Man! I Feel Like a Woman!

Ever since we arrived in Dhaka, the gender inequalities in Bangladesh have been obvious. The employment rate, education rate, any statistic in the book points to the gap in opportunities available to men and women.

Women here are covered from head to toe in their salwar kameez and even some women wear a full burqua. On the other side of things, you constantly see men peeing in public and doing whatever they please. But I will write more about that in a separate post.

Cristina's diplomatic card arrived not long time ago and the Government of Bangladesh made sure her role was clearly spelled out on it: "She is the spouse of  Diplomat".

Needless to say Vlad and I still have a good laugh about it.

Roadside tea stalls

The Tea stalls (Chayer Dokan) are such a common sight in Bangladesh and in Dhaka in particular. This is the place the day laborer, the rickshaw puller, the student,  or the garments workers come together.

A small place surrounded (maybe) by a few chair, furnished with kettle, bread, banana, filter water bottle. I see them all the time when I move around the city.

Bangladeshis took to drinking tea from the Brits during their colonial times. Even though is not the same quality as the one grown in Sri Lanka, tea is one of the most exportable items in Bangladesh.

Once it was drunk in the restaurants. But now it is sold in footpath of city area. Why? Because it is cheaper. But how secure or healthy a tea stall on the footpath can be? A tea cup is used many times without proper cleaning. I doubt the quality of filter water too. I can't even look at the baked products sold there.

On a funny note, when we moved to Dhaka, there was an old lady with a tea stall right next to our temporary house. Business was brisk, the customers did not seem to mind everything was cooked right on top of the sewage drain. We would pass by at least once a day and every single time I would notice Cristina fighting a gagging reflex, trying not to throw up. Two weeks later, on her first day on the job, a local employee brought some food from the street for lunch and Cristina was quickly offered some sort of a fried meatball. She bit the bullet and decided to be polite and eat it. Five minutes later, same guy comes back with tea. Flashbacks of the old lady cooking on top of the sewage and courtesy was thrown in the wind :

"Thank you, but I just had my coffee"

I still laugh thinking about the episode :)

A tiny little tea stall on the side of the road. It's actually built on stilts, suspended over the drainage ditch. Once again, they manage to make use of every possible open space in this crowded city.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

Up until today, there has never been serious unrest inside of diplomatic enclave. That means that Gulshan and Baridhara (the so called diplomatic zones) never came under attack. 

But we are now living in different times or like Bob Dylan song goes:

"The times they are a-changin'..."

Angry over the deaths in Savar building collapse, thousands of garment workers vandalized today hundreds of vehicles in different parts of the city, including Gulshan.

Ironically, the vandalism also disrupted supply to different hospitals and clinics in Savar area which are treating the injured victims.

Give the ambulance the right of way...or maybe not!

As I said before, traffic is bad here. In fact, bad is taken to a new level. Is you against everybody. Fight tooth and nail for your spot. Do not back down. NEVER, EVER, give up an inch. Honk at others even if there is no way in hell they can move one inch. Get on the opposite lane and drive against the incoming traffic. Use the sidewalk if your car is tall enough. But above all, DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT EVER MAKE WAY TO AN AMBULANCE.


I see ambulances stuck in traffic all the time and I see them being cut off all the time. It seems like everyone is voting not to believe there is a real emergency inside of that ambulance. My guess is if it were a real emergency, they would be driving AGAINST TRAFFIC???

So, I am praying none of us will be sick enough to need an ambulance here. I would not want to have to choose between waiting in traffic, like everyone else, (and maybe die) and telling my driver to go against traffic.

"Bondhu (friend), let's just try our luck driving against the traffic. I feel lucky today!" After all, is all about minimizing risk :)

Doctor! Doctor!

The other day, in the morning we found a parked ambulance inside of our apartment complex. Our hearts stopped at its sight and quickly asked the driver what happened. Who is sick?

"No worries, boss, we are just taking your neighbor to the airport. Is a hartal day!"

Dhaka is quickly becoming a city of ambulances. Because they are not (generally) molested on the roads by pickets, suddenly there are tons of them, not all complete with flashing lights but with AMBULANCE or AMBALANCE written all over them. Dacia is telling me that one her classmates owns a big one, no bed in the back, just benches.

Strangely, the "injured" inside look remarkably fit, and there are usually about a dozen of them sitting there with prayer caps on, showing a reserved smile.

Oh well, TIB :)

Some more "good" news from Dhaka

After a terrible start of the week, we got hit with more bad news yesterday.

The nine story Rana Plaza building in Savar (20 miles outside of Dhaka) collapsed like a deck of cards. Around 3,000 workers were working inside of the building on Wednesday when this happened.

Firefighters and soldiers joined volunteers in the effort to locate survivors in the mangled wreckage of concrete and steel. Death toll has easily passed 200 at the time I am writing this, but there are lot of people still trapped inside, so I would not be surprised if we end up with a lot more than that. Trapped workers can still be heard inside the rubble, screaming for help. Local hospitals are overwhelmed with scores of people injured.

Bangladesh has one of the largest garment industries in the world, providing cheap clothing for major Western retailers which benefit from its widespread low-cost labor. The money gained from exporting textiles is the single greatest source of economic growth. Exports of textiles, clothing, and ready-made garments accounted for 80% of Bangladesh’s total exports.

However, the country has chronically poor safety standards, so this came as no surprise. What is somewhat new are the circumstances surrounding the collapse. The building violated any construction codes and the owner illegally added three extra stories to the building. On Tuesday morning, cracks developed on some pillars and a few floors of the building following a jolt, causing panic among the people working there. They rushed out of the building and some even got injured in the process. The industrial police visited the building that day and advised  suspending operations of the factories. The warnings and instructions were all ignored. The owners of the garments closed their factories around Tuesday noon but asked the workers to show up for work the next day. Still shaken by the scare they got the day before, the workers turned up for work yesterday but many were hesitant about getting into their factories. They have been told that some engineers had certified that the building was safe. The factories deduct salaries for three days for any non working day, so people had to go inside. The irony is that Sohel Rana, owner of Rana Plaza, was inside the building when it collapsed. He was rescued and is now on the run.

It is really a catch 22 situation. Western retailers try to keep costs down. Bangladesh is one of the longest lead-time country and a difficult country to work in, so the only way it becomes competitive is by offering the lowest cost. If the factories want to raise prices to make up for rising wages and costs, the buyers will say, "Why do we want to go to Bangladesh if I could go to China, Pakistan, Cambodia etc for a similar price?" That would lead to a lot of people losing their income source.

Rickshaw design

The rickshaws are personalized and decorated with colorful paintings and murals of everything from famous Bollywood actors, cricket players and global politicians to animals, birds and flowers. Some have pictures of mosques, village scenes or famous buildings. Some might carry political statements (portraits of Saddam Hussein or Osama bin laden). A few tell stories but most are just there to look colourful.
Each rickshaw is hand made and most of them come from one place. I have not yet visited the village, but most of them are made then customized by the person who rents them out or the renter. A rickshaw is basically a half of a bicycle with a carriage on two wheels instead of the back wheel. The carriage is made of wood and metal and welded on to the front end. There are no gears, and the breaks only control the front wheel. The more decorous rickshaws are surprisingly expressive and will often have portraits of family members, national heroes, and Bollywood stars along with the rickshaw walla’s phone number.

Some rickshaw wallas seem to have painted their very dreams onto their vehicles. The power of the human spirit is constantly on display in this city where hope can seem to be justifiably lost.

The rickshaw capital of the world

Rickshaws are one of Dhaka's most famous sights and one that you can't fail to see. With 400,000 rickshaws on its busy streets, it's no wonder that some describe Dhaka as "the rickshaw capital of the world". They weave in and out of the traffic, as much a part of the landscape as the people and the vehicles.
Bdesh is the perfect environment for rickshaws. The land is flat, flat-- and that matters when you are hauling a 150 pound bike (before passengers), effectively with no breaks. There is an enormous population of unskilled laborers who flood to Dhaka in order to find work. There is a similarly large population of people who cannot afford to travel by compressed natural gas baby taxi. And everyone hates to walk too far in Bangladesh, it’s just too hot.

From a passenger perspective, when the wheels hit a bump or an unexpected turn is made, you want to see it coming. I have definitely caught unexpected air on a couple of speed bumps. The seat is about 10 inches deep, so my American butt made sitting comfortably a little more tricky. As the rickshaws weave through traffic, a small touch from a car could send the passengers flying onto the asphalt.Ironically, because they cannot change directions well, they pretty much rule the road. The classic move is to cross four lanes of traffic without even checking to see if it’s safe. The passengers ensure safety by putting out the "magic hand," which is far more respected than turn signals or laws of physics in Dhaka. Rickshaws quite literally expect cars to screech to a halt when they see the outstretched palm. Something we might take for granted in America is that taxi drivers have a driver’s license. In Dhaka, if you can pedal, you can start a business.

When there is little traffic, it is the perfect speed for a city as overwhelming as Dhaka. You can't truly take it in from the car: the heat, the smell, the noise, the colors. Walking is a bit too slow, the heat gets to you quickly, people approach you and occasionally touch you and a Bideshi like myself is bound to draw a crowd. Rickshaws move at about 6-8 miles per hour. And yet in Dhaka it’s important to keep moving and generate a breeze. Rickshaws can accomplish this masterfully.

I know when I leave Dhaka I will miss the ring of the rickshaw bell that now sometimes makes me want to strangle somebody. I’ll miss the “rickshaw, boss?” and I’ll miss the roller coaster rides. It is an important Dhaka experience, and one that I am grateful to have had.

Visit Bangladesh Before Tourists Come?

Yes, this was the country tourism slogan not that long time ago. It may been retired now, but that doesn't mean you'll find the place overrun with visitors. Locals, yes. Bangladesh is one of the most densely populated countries in the world. So though it may feel crowded, rest assured it isn't as a result of tourism. Which is why after much debate, they've adopted a new short-and-sweet tourism slogan:

Beautiful Bangladesh!

What is your job again, Sir???

Can you imagine somebody answering that question with:

"I am part of the National Moon Sighting Committee"?

Yes, the Bangladeshi Government has a moon sighting committee! How could you not love that. Their job is to confirm the appearance of the moon to determine the timing of religious festivals such as Eid-ul-Fitr or Eid-ul-Azha

Moon sighting seems quite controversial, but as far as I understand, they have to actually see the moon before they can declare certain religious public holidays. Sometimes the committee members go up in a helicopter to check if they can see the moon! I like the fact that nature has the final say. 

The State Minister for Religious Affairs sometime could also be the chairman of the National Moon Sighting Committee.

 

Here’s a brief news story on the moon sighting committee from the Daily Star:

http://archive.thedailystar.net/newDesign/news-details.php?nid=242798

Boss/Madam, Baksheesh!

There is nothing harder on your morale here in Bangladesh then the daily sight   of beggars on the streets. Most of them wait in traffic for their moment. Women with babies, small kids, elderly men and women come knocking on the car window during a lengthy traffic jam asking for money, usually by making a feeding gesture with their hands towards their mouth - universal sign for hunger. While there is no denying that these people are money poor, we have advised not to give money as it further encourages them to beg. Apparently there are orphan beggar kids who are forced to give their daily takings to their "pimp". Even babies get borrowed to support begging as it looks more dramatic and is more likely to make westerners feel compassion and guilt, thus increasing a chance of donation.

Beggars are found in the villages, in towns and cities. Mainly they gather on Friday near the mosques in the towns, bus stand, railway stations, in front of markets, and in the traffic signals. Most of the beggars are unable bodied. Some are blind or are missing an arm or a leg. At the bus stand, market place and in the traffic signals old beggars and beggar children stretch their hands for taka (money).

Bangladesh is a Muslim society and there are Islamic values that encourage the people to give alms to the beggars. “If a beggar comes to beg on horse back he should not be avoided.” The Muslims offer their food grains to the beggars at first before eating the new food of the new seasons. They offer money or rice to the beggars for the purpose of gaining good benefit of business. The Muslims also offer new fruits of new trees to the beggars. After the death of any relative the Muslims entertain beggars to get blessings from Allah.

 There is a 2005 study that estimated that at the time there were 700,000 beggars in the country. I would not be surprised to find out that the number has doubled in the last six years.

This creates many ethical problems. You want to help people who really need it but you don't want to perpetuate a system of oppression such as that run by the overlords. It is truly disheartening. We've been here three months now and it does not get any easier to deal with.

Rolling blackouts

Do NOT be fooled. The rolling blackouts are a common occurrence that WILL strike at the most inconvenient times of every day. Whether you have just arrived home from a day in the heat and are wishing to feel the nice breeze of the air-conditioner, you are uploading pictures or blog posts on facebook, while you are taking a shower, the power WILL go out… and better yet, you WILL be surprised EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!

On average each blackout will last about a couple of minutes and they can occur at intervals as frequent as every other hour (and of course, sometimes more frequently).

Coming from a place where having internet 24 hours a day is considered 'the norm', having power every other hour can sometimes pose itself as a bit of a challenge and inconvenience.

Dhakarrhea

‘You will suffer a lot from diarrhea’, our post doctor told us when we first took Vlad to see him with a case of Dhakarrhea.

And he was right. Still, our bowels have tolerated the onslaught of exposures to new pathogens much better than we have been told when we arrived in Dhaka. The only thing it helps between bed and bathroom is drinking Oral Rehydration Solution (ORS) whenever the stomach permits it. You can still drink ORS and still feel dehydrated by the end of the day.

To take antibiotics or not; the eternal question. On one hand, the antibiotics would help if problems were of bacterial origin. However, antibiotics have their own set of consequences. They wipe out populations of the normal gut flora, and sometimes even select for dangerous pathogens like Clostridium dificile to flourish. Weighing the desire to feel better with the risk of developing toxic megacolon, which requires surgical resection of one’s colon, is always difficult.

Elephant Orphanage at Pinnawela

The Pinnawela Elephant Orphanage is one of the most popular touristic destinations in Sri Lanka and it is easy to figure out why. Orphan Elephants. Baby Orphan Elephants. Lots and lots of baby orphan elephants, that are willing to play with you, and then go play in the water. I can't think of anybody that would say no to that.

After forking out a fistful of dollars again, we had a truly amazing time. The elephants are remarkable. Beautiful and friendly creatures, who’ve been lived their whole lives in the orphanage and are completely comfortable with humans.

The highlight was the kids feeding a baby elephant bottles of milk.


The bathing time was also spectacular. The elephants were led in a giant procession to the nearby river, where they were allowed to splash and play for two hours. The little ones rolled around in the water, while the adults sprayed water onto each other and cuddled. We could have watched them bathe all day long. So many elephants congregated in one place, we were awed!!!!

So we wholeheartedly recommend a trip to the Pinnawela Elephant Orphanage. You’ll have an unforgettable experience.

Śrī Pada or Adam's Peak, Most Sacred Mountain

Footprints seem to mark the beginning of life for humans. When our kids were born, one of the first things we did was to dip their little feet in ink and imprint them. This was their ‘official’ beginning. In Sri Lanka the birth of the main religions also came to life with a footprint – a sacred footprint. However instead of being imprinted on paper, it’s imprinted on the top of a steep peak 7,295 feet above sea level. If you want to see this footprint, you have to give your own feet a workout.

At the top of Adam’s Peak (referred to as Sri Pada in Sri Lanka) is a huge ‘footprint’, claimed by Muslims to belong to Adam, who stood there after being thrown out of Garden of Eden. However things can't be quite that simple. Same footprint is believed by Buddhists to be the mark of Buddha, Hindus hold the print to have been made by Lord Shiva, and Christians claim it is the footprint of St. Thomas. We did not venture to guess who is correct, but we did know that the footprint continues to draw pilgrims from all religions to the top of the peak for over one thousand years.

We decided to join that pilgrimage, less for religious reasons, and mainly for adventurous reasons. The climb to the top is a mere 5,000 stairs; and it is best done in the middle of the night so that you arrive at the top at sunrise privy to spectacular views.

After a bumpy three-hour drive we arrived at our guest house in Dalhousie. It looked like something out of the 19th century, even though we have been told it was only four years old. After I engaged with the owner in a heated discussion about communism over Arak (the traditional coconut alcoholic drink in Sri Lanka) and beers, we finally went to sleep.

At 2:15AM everybody was up and ready to start hiking, following a meandering string of what I’d normally call “street lights,” only no vehicle could drive here. The lamps illuminate a zigzagging path. High above at the top, a glaring yellow floodlight marks the finish. There, we hoped to catch the sunrise and an eerie natural phenomenon, in which, on mornings when nature cooperates, the mountain’s shadow floats upon the clouds for the first few minutes of the day.

The first hour of our hike was easy – a concrete path, a mild incline with a single step up every ten to twenty feet. When I did the math, the easy part made me nervous. A one-kilometer altitude gain on seven kilometers of trail meant an average grade of 14 percent. If the first part was not steep, the later part was going to be killer.

And now, the killer part is beginning. The stairs have tightened together – concrete in some spots, stone in others. Some steps are missing, necessitating awkward lurches. Teahouses were peddling hot drinks and fresh-baked samosas. Buddhist monks in thin, orange robes greeted us at shrines.

There’s a distinct difference between those of us going up and those coming down. The uphill climbers are foreign tourists. The Sri Lankans, the pilgrims, are here for something bigger than a sunrise. So the pilgrims have trudged to the top at saner hours. They’re on their way down now.

The higher we climbed, the steeper and more ragged the path became. Some steps were higher than our knees. Adrenaline was waning.
“How far is the summit?” we started asking.

“Fifteen minutes!" came the answer every single time.
We were suddenly exposed. The wind unleashed a chilling assault. After sweating all the way up, now, we’re 7,000 feet above sea level and it felt so cold. We dug in the backpacks for more layers.

“The sun’s about to rise,” We began chugging and yanking the guard rails to propel ourselves.

We reached the top, the grounds of a Buddhist monastery. A sign instructed us to remove our shoes. The sky started to ignite. Psychedelic pink. Hundreds of climbers – pilgrims and tourists – jostled for views.

We found a nice spot and we’re elevated above the masses. Once the sky lightened, dozens of mountain ridges appeared below us, poking up through puffy white clouds to form an infinite, mystical view. Inside the monastery, monks began chanting guttural prayers, accompanied by drums, cymbals, and nasal-sounding flutes. The wind is battering eardrums. The monks emerged, and continued their chanting in a procession around the monastery. We didnt understand, but that didn’t matter. Whatever bigger power exist in the universe, we're feeling about as close to it as we ever have.

And then, the “eerie phenomenon” happened. Relegated to the back of the monastery at sunrise, we now had a front-row view of Sri Pada’s shadow – a massive black pyramid hovering in the sky like an otherworldly ghost city.

Of course, there is one more thing we still need to do. What goes up must come down. We have another 5,500 steps ahead of us.