Daily Life, Bubble Butt and Thunder Thighs

In addition to the text, I have included a few pictures of Bandarban, a wedding picture of the stunning bride from a wedding I attended in Khagrachari and of some of the local indigenous people BNKS works with. Hopefully, I will have time to update my Picture page and flickr site now I have my camera back.

Morning, Noon and Night

Apart from a quality weekend spent hanging out in Khagrachari with Miriam (another UK VSO placed in the north of the Chittagong Hill Tracts), not much has happened here of late. The main reason for this has been, as eluded in a previous blog where I likened my work to chasing Tornadoes, Dilip, the staff member who can speak English, was called on short notice to Dhaka meaning we had little time to pre-plan work for me. Therefore, having been in Bangladesh now for 5 months and Bandarban for 4 months, I thought I would give a brief description of my daily life here, especially as it is only now that a sense of vague routine is appearing.
I wake at 7am and thankfully the temperature is warming up now after a period when leaving the warmth of the bed was difficult, but apparently soon I will be desperate for such conditions as the night temperatures will soon rise above 20*C and the humidity climbs to unbearable levels. Before breakfast I run through the surrounding tree and long grass covered hills which overlook Bandarban, past small Bamboo villages, local women weighed down with baskets off to work on the steep gorge slopes and excitable children who mischievously shout ‘hello, hello’ before ducking behind trees.
After Breakfast to the BBC World Service I set out on the arduous 30 second walk to the BNKS office. My desk, much to my discomfort, is the largest and most prominent in the office and I set up my laptop here and either wait for Dilip to discuss possible tasks for the day or do a bit of Bangla language practice. If Dilip is around, I will discuss BNKS projects, start work on an idea he has suggested could help BNKS (annual plan, HR Policy) or assist him in his English for communications with donors.  If he is elsewhere – either Dhaka or at one of our project sites, I will continue designing possible training sessions on report writing or web design, and if these are done, do some personal research on Human Rights or Democratisation. Lunch is usually rice or noodles with dhal plus some somosas from a street stall.

The afternoon is the same as the morning, punctuated by a trip to the tea stand near where the huge pig army hangs out, and often a confusing conversation with a staff member in Bangla or in Marma (local indigenous language) with BNK’s jokey cook. By 4 or 5 I’m often heading to the internet café – well a bamboo hut with a large aerial, to check emails and add more to the BNKS website. There is something satisfying about working on a website which can be seen by the world whilst Buddhist monks peer over your shoulder and cows walk past. Evenings are often spent cooking, reading or watching a DVD (Arrested Development has been a god send), although the new addition of a floodlit grass Badminton court has added some fun – my shouts in Bangla of ‘you got game’ and ‘Yeah I’m the daddy’ have yet to met with anything other than a nervous confused smile. Sometimes I go to dinner at our Executive Directors house or wander to Toymu (another VSO partner) and chat in English (a nice novelty) to Annie the Pilipino VSO there and the Toymu staff.  Bed is by 11pm.

 

There are good and bad points to it. The peacefulness of Bandarban, friendly nature of the locals and the opportunity to frame my understanding of poverty and development within genuine first hand observations is a real privilege. However, at times, especially when there is little work to do and Dilip is not about, I sometimes feel a touch isolated through language and culture with few people speak English with there are only so much enjoyment you can get out of basic Bangla conversation. This lack of social scene of any sort and ability to talk to people in English can be exhausting, if that makes sense. I feel this isolation is balanced when I believe I am making progress at work, otherwise, it can feel rather like I’m wasting my time. I’m off to Dhaka tomorrow though. Whilst this is not something to be glad of, Dhaka is a brutal assault on the senses, I will get to see some other volunteers and be involved in the Indigenous Rights Policy Review process, the later presenting a genuine (I hope) opportunity to gain some valuable experience.

Does my bum look big in this?

Working in a foreign country can present some interesting problems from eating with your hands to when to finish or not finish your food. In tropical climates clothes regularly need to be replaced and so you often have to venture into the local markets in search of tasteful additions to your wardrobe. Each country seems to have its own style, Ghana seemed to have huge quantities of donated European 70s+80s clothes making it possible to pick up some rather amusing retro items, Thailand had cornered the market in token wanna-be hippie stock whilst Australia possesses limitless supplies of surf wear. Bangladesh is slightly different. Whilst women can enjoy the colourful varieties of different South Asian Saris, men have to make do with shirts and trousers. A scary number of shirts are of the children’s sticker book design school with outrageous patterns, colours plus garish large logos and tags. The standard procedure is to slowly start dressing like Michael Palin (I’d kill to be able to wear trainers, jeans and a t-shirt here but would overheat and couldn’t bear watching my favourite clothes disintegrate in the Monsoon) but the biggest problem is size. On average Bangladeshis are small, hence, this means the available clothes are small. I don’t think I’m particularly overweight (indeed Bangla food’s effect on my stomach has ensured I’m rather slender) and cannot claim to pass for a small Swarznegger (Franco Colombo for fans of Pumping Iron) but here, I struggle to find clothes that fit. This has resulted in numerous instances of excitable shop owners trying with an enthusiastic impishness to do all the buttons of shirts up or to check the fit of trousers around my groin but this has not helped. In the UK I wear medium, here I’m triple X-Large and have to trousers tailored for me to avoid looking like the front of a butcher shop. Oh well, all part of the fun I guess?