moved to a new apartment and settling down always takes some time. 

But in the long run I will probably be an expert on strange tv-shows, bad films and marginal sports broadcasts.

More seriously, the situation is not good. 

People are afraid and suspicious. Since the attack was carried out by young men, even Bangladeshis panic whenever a group of youngsters with backpacks enters a cafe or a store.

But life goes on and my house arrest is really a minor thing compared to the hard life so many people here lead. People endanger their lives every day for very little money. These young men install air condition units to a new building. No security measures here. 

Joining hands

Thousands of kilometers and several times zones away the agony is excruciating. The  tragedy is Dhaka feels unbearable even in my home country where I arrived on Friday afternoon.

Every Friday I used to go to Holey Bakery to buy misty rolls and sticky buns for lunch. Every now and then I sat down at the cafe and didn't have to order because the staff knew that I would have green tea and a sticky bun.
I would enjoy my snack, the beautiful surroundings and the friendly service. Watch kids play outside, admire the stylish locals and greet the more casually dressed foreigners.

And I will keep on doing all this, at the Holey Bakery in Dhaka.
My thoughts are with the victims, the wounded and their loved ones.
But also in the future.
This is the time to show that good is stronger than bad.
There is place for versatility, free thought, liberal ideas, different religions or no religions at all.
There is place for respect and love for each other.

I reach out my hand, please take it. Do the same to the person next to you.

Vegetarian blood in the sunset

6.50 pm. Or round there. Finally.

The daily fast is over and people can start eating.

Ramadan has so far been a very intense experience. Especially for a person who doesn't fast.

Many of my colleagues join me for lunch. They sit and watch me eating while they are enjoying (or suffering)  their 11 or so hours fast. Day by day their cheeks are hollower and hollower, their eyes softer and softer, 

First the setting was very embarrassing, but they insist that they get extra points by not eating while others are doing that. 

Maybe I can get  bonus by offering an opportunity to temptations?

I have learnt to love the time just after the sunset. The normally so overpopulated, crazy, busy, sickly overactive city is empty, dead, desolate. 

For fifteen minutes.

After binge eating starts the shopping. It is just insane. Think of Christmas shopping, multiple it with a billion and you are in the Dhaka Eid shopping spree.

Bangladeshi people are extremely generous, and holiday shopping is a serious sport. The prices are higher than normally, the quality of the products lower, service is an unknown factor. But people buy gifts to family, friends and relatives like crazy.

No shame to ask for gifts either. The staff in our building started to remind us of the time of generosity for a while ago. One is expected to give to money to everybody from the newspaper boy to the security guy. Or course we do it. In the bigger picture, gifting also keeps the economy rolling.

Now a couple of weeks vacation ahead. 

In August we have been in Bangladesh a year. I thought that it would be a natural time to stop writing about my experiences as a newcomer. Maybe it is not. In Bangladesh every day is an adventure, a place for an eternal fledling.

The pictures in this posting are - again - a random selection.

This is also the season for fruit. One of the most extreme things is Bangladesh's national fruit, Jack fruit. Already as a "baby" is looks - well - strange, as a ripe fruit it is almost gross. Jack fruit can weigh up to 35 kilos. Cutting a jack fruit looks like slaughtering a plant. With the smell of vegetarian blood.

Street cafees are hidden behind plastic walls during the day. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

The diplomatic quarters of Dhaka is home for many things - like cows.

Bikinis and binge eating

"Earthquake secure, full generator back-up, 24-7 security", the broker shone like the infernally hot sun in Dhaka. 

"The servant's room" he presented proudly a minimal room with a hole in one end of the space - the bathroom. Staff are supposed to to their business (whichever) standing.

Once in a while I have a vague feeling that I'm starting to have an idea of Bangladesh. But no, I bump to cultural differences every day which makes me more and more confused.

House hunting here focuses on slightly different criteria than I am used to. Not so many words of quality materials,  beautiful finish or practical layout. But the brokers are as eloquent as anywhere. One promised - without a blink of an eye - that his building would tolerate a 12 magnitude earthquake. The construction must be quite solid since the most severe earthquakes have been just under 10 magnitude.

While most  of Dhaka's inhabitants live cramped and saddenly many without basic amenities, the wealthy part of the city (ours) is full of expensive, oversize apartments.

Our present apartment is so big that the first days I really had to concentrate to find my way to the outdoor. 

Presently we also have - at least in theory - security. Our gatekeepers are experts in sleeping while standing. Our front desk man reads and chants loudly the Quran all day long and doesn't like to be disturbed. No blame on the poor guys. They are always at work and earn next to nothing. During ramadan they are also hungry all the time.

Ramadan dominates life now. Naturally, since more than 90 per cent of the population  are muslims.

People eat their main meal while I'm sleeping tightest round 3-4 am. After sunrise they eat or drink nothing, not a piece of snack,  not a drop of water. Smoking is not allowed, nor is sex. 

Just before sunset everybody rushes home like crazy for Iftar, the meal after sunset. The traffic in Dhaka is always chaotic but these days it's a honking, dusty, hot, impatient, irritable hell of non-moving vehicles. 

The long hours without food and water must be really hard for the body but I'm afraid the real danger is the daily binge eating in the late hours of the day. The typical Iftar food must make any ambitious nutritionist change careers. Think of all fat possible and pair it with sugary sweets and you have the perfect sunset menu.

This is also mango time. I had barely tasted a mango before moving to Bangladesh. Now I could live on banglamangoes. 

It's getting really, really hot here but the weather has no impact on the local dress code. Women are covered irrespective of temperatures. No light summer dresses, no spaghetti tops, no shorts. 

A couple of weeks ago I visited a water park in Chittagong. Fully dressed people enjoyd swimming, ocean wave pools and water slides. Fortunately, saris were forbidden.

And yes, in August we are moving to a new, smaller apartment.