Nadji's Garden

The fourth of July was kind of mellow for us over this side. I almost forgot about it and got really confused when my room mate randomly started talking about trying to find fireworks and our plans for the evening of the 4^th…I was like…what’s happening? Why do we need to do anything? Cant we just stay in and relax?

I eventually figured things out.

We decided to have a few friends over for dinner and hanging out and planned to go to the roof to see if there were any fireworks being shot from somewhere. Apparently fireworks are illegal in Bangladesh though, so none.  Our “American” food we planned on having turned out to be thai food, which was still a nice change from the ever common rice and dhal, then kind of just sat around and caught up with people. Hardly a party, but it was fine. Some of the girls lived in a pretty far area of town and had no way of getting home so they spent the night at the apartment with us. It was nice to have company, and we had bodies to fill some of our extra beds. Two had to sleep out in the living room, one in my roommates spare bed, one in my spare bed, then another in my bed with me. It was the kind of situate where you also don’t get a lot of quality sleep as you do a lot of late night chatting, then don’t sleep well anyways since your afraid of rolling over on top of your bed buddy.

This would have been fine normally, but my next day was a pretty big one as I had a major meeting with the head of an NGO collaborator at 8:30 am in a part of town I had never been to before and then was leaving town for the weekend to go to visit my friend Nadji’s town up north called Mymensing.

The next morning I was up and ready to go at 6:30 when I started to work to meet the guy I was supposed to travel to the other office with, as he apparently knew where it was. As soon as we got in the CNG however at 7:15 he turns to me and say…”So, do you know the address?”  Ummmm…that is what you are for buddy. So that was kinda scarry, but we got things figured out with a  few phone calls. The drive over took a while with lots of morning traffic, and my travel buddy was quickly developing a crush on me. A little awkward, not something I ususally have to deal with icddrb employees but whatever, he just wanted me to take him back to America with me, and a latter mention of the fact I was a Christian put a quick end to the romance, I should remember to bust that one out sooner next time.

We eventually found the office, after a few stops to ask for help, and U-turns in super narrow alleys, and only 15 min late, which is quite on time in Bangladeshi standards. My travel buddy then took off to who knows where, I guess we were done and I had my meeting. I expected it to be a short 30 min meeting, which soon turned into 2 hours. I suppose that is good when you are getting information, and it was a good thing we had tea to help wake me up and get me rolling again.

When the meeting was done I walk out of the office, which is on a narrow muddy side road in the middle of nowhere Dhaka, and think…”Cool, now what.” I walk up to some security guards and ask if they know where I can find a CNG as this clearly wasn’t a major passageway for such vehicles, and they seemed to indicate that was a far distance, so I hoped on a rickshaw and the security guards seemed to communicate that he should take me to a place for CNG, and off we went. 

We soon made it to a major road, and I went off in search for a CNG, I finally found an empty one and when I asked the cost to go to Gulshan 1 (where my office is) I was quoted 500 taka (for a max of 200taka distance). And try as I might I couldn’t get him to budge. I didn’t even have 500 taka on me so I went looking for another ride, to no avail. All CNG’s were packed out, and not very many were even passing by. Well I said to myself, I guess its time for me to figure out the bus system here (which I don’t know any westerner who uses the in Dhaka bus system, so super adventure time!)  I walk over to the first bus I see and try and ask if I can get something to Gulshan 1, and he seems to tell me there are no buses for Gulshan 1…at least I think. But that is when I hear in the distance “Mohakhali Mohakhali” Which is where the icddrb main campus is, and also where there are hourly shuttles back and forth between the campus and my office.

I decided to test my luck and run over to the bus and ask “cholera hospital?” (which is what the icddrb is more commonly known by here in Bangladesh). They seemed to respond positively and I got on. The thing with busses in Bangladesh is… it apparently wastes too much time to stop the bus when people need to get off, so the general tendency is for people to just hop off when it slows down a bit. So after a few min of sitting on my bus going somewhere they turn to me and tell me its time for me to make my departure. I time my jump well and land it quite gracefully, and manage to scurry my way through the oncoming traffic, over to the sidewalk. I still have no idea where I am, so just start asking people “cholera hospital?” and I slowly made my way in the direction people were pointing and indicating, and I finally started to recognize some familiar ground. I made it to the front of the center just as the shuttle to my center was pulling out and hopped right on to head “home”. It felt nice getting back to my desk, where I checked my email to recover, then decided I needed to go home and pack, as it was past noon, and I was going to be picked up by my friend at 3.

As I exited the building, what had been a quite sunny and sweltering day and magically transformed into a grey and windy mess. This can only mean one thing…monsoons are on their way, and sure enough, a minute later the rain came tumbling down. I had my umbrella thankfully, and made it to a rickshaw stand only getting my legs and feet wet, then got a man to wrap me up and take me close to home. It was a little more expensive than normal (I gave him 50 cents as opposed to the 25 I usually pay), but I felt it was worth getting back quick. It was raining just too hard when I got off for me to walk home however, so I waited out the worst under an overhang, than scurried home when it let up a little, and made it home more than a little drippy.

It was a quick pack up, and a quick lay-down before my friend picked me up, and we got in her private car for the drive up to Mymensing. It is usually a 3-3.5 hour drive apparently, this took us closer to 5.5, but it was ok as it was good company and for me I still enjoy seeing all the scenery.

We arrived in Mymensing at around 9 pm, which was weird to be driving in rural areas at night, actually, its still just weird to be out at night usually.  We had some quick dinner that her cook had made and saved us, some tea, talked about the pans for the next day, and hit the sack.  I slept on her bed under a mosquito net, fan on and patio door open pulling in the night coolness. It was lovely and it made me wish I could do that in Dhaka…if not for safety issues.

The next day I was up at 7:45 and we had a DELICIOUS breakfast of eggs and green beans and porata, which is like fried chapattis, and some amazingly intense coffee made in hot water and poured through a strainer.   After breakfast we got ready and decided to walk down to the lake and things through the center of town and do some brief exploring before going to “church” at 10.

I really liked Mymensing, it’s a city so still lots of buildings and people, but its is less stacked and more sprawling than Dhaka, so I enjoyed it a lot, being able to see the sky and feeling a little more free.  On our way we stopped by a little plant fair they were having, which was cute…I love plants, especially ones I have never seen before! Then went to the lake and walked along it looking at the nice water and boats skirting back and forth across it. 

By then it was time to head over to a little chapel in the middle of some trees where a group of men called the Taise brothers (I have no idea how its spelled, its French) have set up. They are a group of 4 european men (French, Italian, duch, etc) who are sort of like monks (chastity and poverty are two of their requirements), only rather than secluding themselves in monasteries, have gone out to live amongst people. These guys do a lot in the community to. They provide housing for young men who cannot afford housing for school in a sort of dormitory set up, they do outreaches in the urban slums around Mymensing, prison outreaches, and probably countless other things. I asked my friend if they were catholic or what they were, she said they would describe themselves as “folowers of Jesus”, some aspects of Catholicism, some aspects of Orthodox churches, but then also some Protestantism, quite a mix.

The service was us quietly coming in the back door to a room of people kneeling on bamboo mats spread out on the floor, up front an icon of Jesus on a cross with candles set up around to provide some light. The group was singing a song in Bangla, which was basically a psalm or a short prayer that they were repeating with music. It was amazing to hear the voices singing together, with a totally Bangla sound to it with finger cymbals, little drums, and a few other Bangladeshi instruments. Most of the songs were in Bangla, but a few in English, and some of them, if they weren’t in English, you could find the passage in a book of psalms and follow along. It was lovely, and a great experience. It was only about 30 min of it. Singing and times of silence when you would pray and meditate on the passage. It was so refreshing and amazing to see something like this taking place in a little building in the middle of nowhere Bangladesh.

After the service we headed home to make some lunch, which we were both feeling like some good old American food for once, so we made a chicken pot pie…with freshly slaughtered and cleaned chicken, which I cut up (I felt pretty baller), home made crust and veggies cut Bangladeshi stile using a massive knife on the floor. After lunch which was quite delicious we were going to head over to the lake again to hang out with some of Nadji’s friends, but it started pouring down rain, so we decided to wait it out at her house and we relaxed a little and read some short stories. We then headed over to one of her work friends house for a little visit and some tea and snacks. They were lovely people, and very unique looking. They are a different tribe that is native to Bangladesh, and look quite different than most other Bangladeshi’s.   It was fun to talk to them and learn a little bit about a different culture, when we were done there, the weather had cleared up a bit, so we headed back over to the area by the lake and watched the sun set over the water. It was very beautiful, and really enjoyable.

It was then time for the second taise brothers service. Nadji can’t normally go as its after dark and she would not be able to get home, but with the two of us it was ok. This was even more awesome than the first service, as it was so dark, and it was an hour-long time. It was so lovely again to just praise God in different languages, with such different people, and in a way that is foreign but beautiful to myself. Its going to be one of those memories I will try and hold on to forever as one of my most beautiful moments (I have an on-going list of these, ask me about them if you would like to know more).

We then wandered home in the dark after the service, got home and made a delicious “American” dinner of mac and cheese with some bacon on top, and fresh carrots, I felt like I was eating like a KING. We then sat around chatting until it was quite late and definitely time for bed. Again I slept under my peaceful net with fresh air blowing all around me, and had the best sleep in ages.

Mymensing at night, the view from my door

Mymensing in the daytime, washed by the rain

Our next morning was quite similar as the day before, another AMAZING breakfast of delicious eggs, ocra, porata and coffee at around 8am, then out we went to explore some more of Mymensing. Nadji has quite the hand for agriculture, and has a little garden going in a cemetery in town.  We wandered over there and she showed me all her plants she had growing, and we gathered MASSIVE green beans, and some leaves to throw in her compost back home. We also spent some time wandering around the cemetery looking at the old English graves from as far back as times like 1805 and 1823 and things. It was so interesting thinking of these peoples stories and what brought them to the middle of nowhere town in Bangladesh, it wasn’t just men either, quite a few women. One we found a woman and child die on the same day, probably from hard labor, others had signs for “died after 11 years unjust imprisonment”, and yet another “accidently killed”. It was just so strange to think of these people and stories lost forever.

We stopped by a few other places on our way back, such as a memonite community area where there are many women working to get out of the sex-trade work, making things like cloth, beads, soap etc. One project that I found super exciting was them making whole cloth by weaving pineapple strings together for string, than using that to weave. Absolutely incredible! I wasn’t aloud to take pictures here however for the security of the women.

Palm Strings

Loom to weave the palm strings

Children playing in the downpour!

By then it was time to head home, have lunch, and get me packed up for my trip home to Dhaka. We had a lunch of left-over pot-pie, waited for the rain to die down, then took a rickshaw over to the bus station, where we waited in line for my ticket. I guess women get their own line for these things, so that was super nice as there were only like 20 women in line and a good 200 men!

I was definitely a big shock to the bus to see a white girl get on, especially one traveling alone. They guy sitting next to me asked to clarify that 3 times during the course of the trip, as he just couldn’t believe I was alone.  I told him not to worry though; my husband was going to pick me up at the station once we arrived back in Dhaka (this husband of mine is getting a lot of work out of him for not actually existing). The guy that was next to me was quite nice and friendly, but also old and married with 2 daughters, which definitely helps with the comfort factor for me. He tried to talk to me a little before the language barrier got in the way, and it was so funny to hear how my information slowly passed up the bus like wildfire. “Oh she works in Dhaka at the cholera hospital” and you could hear it whispered up the side. “Oh she is married, but has a friend in Mymensing” whisper whisper whisper. The man that was on the other side of the guy I was sitting next to clearly thought I was the most amazing thing he had ever seen in his life and didn’t take his eyes off of me for the whole 4 hour ride. Totally no effort to conceal it either, which made it weird for me not knowing where to look. By the end of the ride he was asking me questions about things I have no idea how he even knew about, like the burn-scar on the inside of my elbow, that was facing away from him.  

Eventually it was time for me to hop off, similar to the bus situation from before, and off I went, much to the sadness of my seat neighbors. I then caught a rickshaw home, climbed the stairs to my apartment, and walked in feeling like QUITE the Bangladeshi. I ate nutella for dinner. Not on toast or anything…just with a spoon out of a jar like a grown mature adult, then called it quits pretty early for the night, already missing my airy quiet room in Mymensing.

Back to work 7am Sunday morning, full week of data analysis and meetings. Maybe I should have gone into Agriculture.








P.S I have no idea why my blog is randomly highlighting certain portions, and I have no idea how to make it stop. I am sorry for any distraction this may cause while reading. 

New Market and Sonargaon

I feel as though I could describe almost every weekend the same way during my time here in Bangladesh; really amazing, but super exhausting. I guess that is a sign of a day well spent though, if when you get hom its all you can do to stay standing for a shower before falling into bed. 

This weekend was a good use of this phrase, as pretty much every min was non-stop action. Thursday night is the end of the workweek here and that in of itself left me pretty beet by the time I sauntered home at 7pm Thursday (normally I leave at 4:30 / 5, but that day I just had a little extra work).  When I got home one of my new room mates decided she needed some groceries…and help getting to and from the grocery store. So even though I have showed her the same area of town 3 times already, I went to help her not get lost, and walked back the exact same way I had just come from and helped her get the groceries she needed and decipher what she could and could not eat.

Someone before she arrived had told her she should not eat anything with milk/cream or ice in it…they failed to mention that applied to street food, and milk in a carton from the grocery store is really just fine to have.

Soon after our arrival home however, another room mate of ours informed us of a few of our friends meeting at the Nordic club for dinner and things. We decided to go, so it was a quick rinse off of Dhaka dirt, into a clean salwar, and off to hang with the Europeans.  It was a nice evening, but my foot had started hurting me pretty bad during the past few days and by the time we got to the club I wasn’t too sure how I was going to get home again it hurt so bad.  No idea why it has started having so much pain…maybe too much walking on arch-less shoes, but with the heat and wetness in Dhaka, tennis shoes aren’t really the most enticing piece of apparel.  I got home by 11:30 that night, called my sister for a happy birthday greeting, then went straight to bed.

Dhaka

The next day was Friday, the day I go to church here. The whole apartment and another friend wanted to come this week, so that was a bit overwhelming trying to get 3 extra people into the American club where it meets, but it was fun in the end. Church was from 10-11:30 ish, and then we usually stay around and have lunch there with some of the people we meet, and other young people there. It is always quite nice. Today we couldn’t dilly-dally too long after lunch however as we had plans to go to new market.

This is a market place in Dhaka that sells everything you could ever want, but really specializes in cloth, fabric and 3piece salwar kameez, also jewelry and shoes. It’s a REALLY fun place. Totally overwhelming, and probably the most crowded place in all of Dhaka (that is really saying something too), but I really like it. Mostly I think I like shopping and getting good deals so maybe that is why, but I also enjoy this sort of shopping where you have piles and piles of stuff stacked taller than you, all bright glittery fabrics and more cloth hanging from the ceiling blocking your view.  Its not easy way to shop or get things done, but it makes me happy I think because it reminds me so much of growing up in Yemen, and Jamal st. or Bab al Yemen. 

  

FUSHKA!

We wandered around there for a few hours, I had taken some new girls along with me to show them around, and to help them get some clothes. I think they were pretty overwhelmed with all the choices, but I was pretty impressed with what they ended up purchasing. In the midst of our shopping while we were lost in the maze of shops it started pouring rain, we didn’t realize till we emerged to a full blown monsoon coming down. They still needed to get a few more things, so I sent them on their ways together, and I took off across the st to a little roadside food place. I saw they had the bags of some puffed rice ball things that all the tell tale sign of the place selling Fushka, my new fav food. Its basically like a big hollow puff of crunchy something that you fill with a spicy potato mixture, top with some cucumbers and other green veggies, then smother with a spicy tomato mixture/sauce. 

Pop it into your mouth and enjoy the crunchy spicy deliciousness.

I went into the shop that was packed with people hiding from the torrents of rain coming down and ordered a plate of the Fushka and a sprite, the lunch of champions. The cost:  60taka = 75 cents.  It was delicious and I really felt pretty cool hanging with the locals who were all consuming similar snacks, and pretending like I belonged there. It was nice being alone for a bit to (even though I was squished in like a sardine with people on all 4 sides, eating while standing), to get a break from the ever loud and talkative westerners I’m with, who just draw so much attention, and don’t make too much effort to blend. I am much taller and much blonder than either of the two girls I was with, but I think they were the one that bring the most attention. It’s amazing what knowing just a few words in a language and dressing culturally appropriate do for the blending factor. People still seem confused by me, but they are always delighted when I communicate in Bangla, and they still look at me pass on the road wondering who the weird white person dressed like a Bangladeshi is, but I realized this week that I much prefer the confused and perplexed looks and questions I get, opposed to the pointing, laughing and snarky attitudes I get when I go places with these other people who only use English and never dress appropriately.

Street-side Guava you can buy and dip in salt, chili powder,
or a mustard/chili mixture.

Some of the girls told me they were SO impressed by how good I was at bargaining, and how I had so many friends even down at the circle where I do all my shopping to help me get good deals. I had to tell them, the only reason I have good bargaining skills is because I took the time to learn the number in Bangla, so I can communicate the price I want, as opposed to the one they type me on their calculators. Plus you bust out a tiny bit of Bangla, and you instantly become a non-tourist which means, non-tourist price. They didn’t seem too interested in acquiring that talent however…guess they figured they can just use me.

Anyways, we got home soon after that once we had to pay a little extra for a CNG driver (always harder to get one in the rain since everyone wants them too, you cant play good bargaining games cuz they know they will get paid by someone else).  We were all pretty sopping wet when we got back, and I was pretty over listening to these two very talkative girls go on and on about senseless things, so when they said they wanted to go down to the circle to get their fabric sewn by my tailor I finally put my foot down, told them where he was and his rate, and sent them on their way to figure it out themselves.  I think it is good for them to get a little life experience without a tour guide.  That night after a nice steamy hot shower with a natural loofa I found at the market (they wanted 30 for it, but when I asked a lady who was walking away just as I came what she paid, she told me 20, so I got the local price), then a home made dinner of a makeshift pizza (oh man…so good), and an then settling down to watch Hugo (also a very cute movie) I was a very happy camper.

I stayed up a little too late that night after the movie, cleaning my room and preparing for the next day (Ill get to it), and didn’t get to bed until midnight again.

The next day was a trip to Sonargaon, a kind of deserted town about 30K south east of Dhaka that has a lot of ruins of an old city from like the 1300/1400, when it was the capital of Bangladesh and the center of trade for this area. I had let a few people know that I wanted to go, and that I was setting up renting a car, but before you know it, 7 other people wanted to come, so we needed to find a bus instead. It was kind of more of an ordeal than anticipated getting a vehicle as pretty much ever foreigner in Dhaka has a car and driver so I thought it would be more simple to find one. Finally my roommate Kristin got ahold of someone and everything fell into place at 7pm Friday evening, and we were leaving 8am Saturday morning.

The Group!

So we were all up and ready to go nice and early that morning and everyone congregated at our apartment and all squished in to the bus (8 seater fitting 9) and drove the 2 hours through the Dhaka traffic the 30K to the town. It was pretty fun, and I enjoyed it. They key to my day was separating as much as possible from the big group and taking it slow with one or two of the more calm interns. It was a beautiful place, and really fun to see some of the ruins and things. It was also fun to get out of Dhaka again and see some more of the countryside and get some green.

 

We saw a museum thing in an old weaver shop place, then walked down some roads that were all deserted ruins, made a wrong turn and found the village that weaves fishing nets and rope on super long loom things and they stretch string a good 200m, then we also went and saw the fake taj mahal that they have re-constructed here in Bangladesh. It was pretty funny and crazy to see this big old pink building poking up in the middle of nowhere.

It was supposed to be a really rainy day, but thankfully it was a beautiful sunny day for the whole time until we drove back into Dhaka.  We got home around 6pm or so, got a shower, took a really quick nap, had a little dinner, watched the Help again (love), called home for a little bit and only went to bed when the power went out, cutting the conversation short. Again to bed at around 12…I need to figure out a way to get to bed earlier when I need to be up for work at 7 the next morning, 7 hours should be enough for most people, but for me, Its just enough to make me function in super sleepy mode all day. 

Taj Mahal!!!
(sort of)