Discovering the 'real' Bangladesh

As I stepped off the plane I was immediately hit by a wave of excitement, I had finally arrived at my new home for the year. This wave of euphoria only lasted for a few moments until I was hit by an even greater wave, a wave of thickly polluted humidity. Little was I ready for wave of mosquitoes that followed. Luckily, these persistent little buggers that will plague me for the next 12 months don’t carry Malaria, only the nauseating Dengue fever – which I have already succumbed myself to sometime in the near future.

As I walked through the International airport, which to me felt far from International after 3 hours earlier being in Singapore, I could already sense this country’s financial desperation. Foreign investors were treated to the same privileges as diplomats, as they were rushed through the express immigration lane. If only I had known that 30 minutes earlier, I would have ticked yes to the ‘are you carrying over US$10,000’ question on the immigration card and I would have been whisked away to a nirvana of air-conditioning and no mosquitoes. Instead I joined the masses to sweat though immigration and collect my own baggage.

I waited for ages at the baggage carousel and as everyone else’s luggage had arrived, I was starting to doubt whether mine would arrive, and if it did, would my cricket bat, which I would later find to be worth over ½ as much as the annual average household income, be still in my cricket bag? To my surprise, the bag with bat intact was personally delivered to me by a member of the airport crew, someone who knew its value and didn’t want to put it though the baggage carousel. I repaid the man with a 15 minute conversation on the upcoming Cricket World Cup and whether Bangladesh could one day be like Australia, I now think that maybe he meant this more than just on the cricket field.

The following week involved me, and my fellow volunteers being chauffeured to and from our the volunteer program office and the aptly named "Hotel de Castle". Protected by the high walls of the hotel, we were not overly exposed to the society that had 44% of its people living in poverty and about half of these people living in extreme poverty; the society that has such extreme corruption that the people were happy that the nation is in a state of emergency, rather than having either of the two corrupt political parties in power; or the society where success was achieved upon leaving to live in a western country. After all the language training, embassy visits, Muslim clothes shopping and safety & security talks; it was time to join this society that faced many day-to-day struggles.

My next 12 months will be spent working for the Rural Development Board, a govt organisation that aims to alleviate all poverty within rural Bangladesh. My role is to establish the IT infrastructure within the organisation, not an easy feat when they have little infrastructure there and no funding to seed its growth. My first trip to work has been etched into my memory forever, not because it was the first day of my new job, nor because I could not communicate with my tuk tuk driver and he charged me double, nor for the fact I almost fell out of the tuk-tuk, but because it was my first experience to real Bangladesh society, not the chauffeured air-conditioned high society I had been hiding in.

This society hit me when I was stopped at a set of lights and I was approached by a range of desperate people- a lame man on a home made rolling board, a man whose arm was majorly deformed hanging at right angles, a mother who was leading around her blind daughter whose eyes were clouded over, street kids as young as 2 who were selling lollies and tea towels... and all these people wanted was a few taka for their food for the day.

This trip became really memorable a few blocks further down as we pull up next to the median strip and again I was swamped by beggars and young kids trying to make a buck by doing anything for you - from dusting your car to selling used flowers. At these lights there was a lady with her family living on the median strip, she was desperately trying to get a few taka, then all of a sudden a car going in the opposite direction came to a massive screeching halt right next to us. Her young baby had fallen off the median strip and into the oncoming traffic and was cm's from being hit. The desperation she had shown just to get some money is incomprehensible.

I froze, I was confused as to what to do, and even more confused in regards to what my behaviour should have been as she was desperately begging to provide the basics for her and her children.

I have chosen to give to the local NGO's, as they ensure that the money goes into the right hands and the people that need it most. It is extremely hard to say no to all the desperate people, it has not got any easier and will not get any easier.