On traffic, tea, and where to get your snuggle on

More random thoughts - I know, I've been reduced to bullet points…once a consultant, always a consultant.

1. You know that sound? That sound of someone trying to cough up a hairball? It's those moments in my day, when, hark! a man makes a loud hawking noise..and I await with tense apprehension for when and where he will expectorate…but he doesn't…and the suspense is excruciating...at least, in the time it takes me to awkwardly dodge around him. So…where does it go? I leave that for you to mull over and digest. Hmm..poor choice of words perhaps.
2. Random, but interesting point of note…a commercial for Glee here, advertises it as: "Hollywood's Bollywood" - love it.
3. I think I have to give up my need to setup meetings with people I want to meet with. I keep trying to push for a time to meet, and I get back, oh yea, let's meet on Saturday. When? On Saturday. What time on Saturday? Let's say in the afternoon. But when in the…oh nevermind. Okay, sounds good. It's all about stalking people, or hovering...to meet with people. It's not that there isn't a sense of urgency or importance - far from it. It's more that it's just the culture for things to run late, so why bother setting a specific time? And in a city that gets so much traffic, strikes, and heavy rainfall that can delay a city of millions, I can see the reason for not setting a time, since chances are, you'll be late no matter what time you said you'd be there. As one of my friends in Tanzania recently posted, her language teacher said something along the lines of: Punctuality is a luxury that developed countries have.
4. Also, I think I've handed out more business cards in the past 3 weeks than I have in my entire career. And that includes all the cards I've given to my mom. Everyone introduces themselves with a business card..it's the professional thing to do. That said, I'm not sure how I can look professional when I'm sitting at a meeting and getting bitten by mosquitoes…somehow I don't think I can pull off scratching my leg against a chair and make it look graceful.
5. Another great thing? Cups of tea at every meeting. And at breakfast and at 9:30 and 2:30 every day. Glorious.
6. Just to get from A to B in the city, is an incredible achievement - the sweaty hot mess that you are feels like a job well done if you manage to get to your destination in one-piece. The traffic, the pre-requisite haggling with the rickshaw driver - or, if you walked, the giant mud lakes you circumnavigated - the sweet sweet layer of condensation that has formed all over your torso and face, making you wonder if its pointless to take a shower anymore…the victory is in the simple fact that you arrived. I often wonder, when I've arrived at my destination, why there is no applause and cold mango juice waiting to congratulate me on such an accomplishment.
7. Description of the restaurant I went to one night..." In keeping with its eponymous theme, the restaurant’s walls are decorated with posters of such jazz icons as Jimi Hendrix, Marilyn Monroe, and Elvis; " really?
8. Saw a woman dressed elegantly in a sari and heels. I was waiting to cross a major intersection along with a throng of men, waiting for the traffic to slow a tad (usually there are a few brave souls who run across, but not this time..the traffic was flying past). This beautiful woman just started walking, elegantly put her hand out to command the oncoming traffic to brake a little while she glided (not ran) through the intersection. She crossed successfully, not a hair out of place. If you ever see me in a sari and heels, I can assure you, that even if I were walking across an empty room, I'd find a way to stumble. Wait, that would happen even if I was in jeans and flats (and a number of you have witnessed that).
9. What is interesting, is to see people practice their religion so freely. Well, in all fairness, it is one particular religion -Islam is the main religion here. But I could be in the office or in a coffee shop, and it's not unusual for someone to step aside, and pull a prayer rug out and start praying - right there. No need to go to somewhere private, just as long as you're praying towards Mecca. Granted, yet again, I only see men pray in public, I'm guessing women pray in private? Not sure, will have to ask. But many women do use their dupattas to cover their hair during prayer call. And there's not odd looks if you don't. It's kind of nice to see such an openness about making time to pray - and no apparent judgment if you're not.
10. On my way to work one day, amidst a slew of rickshaws, CNGs (autorickshaws ), cars and other scrappy vehicles, I saw a chicken crossing the road. I did not question why the chicken was crossing the road, but more importantly, how on earth did the chicken cross the road with all its feathers in tact?
11. Where do middle-class teens go in Dhaka to get their snuggle on? Coffee shops. Where do young adults go to get their snuggle on? Parks, preferably close to a large body of water (even if there are questionable items floating around).
12. All random thoughts and jokes aside, I think I've found a few favourite spots in Dhaka. My #1 right now is Banani bridge, around 5:30/6pm when the sun starts to set, a scattering of boats launch lazily across the river, taking people home, underneath a slew of cars and rickshaws that crawl over on the bridge.

The Vigilance of Complacency

My walk/ride (depending on how hot it is) to and from work takes me right through a small slum. In the mornings you can small the strong stench of the effects of the lack of a sewage system combined with the shouts of parents calling after their kids.

 

I don't know if I'll get used to seeing extreme poverty on a daily basis. I hope I won't grow complacent to the old man with no hands or legs on the side of the street, or the naked toddler covered in dirt, scratching his bloated little tummy (bloated because of the lack of nutritious food). Whether I'm walking through the slum, or riding through it on a rickshaw, my heart and stomach lurches and my head revolts when I see the man reach out to me, or the toddler cry alone in the mud. Not out of disgust for them of course, but out of disgust of myself. What am I doing? Why aren't I doing anything right this very second to help him..whatever I can? Part of my brain reasons that I'm not doing anything at this second because the "solution" is - I'd like to believe- a long-term sustained and vigilant effort that addresses a multitude of factors, not a quick hand out that will make me feel better more than help anyone.  And of course the other part is probably that I'm afraid to help. I  feel a twinge of guilt for my good fortune to have been born into this life without the multitude of obstacles that face these kids that are not heart and stomach-lurching for them, but simply a part of every day life.

 

Perhaps I will grow complacent over time - I suppose it's how we cope. I remember a few months after 9/11, one of the first movies I saw in the theatre was some Lethal Weapon part 322nd movie (not my choice, I can assure you). There was a scene where a mid-rise building was blown up and I can recall cringing and shrinking in my seat, shaken by the reality that we had all witnessed just months before. Probably a year later I was watching another wham-bam movie (again, not my choice)…and walking out of the theatre, I realized I didn't cringe or even give a second thought to all the violence that had just entertained my senses. Not that violence on TV is comparable with the effects of extreme and utter poverty literally calling out to you, but I became numb, and I'm still numb to the images we call entertainment.

 

Perhaps that's why I've changed the course of my career path - so that I won't become complacent and be a small part of that long-term sustained vigilant effort. Perhaps.

 

But I'll try to end on a lighter note. Speaking of vigilance. Walking through the streets of Dhaka is an exercise of constant vigilance (yes..I'm heeding Mad-Eye Mooney's advice…and yes, I am re-reading Harry Potter thank you very much). Not only am I looking at the ground for the next big mud puddle to avoid, but I'm looking to my sides for dangerously close rickshaws, CNGs and cars, and I'm also looking above so I don't run into any of the hanging severed electrical wires. Constant vigilance people. Whether walking around in Dhaka, or trying to tackle the monstrous elephant that is poverty.

I am a giant. And other random thoughts.

 

I know I have a problem with heights..in the sense that I think I'm taller than I actually am. As in, I think I'm at least 5 inches taller than I am. So much so, that when there's a somewhat low hanging branch that I'm walking under, I will actually stoop to avoid it…even though there's still a good 5 or 6 inches of space, even if I were standing on my tiptoes. I fully recognize it as a problem, and many of my friends have no problem pointing this out with mocking grins and evil laughter (you know who you are).

 

Now, imagine putting that syndrome in a country where the average height is probably about 5'2"…and well, you have a giant on your hands. A 5'5" giant. So, as you can imagine, when there are electrical wires hanging everywhere…yep…cut hanging wires, some dragging on the ground..often in pools of water from the rains (I'm sure there is no electricity running through them, right?), when I'm in a rickshaw, I'm dodging wires left and right. But the thing is…I really think I'm tall enough to hit these ones…I swear…I am tall enough to get hit by them.  I'm a giant.

 

Other (serious) challenges I'm facing here: knowing when to shake someone's hand when I've been introduced to them. Most guidebooks on Bangladesh seem to say it from a male perspective - don't shake hands with a woman unless she offers its. But, I wonder if I should be offering to shake hands when I'm introduced to a man. Since it's a mostly Muslim country, and depending on how religious people might be, a man should not touch a woman whom he is not related to. Maybe I'm going overboard. I tend to be oversensitive since I grew up in Saudi Arabia.

 

Miji and I have set "goals" for each other - not constructive-this-will-make-you -a-better-person kind of goal. More like, a ridiculous set of goals for our own amusement. Such goals include: make friends with someone who has an AC car. Scream back "hoooonk" the next time a car/CNG/rickshaw needlessly honks just to say 'holla!' . And…play at an open mic in Dhaka. I thought that this last one would be easy…but upon inquiring at a venue that advertised open mic night and live music, I was surprised to hear that the Open Mic was not, in fact open. I have to contact the owner to see if he'll let me play. Wha?

 

And then there's water bottles. Let me rephrase that - filtered water at cafeterias that are served in liquor bottles. In a country where alcohol is not really allowed (mainly just high-end hotels and US/Canadian/British type clubs) it's great to see water served in bottles of Smirnoff and Jack Daniels. I'm pretty sure any self-respecting Jack drinker would cringe at the sight of water in a bottle of Jack.

 

Finally…a sad random challenge I face…it's been, what, 2.5 weeks…and I just started craving Starbucks? This is ridiculous. It's not like I even have Starbuck's that often…maybe once every couple of weeks. Oh wait. Then that makes sense.

 

Photos from Manoshi field visit