All Eyes On Me

Today has already been an interesting day, and it’s only early afternoon. I’ve gotten to see a bit more of Dhaka and I’m loving it. Let me fill you in a bit on yesterday and today:

Yesterday after posting my last blog entry, we had lunch. There was a vegetable-based ‘curry’ (note: while ‘curry’ in itself technically doesn’t exist – it’s just a British invention to refer to many Indian dishes – I don’t know enough Bangla yet to catch what they are all called.) and fish, and lots of rice. I’m amazed at how much rice Bangladeshi’s eat. I don’t just mean they eat it at virtually every meal (that’s what I expected), but that they just seem to eat a large quantity of it. Every part of the meal must be mixed together with rice. So while at home, I would have rice sort of as a side, I am required to eat at least double that amount when I mix with both the meat and vegetable dishes. And it’s filling. If anyone’s concerned that I’m not eating enough, sleep easy. I am actually trying to carefully reduce the amount of food I’m eating, without appearing rude. And I definitely do not want that. Shuman (I’m still not sure about spelling, but I know I have the name right) is genuinely an excellent cook!

In terms of eating with my hands, I think I am getting better. The Bangladeshis have a rice mixing technique that is really fast and creates balls of food to be raised to the mouth. I’m trying to emulate them, but I am much, much slower.  Sophie, the German girl, today gave me a tip: You scoop with your first three fingers and then shovel into your mouth with your thumb. I tried at lunch today, and it is indeed much faster. We had fish at dinner as well (identical meal to lunch), and today we had chicken. Shuman is a Christian, so he does not have a lot of food restrictions (he professed to me that he adores pork especially), but since a lot of staff are Muslim, I will have to see what else we have. Also, shout out to Grandma (she was curious): I am expected to wash my own dishes after meals! J

Yesterday afternoon, despite my best efforts, I succumbed to my third nap of the day. I set an alarm to wake up after 2 hours max, but apparently slept through it. I awoke suddenly to darkness and a mosquito in my ear. It wasn’t actually as late as it looked, but I cursed myself for not having prepped for sunset. There seems to be virtually no mosquitoes during the day, but they come out at night of course. My bed has a mosquito net, but I didn’t have it around me for my nap. And my window was open. Luckily, I only had two bites, but I’ve learned my lesson to be more vigilant about anti-mosquito measures.

After dinner, Shuman, Babul (another staff member), Mr. Mong (I think he’s another staff member. I have no idea where he came from, but suddenly he was with us for dinner) and I sat outside in the warm night and chatted. I was asked a lot of questions about my family and was told a lot about the other’s families. While we were there, the recurring joke of Babul being an old man came up. They called him the “old man of Dipshikha”. He’s 46. I laughed along, thinking that it was only in reference to the other staffers being in their 30’s. But then I realized, kind of sickeningly, that he is in fact an old man by Bangladeshi standards. It is not at all unusual for men to die in their early 50’s.

I was still very tired and went to bed at 9:30 or so. I was going to have a shower, but cut it short when the cockroach freaked me out. There is at least one in both my bathroom and bedroom, but my policy towards them is now to just try to look away. The thought of crunching them under my shoe gives me the shivers, and I’m scared it wouldn’t even die. Plus, what would I do with the body?

I was obviously still jet lagged last night; I got up about every 2 hours, and got up for good at about 5:30am today. I had a full shower, which is just scooping water from a bucket and pouring it on myself. I do actually have a shower head, but since the water is so cold, I actually opted for bucket-style for more control.

After breakfast, Shuman invited me to join him at the market. It was so neat! Live animals and vegetables galore: we bought a chicken and watched it be killed and cleaned in front of us. Incidentally, Peter might be interested to know that there was a TV in the chicken stall. They were watching the Discovery channel in Bangla. I think “Breaking Point” was on. The episode with the bus.

I didn't get very many market pictures (I already had too much attention) but note the vegetables on the left, and the rickshaws.

At the vegetable stall, I was invited inside. “Sit, sit,” they urged me. It was kind of awkward. I just sat there facing customers as Shuman did his transactions. The boy working the cash register (I would guess about 13 years old-ish) said “hi, how are you?” but that was the extent of his English. Another woman came up to me and just talked and talked in Bangla. I could only smile. She started pointing to things and naming them for me to repeat, and I think I impressed and delighted her when I knew egg to be “dim” even before she said it (I learned at breakfast today).

It seemed everyone in the market was watching me. I read about this and heard about this, but it’s still a bizarre situation. People called out to me and asked me things, but all in Bangla. Maybe a maximum of one or two phrases in English. People on bikes stopped in the street and stared at me. Everyone stared at the white boy. My Lonely Planet said I should expect to be first asked my country, followed by my academic qualifications. Instead, I’ve found myself asked first whether I smoke, and then my country! Shuman also bought us each a cup of sweet ginger tea. I was urged to sit in the shade again, but the tea was really, really good. Tea is the staple drink, and I love it.

When we returned, Sophie invited me to join her on a shopping trip. She has been very nice to me, providing me with helpful hints and translations, offering to take me around (like this excursion), and she is of course very understanding of my Western perspective on things. We took a rickshaw to the store, which was an adventure in itself. The driver (on the bike portion) seems oblivious to anything behind or beside him, but does his fair share of honking at those in front. The seating is meant for Bangladeshis, of course, who are generally smaller people, so my knees were bent up and I was squished in beside Sophie. But it’s actually a really fun way to travel! Again, we got tons of stares. How odd it must be, for them to see two white people side by side.

The store we went to was fairly “high-end”. The prices are fixed (unlike markets where you can barter) and also significantly higher (Sophie tells me) and there are Western-emulating employees. A lot of employees. I actually cannot believe they can afford to hire so many! They are constantly standing around, or dusting the same places over and over, and they open the door for you, etc, etc. Despite my need for clothing, I didn’t buy anything. Mostly because of the price, and Anthony’s earlier commitment to help me get clothes tomorrow. We then went to a supermarket, which had a fair number of Western brands (though mostly in shampoos, perfumes and deodorants).

On the way back, we stopped just outside the Dipshikha office and bought green coconuts. Since they were “to go” the seller peeled back some of the skin and tied the two together, which was kind of neat. We drank the insides when we got back inside. It’s apparently the “safest thing to drink in Bangladesh” because there is no risk of water-borne bacteria, arsenic, or poor filtration. It tastes pretty good; kind of like a mix between cucumber and watermelon (I don’t know if that sounds good to you, but it’s very refreshing). Then, we cut them open and scooped out the soft inside. Same kind of taste, but with a slimy texture.

Drinking green coconut water (and repping JDSS)

Amazng these things become those brown furry things, eh? The peeled part is where mine was tied to Sophie's

I’m really excited for this afternoon. Shuman has asked me to accompany him to his “Auntie’s son’s marriage day” – so basically the one year anniversary of his cousin’s marriage. I am kind of nervous about how much I will be expected to eat (Sophie warned me that it will likely be a ton), and the honest truth is that, as sad as it may sound to us, I will probably just be to show off; apparently it is quite an honour to have your house visited by a white person. I think that’s a bit of a shame; I’m of course not much different than they are and it’s more of an honour for me to be invited into their home! But I think it will still be a very neat experience and taste of Bengali culture! My next post I’ll be sure to let you know how this ‘marriage day’ celebration goes!

I hope this post wasn’t too long or rambly but there’s just so much to tell! Anyway, you’re all free to skip or skim of course.

Until next time,

-C