Tourist Weekend

My name is...

First off: The mysterious fruit! What is it? I am very disappointed in the number of people who made guesses; thanks to Julien and Uncle Jason (sorta) for at least trying. To the rest of you: I am disappointed in your Googling skills.
But anyway, the answer is Jackfruit. It’s the national fruit of Bangladesh. I haven’t tasted it yet, and I have heard that most foreigners find it slightly revolting. Nonetheless, I feel I should at least try their national fruit, no? We’ll see. Above is a close up for you.

Days 16 and 17. This was my last weekend in Dhaka. I have a couple more days of Bangla classes, and then on Wednesday I head north to Rudrapur to finally get to work. I admit that I am really anxious to start, because that’s why I’m in Bangladesh in the first place. I’ve been in Dhaka longer than I thought. That being said, I guess I should also say that I have had a few other responsibilities for my time here. On top of learning Bangla, which will be essential for the village, I have also had a handful of required readings. They are all Dipshikha reports and publications, and I’ve been asked to read them to be up to speed on how Dipshikha operates. I’ve also had a couple meetings with Anthony to discuss the organization a bit more. But the specific details of my own work will become clearer when I get to Rudrapur and can speak with the Area Manager there.

Seeing as it was my last couple days off in the capital, I decided to make the most of it and try to hit up at least a few of the tourist destinations in Dhaka. Shumon had previously invited me to visit the Mirpur Zoo, and so Friday morning that’s where we went.

How to describe my feelings on the zoo? I don’t know. I guess, overall, I didn’t like it. I like zoos in North America. I think that, despite what some animal-rights groups scream about jail-like imprisonment, North American zoos have progressed to become something quite valuable. Huge amount of money are spent on research, medicine, and roomy enclosures, and zoos are usually instrumental in re-introduction programs and protecting endangered animals from extinction.

I’m not sure the Mirpur zoo is quite like that. First of all, I think it’s safe to say that it would fail inspection in Canada. Many of the enclosures were very, very bare. Whether it was monkeys, snakes, birds or lions, many of them were alone in a very cage-like structure. Some of the other enclosures were more open, but still small. And these ones had very little security. Had I wanted, I could have easily hopped the fence to the zebras or hippos or wildebeest (which, might I add, was spelt Wilda Beast on the English sign). The zoo visitors also didn’t have the respect for the animals that I would have hoped. They rattled cages and knocked continually on glass, and were always pushing for the opportunity to feed the animals. Signage discouraging all this was limited; I saw one sign, on only one cage, just near the end saying “Do Not Tease the Animals”. It was being blatantly ignored. There was no staff to be seen doing anything about it either.

All that being said, I do like animals and I do appreciate the opportunity to see them. There was quite an impressive diversity of animals. One benefit to the small cages was that you were often physically closer, and I could study the little monkey faces close-up. I will not pretend to have been able to identify whether the animals were “sad” or “wanted to be free” (though there was a baboon, alone in his cage, who just sat motionless in a corner, head down), but I would say that, like humans, they probably make the most of their situation. The monkeys in particular seemed to be having fun, jumping around the sides of cages, poking each other. A lot of the bigger animals just lounged about, but is that really any different from any other zoo?

My last major complaint was the amount of garbage. Whether inside or outside the zoo, Bangladeshi garbage disposal seems to be virtually non-functional. There didn’t appear to be any garbage cans in the zoo, but even if there were, I guess it wouldn’t matter. When people open their ice cream wrappers, or finish their water bottles, they just drop them. Since the zoo is basically just a light forest with enclosures interspersed between the trees, the garbage can’t even really be swept up, and so the whole ground is just littered with, well, litter. And the worst part was when it got into the enclosures. Empty bottles floating in the crocodile water, wrappers in the spotted deer field.

Oh wait, I have another complaint, too. The stares. I guess because there were just so many people, but the staring really got to me. It was constant, with tons of people watching me. It was most annoying because I seemed more interesting than the animals to some people. While I snapped a picture of an elephant, I saw in my peripherals everybody the whole length of the fence nudging each other and turning their heads so that soon a good dozen people are all staring at me, not the elephant. I don’t mind so much if people smile, or say “Hello! How do you do! Welcome to my country!” or whatever in English or Bangla. I just smile back, or try to reply, and that’s fine. But especially middle-aged men have this tendency to look directly into your eyes, unsmiling, and not at all deterred by you making eye contact. I always try a small smile, but if it doesn’t work, I just stare directly back, no expression, in response to these non-smilers. Hopefully I get accustomed to the staring soon… Though I think the village will be worse…

Aww... look at the cutie! And notice his barren cage...

When we finished at the zoo, Shumon invited me to his Auntie’s house, in the maze of back streets of Mirpur-2 (so same area, different neighbourhood from Dipshikha) for lunch. I guess to make up for the missed marriage day dinner. I didn’t understand the relationships between everyone I met, but I do know that I met his Auntie (father’s sister) and her husband, who is a chicken salesman. Here is a poorly-taken photo of his shop:

An FYI for Dad

Most of the time in the Auntie’s house, I didn’t see her nor her husband. They went in the back room, and left me to sit in the main room with Shumon and a young boy (someone’s nephew?) and a young woman (I think the wife of Shumon’s cousin, maybe). They did come out when the meal was served, but I was asked to eat at a table, alone, with my back to the rest of the room. It was very awkward, because I would have loved to at least attempt some small convo with my hosts, but my position made that impossible. BUT, the food was delicious! Not as spicy as I had feared (maybe Shumon warned them not to use too many chilies), and very tasty. There were several dishes, too – vegetable, chicken and fish curries. I even managed to weakly, and with some help, say “delicious food” in Bangla to my host. I think that was a good moment. When we finished eating, my hosts disappeared again, and we left, and so the only person I could properly thank was the young woman. Bengali culture and language are strange to me in that politeness is not explicit, but always implicit. Therefore, they do not really have a word for thank you (or at least the word that exists is basically never used), and so maybe that’s why the hosts disappeared: There is nothing to be said.

To carry on this concept for a moment, Snigdha and I have talked about it extensively in my Bangla class. She says the word for thank you is rarely used in Dhaka (mostly by foreigners) and that you will never, ever hear it in the villages. Please also does not have a word (though the English word is sometimes used by Bangladeshis trying to emulate Westerners), but many words or structures imply ‘please’. As Snigdha describes it, instead of a word meaning, say ‘give’, it means ‘please give’. Bangladeshis also do not say ‘good morning’, and rarely ‘hello’. Usually, they ask ‘How are you?’ and this is meant to imply all of that. Snigdha has said that this may be the biggest challenge for foreigners. A lot of people get very frustrated with the perceived lack of manners, and Snigdha said some have even left the country early because of it.

Friday evening, Sophie invited me to a little get-together in Shamoli neighbourhood. It was at the office of another NGO, whose name, unfortunately, I didn’t catch. Hopefully, I’ll be able to figure it out someday. Anyway, they are an NGO that deals with labour issues and labourer rights. They are very progressive, and have tons of international contacts. The purpose of this get-together was to say goodbye to a German student, completing his Master’s, who was heading home after 3 months with the organization. His name was Andrew or Andrei or something, and I’m frustrated that I can’t remember, but there you go. Started with an ‘A’. I guess Sophie has come to know this NGO through a German she met at her own Bangla classes back when she first arrived. The visiting foreigners come and go, but Sophie has kept her ties with the original staff and is welcome always. Anyway, when we arrived, some of the staff was there, and they were very kind and very liberal. The women were treated as equals, and laughed and joked in perfect English, and hugged Andrei when they had to go (this is NOT something that is generally acceptable). We had a delightful dinner, then sipped beers and chatted into the night, as the staff one-by-one went home, leaving just the three of us Westerners. Yes you heard correctly: beer! It’s very hard to come by in Bangladesh, because of the 97% of the population that is Muslim and therefore cannot drink it, but it does exist. I admit that I hadn’t expected to see it in Bangladesh. Anyway, when it was just the three of us, we could chat openly about what we loved and hated and didn’t understand about Bangladesh (though, to be honest, we could pretty well do so when the staff was there too. Most of them have been to Europe several times and understand how Bangladesh is different). It was refreshing and nice, and, though I didn’t realize it until it happened, very much needed. It felt so good to express frustrations and joys and problems with people who could really understand.

The NGO had guest-rooms where we could sleep so that we didn’t have to take a CNG back at night (Night driving in Dhaka is super dangerous), and so that we could see ‘A’ off at 5:30am when he headed to the airport. We then took a CNG back to Dipshikha in the misty morning, where Sophie herself packed up and headed out to catch a bus. She was headed back to her rural village (called Ghoraghat), to continue her work. Though I will likely see her again in the next couple months, it did leave me as the only Westerner at Dipshikha. Hopefully it’s not too lonely. Though I guess I’ll be gone in just a short while too!

A bit later Saturday morning, Shumon and I headed out to see a bit of Old Dhaka. I had hoped to be doing this sightseeing with my friend Shannon who’s also in Dhaka (but who I haven’t yet seen), but unfortunately she was sick and couldn’t join me (Shannon: If you’re reading this, I hope you’re feeling better!!). Dipshikha staff didn’t want me downtown Dhaka alone, and so Shumon joined me. This was both good and bad. On one hand, navigating our way into the heart of Old Dhaka was not easy, even with Shumon speaking with our CNG driver in Bangla. We got lost/took some wrong turns and can’t imagine what it would have been like alone. On the other hand, I was sorta at his mercy about how long we spent at places, and exactly where we went. There were a couple things I would have liked to see, but alas it didn’t happen.

Our first stop was the pink palace of Ahsan Manzil, in Sadarghat, Old Dhaka. It was built in the late 1800’s, and its builder, Nawab Abdul Ghani was a very wealthy man. He donated a lot of money to local projects and charities, and also entertained many British officials and VIPs, and hosted at Ahsan Manzil the first meeting of the All-India Muslim League (anyone who knows a bit about Indian/Pakistani independence would find that tidbit kinda neat). The building itself is quite beautiful, with such a distinct colour, but the smell (coming from the nearby Buriganga River) was terrible in the grounds, and the fact that the electricity was out made the inside museum portion a bit less than ideal. It was hard to tell, sometimes, what I was looking at, and the labels were almost always too dark to decipher. I couldn’t take photos, but here is a terrible picture of Nawab Abdul Ghani’s favourite elephant’s skull, which I took before I realized I couldn’t (also I took the picture because I wanted to use the flash to see what I was looking at. It was kinda shocking for a moment that it was a huge skull). But some of the rooms that were well-restored showed great opulence and were very aweing, and the collections that I could see were sometimes quite interesting. To be rich and/or British in India during British rule must have been quite the life…

Ahsan Manzil

It would be my favourite elephant too.

We then took a rickshaw through Old Dhaka to Lalbagh Fort, in Lalbug neighbourhood. The ride over was very exciting, scary, and may sum up Dhaka as I’ve come to know it. The roads are terribly narrow in Old Dhaka, and there are gaping holes that open into, I guess, part of the sewage system. So our trip consisted of many traffic jams of rickshaws as everyone tried to go in every direction, and we continually narrowly avoided having a tire slip into a hole (which would have undoubtedly tipped our whole rickshaw). We passed metal workers and vegetable salesmen and shoemakers. There was a constant change of smells – from the disgusting whiffs of the Buriganga River, to spices like turmeric and cumin, to human sweat, to flower blossoms. Quite the adventure. We also passed (but, of course, didn’t stop at) the Sitara Mosque. It’s decorated with Japanese and English china-tiles, making it look very unique. I tried my best to get a decent photo as we whizzed by:

Sitara Mosque

 

Lalbagh Fort was pretty neat. It was built by the Mughals in the late 1600s. Or at least, started. When the death of Shaista Khan’s (the second ruler responsible for its construction) daughter died, it was taken as a bad omen, and the Fort was never completed. Still, it’s quite a sight, especially tucked, as it is, in the heart of Old Dhaka. The grounds are meticulously-kept gardens, and the stone is all a bright brick orange. We saw the mausoleum to the daughter (though you can’t go inside), and the Fort Mosque- though because it was prayer hour, or because Shumon didn’t want to (I’m not really sure which) we didn’t go inside either. But we did go into the Hall of Audience, where a staff member showed me around the royal baths, through a collection of Mughal weapons, to the Persian dishware, which, allegedly, changes colour if poisoned food is served on it. Of course, he asked for a little ‘tip’ for his services. But by my standards, it wasn’t a lot and it did help to be shown around. Shumon’s friend also joined us later in our visit to the Fort, and we walked along the walls, and relaxed on the ruins. I quite enjoyed it.

Lalbagh Fort. Ahead is the mausoleum part. And notice how Dhaka looms behind it.

We went with Shumon’s friend from the Fort, through the neighbourhood of Old Dhaka, and stopped for some cool drinks before heading back to Dipshikha by bus. Now, during the day, we didn’t really eat lunch. We had a few snacks, but I wasn’t really hungry – or perhaps I was just so thirsty from the intense heat that I didn’t notice my hunger. Anyway, missing lunch, for me, wasn’t a huge deal. But for Shumon, I guess it was. He complained on the way back, and asked if I would eat when I got back. I was exhausted from the day and told him I would just sleep. Fast-forward a few hours to 8:30pm, a little while before dinner. I’m sitting on Dipshikha’s patio in the evening breeze, and Shumon comes over. Asks me if I’m hungry. “Yes”. Then he tells me that he’s starving, because he didn’t eat anything either when we got back! I was highly exasperated. Apparently it was my fault that he was so hungry, even though there was nothing stopping him from getting his own food, especially since he’s a cook (couldn’t he just fry himself an egg???)! I don’t really get it, but there you go. Lost in translation or something.

Anyway, that rounds out my weekend seeing Dhaka! I guess the length of this post will make up for the lack of recent noteworthy posts!

-C