bugs & beauty in bangladesh

2009-06-15T13:40:00.002+06:00

Article here: Does Bangladesh Use Foreign Aid Wisely?

Apropos, coming after my posts of train travel in Bangladesh. It would be great if the Dhaka-Chittagong trains were faster...and even better if the political system was less corrupt.

Srimongol

2009-06-12T09:57:00.014+06:00

We had a week off in April, and I decided to stay in Bangladesh to see more of the country. It was the right decision; I'm really glad that's what I did! We spent about half the week in Srimongol, a nature preserve in Syhlet division (famous for its tea plantations), soaking up some fresh air. The other half of the week we spent in Dhaka seeing the sights and eating American food (i.e. real coffee and pizza!).

LB and I traveled around the country by train. It was really comfortable and much less nauseating than the bus, which weaves through traffic at an alarming rate. On Day One we arrived half an hour early to the Chittagong train station, the first people on the train. A man sat down next to us and helped us get into the right seats. Then he asked the usual questions that we answer 15 times a day: What is your country? What is your job?, etc etc. It was 7am and we weren't in the mood. Next question: Do you speak Bengali? We said no. Then he called someone on his cellphone and proceeded to talk about us on the phone in Bengali! We couldn't hold in our laughter and he got up, embarrassed. He sat back down about 10 minutes later when the Koran was being read aloud on the loud speaker and said ascerbically "You know Koran?" Needless to say we did not make a new friend.

Between the chop shop across the street, CNG motors, rickshaw bells, howling dogs, huge trucks, blaring horns, burning garbage and car exhaust, Chittagong is incredibly noisy and polluted. Arriving in Srimongol at our guest house-- about a 20 minute ride past tea plantations and into the "jungle"-- was incredibly refreshing. My lungs ached from the fresh air and my ears were ringing from the quiet! That first night, the power went out, the fan turned off, and my ears were ringing so loud that I couldn't sleep. I actually heard my stomach growl for the first time in months.

Our guest house:

We stayed at the guest house of Christian NGO that does a lot of health work in the area, especially with leprosy. The whole missionary thing was a little awkward, but we're used to it by this point (not the first guesthouse of that type we've been at this year!).

Some shots from the village:

This cow is too skinny.

It was jackfruit season! Jackfruit everywhere, growing out of every corner of the trees.I stole this picture from LB. The guest house didn't have a generator, so we spent a lot of time hanging out by candlelight.

One day we took a tour of the area with a guide. First, we went walking through the nature preserve.
So much bamboo in this country! I showed my pictures to some students, who thought it was hilarious that I took pictures of bamboo. But I've never seen it growing before!
Welcome to the village
The zoom on my camera is pretty good. A monkey munching on jackfruit!

We visited a pineapple plantation:

So many pineapples.
We got to eat some! They were extra small for the season due to lack of rain.
Seriously, jackfruit everywhere.
Pineapple bushes are the best. It looks like someone just set the little pinapple on top.
We walked through a tribal village. . .
A pig! Don't see many of those in this country.
The village school. The boys and girls didn't stand together at recess, or so it seems.
These guys were chasing a rogue cow. They didn't catch it.

Boy games.

LB took a picture of me showing them the picture above.

Tea plantation!

The famous 7 layer tea of Srimongol. An experience.

We got in trouble for taking a picture of the kitchen, as we might deduce the "secret" recipe.

Rubber trees! They look the part, don't they?Little grooves are cut into the trees and the rubber runs down the groove into a cup waiting to collect it.

Last stop was a nice quiet lake.

A boat. The fishermen had just come back in for the day and were relaxing on the edge of the water.
Mangoes. Mmmmm.
Stopped to get some watermelon on the way home. Perfect end to the day.

Next up...train ride to Dhaka!

Flooding in Bangladesh

2009-06-08T00:16:00.001+06:00

See some pictures of the many problems caused by the rainy season:

Here, from the BBC

Shubho Novo Borsho!

2009-05-23T08:08:00.006+06:00

Apologies for not updating for a long time. Here are some pictures from Bengali New Year...way back on April 14th. After ringing in the new year at midnight with the students (it was the New Year in some other cultures as well-- Cambodia, Sri Lanka, Nepal, and parts of India). I was exhausted. We had the next day off from school. I was planning on sleeping in but my students didn't let me! We went to Chittagong University (about 45 outside of town, by CNG) where they had a huge festival. It was a really fun day. One of my most memorable in Chittagong, for sure.

New Years has, hrmm, its main celebratory traditions both at home (party! champagne!) and here... businesses open a new accounts book! Halkhata, I think it's called. And they offer sweets to their customers, especially the indebted ones who come to pay up.

Some snapshots:

We watched a puppet show:

Me with the students:
The cafeteria at Chittagong University:

There were CROWDS of people there. And yes, I stood out a bit, as you might guess.

Man-powered wooden ferris wheel! I rode it-- a definite highlight!! Men push it around and you have to hold on tight to the bar in the middle of each bench or you'll tip out!

Getting my face painted with 'happy new year!' I think it sweated off my face soon thereafter (it was in the high 90's all day, not a cloud in the sky...).

Stopping for a snack:

Apparently wrestling matches are some sort of new years tradition. It was an interesting match. So interesting that people climbed the trees to get a good view!
CNGs lined up at the gas station. An excellent example of photos I take that the students think are hilarious-- imagine someone getting excited and taking a picture of a gas pump in the U.S.

bundarbun

2009-04-02T16:11:00.003+06:00

A few weekends ago we took a trip to Bundarbun, a small town about two hours from Chittagong, in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Although not the most relaxing trip, it was really nice to escape the noise and pollution of the city. Some Bengalis live here, along (not always happily) with the indigenous tribes, and some refugees from Myanmmar.

Taking a walk through some rice paddies:

Going fishing!

Tree farm:

I really like this tree with its tennis-ball fruit that tastes like apples:

It's clearly the dry season:

Varanasi

2009-03-28T15:57:00.001+06:00

Finally, I'm getting around to posting more pictures from India. These from Varanasi are unfortunately the last of the photos (both for Varansi and India) because my computer crashed a month ago and there is no place I can take to get it fixed around here. At least, Varansi is one of the oldest continually-inhabited cities in the world, so it will most likely be the same if I make it back someday.

From Kolkata we took a train up to Varanasi, then to Agra, then to Delhi. Since we didn't start planning our India trip until the night before leaving (not a strategy I'd recommend), we had to go buy train tickets at the ticket office in Kolkata. It worked out fine and the ticket seller was really nice. "As your elder," he said "Can I offer you some advice? People will try to make friendship with you and then offer you food or drink. Don't take it! It will make you senseless!" He was exactly right. On our train ride there, a man tried repeatedly to befriend us by telling us his daughter our age-- that he never lets out of the house alone and would never allow to travel as we are. Not the best tactic. He wouldn't leave us alone. We clearly didn't take any of the "special homemade food" he tried to force at us!

Otherwise, our 20 hour train ride to Varanasi was really nice, despite the fact that it was about 8 hours late. We learned later that there are different "priority" levels of trains, with the higher ones being kept on schedule. Here's LB in our sleeper car:

We got into Varanasi after dark, and found our way through the winding streets of the city to our hostel. The old part of the city is laid out like many "old cities", I guess. All the lanes are narrow, winding, and nonsensical (and all the more interesting!). Our hostel was on the bank of the Ganges, right in front of one of the ghats. The Ganges is a holy river for Hindus and hundreds of people bathe in it each morning at Varanasi. The dead are also cremated into the water at a special ghat, which we got to see. They are cremated on special, expensive logs. As we were wandering the narrow alleys of the city, we occasionally would turn a corner right into the middle of funeral procession. A body propped up on logs, and a procession of men (only, of course) following behind in a line. We also stumbled upon a lot of cows.

We took a boat trip in the morning, at sunrise, and watched people bathing in the river . . . it's one of those things that sounds fine before you go, but makes me feel really uncomfortable as a tourist! It is a special something that I can read about, but am not part of and shouldn't be watching...

Cows are sacred to the Hindus. So, there were lots of cows. After awhile they just blend in with the crowds.

Bathing on the banks of the Ganges:

Cows have this much coordination?

One of the ghats:

Cow dung is saved and dried out in cakes for use in fueling fires (you can see this all over Bangladesh as well):

Along the water:

Veggie market:

The ghat in front of our hostel. They made the monument too big, and it sunk in!:

Cow, taking in the view of the Ganges:

India = Colorful

We stumbled upon one of the famous temples in Varanasi, where a lot of people were heading to worship:

Busy streets! On our way back to the train station, rushing through the narrow lanes at night, we almost plowed over a cow. I think it got a little irritated. "Slowly, slowly!!" an Indian shouted at us.

chhaupadi

2009-03-20T10:20:00.002+06:00

"Nepal's 'confined women' want change"
(from the BBC)

I used this article for discussion in my classes on Thursday. It’s about the practice, in

Nepal

, of isolating women and their babies for the first 11 days after childbirth. Not all students were against it, making for an interesting discussion. It does sound harmless initially. As one student pointed out, maybe it’s good that the baby is not exposed to all the germs, bacteria and viruses carried in the outside world by other people. However, this means that these women and children do not receive medical care if they fall ill. The mothers are not allowed to eat normal, nutritious food like lentils and meat, forgoing the protein and iron that they surely need after childbirth. Finally, the two are typically kept in isolation in an unsanitary, dark, dank place with animals, such as a cow shed.

Depressingly, one student noted that even though the women in the article are upset, it only lasts for 11 days. Surely she will remember her experience when it comes time to force her daughter to do the same, but the pressure of tradition will overrule and the cycle continues. Many of our families still practice these things, the students noted, even though many of us are sitting here thinking they should not.

Apparently rules like this apply to menstruation, too. And they are found across religions—my Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist students all compared similar restrictions. Frequently, women are not allowed in places of worship while they are menstruating because they are not “pure” in this condition. There’s a temple in India where no women are allowed to go from the age of 8 to 60. Why, asked one student, are we pushed away from God while in a condition God created for us? On a more uplifting note, one student made the very good point that while these rules are followed in the name of God, they are not written by God. There is no evidence of them in any holy book. They are created completely by society and therefore can be changed by society, too!

Our Coordinates

2009-03-10T08:34:00.002+06:00

I found the school building on Google Maps-- our coordinates are:
lat: 22.358035
long: 91.824149

To the right of the "Royal Garden Community Center" are three white rectangular buildings. The one farthest to the right is actually three smaller buildings. The one closest to the road is the school! AUW actually owns the others, they just aren't completely built yet.

View Larger Map

Talk to Strangers

2009-03-01T18:46:00.000+06:00

In the spirit of getting back in the habit of writing regularly, I thought I'd share some of my most recent "Oh, Bangladesh!" moments. I like having at least one whoa-I'm-definitely-not-at-home moment every day. The last couple days, these moments came in conversations with locals on the street. Sometimes talking to strangers pays off.

1. Word about our school has gotten out, and people in town sometimes know where it is. The nifty sign on our driveway certainly helps:

Today, I walked past a school that had just let out. A little boy and his older brother (maybe 12 years old) caught my attention and asked, "You study on Asian Woman Lane?"

Close enough! Best street name ever. Better yet, for the first month or so, the sign did read "Asian University for Woman Lane" and it was a joke amongst the teachers over which "Asian Woman" would be the lucky one. Then they fixed it.

2. A couple days ago, I was walking back from the market near school. Taking a shortcut, I got bombarded by children "Hello! Hello! Hello!". A little exasperated after a long day, I couldn't muster the enthusiasm for much of a response, and the man walking behind me quieted them down. We then had a rough English-Bangla conversation. Of course, he asked me if I had a husband . . .

Without any hesitation, I told him the story about my husband (he's coming soon from America), along with the reasons why I don't yet have any children, etc.

Fun things I can't do at home :P

Mutiny

2009-02-27T23:04:00.006+06:00

Dear Mom:

It's over. The rebels have surrendered and released their
hostages.
Don't worry.

Love,
Cindy

While we were not in any danger (although there was some gunfire in Chittagong), the past couple days were concerning. We left school early and were instructed to stay indoors. The government also shut off the cell phone network. And I got numerous reassuring (*sarcasm) emails from American Embassy saying little besides "All Embassy personnel are to remain safe within the walls of the Embassy". Too bad for the rest of you!

A group of soldiers in Dhaka, part of the Border Patrol (which is also part of the Army in some way), started a mutiny over pay and, ironically, the lack of opportunities to participate in well-paid United Nations peacekeeping missions. It lasted for about two days, stopping only after the Army's show of force in taking tanks to the streets. Altogether, the death toll now stands at 100. Supposedly some of the Border Patrol in Chittagong and other towns also took part in the mutiny, in solidarity I presume.

Now, as officials are going through the Border Patrol camps where the mutiny originated and where the hostages were held, is the saddest part. They've already found 30 bodies of high-ranking officers held hostage and killed by the mutinous guards. Some bodies were left in the sewers, others were thrown into a hastily-dug mass grave site. Worst of all, those found in this grave site were killed after the surrender. Not that there is ever a good reason to kill, but that ranks with the lowest of the low.

The saddest thing, to me, is that this is what the soliders felt they had to do to be paid a decent wage. It's not that only evil, immoral people sign up for this group-- there is just no other avenue they could take. The government is barely there, so corrupt, so overloaded with other problems . . . of course, the newly elected Prime Minsister's son described her handling of this event as "a triumph for democracy" according to the BBC.

News stories:
Here
Here
and Here

D. It is Written

2009-02-07T09:30:00.000+06:00

Slumdog Millionaire

I first saw the pirated movie version in Bangladesh, and then got to see it on the big screen during opening weekend in India. I loved the movie; won't say anything more. Go see it! Plus, it's a glimpse into this side of the world.

Having received several nods at recent awards shows, the movie is causing a sensation in India. There's harsh criticism there too-- "India does not have poverty like that." It's not everywhere. But, I'm pretty sure it wasn't just movie sets!

India I: Kolkata

2009-02-04T19:26:00.000+06:00

Returned to Chittagong a few days ago, after a fun and exciting two-week trip through India. I'll post as many pictures as I have the patience to upload! We took an overnight bus to India. It cost about $20, and I guess for that low price it is acceptable to lie about the duration of the ride. We were told it was 14 hours-- long enough-- but it was 21 hours later that we actually arrived in Kolkata! Crossing the border at Benapole, we walked through a 10-meter long no-man's-land between the two countries. Coincidentally, I just learned today that this is where West Bengal and Bangladesh celebrate together on Mother Language Day! There were no computer systems or anything at this crossing (causing a minor tiff upon our re-entry at the airport two weeks later), and the border officials didn't seem quite sure about what to do with our American passports. But eventually, we got through, hopped on another bus and arrived in Kolkata.

Waiting in Customs

Leaving Bangladesh!

A note on the name-- Calcutta is the British spelling/pronunciation, but now it's back to Kolkata. Just like Mumbai used to be called Bombay. Chittagong, actually, is the British name as well. Locals call it Chottogram.

Preparing to visit Kolkata, I definitely had a mental picture of ubiquitous poverty and suffering, no doubt brought on by Mother Theresa and popularized tales of her missionary work there. While I hope what she did was valuable, it's unfortunate that her legacy leaves the world with such misconceptions about Kolkata. We heard that lots of locals feel quite ambivalent about her work there, for this reason, and I would not be surprised if that is true. Today's Kolkata is quite different-- it's a charming city with a lot of character, supposedly the "intellectual headquarters" of India. There is certainly a large range of wealth and poverty, like that found in any major urban area in the world, but it's nothing like the images our minds are conditioned to conjure up when hearing "Calcutta".

A little money definitely goes a long way when it comes to lodging in India. Our first night, for $3, we got a damp room in a noisy building where I didn't see another woman the entire time. After that, we upgraded to $5 hostels, which were significantly more comfortable and populated with lots of eccentric tourists (of both genders).

Night #1: Toilet flushing is accompanied by waterworks show

We went to the India Museum. Getting there was really amusing-- the taxi driver didn't know where it was, so he stopped some older men on the road to ask for directions. They started yelling, clearly dismayed that this driver did not where to find the museum for his own country. In true South-Asian fashion, about a dozen men gathered, all shouting directions and chastising the driver. One thing I really liked about tourist sites in India: they charge drastically different entry fees for foreigners and nationals. This museum was $5 for me, about 20 rupees for an Indian. Yes, I have to pay more, but I think it's fair. And what fun are tourist sites if the only other people there are tourists, too?

The museum is in a beautiful old mansion, and is one of the oldest museums in the world:

Elephant skeleton!Relatives. Plus an arm-man.
Whoa

I always find these in my room. They stick to everything. I never knew what they were. Couldn't figure it out, and found them a little creepy. Thanks to the India Museum for solving the puzzle!
Remnant stamp of colonialism:
Millions of cricket games in the park! How do you even remember which game you're in?!?

I think Kolkata is one of the last places where there are still foot-powered rickshaws everywhere:

I really like how people paint and decorate trucks in South Asia:

Slumdog Millionaire posters

Victoria Memorial

Kolkata's taxis

Merry-Go-Round :)

Worship
After finding Mother Therea's Mission (closed on Sundays), we wandered down the road to a pretty church:
The caretaker saw and was quite eager to give us a look:
Tagore's House/Birthplace. An oasis of calm in the middle of the city.
Even I felt like writing poetry.
Street Scene

Ran into some of students, also visiting Kolkata on vacation!

Local food (YUM):

And local drink:

Of all the cities in India, Kolkata was definitely my favorite. The city had a lot of character, and the people were the friendliest we encountered.

Next, on a train and off to Varanasi!

Kolkata train station:

Three Cheers for Bangladesh!

2009-02-02T20:25:00.004+06:00

Slowly, Bangladesh shows the world how change is possible:

The Walk to School

2009-01-09T01:00:00.001+06:00

A few haphazard shots from the walk to school:

My street, not too busy in the morning!

The men that hang out in front of the mosque:

A little more traffic...

Stinky, stinky garbage

roundabout before school
chickens!

vegetables!!
greeted at school by the little puppy some of the girls rescued and take care of.
he isn't good at posing.

next door: construction? deconstruction? a little of both . . .

Only Away from Home

2009-01-05T21:13:00.002+06:00

I like to have one "Wow, I'm definitely in a different country" moment every day.

Yesterday's moment, however, wins:

I went to the Indian Embassy to pick up my visa. Walked through 'security'. The man asked to look in my bag. He opened all the compartments, and pulled out a tampon (which, as you know, they don't have in this part of the world). He held it in my face.

"WHAT is this?? WHAT is this for??"

"Um...medical purposes??"

"WHAT?!"

"Umm..."

"You cannot take these in here. I have to keep your bag."

We argued for a little then I let him keep it.

So, he kept my bag, with the tampons, while I was in the embassy. I came back, retrieved my bag, sans one. He kept a tampon!!!!!! I hope he Googles Tampax and blushes for a week.

Election Day

2009-01-03T18:58:00.001+06:00

Living abroad makes me realize what I take for granted at home. Free, fair and safe elections, for example. Bangladesh held its national elections on December 29th. We received an email entitled "Election Safety" that included the following: "It is always good to turn up at the poll center early morning and finish the voting procedure early and come back." This is in order to avoid the possibility of getting stuck in a riot.

Only students with a voter ID card were allowed to leave the building, and the teachers were under house-arrest for the day, as well. There were few disruptions during pre-election time. Only groups of men chanting and CNG's driving around with megaphones perched on top, blaring campaign slogans. Pre-election time is normally peaceful, I was told, but the real concern is that there will be riots and violence after a winner is announced. Hence the reason for this blog post coming a week after the event-- didn't want to worry Mom :) I crossed my fingers that everything would go smoothly, bought some extra food, and hoped the country didn't go into lockdown.

Bangladeshi politics are so corrupt that the ballot includes a tick box for each of the two candidates, and a third choice for "none of the above". According to the BBC, it doesn't really matter who wins. Both women have been in politics for so long and both were jailed last year on corruption charges. Elections were supposed to occur over a year ago, but because of rampant political corruption and frequent public disruptions, a state of emergency was declared. A caretaker government administered by the military was imposed. The state of emergency was lifted just a few weeks ago, in order to allow for the assembly of citizens at political meetings and rallies.

The elections went smoothly. No public gatherings, even in celebration, were allowed after the results came out. Heard a few groups of men chanting and parading down the street, but nothing major. Sheika Hasina of the Awami League won Prime Minister, by a wide margin. Her opponent, Khaldea Zia of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party, immediately alleged massive "poll-rigging" and voting fraud. But she has since let up and agreed to cooperate with the new government. Stay tuned for that!

I'm not in India

2008-12-28T08:19:00.000+06:00

An amusing line from a recent issue of The Economist, on India-Bangladesh relations:

"Bangladesh, a semi-hostile nation of 153m delta-dwellers, which is currently under military rule and often under water, is another worry."

Additionally, seems inter-country trade (at 2%!!) is lower in this region than anywhere in the world. Unfortunate.

Christmas in Bangladesh

2008-12-26T17:27:00.003+06:00

Merry Christmas!

I celebrated the holiday by going to midnight mass at one of the two local catholic churches. At no time in recent memory have I been to a catholic mass, so why not in Bangladesh? About 15 of our students came with us (Everyone wanted to come, but only the Christians were allowed to attend!) The church was mostly Sri Lankan ex-pats. And it was, of course, decked out with bright lights:

Walkway into the church:

On Christmas Day, there was a special lunch at school. Chef tried his hand at mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables and roast chicken! It was really quite tasty, and he was quite proud. The students, however, thought the food was way too bland for a special holiday.

With Chef (Gias) and his masterpieces!

Chittagong has a lot of garment factories, where people sew ready-to-wear clothes. One of our students gave us a gift-- she hit the jackpot in surplus granny-panties, and wanted to share the wealth. So we each got our own pair.

modeling the granny-panties

Today's Language Moment

2008-12-15T23:46:00.002+06:00

Miss Cindy: If you have any questions, come see me! OK? Come see me.

[Cambodian students start laughing hysterically.]

Cambodian students: Miss, in our language [Khmer], "Come see me." means "Come eat noodles with me."

Eid Mubarak!

2008-12-09T18:49:00.000+06:00

Or, "Happy Eid!"

The sighting of the moon last night marked the beginning of the second Eid, Eid Al-Adha. This is the "Festival of Sacrifice". It is a celebration of Abraham's passing of a trial from God, showing his willingness to sacrifice. Abraham was asked to sacrifice his son Ishmael to God, but the devil tempted him to disobey. Abraham overcame temptation, willing to make the sacrifice, when God intervened and gave him a lamb to sacrifice instead.

Eid Al-Adha also marks the end of the Haji, the annual Muslim pilgrimmage to Mecca, and the reason for the postponement (again) of the Bangladeshi national elections.

Most of what I know about the actual celebration of this Eid comes from the ex-Palestinian taxi driver that drove us from Amman, Jordan to Petra around this time last year [here I take pause to reflect on the past 1.5 years with a smile]. It's all very simple. Step One, he says: Slaughter a goat. Step Two: Divide goat into three parts. One part for the family, one part for the neighbors, and one part for the poor. In Bangladesh, they seem to use cows instead of goats. Unfortunately, I don't have a goat, a cow, or even a sheep. So for all you at home, no need to anticipate an excitingly hairy and grisly package any time soon.

the slaughter
(seen from my window)

Long Beans

2008-12-08T13:39:00.000+06:00

They taste like green beans . . . yum!

Grameen Bank

2008-12-07T16:43:00.001+06:00

I'm no economist, but this was pretty neat!

Grameen Bank is a Bangladeshi claim to fame (at least in the world of development-minded people). We had a chance to visit Jobra, where the bank was started by Muhummad Yunus in 1976. The bank pioneered microfinance-- giving the rural poor access to small loans. Small amounts of credit give people the chance to lift themselves out of poverty. Maybe by starting a small business with the purchase of their own weaving loom, for example. Before Grameen, people often borrowed from money lenders charging exorbitant interest rates. If you want to weave cloth, for example, first you need yarn and a loom. Perhaps the money lender gives you money for these raw materials, but on the condition that you to sell your finished product back to him at his price-- inevitably less than the market rate. Your profit is minimal-- so minimal that you don't have enough to buy the raw materials for the next batch of cloth. Back you go to the money lender, and the cycle continues. Microfinance is a way to break this pattern.

In Jobra, we got to attend one of the weekly meetings of borrowers. Most of the borrowers (97%) are women. This is intentional. Women, surprisingly, hold the reins when it comes to advancing change. According to Banker to the Poor (Dr. Yunus's book about the bank): "If one of the family members has to starve, it is an unwritten law that it will be the mother." Women, reliant on their husband's income, are also in danger of being divorced at any time. When the going gets rough financially, all the husband has to do is say "I divorce thee" three times. Suddenly he has one less mouth to feed, and a woman is left to fend for herself. Finally, a woman's life revolves around her children, making her more likely to spend money to keep food on the table and improve the household. Men, on the other hand, prove more likely to keep the money and spend it on themselves.

Loans last one year. Repayment starts one week after the loan is given, and installments are made weekly (see picture below). The interest rate is 20%. This seems high-- one of the harshest criticisms of Grameen is this high interest rate. However, it is still better than the "everything %" interest rate of a moneylender. The loan repayment rate is high too, around 98%. Upon paying back a loan, it is possible to take out a new one of a greater amount.

Here's what we saw: borrowers all gather in a little hut each week to make their loan payment. Each row of benches represents one "peer group" of five women. Each group acts as social support for its members, making sure everyone is using their loan responsibly and following their repayment plan. It's not a financial support group, though. If one person defaults on the loan, the other four don't have to make up the difference.

Weekly meeting of borrowers

From its origins in Jobra, Grameen has spread throughout Bangladesh, South Asia, and the world. It was awesome to see where it all began!

Building of the weekly meeting we visited, in Jobra

Grameen monitors the economic progress of its borrowers, and evaluates each family based on a very particular list of criteria. Drawing the line between "poverty" and "out of poverty" isn't easy, and I think Grameen's criteria are notable for their specificity. So far, 65% of Grameen borrowers have crossed the line.

[Taken from the Grameen website]

A member is considered to have moved out of poverty if her family fulfills the following criteria:

1.		The family lives in a house worth at least Tk. 25,000 [about $370] or a house with a tin roof, and each member of the family is able to sleep on a bed instead of on the floor.
2.		Family members drink pure water of tube-wells, boiled water or water purified by using alum, arsenic-free purifying tablets or pitcher filters.
3.		All children in the family over six years of age are all going to school or finished primary school.
4.		Minimum weekly loan installment of the borrower is Tk. 200 or more.
5.		Family uses sanitary latrine.
6.		Family members have adequate clothing for every day use, warm clothing for winter, such as shawls, sweaters, blankets, etc, and mosquito-nets to protect themselves from mosquitoes.
7.		Family has sources of additional income, such as vegetable garden, fruit-bearing trees, etc, so that they are able to fall back on these sources of income when they need additional money.
8.		The borrower maintains an average annual balance of Tk. 5,000 [$74] in her savings accounts.
9.		Family experiences no difficulty in having three square meals a day throughout the year, i.e. no member of the family goes hungry any time of the year.
10.		Family can take care of their health. If any member of the family falls ill, family can afford to take all necessary steps to seek adequate healthcare.

Bangla Home

2008-11-29T00:03:00.001+06:00

Life has been very busy for the last month or so. The teachers all moved into a new building, about 7 minutes (by rickshaw) from the school. It is so nice to live and work in separate buildings! I love the students, but it is such a relief to not open my door to a chorus of "Hello Miss!!" every hour of every day. The new building is absolutely gorgeous, too. Next year, the "real teachers" -- the university faculty-- will be living here. We'll probably have to move out in June, so they can move in.

My new room (ignore the laundry hanging up to dry)

It's not perfect, of course: there's no hot water, a zillion mosquitos and ants, the noise outside is deafening (cars, CNG's, people, wild dogs and jackals at night...), and the pollution gives me a horrible cough. But really, it's pretty nice. When I came to Bangladesh, I sure didn't expect to be living in such a nice place. On the other hand, I also didn't expect to be teaching high school level English literature without a curriculum. Hearing stories of volunteers in rural villages in remote parts of the world, where just getting through the day is a struggle, I recognize the fact that decent living conditions enable me to put a lot more energy into my teaching. Enable isn't the right word-- more is expected of us. And that seems fair to me!

The mechanic shop across the street. Apparently it's open 24-hours, as I've woken many nights to the sound of drills, hammers, engines, etc . . .

The view from my window

Fun fact: House values in our neighborhood have risen since we came to this new building. And no, it's not the result of some convoluted market theory. They rose because 15 Western girls moved in.

Language Moment

2008-11-28T23:51:00.003+06:00

We're reading Charlotte's Web in three of my classes. They asked me to define an unfamiliar word that keeps appearing in the text: crate. I explained that it is a box with an opening, normally made out of either wood or plastic. Everyone nodded in understanding. Upon hearing the definition, however, one student's face fell. Her hand shot up in the air.

"But Miss, it can't be made out of bamboo?!?!"

Happy Thank-You Day!

2008-11-27T10:48:00.002+06:00

"Miss, how do you celebrate the Thank-You Day festival?"

Liberation War

2008-11-21T17:22:00.006+06:00

With politics heating up in Bangladesh (Election Day is December 18th!), I thought now might be a good time for a little history.

Bangladesh was a part of Pakistan (despite the awkward geography) until the 1971 Liberation War. Many of our students are the proud daughters of Freedom Fighters. Prior to liberation, Bangladesh was East Pakistan, and today's Pakistan was West Pakistan. Despite the fact that East Pakistan was far more populous, West Pakistan maintained the majority of government power. When a Prime Minister from East Pakistan was elected, the government rejected his rule. They proposed a dual-minister situation, with East and West each having their own. This was not received well by East Pakistanis (the future Bangladeshis). The war erupted soon thereafter, and Bangladesh was born!

Additionally, there was the Mother Language Movement. In the 1950's, West Pakistan proclaimed Urdu as the national language, despite the fact that the majority of East Pakistan spoke Bengali. Protests followed. Although it preceded the Liberation War by a couple decades, the animosity between the two language groups surely contributed towards the Bangladeshi push for independence. Bangladesh, after all, means "land where they speak Bangla".

Head Start Needed

2008-11-14T01:07:00.002+06:00

This article about birth in Bangladesh is pretty alarming: "Hard Start for Bangladesh Baby". And birth is most definitely not the last hurdle. I was speaking with Qamar Banu today, the woman who is basically the "mother-in-residence" for all of the girls. She told me that a lot of children in this country are very malnourished when they are young, and this is a big problem because then there are problems with their mental development. They have a difficult time with school later on in life, all because they did not have enough to eat when they were young.

Here Comes the Sun

2008-11-07T10:51:00.003+06:00

More Nepal pictures, as promised (although it is a month later, oops!).

On the last morning of our four-day trek, we woke up at 4am to climb to the top of Poon Hill in the dark. Sure wasn't easy, but it certainly paid off!

JUST before the sun rose . . . we were above the clouds!

Just as the sun began to rise . . .

Suddenly, we saw the sun shining on the mountains in the west!

So beautiful.

LauraBeth, mountains, me (I was super cold, and wrapped in someone's scarf)

Posting this one to illustrate how horrible I am at posing for pictures :)

Hiking, the previous day

I miss Nepal . . .

Daal bhat (lentils and rice). Standard Nepali fare. We ate it everyday. Yum!

Congratulations!

2008-11-06T09:59:00.006+06:00

The students are saying "Congratulations, Miss, Congratulations!" I think this quote from a recent New York Times article sums it up well:

GAZA — From far away, this is how it looks: There is a country out there where tens of millions of white Christians, voting freely, select as their leader a black man of modest origin, the son of a Muslim. There is a place on Earth — call it America — where such a thing happens.

Pretty incredible, huh?

The night before the results came to Bangladesh (when the polls had just opened in the U.S.), I walked down the street from my new apartment to the local convenience store-- three walls, a flat roof, not very big. We had a chat with the lman that owns the store, dubbed Mr. Moon Shine (after the name of his store). He has good English. "From America? The election? I hear many polls," he said, "You vote for?" "Barack Obama," I said. "Obama! I like him, too," replied the owner, "This world needs peace. He can. Obama can make world peace."

The next morning, I woke up at 6am to catch the results as the first polls closed in America. For that initial hour or so, McCain's electoral count was ahead. I sat there in the empty apartment, alone, in front of the BBC. I was beginning to think I should be worried. Then things starting looking up. I had to leave for class, but some students busted into my classroom when it was official: "Miss Cindy! Miss Cindy! Barack Obama is President of U.S.!!"

I watched his victory speech with my students during tea break. I admit I cried a little. I'm excited for America, and I wish I could describe how much people in other countries care. If only Americans could care as much about the politics of other countries.

I think the following dialogue illustrates the point:

Scene: An hour after Obama’s Victory Speech. In class, during silent reading time.

Student [whispering]: Miss! Miss! I have a concern!
Miss Cindy [walks over]: Yes?
Student [still whispering]: It’s not about the book.
Miss Cindy: Yes?
Student: This, Barack Obama in America? Is it a, um, turning point?
Miss Cindy: What do you think?
Student: Yes, miss, yes! I think so.
Miss Cindy: Well, we’ll all find out soon.

We've got a new President. And there's a lot to be done. Talk about Great Expectations!

Yes!

2008-10-26T13:18:00.001+06:00

Check us out in The Times of India: Torchbearer of Change

Bangladesh vs. New Zealand

2008-10-25T11:36:00.004+06:00

I know next to nothing about playing cricket. Going to a game in Chittagong was less than educational, but it certainly was interesting!

An international cricket game in Chittagong is kind of a big deal, so the stadium was packed. It was the Bangladesh team versus New Zealand. NZ won :(

The Field:

The man next to me gave me us newspapers to put on our heads to block the sun.

Foreign, unaccompanied women seem to attract attention. The "sections" at the stadium were cordoned off by big iron bars. Welcoming design, really. Here's the audience we attracted (not different from the audience we attract . . . everywhere). I figured I was allowed one photo, for the 100+ cellphone photos they took of us weird-looking, light-haired, lone white women:

Language Moment

2008-10-24T12:36:00.002+06:00

I like this one:
Asking "Are you healthy?" in Bangla translates literally to asking "Are you fat?"

So:

"Yes, I am healthy." means----> "Yes, I am fat."

UP: Looking and Dressing

2008-10-23T06:51:00.000+06:00

This past weekend was the Opening Symposium for the Asian University for Women (AUW). What a weekend.

It began in Chittagong on Wednesday with some visitors (aka donors to impress) and a really nice dinner--including WINE-- outside at the future AUW site. The next day, we piled onto the $2 train (with 129 students in tow) to Dhaka. What a hot, loud, dusty adventure. On Friday, there were several interesting discussions on woman's rights, and about the university in general. Saturday was the most important of all. Fakhruddin Ahmed, the head of the caretaker government, or basically the acting Prime Minister of Bangladesh, spoke to us, as did Mohammad Yunus, founder of the Grameen Bank and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006.

Some pictures from Wednesday night, in Chittagong, at the future site of the university:

A group of teachers before the Wednesday night dinner.

Set-up chaos:

Security Personnel. I especially liked the female security uniform-- the Security Sharee

This event really came at a perfect time for me. Certain aspects of life at the Access Academy are sometimes quite frustrating, but last weekend reminded me of how incredibly amazing this project is-- check this out, if you haven't already. Its potential is enormous! The school, like any educational institution, is an investment in the future, and I can't wait to see what this place will become in 20 or 30 years. The weekend reminded me why I'm here (for the students). Meeting all the incredible people that support this project renewed my faith in the organization and hearing all the talks reminded me of the importance of woman's education in this part of the world. Its official, I'm an AUW disciple.

Here's a few pictures from the weekend. I wore a sharee for the first time. It was a little stressful! The sharee is basically just a long, long strip of fabric. You tie a petticoat around your waist, wrap the fabric around your body and tuck it in to the waist of the petticoat. Simple enough. Then fold it over, make several pleats, wrap it around your torso and up over your shoulder. Not so easy. The first day, I had a few students dress me. The second day, I put it on by myself, as well as I (plus a bunch of safety pins) could. The sharee made me incredibly conscious of my posture. Slouch, and it looks like I'm wrapped in a towel!

Sharee shopping:

Assembly Required:

with two students, at the events:

After all the hoopla, LauraBeth and I decided to stay in Dhaka for an extra day. We were exhausted, so we didn't get to do too much exploring, but I was fun nonetheless. Although, when people describe Dhaka as the crowded land of traffic jams, they aren't joking.

We took the night bus back to Chittagong. The buses are really, really nice and comfy. I couldn't resist taking this picture of the bus station, with all its dramatic portraits of buses racing through . . . the snow?!
More Nepal pictures are coming, I promise! It just takes forever to load them onto this page . . .

Movie Review

2008-10-15T11:59:00.002+06:00

So we found this "stall" (the size of a bathroom) in the bazaar around the corner that sells pirated DVDs-- in English! And they work!

Six movies for $1.25.

Best part is, the descriptions on the back cover appear to literally be things Googled or taken from personal emails about the movie. This is my favorite.

Back-cover synopsis of the movie Come September:

We love the film and have watched it countless times. Last year we were lucky to find out where the location of Mr Talbot's "villa" was. It is in reality one of the most luxurious hotels in the world dominating the hill overlooking the bay of Portofino in the Italian Riviera. The staff in the hotel confirmed that the film was shot there. However, when we view the film, the shots from the terrace down to the harbour don't quite line up, so we imagine that another location was also used. If you ever get to Portofino, it is worth the climb to see the view and the coffee wasn't as expensive as it was down in the harbour. Best wishes, Peter and Ita Kay.

^_^ (eyebrows)

2008-10-14T21:39:00.000+06:00

All my efforts at explaining eyebrow threading make it sound as though I pay someone to floss my forehead. So, here's a visual aide:

And I guess that's not too far from the truth. The woman holds a very fine, sharp thread with her hands and her teeth in a loop. She puts the hairs between the strands and pulls quickly. This rubs the threads together and plucks out the hair in the middle. In about 5 minutes, my eyebrows are a picture of perfection. And for only 45 cents!

Trekking in Nepal, Day One

2008-10-13T21:28:00.000+06:00

While unsure of the textbook definition of Trekking versus Hiking, I do know that trekking requires added protein:

Breakfast, Day One: Ants in My Honey

After our interesting morning evading a strike, we stopped for a quick breakfast. Then began our slow ascent!

Our first "summit" by 9am. The flags in the foreground are Buddhist prayer flags. We saw them everywhere around Nepal.

Next came rice paddies . . .

Teachers hiking through the rice paddies:

Big Mountains! The whole group, our awesome guides included:

Can't get enough of the view:

We tried dried water buffalo meat, at one point. Here are some wet water buffalo:

Nepalese school children!

The tea house we stayed at, the first night:

View from our tea house:

The bathroom:

Cozy Room!

BYO...TP

2008-10-12T22:02:00.007+06:00

Not even toilets are the same all over the world. The sit-down toilet is a [lazy] Western invention. The rest of the world, when actually using a toilet and not the road in front of my window (like half the men of Chittagong seem to do), uses . . . The Squatty Potty!

Here's the one in my apartment:

And an educational video:

I've yet to see one that flushes, although I'm told they exist. The squatty potty runs on a BYOTP (Bring Your Own Toilet Paper) basis. The majority of the world, having not grown up with toilet paper, uses the left hand and a bucket of water (usually provided nearby). That's where the eat-only-with-your-right-hand custom originates.

There are pros and cons to the Squatty Potty. It's far more environmentally friendly (no TP, very little water) and it strengthens the thighs! As for negatives, can anyone say Hepatitis A? It's spread through feces. There's no way to wash your [left] hand at many of these toilets, so they're probably a major contributor to the increased presence of the disease abroad.

Durga Puja

2008-10-10T20:59:00.008+06:00

. . . is a Hindu/Bengali festival celebrated in Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka and some parts of India. And, of course, by many of our students!

Durga is the name of an important, beautiful 10-armed goddess, who is married to Shiva. Puja means "worship".

A few of us teachers and a busload of students went to visit a bunch of "pandals" -- temporary statues of the goddess set up around Chittagong. There were ~~Christmas~~ lights hanging all over town, making for a carnival-like atmosphere!

Lots of lights!

Decorations at the front of our bus:

We stopped for a snack:

I have no idea what the food was...there were definitely some potatoes and lentils in there, but that is about all I could identify. Tasty!

Some student/Miss Cindy pictures:

Suba, Me, Silojah

On the far left is Tomoko (a staff woman here from Boston to help us get organized for an upcoming big event . . .), Chelvi, Me, Kumary, and Thusha

Me and Kumary

Durga Puja lasts for nine days. On the final day, our students invited us to a celebration in the morning. Apparently, the final day of Durga Puja involves blessings from parents, religious leaders, and sometimes teachers, too (who are third down the totem pole). Since the girls are away from home, they asked us teachers-- they actually called us gurus!-- to give them to blessing.

Each teacher crushed beetlenuts on the forehead of all the Nepali students, and touched their heads:

And then all of the Sri Lankan and many of the Indian students came up to us, one by one, and kissed our feet. That was a new experience for me. They also gave us a blessing:

At the end of Durga Puja, the idols are cast into the water-- symbolic of Durga's return home to her husband Shiva in the Himalayas. They take all of the idols down to the harbor, and send her out to sea! (Wrong direction from Chittagong but hey, minor detail).

This is another one of those holidays that involves goat-slaughtering. We saw these mountain goats on our trek in Nepal (where there is also a large Hindu population). The goats were raised in Tibet, and were being walked (herded?) by shepherds through the mountains down into Kathmandu for the slaughter. We tried to warn them, to no avail!

HR in Bangladesh

2008-10-08T10:06:00.002+06:00

From the BBC-- some more information about the Chittagong Hill Tracts (see first blog entry).

Also, just a chance to share some footage of Bangladesh with the folks at home!

Firsthand Foreign Affairs

2008-10-07T10:36:00.002+06:00

You know your trip is off to an auspicious start when the flight attendant's departing announcement goes:

"We will arrive in Katmandu, ensh'allah*, at 2:15pm."

*means "god-willing"

Upon arrival in Katmandu, the trekking company told me there was a festival-- "you know, lots of dancing, singing . . . you know"-- so we needed to head for the mountains a day early. In fact, I learned a day later, an anti-Maoist group had scheduled a strike, closing the major highway we needed to take into the hills.

Nepal has been politically unstable for much of recent history. The monarchy was officially and completely abolished last May. In August, a Prime Minister was elected from the Maoist party. The Maoists, or the Communist Party of Nepal, have no actual relation to Chairman Mao-- China disowns the group.

Oh, the mélange of opinions on this new government! The Maoists were elected to a majority of parliamentary seats, so they must have strong support, right? The elections were considered fair, so I'll hope so. And then there is the clear opposition-- like the strike we woke up early to avoid. In the middle there are a lot of people that seemed to not know or care about what was going on.

About a week before we arrived in Katmandu, the new government instituted a curfew on the city. No live music after 10pm, and all bars must close by 11pm. Not surprisingly, this was met with a lot opposition (not only from our group . . . although we were pretty happy with the situation, considering it is an improvement over Bangladesh's Prohibition). I heard some talk that the curfew was to prevent locals from mingling and exchanging too many ideas with Westerners. And it might be so-- Communist governments seem only to function if you keep a good portion of the population uneducated, poor, and relatively just clueless. And limiting nightlife is only going to increase poverty in a place where there is huge potential for the tourism industry (an industry that the government, with all the political turmoil, is already doing a good job of stunting).

Despite a good deal of foreign aid, lots of resources, and some potentially promising political changes, Nepal still ranks low in terms of development. Really low. Ten lowest countries low. The Guardian has an interesting article on the situation.

Point being, we left Katmandu a day early for Pokhara and spent the night (where I took my first hot shower since leaving America! Yes!) We woke up at 3:30am, hoping to beat the strike.

We loaded in the van to drive from Pokara up to the trailhead. Unfortunately, after only a few minutes in the car, the driver stopped. The strike had already begun, and he refused to drive through it. We made a fast decision-- to get out and walk along the road, in the dark, through the strike, to the nearest trailhead.

Sounds scary, right? I was a little freaked out. But as it turned out, the strike only consisted of a few lines of rocks across the road, and a group men dressed in white . . . doing yoga?!

We watched the sun rise over the mountains as we walked through rural villages . . .

Our group on the road, as the sun is coming up.

Walking through clouds!

A small temple/shrine

Apparently, we walked through "Opportunity Village".

Baby goats! I stopped and chatted with this man-- he was excited when I told him I was a teacher. He's a teacher, too!

I remember learning in Social Studies back in junior high about rice terraces. Who thought I'd get to see in real life?! People grow rice paddies in terraces to make efficient use of the land-- can't grow rice on a slope.

Still on the road, long after the sun rose.

And this is how we ended up doing an 8-day trek in 4-days. Who knew anti-Maoists make toned calves?

Eid Vacation, Day #1

2008-10-06T21:12:00.006+06:00

I'm going to document this trip in far more detail than necessary-- for my recollection more than anything.

The adventure begins with my roommates and I misunderstanding the time for our bus, and rushing out the door like madwomen. We made it to the bus station, where I managed to literally wack the top of my thumb off on a door. They say Bengalis care about their neighbors-- the bus driver literally ran over with a ball of cotton and a huge jug of salve. I can't speak much (any) Bangla, and I had no idea what was going on while he dipped my finger in. But my finger is growing back, so I guess that's good!

All nine of us teachers on the trip were assigned to the front of the bus-- where single women must sit. I took the 9th seat, by myself at the window-- where single women not travelling in pairs must sit. Next to me sat (and soon, slept on my shoulder) a Bengali man. Turns out he spoke English, so (after he woke up), we chatted about Bangladesh. Apparently the jute industry is moving to India, and taking lots of jobs with it.

We arrived in Dhaka around 10pm. Nishi, one of our students, and her father picked us up and took our whole group to their small apartment for dinner. It was so generous of them, and so delicious! Then they drove us to our hostel for the night.

So begins our journey.

My luggage. I pack light. Especially when knowing I have to carry it up a mountain.

Art Imitates Life/Life Imitates Art

2008-10-06T13:01:00.001+06:00

Nepal, In Sum

2008-10-05T12:24:00.005+06:00

At 4am last night, I returned to Chittagong after a marvelous 10 day vacation in Nepal. I'll write more (a lot more) later, but here are some highlights:

1) Doing an 8-day, 45 mile mountain trek in 4 days instead, due to an anti-Maoist strike that closed major highways but actually just consisted of a line of stones across the road and some men doing yoga.

2) Accidentally catching a glimpse of the Kumary-- the Living Godess-- in Katmandu.

3) Nepali Dance Party

4) Momo's, Daal Bhaat, and Tibetan Bread.

5) Hummus and Hamburgers.

6) Getting stuck in a traffic jam of several mules and herds of mountain goats.

7) Seeing women walking outside. And owning shops. And even being construction workers.

8) Meeting some guys that fly planes for the United Nations-- and going over their apartment to play Guitar Hero. Guitar Hero!!

9) Chatting with friendly Bangladeshis. Including the ex-Director of Oxfam's operations in Iraqi, whom I sat next to on the plane ride home! We'll definitely be keeping in touch . . .

10) Gorgeous views of the rice paddies, mountains, and rural villages of Nepal:

Final Exams

2008-09-24T20:33:00.005+06:00

Read the list of words. Then write the topic:

1) fish, mutton, beef, chicken

This was a question on one of my exams. I got a variety of answers, including:

"not vegetables"
"~~meats~~ non-vegetarian"
"kinds of curries"
"protein foods"
"foods"
and, a few: "meats"

Teaching English is a lot more fun than I thought it would be, especially with the lower-level classes. But it has its challenges, too. For example, "mountainous nurse" is not an appropriate way to describe a large nurse. And I have no idea what it means to "mesmerize the window". Try explaining the difference between "ice" and "snow" to students from rural Sri Lanka. Then there was the student who, in her summary of a book about a man who loves his wife but is angry with his father wrote "He is making love to his wife, but he is not making love to his father." Figured I better correct that one pretty fast.

On the flip side, I think that having no context and preconceptions of English words and phrases gives non-native speakers an incredibly unique power of expression. The girls describe their thoughts and life experiences in limited English-- which means short, direct, poignant sentences.

I admit I took this job mainly because I thought it would be awesome to live in Bangladesh. Now that I'm here, though, I'm starting to realize the importance of learning English. Ah, globalization and the hegemony of America. Learning English is the key to a good job, whether that be working with tourists or a global corporation, or even in order to get a high-quality education. Knowledge of English opens many doors for people-- doors that, as a native English speaker, were already opened for me. Lots of the girls here are really smart and will go far. They just have an incredibly challenging game of catch-up to play first. I'm now quite grateful that English is my native language.

Ms. Chinty (it's Cindy...so close) is finally done grading exams. Time for a nap, then off to Nepal for Eid (the holiday after the holy month of Ramadan) Break!

Its beautiful under the ~~mosquito~~ cockroach net.

A Parade

2008-09-23T20:37:00.000+06:00

I took this picture out our window one special morning. There was a parade for...National Literacy Day.

The literacy rate in Banlgadesh is 48%, according to UNICEF. I like the idea of parading with a purpose!

Tell Miss Cindy...

2008-09-20T00:57:00.004+06:00

that she has TWO packages!

A box of goodies from home (contacts! sunglasses! and more!) AND an entire box of dark-chocolate peanut M&M's from Aunt Mary Jo! I could not ask for more.

The highlight of my day:

One was mailed from America on August 12, the other on August 21. They both arrived yesterday. The best part was, it cost me over 1,000 taka (around $10) to collect my packages. Apparently packages take less than a week to make it to Bangladesh. Then they sit around in customs, where every single box is opened, and everything is unwrapped and inspected. So that $10 I paid...they call that the "repacking fee". Don't unpack it, and I won't have to pay you to re-pack it! Oh my.

Obama, ensh'allah

2008-09-18T13:43:00.003+06:00

The man's got world-wide appeal:

He may not have enough foreign policy experience, but he does have the edge in international celebrity.

There's a good deal of anti-American sentiment abroad (I don't mean here, in particular. In general). People say the same thing. They like Americans once they get to know them, but they still don't like America and its leaders.

Flying home from Beijing last winter, I sat next to a Mongolian man travelling to Canada. When he found out I was from America, his jaw dropped and he said, "Aren't you scared?". He was referring to America's lack of gun control laws. It was a situation he viewed as completely archaic, and representative, in his eyes, of our slide downward as a country. While not all Americans are the gun-toting, speed-racing highway robbers he imagined-- if this is what foreigners envision, it is time for us to flip things around.

There's nothing Bush can do to gain favor abroad, at this point. By the same token, unless Obama makes a huge mistake as President, it won't be easy for him to tarnish his image. People across all continents are raving about Obama. The "stardom" contest currently underway on the campaign trail in the U.S. probably isn't the best way to select a leader. But why not use Obama's star power abroad to our advantage?

More Birthdays!

2008-09-14T19:50:00.002+06:00

Speaking of birthdays, last week was Jen's birthday (one of my roommates). While roaming the streets of Chittagong, looking for the perfect gift, we came upon this display:

Little tufts of grass, for sale! They were about 6 cents each.

So we got her a present to remind her of home. A little piece of America!

Me, at 23

2008-09-13T21:41:00.005+06:00

At midnight on my birthday a few weeks ago, some students found me (still lesson planning downstairs) and told me, "Come quick, there's an emergency upstairs!".

There was a fire, all right. Fire in the form of birthday candles! They surprised me with a cake (which they all had to feed into my mouth. It's tradition.) and some presents. It was really sweet, especially since I had not told any of them that it was my birthday! I was really touched. It was a great day. Here's a couple pictures from the celebration:

B-Desh Fun Fact

2008-09-12T00:21:00.004+06:00

Here at the Access Academy is, undoubtedly, the fastest internet connection in Chittagong. Yet its difficult to Skype, and it takes forever to download attachments or load videos. The internet is s-l-o-w.

When I decided to move to a developing country, I wasn't counting on having great internet access, or any internet access for that matter. But its the reason behind the slow internet...

Years ago, "they" were installing the fiber-optic cables all over Asia. These cables laid the groundwork for fast internet connections all throughout the continent.

When approached with the offer to install these cables, Bangladeshi officials apparently were horrified and rejected the offer. They thought it was a terrorist plot.

So now we have internet, but its very slow, and very very expensive. Who knows if this is true. But I don't care; its funny!

Press!

2008-09-10T22:46:00.001+06:00

There is an article about us in the Boston Globe. Check it out!

Good to Eat

2008-09-07T20:27:00.000+06:00

Minor clarification-- I'm not eating rats! And there aren't a million rats running around Chittagong either, thank goodness. It is a problem in the rural areas.

Another thing I am not eating: Vegetables. I do miss those.

What I am eating, though, looks like this:

Our cafeteria serves some of the above for lunch and dinner. There is always rice, roti (the pancake/bread things), and daal (a soupy yellow mixture with the occasional lentil). Sometimes there is naan, a thick fried bread-- this is delicious! Those are the staples. They typically serve a mushy, oily vegetable curry (potatos and pumpkin, sometimes carrots), too. And some sort of meat: chicken, mutton, or fish kebabs (my favorite, surprise). I'm sad pineapple season is ending; we used to get fresh slices at every meal!

I try to eat cafeteria meals at least once a day, since its free. I'd eat there every meal if my stomach could handle it. Otherwise, I'm a big fan of bread and butter. And oranges, I eat a lot of oranges!

There are two other main components of my diet:

Pepto-bismal:

and antacids. They taste just like candy!

The food here is very spicy! My personal tolerance of spice has hit a whole new level. All the spice, plus all the oil, takes a pretty big toll on my stomach. Half the time, I have no idea what sets it off when I get sick. It could be something as little as eating off a plate that was not dried completely after being washed in tap water (the water quality here is pretty poor)...and I'm in the bathroom all night. Woo!

The Bengali diet is all about just getting enough calories, it seems. A novel concept for an American, of course. Every thing here is either swimming in oil, or tastes extremely sweet. Even the bread. But everyone is so skinny!

Pro-Choice?

2008-09-04T20:49:00.009+06:00

If there's one thing most Americans have in abundance, it's choices.

There are major Decisions, like choosing a college, buying a house, and deciding where to spend Christmas.

But there are many little choices that we tend to overlook each day. We decide what to wear, which newspapers to follow, and what to do on the weekends. "What's for dinner?" is a legitimate question, as is "Where are you going?” We decide who our friends are, and what movies we want to go see.

At a whole other level of over-looked-and-taken-for-granted, we decide who to marry, and whether we want to stay married or file for divorce. (I don't think arranged marriage is quite so simple as a lack of choice. It's also about deeply ingrained cultural concepts of love. Maybe I'll talk about that another time.)

We have so many options, we even start looking for ways to limit them. "I hope I don't get both jobs," people say, "so I don't have to decide."

I certainly took these choices for granted before I came to Bangladesh. I never realized how meaningful "choice" is! Its obvious that people here, and in many other parts of the world, just don't have the luxury of making decisions that we make every day in America.

Choice isn't necessarily always a good thing, or always a bad thing. Take food, for example. All cultures have their own "cuisines" for a reason: it’s the easiest, cheapest way to get the main nutrients everyone needs, using only local flora and fauna. So that is what everyone eats, every day. Rice and Curry, Rice with Curry, Rice on Curry. I look through the shops here, and mentally compare them to the ones at home. Even in the nicest stores, the vegetable section is more like a "corner", and put together, the shelves equal maybe one long aisle at Wegman's. But who needs 52 kinds of cereal? What rationale justifies picking the "ultra-heavy-duty" paper towels versus the "super-ultra absorbent" roll? How do we even decide?!

Some books and movies are banned (I hope to read The Satanic Verses while I'm here-- how often does one get the chance to read a banned book, in a country where it actually, currently is?), and the media is censored. I recently heard of someone buying an issue of the Economist, only to realize that certain articles about Bangladesh were torn out. Reporters Without Borders' Worldwide Press Freedom Index ranks Bangladesh at 134 out of 169 countries.

There aren't too many clothing choices here, either, if you're a woman. It’s important to wear loose, baggy clothing, and be covered. Rules out most Western fashions.

In Bangladesh, if you're a woman, your friends are your sisters and your cousins; you don't see anyone who is not family. Women don't leave the house. The main reason people leave the house is for work. A wife or daughter outside the house is an indication to the world that your family is poor and desperate, I'm told.

Short-changing of women is the common theme, eh? And I'm not even touching the dowry, or arranged marriage.

Why do we have so many choices in America? How do we explain this difference between America and the majority of the world? Americans are well-equipped with a quick response. "Freedom! Freedom of choice! It's what our country is built on!" We can't tell you why it is good or bad (or why there are certain things it doesn't apply to). But we know we have it, we fought for it, and we aren't letting go of it.

Choice, it seems, is deeply embedded in our national psyche. Or is it?

I discussed the Gender-Related Development Index today with some students. The U.S. ranks at number 12. In what direction do we want to slide?

Trying to be subtle. Welcome, Sarah Palin.

Ramadan Kareem!

2008-09-01T18:49:00.002+06:00

The sighting of the moon marked the beginning of the month of Ramadan today.

Some of the students begin fasting tomorrow (no eating, drinking [or sex] from sunrise to sundown). Only about 60% of our students are Muslim (the rest are Hindu or Buddhist), so we aren't planning on changing the schedule.

They say they get used to fasting. And I sure hope so, because I just assigned a big project.

Trading the Buck

2008-08-30T21:32:00.003+06:00

Apparently a "buck" refers to the currency of your current country. In America, that's a dollar. But here, we're talking taka. Since 1 USD is equivalent to about 66 taka, this is an important distinction. And a rare piece of English slang defined by non-native speakers!

Some taka:

Talking to some Nepalese girls today about Kathmandu (where we're hoping to go for break), LB asked if it was necessary to tip in restaurants and, if so, how much. "Oh, about 15 bucks, maybe 50 bucks at a nice place." My initial response was *gasp! I don't think I can afford this vacation! But she meant 15 or 50 Nepali rupees (they have an exchange rate similar to taka).

Important to note, in case you ever find yourself gambling in another country. Considering how far the dollar goes in most of the world, you shouldn't have to worry too much. Unless you find yourself in Europe. Or even Canada, now. Oh, the dollar.

Technically, I'm told, the Qur'an does not permit gambling. But there are ways around this, I learned in Doha. I went to a horse race there. You don't actually put money on a horse. You just drop a slip of paper with your name on it into the box of the horse you thought might win. After the race, a name was drawn out of the box of the winning horse. If your name was chosen, you might win a car! Not gambling, nope, not at all...

My dad thinks bringing casinos to Cleveland is a good way to revitalize the area. I'm adamantly opposed. The last thing that city needs is people gambling away their savings. But perhaps we could reach a compromise. Say they set the stakes in taka?

The Rat Plague

2008-08-24T21:22:00.002+06:00

Bamboo plants only flower (producing seeds) every 50+ years (some as long as 120!). Explains why bamboo isn't a common houseplant. Seeds are rare and expensive-- a delicacy, you might say . . . especially if you're a rat! This year was the special year for bamboo plants in the Chittagong Hill Tracts area of Bangladesh. They released their huge seeds, which the rats devour. The seeds are especially dense in calories, and very high in protein. Just what rats need to live longer, healthier, and more reproductively-productive lives! The rat population exploded, and it's a major problem for the people of the area. Rats eat all their food as fast as they can grow it, and have gobbled up any emergency food stores.

Food aid there is tricky. The BBC had a great article on it. I've already mentioned the discrimination and rumored silent genocide against the indigenous people of the Hill Tracts. Recently an aid worker was killed by a Bengali man. He was upset because there were more indigenous people than Bengalis on the list for food handouts. But the indigenous tribes make up the majority of the population in the area, and they also represent the lowest socioeconomic classes, so of course they dominate the list!

Food is politics. And even the rats don't share.

Quaked!

2008-08-23T09:29:00.003+06:00

I experienced my first [minor] earthquake ever here in Chittagong last night. I'm fine, just a little shook up! Hehe, pardon the pun.

The best part was that, as the room started swaying back and forth, and our chairs started sliding, we all jumped up and yelled, thinking, "Cockroach!"

Really, though, I feel that just as soon as I am starting to settle in and feel comfortable here, something happens to make me feel uneasy again. Then again, its only been a month...

Update: Moving, Roaches

2008-08-22T09:39:00.000+06:00

The two new teachers and I finally moved into the school building! We were relieved to finally unpack our suitcases and stretch out on our own beds. Our rooms are really nice, and so is our view of Chittagong:

However, our rooms were also infested with cockroaches. We spent our first afternoon/evening running around with cans of bug spray, killing at least a dozen of the little (big?) suckers.

A Victim

Finally, we went to bed, exhausted. We didn't have mosquito nets yet. The school buys them for us but had yet to purchase them. All three of us (at the time) were on anti-malarial drugs, so we didn't think much of it. I fell asleep exhausted, only to wake up with something, something crawling up my arm onto my shoulder. COCKROACH! And a big one too, a few inches long. I flung it across the room. My roommate was also awakened that night, by a cockroach on her face.

We got mosquito nets. Needless to say, I now call them critter nets.

Postcards!

2008-08-18T18:58:00.003+06:00

I found some excellent postcards today. If you'd like one, I want to send you one!
Email me with your address.

Completely unrelated, here's me, another new teacher, and a student, dressed up for an event we had last week! :

Raising Rice

2008-08-17T23:34:00.006+06:00

I went traipsing through rice paddies this weekend!

And of course rice makes me think of...

Check out The Economist's online debate on rising food prices, it’s really interesting. And since I’m too timid (slash unqualified, I feel) to post comments on their website, you all can read my thoughts here. :P

Really, rising food prices could be good. It may increase investment in agricultural technology, spurring innovations that will enable us to feed the rapidly growing world population. It may pressure governments to revamp corrupt and counter-productive agricultural and trade policies. But how viable is either of these scenarios? While I’m optimistic that money invested will bring about innovative ways to increase food production, increasing the supply and bringing prices down, it’s going to take a long time. And as for policy, look at the failed G8 negotiations a few weeks ago, or the success of yet another corrupt Farm Bill in the U.S. Both show how gloomy the prospects are for change.

Yes, the price increases are caused by dietary improvements, but not to those most lacking. The poor are hit twice as hard: not only are they left further behind by a rising middle class, but it is now even more difficult to maintain their already-low standard of living. That’s what food aid NGOs were created for, right? But with the prices of food increased, this means the same amount of aid buys less food and reaches fewer people.

The spike in food prices has disastrous effects on the most vulnerable-- women and children of developing nations. Malnutrition during pregnancy and childhood has terrible long-term effects. Malnourished mothers-to-be have a high mortality rate. And in places with high fertility rates, most mothers are mothers-to-be, and are the primary caretakers for many children. Additionally, malnourished mothers typically have malnourished, underweight babies. Physically, one never fully recovers from starving as a child. Malnourished children suffer a slowed rate of mental development, often never catching up to their peers. It’s hard to learn when you’re hungry, and these children will miss a lot of school because they are sick. So we are, essentially, setting these children up for failure, and for an even lower standard of living than their parents, even if food prices someday come back down.

There is definitely a possible upside, long-term, for humanity in this food crisis. But the short-term effects are certain, and significant. If immediate action isn’t taken to lessen the blow, there will also be long-term negative effects from this price spike. There’s no telling how extensive those will be, but, at the rate things are moving now, I think they will negate any positive developments.

We are digging a ditch of "human resource" debt for future generations. Eerily, in this way it's like the credit crisis, and global climate change. The longer we wait for policy change, the more future generations will suffer.

Classroom Visitor!

2008-08-13T23:22:00.006+06:00

Taught my first class today! I took over for a teacher who was feeling ill.

All went well for the first half of class. I had the students working quietly on a worksheet. It was sweltering hot in the classroom, so I turned on the air conditioner. Yay, it works! With the first gust of cool air...out comes a HUGE (4 inches long, maybe?) cockroach, landing on a student's back. She doesn't notice, so I run over, to try and get rid of it before anyone notices (no idea how I thought I might do this). She feels it crawling down her back, and lets out a scream. Suddenly the entire class is up, screaming, yelling running around the (small) room. The cockroach runs one way; they run the other. And I'm chasing the cockroach with a wastebasket. It was total chaos for about a minute.

Welcome, Miss Cindy, to teaching in Bangladesh!

This guy hangs out in my room, and greets me every morning when I turn on the bathroom light.

Maybe I should be, but I'm just not a squisher!

Standing Room Only

2008-08-12T22:55:00.001+06:00

Imagine half of the United States' population were to move to Florida. That's Bangladesh.

Now pretend you're living in an urban area in this overly populated, hypothetical Florida. That's Chittagong.

Its hard to describe the action around here. Everywhere you look, there are people working, walking, eating, praying...staring at me. Oh, and by people, I mean MEN.

The streets are full. So full that sometimes traffic comes to a complete standstill. Rather, large things (trucks, cars, buses) have to stop. The majority of the traffic is rickshaws and auto-rickshaws. They weave about, honking their horns. Smaller still, don't forget the dogs, goats, cows, and chickens!

Rickshaws are hard to describe. They're like the mermaid of transportation-- half bike, half carriage. As a kid, I'm pretty sure I attempted something akin to a rickshaw with my bike, a wagon and a jump rope.

Three of us riding in a rickshaw. I look terrified because, well, I was! We piled the three of us on one rickshaw, and took this photo while riding down a hill.

I read somewhere that one-fifth of the males in Bangladesh work as rickshaw-wallahs (drivers). That fact is not so hard to believe....

Auto-rickshaws (or CNG's as we call them; they run on Compressed Natural Gas) are the fuel-powered versions. You feel less likely to fall off one of these, but they go much faster! Its like the real-life version of bumper cars.

Bangladesh is notorious for its high population density...and 3.9 fertility rate. Yikes! Since the famines of the 1970's, though, the rates of hunger have gone down drastically while the population has more than doubled (according to Dr. M. Yunnus's Banker to the Poor). Three cheers for effective food and agg policy! Now if only we could cut down on those natural disasters that strike Bangladesh every three years, erasing progress by destroying crops and leaving people homeless and hungry. Two steps forward, one step back.

Which brings me to another point. It's supposed to be "monsoon" season now, but it has only rained hard a couple times in the three weeks since I arrived. This isn't good for crops. On the upside, maybe global "climate change" will bring cyclones and tsunamis to Long Island, and leave Bangladesh and its rice paddies alone!

Video of Today

2008-08-12T21:18:00.005+06:00

This might make (most of) you smile :)

One of the other volunteers did a dance with her students based on this guy's video. The song in the background, "Praan" is sung in Bengali (Bangla), and is based off the poem "Stream of Life" by Tagore. A rough translation of the lyrics follows.

Bhulbona ar shohojete
Shei praan e mon uthbe mete
Mrittu majhe dhaka ache
je ontohin praan

Bojre tomar baje bashi
She ki shohoj gaan
Shei shurete jagbo ami
(Repeat 3X)

Shei jhor jeno shoi anonde
Chittobinar taare
Shotto-shundu dosh digonto
Nachao je jhonkare!

Bojre tomar baje bashi
She ki shohoj gaan
Shei shurete jagbo ami
(Repeat 3X)

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day
runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth
and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.
And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

I have an idea for my own photo project...not as cool as this kid's, but I'll let you know if I actually do it.

If Variety is the Spice...

2008-08-08T22:31:00.004+06:00

Maybe thats why Western fast food is so bland and looks all the same?

I admit I'm getting a bit tired of curries (what you might think are green beans....nope, those are super spicy peppers), but I'm in no rush to try any of the meals from this Malaysian fast food joint, "Sugar Bun". If you can't read the menu captions, they say (from left to right) Western Meal 7, Western Meal 6, Western Meal 5, etc. Mmmmm!

Quote of the Day

2008-08-06T21:45:00.002+06:00

My mom's question about Bangladesh:

"Are any of my houseplants considered 'weeds' out there?"

Oh, Cheese

2008-08-05T12:28:00.004+06:00

I got sick for the first time in Bangladesh-- the day after eating Pizza Hut. The "cheese" was a little funky. Maybe that's what did it. Or it might be side effects from the malaria pills. Otherwise, my body seems to be adjusting pretty well. I heard horror stories of other volunteers falling ill for weeks. We're told that, in all likelihood, it will happen to us too. Knock on wood; I'm fine thus far. I've had several new experiences-- heart burn from ultra-spicy food; getting carsick from the erratic driving on twisty, bumpy roads; and who knew bug bites came in so many shapes and sizes?! But nothing major, not yet!

The three new teachers! In our first salwar kameez.

Tea Party!

2008-08-04T12:46:00.004+06:00

Tea (production and consumption) is huge in Bangladesh. A few days ago, we were invited to the 'tea auction', which consists of about 100 men bidding in an old, stuffy room. The tea is auctioned off to distributors. The auctioneers are middlemen; they bought the tea from producers in Bangladesh.

To give you an idea of the amount of tea we're dealing with here-- every time the auctioneer hit his gavel (about every 30 seconds) a metric ton of tea was sold. I can't even visualize a metric ton of tea.

How do potential buyers determine which teas to bid on? There is a tasting room upstairs, where the "elite" buyers come for weekly tastings. Not part of the tea trade's higher echelons? You are allowed to come in and just sniff the teas. This room had over 800 (yes, 800!) different types of tea out for sampling. We got to try a few.

All "real" teas come from the same plant, Camellia sinensis. Processing the tea leaves in different ways makes the different types of tea (black, green, oolong, and white). Factors such as weather, length of growing season, soil, and age all affect the flavor of individual teas (Introduction to Wines, anyone?).

A couple decades ago, the tea business in Bangladesh was mainly exports. Now, around 80% of the tea stays in the country, and the other 20% is exported to Pakistan. This year, however, domestic sales are expected to increase even more. It is (hopefully) an election year in Bangladesh, so men will frequent roadside tea stalls to talk politics.

The Lowdown

2008-08-01T18:33:00.001+06:00

I was a biology major…and now I’m a volunteer English teacher?! Let me explain. I’m working at the Access Academy for the Asian University for Women (AUW). The AUW is set to open in Fall 2009. The Access Academy is an intensive 18-month program, designed to prepare under-privileged students for the AUW. The students come from several South Asian countries (Bangladesh, Pakistan, Cambodia, Nepal, India and Sri Lanka). English is priority, but there are also computer and math classes. The goal is to catch everyone up to speed for college. Can you imagine attending college in another language? Other than the native one you went through high school with? So, for one year, I'm here!

Chittagong Hill Tracts

2008-08-01T13:20:00.000+06:00

Yesterday a group of us took a day to visit the Chittagong Hill Tracts.* It took about two and a half hours of driving to make it up there.

A note about driving in Bangladesh:
I think people drive on the left side of the road (British residue). But no one seems to follow any sort of system at all. And I thought driving in Doha was bad! Here, its a constant game of chicken. A little car is driving down the road, a bus comes barreling down in the opposite direction (this is where I hold my breath), and at the last possible moment, the little car swerves out of the way. The bigger vehicle (usually) wins.

So, after two and a half hours of driving on steep winding, twisting, bumpy, holey roads...I'm now pretty confident I know what its like to feel carsick. We pass through a couple check points and show our passports, along with the note of permission we obtained from some government official.

First we stopped at a Buddist temple and monastery. It was beautiful. And so calm and quiet, compared with the crowded intensity that is Chittagong. We got to chat with some of the monks, who were just hanging around, reading the newspaper.

We then stopped by a textile shop, where we got to see women sewing clothes and weaving beautiful scarves on enormous looms (Bangladesh is big in the garment industry, for better or worse, more about that later).

In the afternoon, we had some tasty daal for lunch and took a long boat ride around a beautiful lake, stopping off at couple little islands. Everything is just so green here!

This all sounds quaint and pleasant, right? Time for a history bite. The indigenous people of the Chittagong Hill Tracts, to my understanding, developed an autonomous government while Bangladesh was fighting to break from Pakistan in the 1970's. But once Bangladesh became independent, it was usurped by the new nation and the Hill Tracts became part of the new country. Soon thereafter, the Bangladeshi government tried to resettle the Hill Tracts region with Bengali people (West Bank, anyone?). The natives were not thrilled, and since then there is a good deal of hostility between the two. There is rumored to be an ongoing genocide against the indigenous people by the settlers and the military, abetted by the government. The actual state of affairs is hard to discern, especially as a foreigner wanted for tourist bucks, but there is definitely a prejudice against people from the Hill Tracts region.

Back the the boat ride. The lake was beautiful. But it was also man-made-- by the Bangladeshi government, to harness hydro-electric power. It flooded the farms and homes of hundreds of indigenous people, and destroyed one of their most sacred temples.

I had a hard time enjoying the scenery, with that in mind. This is why I'm a bad tourist.

*Please don't read the travel advisories for this region. And if you do, please don't tell my mom.