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| Sun set in the village , Bangladesh |
It is 5
th April, I got married on that date 9
years ago and the sun was shinning then
but today here the power was switched off all day at work and now it is
off again at home too. We had our early morning rainstorm and late at 5 pm I
had to find shelter for an hour or so in the bazaar to avoid being hit by
hailstones and drenched by buckets full of rain. With hot weather on its way,
strong winds and dust accompanied by thunder and lightening are every day
events we have to endure. The real monsoon , I am told will not start until June/July
, I am thinking of emigrating to the West since life here is not all full of
sun, sandals and T shirts any more!
Of course with no electricity at work, it is always a very
good excuse not to work at all, however Bangladeshi people (esp. those who work
for NGOs and therefore largely supported by outside donors), don’t need such an
excuse because they openly admit that talking and gossiping is part of their
culture and while they are carrying on with their idle gossip there is
therefore very little time left to work. My designer Roxanna is a good example
to study. I sometimes feel that she has chosen a wrong profession, with her
good looks and charm she will do well in an escort agency. Since Bangladeshi
love to chatter, the dead lines for any work are never met in my NGO. At the
current rate of progress we are making with our new vegetable dyed yarns, I
feel I will be here for another 10 years. If nothing else it will keep me out
of mischief for few years or so?
I have now survived 6 months in Bangladesh without getting
seriously ill or seriously homesick. Life has started to slow down and I am
already planning my next major break in June/July perhaps to Sri Lanka or back to my beloved India?
However, I cannot stop dreaming about the reservation I have made for three
days of luxury holiday in October to the Kingdom of Bhutan.
Why only three days? Well the King of Bhutan has decided to levy a heavy tax of
$ 200 per day, which includes hotel bills, on the all-western tourists who wish
to see his beautiful land. If I can prove my Indian identity, or get an illegal
Bangladeshi passport (which is easily available on the streets of Dhaka but who wants to be a proud owner of Bangladeshi
passport anyway?) I can get to Bhutan
free! I have not the courage to break the law, so I am willing to pay the heavy
duty so that the Kingdom
of Bhutan is always
reserved for those who do not wish to over run the land with the Western ideals
and values.
Bangladeshi people look upon India
as their “Big Brother” and are very proud of the fact that India came to their aid to gain
their independence 35 years ago. I am always very proud to admit to them that I
am an Indian, born Hindu (there is a big Hindu population here) and I just
happen to live most of life in England.
Those who can afford to send their children to private schools in India certainly do so and they also use the
private hospitals provided by India
and used by the West. The Bangladeshi are very proud to sell you goods made in
India , Hindi movies are very popular too, together with fashion and like the
Indians, vanity plays a great part in the every day life of the Bangladeshis.
Almost all the men and the women want to look for ever young and beautiful and
they continue to dye their hair black when they are well in to their 70s. The
Western men find it unbelievably funny to see old men with henna coloured hair
and orange beard, old aged Punk still lives on in this small land with many
faces. I find it difficult to explain to my Bangladeshi girlfriends that I want
to get old ‘gracefully’. Looking young and finding a husband is not on top of
my list of things to do in this life. However, my grey hair and my age is no
barrier when it comes to finding a toy boy. No matter how much I try to look
like a Bangladeshi girl, there is a bit of me which will be ‘forever foreign”
and therefore I am always followed by young men for no apparent reason other
then I am a female, foreign, and must be available for an idle gossip. I have
acquired a burke (a veil) which I have yet dare to wear and see the result? We
girls have a hard life with men here, however the foreign men (esp. those
living in the rural areas) have even harder time with the women of Bangladesh. For
example, Tim who was brought up on the Beaches of California with doll like
females practically naked, had a complete culture shock when he arrived on the
shores of Bangladesh. He spends most of his spare time discussing
with his mates how best to unveil the ladies in their burkes, salwar, kameez
and saris but never ever manages to achieve his desired wish because he cannot
even get near them to have an idle gossip or two.
Did I say earlier on that life has slowed down here in my
little Net……… ? Well not from 14th April? An important date for Bangladesh, as
it is the date set for celebrating the Bangladeshi New Year, not 2004 but 1411
to be precise! I planned to spend 3 days, including the New Year in Dhaka. Whilst I was in the big city, living the life of
luxury and seeing the new year with my three hunky German ‘ bhais’ ( brothers)
, our very own hostess, Bangladeshi beauty, Sara ‘ apa’ ( sister ) and
thousands of others on the streets of Dhaka, poor, poor Net……….. was in
mourning. Net………. had its first major
tornado on 14th and only 5 km. from my home. It had destroyed thousands
of homes, and the death toll is yet to be confirmed. On 17th April I
was able to visit the aftermath of the effected areas. All I could see were
shacks like houses flattened, concrete houses did not survive either and tin
roofs crumbled like foil paper. The massive big trees uprooted completely and I
have been told that bodies of people, without their limbs have been recovered
from the branches of the trees. There were hundreds and hundreds of people
weaving through the paddy fields, either looking for their loved ones or like
me paying homage to the destruction of life which was there only few days ago.
A small token of aid from the Government has arrived and so have all the VIPs,
including the PM have been and gone. My NGO, with the help from Oxfam has been
busy distributing food and water in the first few days .
On 18th
April I had the privilege to accompany a team of Oxfam workers to one of the
distribution centre where 200 homeless were given money, plastic sheets for
shelter etc. My journey to the village was on the back seat of a motorbike and
though my driver looked nothing like 007, he certainly rode the bike like James
Bond. He whizzed in and out of the heavy traffic, through the muddy paddy
fields, not knowing where he was going (which is not new here in Bangladesh),
I wondered if I was ever going to reach my destination? After spending five
hours in the village , distributing all what we could give away, we all had to
make a hasty return journey to our homes because the wind, thunder and lightening
were heading in our direction. We got caught up in a storm twice and had to
look for shelter. I reached home completely exhausted, hungry and drenched but
was pleased to be in the warmth of my own home. But what about those 1000s out
there with their plastic sheets or nothing but the open sky?
Since arriving in Bangladesh I sometimes feel that I
have built immunity against the misery and death that surrounds me all the
time. Since start of this year I have been sharing with my few friends my own sad
news about my younger brother who is seriously ill back in England. I know
that death is waiting for him on his doorsteps and the pain I should be feeling
for my brother is being frozen in my heart until such time as I am called for
his funeral.
Life is so cruel sometimes and today all I want to do is
curl up and die, preferably on the top of Mount Everest
where nobody will find my body. Will the so-called God arrange that for me
NOW?
Love,
Davinder
xxx
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