Being my final blog post for this site it is quite apt that this blog is only 11 months late, much up to the timeliness of my previous blogs! (I do apologise for never including a Burma blog entry)
In my first month here I was amazed by every new and little thing about my new life. Unfortunately these little quirks don’t amaze me as much now, but it is these little things that have made up my Bangladesh experience.
In my first month here I was amazed by every new and little thing about my new life. Unfortunately these little quirks don’t amaze me as much now, but it is these little things that have made up my Bangladesh experience.
Wake up (745am):
HONK HONK HONK… forced wake up, I have had no need for an alarm clock the whole year here as I live on what I would refer to a small through road. It is by no means one of Dhaka’s large roads but it does have its fair share of traffic, and before the traffic cop comes to direct the intersection just 40m from my house the loudness of the horn is what dictates which car gets through the intersection.
Breakfast:
Usually Muesli (purchased from the Aussie Shop… yes there is a shop in dhaka dedicated to selling tim tams and vegimite!)… a quick read of the paper for main news and also entertaining stories (see newspaper wall post) followed by a shower to clean the sweat from the searing night temperatures that only dissipate when the 5am storm rolls in. 830-845:
Head downstairs to get a cycle-rickshaw to work, at one stage Ani would be at the bottom of the lift waiting for me in our rickshaw (see a rickshaw adventure post) but mostly it is off onto the street to hail one down. Before getting out of the gate my guard takes me aside and gives me marital advice – for he thinks that I am married to my initial housemate. Neither of me nor my housemate have the had the heart to tell him that we aren’t at all married. Apparently she should make sure that my moustache is trimmed to the right length, as only a bad wife would let me out of the house looking the way I do.
Rickshaw ride to work:
Sadly this has been sometimes the most exciting part of the day… It usually takes 15-25 minutes as I head from my nice leafy suburb into the concrete jungle where my office is located. As the rickshawallah finishes off his cigarette we cross our way over Mirpur Rd, one of the busiest streets in the city, I would take notice of the dress of mine and the other rickshaw drivers – it includes floral/sparkly shirts (well at least for the well dressed wallahs) and a lunghi (cotton tube worn like a sarong) a pair of double plugger thongs that have been to the repair shops more times that I have bought thongs and a towel wrapped around their head. The brigthness and feminity of the shirts still amaze me to this day. As the rickshawallahs weave their ways in and out of many crashes, heated words are exchanged between rickshawallahs and even more so between car-drivers and the wallahs – a much hated relationship. Along the poorly named green road, I would take in the smells of the over-spilling rubbish bins being filtered through by people making money out of selling the rubbish; a smell that reminded me of my flatmate (from our adventures in the first month) what was initially overpowering is now part of the day-to-day Dhaka smell.
HONK HONK HONK… forced wake up, I have had no need for an alarm clock the whole year here as I live on what I would refer to a small through road. It is by no means one of Dhaka’s large roads but it does have its fair share of traffic, and before the traffic cop comes to direct the intersection just 40m from my house the loudness of the horn is what dictates which car gets through the intersection.
Breakfast:
Usually Muesli (purchased from the Aussie Shop… yes there is a shop in dhaka dedicated to selling tim tams and vegimite!)… a quick read of the paper for main news and also entertaining stories (see newspaper wall post) followed by a shower to clean the sweat from the searing night temperatures that only dissipate when the 5am storm rolls in. 830-845:
Head downstairs to get a cycle-rickshaw to work, at one stage Ani would be at the bottom of the lift waiting for me in our rickshaw (see a rickshaw adventure post) but mostly it is off onto the street to hail one down. Before getting out of the gate my guard takes me aside and gives me marital advice – for he thinks that I am married to my initial housemate. Neither of me nor my housemate have the had the heart to tell him that we aren’t at all married. Apparently she should make sure that my moustache is trimmed to the right length, as only a bad wife would let me out of the house looking the way I do.
Rickshaw ride to work:
Sadly this has been sometimes the most exciting part of the day… It usually takes 15-25 minutes as I head from my nice leafy suburb into the concrete jungle where my office is located. As the rickshawallah finishes off his cigarette we cross our way over Mirpur Rd, one of the busiest streets in the city, I would take notice of the dress of mine and the other rickshaw drivers – it includes floral/sparkly shirts (well at least for the well dressed wallahs) and a lunghi (cotton tube worn like a sarong) a pair of double plugger thongs that have been to the repair shops more times that I have bought thongs and a towel wrapped around their head. The brigthness and feminity of the shirts still amaze me to this day. As the rickshawallahs weave their ways in and out of many crashes, heated words are exchanged between rickshawallahs and even more so between car-drivers and the wallahs – a much hated relationship. Along the poorly named green road, I would take in the smells of the over-spilling rubbish bins being filtered through by people making money out of selling the rubbish; a smell that reminded me of my flatmate (from our adventures in the first month) what was initially overpowering is now part of the day-to-day Dhaka smell.
Kawran Bazar:
The office of BRDB is located in the biggest wholesale market within Bangladesh. It is extremely busy during the night hours of 9pm to 3am when all the daily produce is allowed to come into the city. At 9am life has relatively slowed down, as I would step over workers finished from their nightly hard labour, push past other office employees on their way to work and get watched like a hawk by all the men delaying their entrance into work by chatting in the many tea stalls.
My office building:
Firstly, it doesn’t look anything like a government agency – more like an aged old building that hasn’t seen a good clean or fresh coat of paint since the inception of BRDB in 1972! There are security guards guarding the outside but they would just sit and watch anyone walk in and out of the open and sparse ground floor, but excitingly jump up out of their seats to salam me, their foreign employee, as I walk in. There is one lift in the building and upon arrival in the morning there will be a line 20 deep waiting for the lift. I always decided to walk as it is much quicker to get to the 5th floor than take the lift that will stop at all floors, I do wonder if my colleagues have ever thought that, but I assume that they are putting off the inevitability of the days work. The first flight of stairs are the only walls in the office that have recently seen a coat of paint – due to ministerial dignitaries making their way to and from the Director General’s office on L1. This new coat of paint still isn’t free from its blemishes, bins sit in the corner of the stairs and as the men come back upstairs from one of their hourly beetlenut fixes they will spit the leftover red juice into the bins; leaving splatters on the wall like Mike Tyson has just busted a head there. I would continue to make my way up to my beloved computer centre through the dimly lit stairs that do not see ministerial dignitaries and are often missing many lightbulbs, probably waiting replacement approval.
The office of BRDB is located in the biggest wholesale market within Bangladesh. It is extremely busy during the night hours of 9pm to 3am when all the daily produce is allowed to come into the city. At 9am life has relatively slowed down, as I would step over workers finished from their nightly hard labour, push past other office employees on their way to work and get watched like a hawk by all the men delaying their entrance into work by chatting in the many tea stalls.
My office building:
Firstly, it doesn’t look anything like a government agency – more like an aged old building that hasn’t seen a good clean or fresh coat of paint since the inception of BRDB in 1972! There are security guards guarding the outside but they would just sit and watch anyone walk in and out of the open and sparse ground floor, but excitingly jump up out of their seats to salam me, their foreign employee, as I walk in. There is one lift in the building and upon arrival in the morning there will be a line 20 deep waiting for the lift. I always decided to walk as it is much quicker to get to the 5th floor than take the lift that will stop at all floors, I do wonder if my colleagues have ever thought that, but I assume that they are putting off the inevitability of the days work. The first flight of stairs are the only walls in the office that have recently seen a coat of paint – due to ministerial dignitaries making their way to and from the Director General’s office on L1. This new coat of paint still isn’t free from its blemishes, bins sit in the corner of the stairs and as the men come back upstairs from one of their hourly beetlenut fixes they will spit the leftover red juice into the bins; leaving splatters on the wall like Mike Tyson has just busted a head there. I would continue to make my way up to my beloved computer centre through the dimly lit stairs that do not see ministerial dignitaries and are often missing many lightbulbs, probably waiting replacement approval.
BRDB computer centre:
Relatively it is actually quite modern: air-con; 7 computers; 2 servers; switch rack and 7 hard working employees. It is a breath of fresh air from the over-crowded, paper-based offices and desks throughout the rest of the building. Every morning I will be greeted by a “good morning sir” from my peon called Kashem (he is an office helper which title is more likely to be referred to as a ‘tea boy’ through out the ex-pat circles). I return the good morning back to Kashem and then usually remind him in Bangla that I don’t have a Sir on my name. I did try to get him calling me brother or friend, but that upset others in the office who believes he is there to serve them and shall not be a friend… decided to leave that one alone – took it as a cultural experience. Anyway, continue with the basics of the morning and then Kashem will bring me my first cup of tea for the morning. Later my boss will arrive, I will drop into her office and enjoy a good chat with her and sometimes even take another cup of tea with her. By 10am it would be back to my office to get some work completed, I often am requested to attend meetings throughout the building – but I try to keep these to a minimum as in the government a cup of tea is a pre-requisite to any meeting. Eleven o’clock comes around and my boss or I would slip Kashem 50tk and he knows it is time for morning office snacks and he heads out to the market and comes back with Singara and Samossa’s (deep fried packet of goodness) for all in the computer centre – time for more tea and chit-chat with the team. Half an hour goes by and we then head back to complete more work. Lunchtime Prayer call takes place between 1-1:30pm. Everyday Kashem would return from prayer with the same question in Bangla “What will you eat sir?” without another discussion about the use of sir I yet again disappoint him with the same response of “one nan and one vegetables” – here he was getting lunch for his foreign guest and all his foreign guest wants is a cheap 30c meal of bread and vegetables! I usually ate this basic meal in the office because I only wanted something small to eat and I would inevitably be force fed wherever and with whomever I ate with and then have to fight over paying a bill that would be quite a great deal of their monthly salary. I would often be left in the computer centre with only myself and my boss as the staff I ‘tried’ to manage would be gone for a good 2-2.5 hour lunch break, often returning with goodies from the Bazar… I spent 6 months trying to make this break more like 1.5 hours but unfortunately to no avail – this time a govt cultural experience. Another cup of tea would follow lunch and then back to work – usually pushing some simple file through the bureaucratic processes in place… like having to get the Director of Administration’s (#2 in BRDB) approval to get a new light bulb installed so we can see in our office! Anyway, later in the year I got my own back for working all these 8 hours day for the first half of the year that I would leave at 330pm – thinking of it as my 2.5 hour lunch.
Cricket coaching:
Leaving early from work was only permissible by my boss and the AYAD program as I went to go and coach cricket at the local cricket academy. It was part of the day that I would most look forward to as it gave me that feeling of making an evident difference within Bangladesh. The kids that I coached were aged between 15 and 22 and all in all were quite a poor standard compared to the Australian system I grew up playing in – so therefore I had a great deal to offer these kids. The players did not the lack of natural skills, rather a corrupt and bureaucratic Bangladesh Cricket Board was holding back success within Bangladesh cricket… it was one of the saddest things to see a nation that loves cricket have no formal way to play cricket other than in the streets. Walking back from cricket coaching always provided a bit of entertainment for the locals, as not only was there the usual attention of a foreigner whitey walking the streets but this foreigner would be wearing – displaying legs was generally never done, let alone by a foreigner with bright white legs!
Dinner:
If I am generalising my time in Bangladesh then I would have to say that I rarely cooked, if so it was a massive veggie stir-fry to supplement my need for much needed vitamins and minerals. Most nights, I would head out and get dinner from a restaurant close-by for $1-2, my favourite being the local Star Kebab Hotel which served a massive range of dishes from kebabs to curries to biriyanis. One of my saddest days was during the civil riots the hotel got torched, I was furious with the students “What did Star Kebab do wrong?”
Social Life:
Amazingly during the week we kept quite busy, often either entertaining guests or heading out with Bangladeshi or ex-pat friends. There was even the rare trip to an art gallery before dinner! On Thursday, the last day of the working week, I would head up and do a language lesson after work and then head over to the Australian club, a social club attached to the High Commission. It has very much the facilities of what you could imagine an ex-pat club having – pool, tennis court, bar, reading room etc. But it really felt more like a Darwin bar that has no walls, mozzies everywhere and dinkum aussie accents trailing away into their beers late into the early friday mornings! It was a great way to finish a busy working week talking footy results with the High Commissioner after a few too many VB’s! Many of the things that I was able to do and participate in would not have been possible without the support and friendship of the Australian community in Dhaka.
Shooting the Breeze:
Amazingly, one of my fondest memories of Bangladesh was all the amazing and diverse people that I was able to engage in conversation with whilst I was here. From sharing late night beers with the High Commissioner, to finding out the things that the papers cant publish from an Aussie-Bangladeshi reporter friend, to learning about Bangladeshi rich traditions and cultures from an Artist friend… the conversations and learning’s were endless. Above all I enjoyed the late night conversations with my flatmates, often leaving us all very tired for the 745 traffic wake up the following morning!
Relatively it is actually quite modern: air-con; 7 computers; 2 servers; switch rack and 7 hard working employees. It is a breath of fresh air from the over-crowded, paper-based offices and desks throughout the rest of the building. Every morning I will be greeted by a “good morning sir” from my peon called Kashem (he is an office helper which title is more likely to be referred to as a ‘tea boy’ through out the ex-pat circles). I return the good morning back to Kashem and then usually remind him in Bangla that I don’t have a Sir on my name. I did try to get him calling me brother or friend, but that upset others in the office who believes he is there to serve them and shall not be a friend… decided to leave that one alone – took it as a cultural experience. Anyway, continue with the basics of the morning and then Kashem will bring me my first cup of tea for the morning. Later my boss will arrive, I will drop into her office and enjoy a good chat with her and sometimes even take another cup of tea with her. By 10am it would be back to my office to get some work completed, I often am requested to attend meetings throughout the building – but I try to keep these to a minimum as in the government a cup of tea is a pre-requisite to any meeting. Eleven o’clock comes around and my boss or I would slip Kashem 50tk and he knows it is time for morning office snacks and he heads out to the market and comes back with Singara and Samossa’s (deep fried packet of goodness) for all in the computer centre – time for more tea and chit-chat with the team. Half an hour goes by and we then head back to complete more work. Lunchtime Prayer call takes place between 1-1:30pm. Everyday Kashem would return from prayer with the same question in Bangla “What will you eat sir?” without another discussion about the use of sir I yet again disappoint him with the same response of “one nan and one vegetables” – here he was getting lunch for his foreign guest and all his foreign guest wants is a cheap 30c meal of bread and vegetables! I usually ate this basic meal in the office because I only wanted something small to eat and I would inevitably be force fed wherever and with whomever I ate with and then have to fight over paying a bill that would be quite a great deal of their monthly salary. I would often be left in the computer centre with only myself and my boss as the staff I ‘tried’ to manage would be gone for a good 2-2.5 hour lunch break, often returning with goodies from the Bazar… I spent 6 months trying to make this break more like 1.5 hours but unfortunately to no avail – this time a govt cultural experience. Another cup of tea would follow lunch and then back to work – usually pushing some simple file through the bureaucratic processes in place… like having to get the Director of Administration’s (#2 in BRDB) approval to get a new light bulb installed so we can see in our office! Anyway, later in the year I got my own back for working all these 8 hours day for the first half of the year that I would leave at 330pm – thinking of it as my 2.5 hour lunch.
Cricket coaching:
Leaving early from work was only permissible by my boss and the AYAD program as I went to go and coach cricket at the local cricket academy. It was part of the day that I would most look forward to as it gave me that feeling of making an evident difference within Bangladesh. The kids that I coached were aged between 15 and 22 and all in all were quite a poor standard compared to the Australian system I grew up playing in – so therefore I had a great deal to offer these kids. The players did not the lack of natural skills, rather a corrupt and bureaucratic Bangladesh Cricket Board was holding back success within Bangladesh cricket… it was one of the saddest things to see a nation that loves cricket have no formal way to play cricket other than in the streets. Walking back from cricket coaching always provided a bit of entertainment for the locals, as not only was there the usual attention of a foreigner whitey walking the streets but this foreigner would be wearing – displaying legs was generally never done, let alone by a foreigner with bright white legs!
Dinner:
If I am generalising my time in Bangladesh then I would have to say that I rarely cooked, if so it was a massive veggie stir-fry to supplement my need for much needed vitamins and minerals. Most nights, I would head out and get dinner from a restaurant close-by for $1-2, my favourite being the local Star Kebab Hotel which served a massive range of dishes from kebabs to curries to biriyanis. One of my saddest days was during the civil riots the hotel got torched, I was furious with the students “What did Star Kebab do wrong?”
Social Life:
Amazingly during the week we kept quite busy, often either entertaining guests or heading out with Bangladeshi or ex-pat friends. There was even the rare trip to an art gallery before dinner! On Thursday, the last day of the working week, I would head up and do a language lesson after work and then head over to the Australian club, a social club attached to the High Commission. It has very much the facilities of what you could imagine an ex-pat club having – pool, tennis court, bar, reading room etc. But it really felt more like a Darwin bar that has no walls, mozzies everywhere and dinkum aussie accents trailing away into their beers late into the early friday mornings! It was a great way to finish a busy working week talking footy results with the High Commissioner after a few too many VB’s! Many of the things that I was able to do and participate in would not have been possible without the support and friendship of the Australian community in Dhaka.
Shooting the Breeze:
Amazingly, one of my fondest memories of Bangladesh was all the amazing and diverse people that I was able to engage in conversation with whilst I was here. From sharing late night beers with the High Commissioner, to finding out the things that the papers cant publish from an Aussie-Bangladeshi reporter friend, to learning about Bangladeshi rich traditions and cultures from an Artist friend… the conversations and learning’s were endless. Above all I enjoyed the late night conversations with my flatmates, often leaving us all very tired for the 745 traffic wake up the following morning!
