Dhaka Days

Tripping around
It’s hard to believe I’ve been in Bangladesh dui maash(2 months) already. In some ways it feels like I’ve been here forever (work week routine firmly established, knowing my neighbourhood and familiarity with friends here), in other ways like I’ve just arrived (learning cultural differences one mistake at a time and sometimes when the staring can’t be ignored).

I’ve managed to see a bit of the country already. Arriving at year end has meant that everyone is busy reviewing kaaj (work) done in 2008 with a view to putting the 2009 kaaj plan together. To do this my team planned a trip up to Srimongol in the north east part of the desh (country). We drove up on Tuesday afternoon and stayed at the Bangladesh Tea Resort until Friday. We spent dui din (two days) busily reviewing all communications and media projects during 2008 and planning our priorities for 2009. It was a great team building trip and I’ve come back totally inspired and eager to be involved.

Srimongol itself was shondor (beautiful) - so shobuj (green) and QUIET (seriously, no car horns or mad traffic as far as the eye could see!) And we took some time out to visit the chai (tea) fields, climb a hill (from which we could see over the border to India) and taste the famous local “five colour chai”.





Only dui din later Matt Clancy, Lyrian, Rach, Mon, Steph, Michelle and I bussed our way down to Cox’s Bazaar (south eastern corner of Bangladesh) to escape Dhaka for Eid Al-Adha. A good decision it seems as the streets of Dhaka really did run with red and I’m not sure my stomach could have handled it. We did see one goat skinned on the ferry across to St Martens, but that was nothing compared to the bloodletting our friends witnessed in Dhaka.

Although the overnight bus down to Cox’s took egaro ghonta (11 hours) -everyone was on their way out of Dhaka for the holiday - it was worth it. The beach, the khabar (food), the drinks, the sunshine, the company – it was the perfect escape. We spent lovely long days sitting at beachfront cafe’s in Cox’s drinking fresh juices, eating seafood, playing cards, reading, swimming and talking rubbish. Matt and Michelle even had a surf with the famous Bangladeshi surfer (yes, the only one apparently), while the rest of us enjoyed the view (of his incredible abs...What? Staring is the national pastime here...it’s nice to be able to give back occasionally...)



We took an overnight trip out to St Marten’s Island as well. Catching the ferry across to the island I witnessed my first (and only) Eid slaughter. It was pretty horrific and I’d be happy to remain a naive meat-eater (or become vegetarian) before seeing it again.

St Marten’s itself is a tiny island, so a tour by rickshaw van took all of 15 minutes. We stayed at a remote camp site on the south of the island called Coral Blue. To get there we caught a speedboat, which got us as close to dry land as possible, before we jumped out, bags above heads, to wade our way in. The camp site was palatial compared to my expectation. The dui-jon (two-man) tents had king single beds (and bed frames) and the toilet/showers were very clean and western (no squats thankfully). The camp site could probably cater for ponchas-jon (50 people) at a time, but we had the place almost to ourselves (except for a small Japanese group). Luckily we’d brought alcohol and mixers with us because once at the site we were cut off from the world. We ate seafood, sat up drinking and chatting and listening to music.





The following day we let our gorgeous Bangladeshi tour guide, Pavel, talk us into snorkling.

Yes. Snorkling. In salwars. In Bangladesh.

It was interesting. Interesting in the sense that there were 7 of us, only 5 masks and sets of flippers, the sea was murky, the coral not colourful and fish non-existent. Still, we gave the Bangladeshi tourists a good hashi.

Eid al-Adha (the festival of sacrifice): what it’s all about
According to the Qur’an, Allah asked Abraham to sacrifice his only son as an act of faith. Prepared to make the sacrifice, Abraham proved his love for Allah and passed the test. During Eid al-Adha Muslims commemorate the sacrifice Abraham was prepared to make by slaughtering an animal such as a sheep, cow or goat.

Muslims believe that Allah has given us power over animals, allowing us to eat mansho (meat), if his name is pronounced at the time of slaughter.

The sacrificial mansho is mostly given away – one third is kept for immediate family, one third for friends and one third is given away to the poor.

Although it is a gruesome thing to watch, the underlying theme is very much about helping those in need...and that’s something to admire.

Fighting for the right
In about a week Bangladesh goes to the polls. The ‘State of Emergency’ has officially been lifted and everyone is waiting for the rallying and rioting to begin.

There is an overwhelming sense that whoever wins, we’ll see a return to governing of the past – with very few positive changes and corruption at the highest levels.

Both Awami League and Bangladesh National Party leaders have been charged with fraud and corruption and yet are able to lead their parties to the polls and one of them to government.

Whatever the result, it's going to an interesting few months ahead.

Life without hot water, tv or toast!
I know you won’t believe it if I told you, but I have actually survived these last dui maash without gorom pani (hot water), tv or vegemite toast....I wouldn’t have thought it was possible either, but I’m living proof.

It hasn’t been easy, but we do now have a toaster and I finally feel like life can go on (in fact, I’ve had four pieces of vegemite toast this morning!)

Electrics are so expensive here that buying these luxuries is not really an option when you’re a struggling volunteer only in country for ek boschor (one year). Matt Corrigan was vehemently opposed to paying more for a toaster here than we could get one for at Target...so it became a bit of a personal challenge. I’m sure all the New Market shop keepers knew us by the end as those stupid bideshi’s not willing to pay more than 500 taka for a crappy toaster. Anyway, we inherited a toaster (along with the bulk of our furniture) from dear friends Greg and Sara when they moved back to Australia on the weekend.

TV’s, even of the smallest variety, costs upwards of $200, so that idea was vetoed. Forget about washing machines – we prefer to wash our clothes by hand anyway (hmmm). And, like most places in Bangladesh, our flat does not have piping for gorom pani. Being now the middle of winter this is becoming an issue, but I haven’t yet progressed to heating pani on the stove.

We are so far surviving without the assistance of a cook or maid – much to the bewilderment of our Bangladeshi landlord and neighbour. (Who also find it extremely interesting that the cooking and cleaning is not done solely by me...I’m trying my hardest not to find this incredibly insulting. “But the boys like to cook and clean” does not seem to placate anybody – even accompanied by the boys’ vigorous nodding of heads).

While the khabar here is amazing (I still haven’t learnt that I don’t need to have morich (chilli) on everything...but I’m sure the day will come) and we have a large number of options (including Nandos, Pizza Hut and KFC), there are some things we dearly miss (most of all cheese and salads -lettuce consisting mostly of pani is not an option here). And although we expected a sober year, we’ve found a great little place that sells spirits, beer and wine! So despite my best intentions I’m actually partying as hard here as I did at home! (I’d still kill for a mojito or glass of champagne)

I had a lovely, civilised weekend which involved going to the hairdresser (which was almost a complete disaster...I had holud (yellow) hair at one point, and tears in my eyes, but they fixed me – okay so I’m still a little too blonde, but I might take some responsibility for thinking I’d be getting the same service I would at home, in a country where blonde is very much out of the ordinary. However the cut cost $2 and the colour $40!) and having a heavenly 1.5hr massage! I also managed a spot of shopping because (who would have noticed here) but Christmas is just around the corner. We’ll be spreading Christmas cheer from one Dhaka house party to the next and I’m even attempting an apple crumble (well, I’ll at least be Matt’s obedient sous chef) for Christmas lunch.

Anyway, I must be off. I have a loaf of roti (bread) to bake today and I must start now so that if I do, as I fear, fuck up the first batch, I have time to try again before the boys get home. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces...an interesting combination of shock, awe and dread (who will have to taste it first?)...wish me luck!

Living the dream: working at UNICEF

As far as dream jobs go, UNICEF is right up there for me. It's early days yet (two weeks yesterday actually) and it's not all celebrity glitz and media glam, but I'm living in a developing country and some concessions must be made.

I'm working with a lovely team of communication professionals (with extensive journalistic and development experience) and there's plenty of free coffee. Ok, it's not the best coffee in the world but there is a guy to make it for me (if I was the type to let him).

I arrived to a brand new computer, desk and pod (this might not sound like an achievement, but some AYADs have spent considerable time sitting on the floor of dimly lit corridors). But like so many things here in Bangladesh you take one step forward to take two steps back...I'm still waiting on my personal log-in, email and ID card and there's not alot I can do without them.

Of course a level of beaurocracy was expected. Quite this level is a suprise, but "it is what it is". Perhaps every communications team in every large agency is undervalued and overlooked? Perhaps approval process and proceedure really is an administrative nightmare in every large agency? Naivety and wide-eyed hope are quickly being replaced with something that feels a bit like realism.

The work itself is another example of inherent contrast. One day I was literally in the media spotlight (A bideshi at an event is quite something. Children want their photo taken with you, the media can't get enough of you, and apparently I'll often be asked to make a SPEECH and SING for the masses who have no idea what I'm saying. Apparently I'll get used to it! HORRIFIED, completely and utterly mortified. But as mum kindly pointed out, they'll only ask me to sing once...indeed!) The next day I was visiting orphans, listening to horrific stories of abuse and neglect and wishing I could save them all.





On a daily basis my job consists of editing English language stories and documents, updating factsheets and restructuring and producing the quarterley newsletter. To write stories for the newsletter, I'll be sent on field trips all over Bangladesh. This will be a great opportunity to see how UNICEF's projects are making a real difference on the ground but I have a feeling the things I'll see will be confronting (to say the least).

It took some effort to push images of overcrowded buses, tents, dirt, insects, no shower or toilet or privacy from my mind and summon the positivity required to 'rough it' on said field trips. (Why the hell didn't I pay more attention at Girl Guides as a child? And how did I get to be such a bloody princess?) However, it seems I'll be driven around in a UNICEF 4WD, with a police escort and hotel accomodation. Now this is the sort of roughing it I can handle!

For those of you who were concerned (as I was), I did make it in to work by myself on the first day (and every day thereafter actually). Catching a rickshaw, even with my limited Bangla, has been quite easy...particularly now that our apartment security guard knows where I need to go and organises the trip (and a fair price) for me every morning.

In other news
* I've bought my first saree for an event tonight. There is a whole book that is yet to be written about the intricacies of fashion here and I could do to read it, but I'm learning them one mistake at a time. Watch this space for photo evidence.



* We are having our housewarming this Friday night. The theme is 'yellow' as, according to Matt ('Lawyer Matt' as he is regularly referred - and LOVES it), all things here (particularly food) is yellow...certainly my complexion is likely to be Saturday morning.



* A bunch of us are heading to Cox's Bazaar and St Martens (island off the south east coast, near Burma) for Eid. (The bloody Eid - where animals are slaughtered and the streets run with red...can't wait). Should be a lovely relaxing couple of days (except for the fact we're sleeping in TENTS...hello, I'm a PRINCESS!)

* I STILL haven't been sick! My concern now is that I won't be sick much at all and will return to Australia looking like the girl who swallowed Casey...

* Being a woman in a Muslim country continues to test me. The staring is one thing. The arse grabs, boob pokes, blatant chest staring and jeering is quite another. Smiling at strangers is something I'm (sadly)learning not to do. A smile is much to say "yes, it's true, I am a loose western woman and would like nothing more than to have sex with you." Of course, a smile is not necessary to create this impression. Apparently even walking quickly and avoiding eye contact can provoke an arse grab or elicit a range of sexist and defamatory comments. Sexual repression has a lot to answer for. A blog dedicated to life as a woman, and a bideshi, in a secular society to follow I think.

The meat in a Matt sandwich

I am writing this blog from the 'comfort' of our new Dhanmondi flat! We (Matt, Matt and I) finally moved into a flat to call our own. It hasn't been an easy first two weeks in Bangladesh, the adjustment made all the harder finding a place to live.

House hunting in Bangladesh is incredibly stressful. Bideshi's aren't exactly a landlord's dream tenant (least of all three bachelor bideshis). We literally scoured every street in Dhanmondi and Lalmatia to find a place a) that we could live in, and b) where the owner wasn't totally replused by the idea of bideshi's renting his flat. We lucked out and found a government employed landlord who 'sympathises' with our situation (there's no point being offended here. "It is what it is" as Badrul, our In-Country Manager would say).

Also, forget having an organised system involving real estate agents (silver lining?), house hunting in this part of town involves keeping an eye out for "To Let" signs, then enquiring with the security guard (who may or may not allow you in, depending on his mood).

The flats we did get to see ranged from dark, dirty and within budget to light, new and ridiculously outside of our budget. In a great number of Dhaka flats any one window can be seen into by a number of adjoining buildings. Which means natural light is a valuable commodity. And when Bangladeshi's say 'not furnished' they mean it - light bulbs, ceiling fans, stove not included. Again, we were lucky to find a place with light bulbs included. We also were luckier than other AYADs in finding a place including an air conditioner and a service fee each month that includes gas and water.

A great sense of relief yesterday when we moved into "Villa Rose"...that is, until the cockroach farm happily living and breeding in the flat reared their heads (the biggest roach I've ever seen actually crawled over my shoulder in a clear act of defiance). I retalited (initally with a scream) with a full-force attack. About 50 roaches lost their lives. That was either all of them, or the others have (intelligently) retreated. I hope they aren't planning a future attack...but I'll be ready.

This was all very funny to my Matt's who thought that we Queenslanders would be right at home with roaches...silly, naive (smart-ass) Victorians. Anyway, they can cook (and like to - herbs were brought from Australia) so no love has been lost.

One of the joys of living in such an overcrowded city is that (some) things happen quickly. Yesterday we went to buy beds. Beds that were MADE from scratch with the fabric of our choosing and delivered within 24 hours. Today we called to enquire about getting internet. 4 hours later: online!

So 24 hours after moving into our new home we have our basic essentials - beds, mossie nets, cooker and gas, fridge and internet. We'll be picking up some day beds for the living room, a coffee table and a bookshelf on Friday. We also bought some great fabric at the market yesterday and I put my (completely inadequate) sewing skills to work and we now have great new curtains. We're really embracing the colour exposion within the apartment (each room is a different colour - lounge room is pink/ochre, hallway blue and bedrooms are green). Think Bollywood hits Dhanmondi.

I start work at UNICEF in the morning, so will be catching my first rikshaw alone...hope my Bangla is up to it! More on that next blog...

A land of contrasts

Bangladesh truly is a land of contrast. This contrast is obvious within a matter of seconds on a Dhaka street where one-legged rikshawalas and brand new four-wheel drives fight for the road , where beggars and naked children crowd the street outside luxury hotels and where blonde bideshi's turn heads.

Everyday is a bit of a struggle...just walking down the street you are confronted by poverty - beautiful children grab at my hands and beg for money or food. The other night we actually saw a mother sleeping on the cement side of the road with two very young naked children and today a beggar with a broken arm followed me down the street. It truly rips at your heart. It's confronting and horrible and reinforces why I'm here all at the same time.

The traffic is also an interesting (life-flashes-before-your-eyes) experience. Here, size does matter. Rikshaws make way for CNGs which make way for cars which make way for vans which make way for buses, etc. And horns here are a way of life. The cacaphony of horns and bells are much to say "hello, yes I'm here, it's me, let me through". Forget all road rules you have learnt. Lights are irrelevent. Lanes don't exist. But somehow there is method to this madness.

I've spent a lot of time on the roads in the last week travelling from Gulshan to Dhanmondi with my Matts to search for a place to call our own. We will hopefully have secured a place in Lalmatia in the next week, in time to furnish it (ceiling fans and light bulbs NOT included!) before we begin work next Tuesday. Lalmatia is a beautiful, green, residential area south west of the city where both beggars and expats are fewer in number - but where I'm sure we'll have a lovely year.

My Matts are truly fabulous and I couldn't have hoped for better friends to share this experience with. The whole Bangladesh group are amazing (Sean, Amelia, Lyrian, Nat, Claire, Dan, Jane, Amy, Chris, Rach - love them all) and I'm sure we'll have a life-changing year together. I've yet to devise nicknames for my Matts...watch this space...but they are both suave, sophisticated, wise and responsible (chuckle chuckle...well, it's mostly true).

As for me, each day is a rollercoaster, which I'm told is the Bangla AYAD way of life. I have managed to buy four salwar kameez which I'm slowly getting used to (I quite like that they are so comfy). And I'm surrounded by interesting and amazing people - older AYADs, VIDAs, BELTTS and other expats - who have great stories and experiences to share. Including one lovely man I met today - Greg, a VIDA child rights lawyer with Save the Children - who approved of my mantra (one day at a time)
nd suggested a second: small steps are big steps. Indeed.

Touching down

Only two days ago all I could think about was that I was leaving behind a great guy, a great relationship. Now, unfortunately, that's the least of my worries. How to describe Bangladesh? Overwhelming. Chaotic. Hot. Home? I'm not sure yet.

I have wondered in these first few days why I would choose to leave a great country like Australia where I had a great job, fabulous friends and family and a bloody comfortable life for this...where it's so hot (even now coming into winter) that makeup isn't an option, where extreme poverty is thrown in your face every second of every day and where the "comforts of home" don't provide much comfort. Is it too late to be re-posted, perhaps to a beach?

There is some real beauty here too. The people are friendly and amazingly generous - on the flight in to Dhaka I sat beside a lovely guy who's given me his number, invited my entire group to his family's house for lunch and offered to show me around town. And there is a lot of green beside the dirt and some calm among the choas.

This is gonna be tough. And I don't know if I will last a year. If I can, I'll be truly amazed at myself. I'll deserve that Longines watch I've wanted for ages. The irony is that if I do make it through this year, I won't want a Longines watch.

For now, my new mantra is 'one day at a time', which is all I'm capable of for now.

Countdown: one week to go

Only a week to go before the big move. At this stage am trying not to focus on what I'm leaving behind but on the reasons for deciding to go. I'm expecting it to be hard (really hard) but life-changing. I hope during those first few months, when I'm likely to be sick (really sick), I can keep that in mind.

I can't wait to get there, move into a Dhanmondi flat with my new brothers: the two Matt's, start learning Bangla and get started at UNICEF.

Until then, there's a week's worth of breakfasts, lunches, dinners and drinks with family and friends to be had. (So much for the weight lost before Bec's wedding!)

Thanks to all those who made it to my farewell last night - see you all in a year!

x Casey