Christmas/Santa arrives in Khagrachari by Rickshaw

I hope you have all enjoyed a fabulous festive season, celebrating with family and friends in fine Aussie style, or any style for that matter. And that the New Year has commenced with many smiley moments and wonderful opportunities to look forward to in 2009. For those who have asked the question – yes we do (and did) celebrate Christmas in the Chittagong Hill Tracts – one of the many bonuses of being posted ‘out of Dhaka’ is that we celebrate festivals, customs and traditions for every culture.

Many of my ‘family’ and friends got into the Christmas spirit – helping me to decorate the Christmas tree and my flat –that’s Babul and Tapan at the tree (thank you Carol and Miriam for the fabulous Christmas decorations) especially in preparation for Jordan’s arrival.

Then it was time to head for Dhaka to collect Jordan. For those of you who have been helping me count down the sleeps until Jordan’s arrival, you can imagine this particular eight hour bus journey from Khagrachari to Dhaka, was filled with great excitement and anticipation. I had booked a night in one of the finer hotels in Dhaka so we could have a comfortable rest before the return trip to Khagrachari. The staff at the hotel were awesome and even though I think I only told two people ‘Doya kore amar chaler shate dheke korun – tar Australia asbo’ – ‘I would like you to meet my son he is coming from Australia’ - they were so impressed with my Bangla that before too long the entire hotel staff were aware of his arrival (OK, OK, maybe I told more than two of them – but I had to practice my Bangla because you know my Bangla has placed me in a couple of tricky situations before).

I had booked one of the hotel drivers to take me to the airport because Jordan’s flight was to arrive at 20 past midnight and it’s not too sensible to be trying to find public transport in Dhaka at that hour. Half way to the airport Jordan phoned to say he was still in Kuala Lumpur (KL) as the airlines had changed his flight to leave two hours earlier and not advised him. Consequently he would now arrive the following night. As most of you realise, patience is not at the top of my list of attributes but my concern was more for Jordan because he had already had to change his original flight plans to travel through Bangkok because of the unrest at the airport there and his new phone was not working properly (if you want the name of the company, happy to share with you privately). But I reminded Jordan and myself he was safe and the airline was accommodating him in a flash hotel because of the stuff up – so all would be well.

So back to the hotel where the café staff had already been advised of the situation (the driver had called them), and they had a giant cappuccino waiting for me – what I also needed was my GOWers so I could do some grumping. Instead I accepted the ‘princess treatment’ from the hotel staff and wondered if I could find a twenty-four hour magic treatment for the excitement-induced lack of sleep bags under my eyes (almost as scary as Jon English……….and for those of you who are pretending you’re too young remember Jon – time for a reality check). Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to find the miracle cure, the only solution was to try to get some more sleep.
Anyway, moving right along (I hear you saying thank goodness Adrian and Fabbie and just want to remind you it’s only a matter of weeks now before I’m onto you)………..Jordan arrived safely in Dhaka and as you can imagine – even though it is less than twelve months since we saw each other, it was an emotional reunion, (the driver and some bystanders joining in the moment). Back at the hotel the staff greeted him like royalty and much joy and happiness was shared all around (and Jordan didn’t make any comments about my ‘Jon look’).
The next morning we arrived at the bus depot to catch the 7:30 bus to Khagrachari only to be told it had been cancelled. With the help of the driver from the hotel we were able to transfer our tickets to another bus and were finally on our way to the Chittagong Hill Tracts. As I am now ‘acclimatised’ to the bus trip, I asked Jordan for a word to describe his first bus trip in Bangladesh and he was polite enough to use “gripping – but literally, white-knuckle gripping” – he was also at a disadvantage because he has never had practice by being a passenger on a trip with Lesley or ‘Arraine (but on the other hand, he has been driven around by Gwen). Nevertheless, we arrived safe and on time. This was a first for my bus trips – not sure if I have told you before, but as far as our research has extended, I hold the record for the usual eight hour bus journey from Dhaka to Khagrachari – 17 hours and 5 minutes – a few of my colleagues have put in some admirable challenges – 15 hours for one of them, but so far it’s my trip that will be sent to the Guinness Book of Records - and I think it’s worthy of a question in a future version of Trivial Pursuit – can you arrange that Lorraine and Sharon P!!!!!!!!!
From the moment of our arrival it was ‘let the celebrations begin’. We were greeted at my flat by friends and colleagues with flowers and much merriment. The following few days were like a whirlwind. However, I will try to encapsulate them quickly so you don’t have to make another cup of coffee or open another bottle of wine before you get to the end.
The next morning my wonderful colleagues had organised an awesome visit to one of our village schools – after a rather adventurous trek (reflected in some of the piccies) almost every member of the village came out to celebrate the arrival of Marguerite’s son, and as Jordan walked through the reception arch of people it was one of the proudest moments of my life. We spent a marvellous day with the children, youth groups, parents groups, village leaders and all the villagers enjoying every aspect of their local culture and customs – including smoking the traditional bamboo/water pipe and eating fabulous indigenous food. As we left we were farewelled like long-lost family – Jordan was overwhelmed by their generosity – I make no apology for repeating myself – these people are extraordinarily inspiring………I want you all to meet them.
Over the next couple of days we celebrated in grand style with parties and dinners and mega quantities of that ‘rocket-fuel’ I have mentioned before. I am trying to smuggle a sample back for happy hour Waltergator – if I am successful getting that through immigration can I be exempt from dropping a coin in the Nutella jar – if not I will need you, along with Adrian, David and Peter (cos that’s a perfect blend of brute force and pragmatism – you can work out who is which) to come and collect me from wherever they lock me up.
(Just before you ask the cheeky question WW – yes, I am still working – many of my friends took Jordan sight-seeing while I attended to my work responsibilities.)
We decided to have a quiet Christmas Day opening our pressies that Santa had left under the tree followed by traditional lunch. Babul and Kerang had visited with, among other gifts, Christmas cake. My friend Monsor chose the finest chicken from the market for us and I marinated it overnight with sensational seasoning Miriam had sent from the UK. At the moment it’s best vegetable season in the Desh so the vegies looked scrumptious as I popped them in the oven alongside the chook - all of ten seconds later the power went out (Yvonne, Lysanna and Miriam you can stop giggling right now)……….it happens to me every time. No probs though – I’ve got pan-on-the-gas-cooker/oven-baking swap cooking method down to a fine art now. And eventually we sat down at the table complete with bonbons and Christmas serviettes (thankyou Miriam and Carol) to a delicious lunch with enough leftovers to share with my wonderful neighbours (you would have been very proud of my cooking prowess, Mon Ami, Dawnie and Margaret).
During the arvo we had many visitors who were absolutely stoked by the splendid coffee (thank you my GOWers and wonderful friends at Honours) and the fruit cake I declared I had cooked – until we were visited by my friend Jed and his great mate who is a Buddhist monk, when I felt compelled to tell the truth. They have claimed my coffee filter and what ever supply of coffee I have leftover when I depart next month – so the pleasure of GOW coffee will continue in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Christmas night Shanchita invited us next door for a traditional Bangali dinner – stupendous. Jordan upheld another Aussie Christmas tradition (at least it was in our home when I was growing up – yes I can remember back that far) and played board games, teaching the boys next door to play Rummikub (thanks Margaret and Brendon).
As quickly as Jordan’s visit began it was time to leave. Back on the morning bus with some friends coming to bid us farewell, we were on our way to Dhaka for the first leg of the journey to Calcutta, Varanasi, Delhi and Agra to see the Taj Mahal.
That’s another whole blog – so now I will leave you to deal with your caffeine highs or fuzzy alcohol induced heads. But before I do I have an SOS favour – while you are doing your new year clean-out can you please put aside any children’s clothes that you are thinking of clearing out. Particularly warm clothes for 0-10 year-olds, will be greatly appreciated. If you can hold on to them for me, I will collect them when I get home in about six weeks (yep your peace and quiet is almost over). Can you believe there are children here literally freezing to death…………..they don’t have warm clothes for the winter months – it actually gets cold in the hills of the Desh – they catch a cold which turns into a nastier health issue, such as bronchitis and pneumonia and have no access to medical services.
Another of my outstanding friends Tintu (my adopted nephew), has enthusiastically agreed to collect the parcels I send and distribute the clothes accordingly.
Apart from that favour, I also want to thank you, as always, for the fabulous support that you have afforded me in so many forms. There is no way to ever repay your generosity, however, I can assure you that there are many families in the Chittagong Hill Tracts that are grateful there is a wonderful group of Aussies that have an increased awareness of their existence and their plight.

HAPPY NEW YEAR – bestest wishes for 2009.

Abar dEkha hObe

Hugs from the Desh
Marguerite

Gaining Weight during Ramadan, EID-Ul-Fitor and Durga Puja

As you will be aware Ramadan is the month of fasting culminating in Eid-Ul-Fitor celebrations. So how does one manage to gain weight during a month of fasting – Ifter - irresistible, snack size treats (mostly deep fried) that are eaten to break the fast at sunset. Now for those who have not taken any food or water since sunrise it’s a deserved reward – but for those of us who have not observed the custom of fasting and indulge in the Ifter regardless, it’s a guaranteed need to seek membership at Weight Watcher’s. Every day I tried a different track to walk home in an effort to avoid the Ifter stalls but I swear they were on every street corner of Khagrachari for one whole month or they just kept moving them because they knew the bideshi could not resist. Then comes the ‘big bash’ EID-Ul-Fitor (apologies Waltergator but this occasion just nudges over the finish line ahead of happy hour). The ‘deal’ is a little like Biju – bazillions of invitations to visit for ektu ektu (small – yeah! as if) meals with just about every person we have met in Khagrachari. We began the celebrations at Fatima’s house (you will remember Fatima is the wonderful woman who looks after our domestic chores a couple of times a week). The first piccie is of Fatima and Miriam just before we are about to ‘indulge’ in Fatima’s banquet in the main room of Fatima’s two room house where she lives with her four children, husband and two brothers ………amazing!!!!! We pay her an EID bonus, she proudly cooks the feast, we stuff ourselves senseless (a bit like what I do when I eat your feasts Mon Ami and Dr Paul, Margaret and Brendon and Dawnie) and everybody is happy. This was early in the day and I think we visited our last house around 9pm. So now I resemble a mouldy version of Michelin man. Although I’m pleased to report the mould hasn’t been quite so serious the last couple of weeks, so instead of a steel wool, I can just use a scrubbing brush for removal.

With barely enough time to recover….one week later, we are into the four days of Durga Puja celebrations, the most important Hindu festival in Bangladesh. Durga is the goddess with all the arms and the ‘very interesting’ looking children – four of them in fact. For nearly a week Durga’s devotees worship in a diverse range of customs at the many temples (none like the ones Carol and I visited in Kuala Lumpur and I don’t remember seeing Durga in any of those temples). Now I’m not sure how long it takes to construct the elaborately, ornately, lavishly, flamboyantly (OK, OK, I hear you Fabbie – you get the picture) decorated sculptures (you would luv them WW) but after being worshipped and adored for almost a week they are all drowned in a joyous ceremony. Yep! drowned………But before their demise Durga and her family are loaded very reverently on to the back of a big pick up truck along with a very loud band and as many revellers that can (and can’t fit) including myself as special guest. Durga and her family are paraded through the streets of Khagrachari. What the driver didn’t allow for were the low-lying branches arching from the trees on the sides of the road and at one stage poor Durga’s cranium was knocked clear from her shoulders. With little fuss but reverent respect the guys who seemed to be the masters of ceremonies, re-attached Durga’s head and fussed about her clothes to maintain her dignity. We travelled to a traditional point of importance (the town stadium) where more rituals were performed – including paint throwing which left me with purple striped hair for almost two weeks (lucky it was my fave colour). My wonderful friend Babul had warned me about the paint throwing and not to take my camera – so unfortunately no piccies. Anyway with Durga now purple paint striped but re-headed we paraded back through the town and to the outskirts where the river runs alongside some fields. The merriment in the truck was almost out of control and I remember thinking I had been safer jumping out of a plane at 14,000 feet. When we arrived at the river there was a lot more pomp and ceremony, worshipping, candle lighting and then the drownings. Yes! Just like that – the crowd runs Durga’s family into the river with Durga following her head now wobbling just long enough to reach the water. I have to admit, at this stage, I was feeling a tad emotional for Durga………she had survived all the fanfare of this week, so much fuss and being up all night with visitors, been decapitated and a quick fix operation, sprayed with very cheap purple paint, watched her children drown and it was all about to end so tragically for her. I mean absolutely no disrespect to our Hindu families by my account because it is the most important celebration in their tradition and I know my Hindu friends will appreciate the ‘bideshis’ version of yet another amazing experience. I won’t bore you to snores with a repeat of the feasting that was done (same as for EID) over the next two days (I understand that will be great relief for some of you).
I’m including one of my favourite photos of the cutie in one of the villagers nearby – do you suppose she is going to the same temples as Carol and I with that handbag.
The next two piccies are what I found when I opened the door to my flat on two separate mornings – one is of my neighbour’s dinner for that night and the other is of the guard that checks up on us from time to time……………I’ll let you work out which one is which.
I’m hoping there is enough room to upload sunset from my balcony – imagine GOW coffee sitting out watching that – sensational!!!!
Now that my colleagues have realised I have less than fourteen weeks left in the Desh, I have become consultant for everything ………I am flattered but hoping I won’t disappoint by leaving many tasks half complete. They are also trying to arrange a few more field visits for me given the limited time I have left and knowing how much I luv being with the kids. I actually participated in a field trip on the weekend, which is another blog. I would luv you all to have some time with these people – in the words of Tina Turner ‘They are Simply the Best’.
I am counting the sleeps (39 to be exact) until Jordan arrives – it will be a very interesting time for him to be here as the elections are being held the day before he arrives in Dhaka. We will spend Christmas in Khagrachari with my Deshi family and friends who are as excited as I am about his arrival.
The weather is a little cooler, particularly at night, which is great for sleeping and there have actually been some Canberra type fogs in the morning. But I’m still not convinced winter happens here because I am still wearing short sleeves and the locals are wearing jumpers and coats!!!!
I want to share with you my luvvies that your fabulous contact of all forms, sms, emails, letters, phone calls, photos and parcels have helped me through an unpleasant and unexpected bout of homesickness. Apparently very common at the 9-10 month mark and known as ‘homesick junction’. (In fact, around 50 percent of volunteers experience this at three months and a lot of them actually go home.) So thanks to your support and encouragement, I’m on the up again now and as the weather is cooler, I have started shuffling again in the mornings which makes a great difference (get those shoes dusted off Adrian and Waltergator).
I hope you and your families are all very well – finding some time for R&R in your busy schedules and preparing for some disturbance to your peace and quiet in the not too distant future.

Abar dEkha hObe

Hugs from the Desh
Marguerite

A Mixed Bag during the Month of Mould

For those of you who have been asking for the next instalment – thank you for reassuring me that I am not boring you all to snores (and if that’s you Adrian that I hear saying ‘they need to get a life’, remember in the words of the illustrious Governor of California, The Terminator big Arnie “I’ll be back’). In about 25 weeks actually – not that I’m counting but I am counting the weeks until Jordan visits me for Christmas – the best Christmas pressie a Mum could wish for.
Last time I left you I had just arrived back from a very much appreciated break in Kuala Lumpur where I met up with Carol for a week. She was fantabulous company and I will be forever grateful that she suffered five days (and nights) straight of my verbal blogging – I think she has almost completed the therapy sessions she had to take as a result. We had a great time, indulging in some girlie pampering, great eating and some fascinating sight–seeing – the first photo is of one of the many temples/mosques we visited where we purchased a variety of “artefacts”. KL is an interesting city with a myriad of cultures from the bronzed singleted and boardies-wearing Aussies (I’m sure I saw you Andy) to the conservative fully-chadored Islamic women. Even though it is a busy city (about 1.6 million people) it is very orderly (no traffic challenges here for ‘Arraine or Lesley) albeit not so safe when it comes to robbery apparently - there are warnings everywhere about bag snatching, which we fortunately avoided. Carol had booked an extremely comfortable hotel in an ideal location – within walking distance of anywhere we wanted to go – especially those temples and mosques. We had sensational service everywhere (Terima Kasih Perfect Peter for great advice). After some perfect R&R, it was very difficult leaving Carol at the airport to return to the Desh, however, the rest and leisure had rejuvenated me. And you might be relieved to know that all my paperwork was in order with my visa to re-enter the country this time. Nevertheless, I still managed to make them laugh and attract amused attention with my attempts to impress the immigration officers by speaking Bangla – what’s wrong with saying ‘Amar kothay home khub kushi’ - I am very glad to come back home - nothing at all if that was what I had said but apparently I said I am very happy to be going to stay at your home – not too smart a proposal from an Aussie girl (who already has a reputation at the airport) but harmless and humorous light entertainment for these guys who rarely get the opportunity to laugh.…………I have the solution though - next time I come through the airport - with all due respect to our Muslim sisters, I’m going to wear a full chador, then I won’t be expected to say anything - OK, OK, I hear you say (too many of you to mention by name, Gwen, Margaret, Dawnie, Fabbie, Lorraine to name but a few), “the chador she can do, but the silence…….she’ll never pull it off”.
Apparently the winter is here and the worst of the rains have passed – well even though it has bucketed down some days, I’ve actually seen heavier rains in Aus and the photo of the fabulous smiling rickshaw driver is about the worst I’ve seen the flooding so far although I know it’s been more serious in other parts of the country (geez, I hope I’m not jinxing us). And if this is winter, considering the temperature has been about 43 degrees over the last few days, I’m glad summer has passed!!!!!
I know you have all been rugged up and so are my awesome buddies, Colin – the quintessential gentleman, Yvonne - the party girl, and Beth - the other party girl - who have all (sadly, for me anyway) finished their placements and returned home to the UK – but don’t worry my friends, the Aussies are coming, so you keep practicing Waltzing Matilda. I really shouldn’t be banging on about Aussies and winning - I owe James (another buddy from the UK) dinner at our finest restaurant because the Poms did us over in the gold medal count at the Olympics – I know you personally had ankle problems at the time Waltergator but surely you could have sent some substitutes that could have taken care of business on the track – they could have even worn those running shoes of Adrian’s that haven’t been used since I left. I’ll never live the gold medal factor down and it’s going to cost me around $AUS5 to treat James to the delicacies served at our fave eatery called System – among other tasty morsels, they cook the best spicy frog in the universe (and it’s also a private distillery for that ‘rocket fuel’ I mentioned in an earlier edition). Another great night is ahead of us so it will be worth having lost the bet. And I actually pay my bets – a certain Inspector Steve owes me 2,956 scratchies – you know I could be a millionaire by now and totally unaware of it.
Those brilliant people I work with continue to teach me so much about so much. I am going to be very familiar with life in the Chittagong Hill Tracts when I return to Aus, so I hope your prepared for some ‘global education’. I am finally starting to feel as though I am making a small contribution. I would dearly love to spend more time in the field but the complication is that I need a police escort (what are you and your troops doing for the next five months Inspector Neil) each time I do a field trip (and no not because I cause trouble Sir Geoffrey). There really isn’t any danger, however, a couple of times (and please don’t any of you be worrying because this isn’t going to happen) foreigners have been ‘napped’ for ransom – never hurt, just for money. Considering I have no money they would just throw me back in the jeep anyway. I still have the opportunity to spend time with the street kids at informal lessons on the footpath when I go to Dhaka – and I enjoy that special time so much. One of the piccies is of some of my kids – glorious!!!!
Last month we had a conference for all the volunteers and staff working for Volunteering Services Overseas (VSO) – Bangladesh Country Office (which is the sponsor organisation that brings us here to work with various partner organisations ie mine being Zabarang). The conference was held in Sylhet in the north-east of Bangladesh and was an extraordinary experience – sensationally talented people with minds of exemplary brilliance ‘sharing skills – changing lives’ which is the motto of VSO. Guess who scored the role of facilitator of the last session after four days of fairly intense topics. So I taught them to line-dance – (just kidding Jordan so don’t be embarrassed). But they can do an impressive “G’day mate” now. And incidentally the session – focussed on addressing volunteer issues - went very well. Apart from the sharing and learning, the highlight was a visit to nearby Madhabkunda waterfall – so picturesque and another ‘adventure’. In the past, there have been a few ‘mishaps’ at the falls, but by following the instructions of the guide and with a bit of intestinal fortitude you can cross the swirling waters from the bank on the opposite side to stand under the mist – a minor challenge too attractive to resist for adrenalin junkies. The piccies probably don’t do the occasion justice but it was worth the effort and so much fun (that’s Chris, a volunteer from Uganda with me).
A couple of weeks ago we celebrated World Indigenous Day with a cultural show and concert. It was a great day with many talented people demonstrating traditional dances and local singers performing their favourite songs. I mean no disrespect to Bangladeshi music, but John and Jane, you are needed here desperately………even if you only stay long enough to teach ‘the stars’ some voice control and variation of the fave Bangladeshi tunes I will be forever grateful. (I know I will have to settle for you singing happy birthday for me when I get home – absolute bliss). Oh and just one other thing about the concert – I was dragged (no, honestly literally dragged) up on to the stage, and danced through several “one more” requests from the crowd. Super fun and again evidence of how these amazing people know how to enjoy themselves despite their hardships.
Now about the mould…….it is so humid at the moment that I swear while I sleep a film of green fuzz grows over me – (who ever that was that said it’s my age, not the humidity – Adrian – I’m onto you). Seriously though nothing is spared : bedding, clothes, shoes, bags, photos, the walls in the shower and even the geckos, if they stayed still long enough, have a daily layer of green fur, it’s such a damn nuisance. Carol, among a humungus bag of other goodies, kindly brought some plastic storage bags with her for me to try to rescue my clothes so they will last to the end of my placement. So far so good. Perhaps I should sleep in one!!!!!!!! With a bit of effort, it scrubs off most things but it’s a little tricky scrubbing cameras, computers etc. I’m sure we’ll survive but the first person to comment on my green fur when I get home will suffer serious consequences – most of you know I have contacts - remember the ‘chicken-run’ man, I still have his number (and for those of you who don’t know about him – happy to share whenever you have the time).
Well my luvvies, I hope you are all very well, not too busy and taking some time to ‘smell the roses’ which I know will just about be in bloom. I luv hearing all your news and as always my chapter in the hills of the Desh is enhanced by your TLC. Stay in touch and before too long my GOW girls I’ll be asking you to organise a coffee meeting.

Abar dEkha hObe

Hugs from the Desh
Marguerite

PS Photos are 'in the mail'