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'

Lysanna and Kyson Make History

You are on the guest list - Lysanna and Kyson made history when they married in the Chittagong Hill Tracts on Friday 9th May and Saturday 10th May. Wedding celebrations here usually go for a few days and Lysanna and Kyson celebrated in traditional fashion with a few modifications. What makes it history? Well Lysanna is from England and Kyson is from the Tripuran village of Burra Para and, as far as we are aware, their marriage is a first in terms of the union of their cultures.

Lysanna and Kyson have given their permission to have their wedding ‘blogged’ – any embellishments are poetic licence of the author.

Lysanna and Kyson met when she arrived here in Khagrachari as a VSO volunteer three years ago to work with Zabarang (the same organisation I work with). (After her twelve months posting sheshed (finished), she decided to stay and has since then worked with an international NGO). And of course one of the major reasons she decided to stay on was because LUUUV was in the air. There was a level of unrest in this area at the time she arrived and Kyson, who was working as the administration officer at Zabarang, had been assigned as Lysanna’s security support. If you could meet this gentle, fun-luving, super intelligent man who is also a great cook (bonus), you could easily understand how a girl could fall for him. I know you have met Lysanna in my previous blogs, but just to remind you she is also super intelligent, fun-luving, bright and beautiful, and another awesome cook - so a perfect match made in the hills of the Desh.

If you think wedding arrangements are stressful in Aus think about this unique situation. As you can imagine it was not a straightforward process - the formalities, the preparation, and eventually the wedding ceremony were without precedent. With all due respect, this little pocket of our world is appropriately entrenched in tradition when it comes to marriage and there are very few unions between different groups, especially a foreign woman and an indigenous man. While most responses from their friends and community members were happy, happy, joy, joy, there were also a few frowns of confusion. Nevertheless, their commitment and ‘true to their hearts’ perseverance helped them overcome the hurdles and the wedding was a sensationally happy occasion (as you can see from the piccies).

When I actually arrived in Khagrachari the discussions re the wedding had begun so I was delighted to be invited to be involved in the excitement and fun of the preparations - not to mention the great food that went with every planning session. (For those of you who love pork, I promise I will master Kyson’s pork dish before I return and share it with all my culinary experts – a treat worth waiting for and a gesture of appreciation for all the delicacies of yours I have enjoyed over the years, particularly those prepared by Margaret and Brendon, Mon Ami and Dr Paul and Dawnie………….)


For the bride the decisions are much the same here as anywhere else in the world – what style, colour, headwear, shoes, jewellery, make-up etc – although for Lysanna a few minor adjustments because, while she wanted to wear as Tripuran traditional as practical, she also wanted to add her own personal touch. After some ‘this goes with this, goes with this, goes with that’ the striking red and white you see in the photos was the perfect choice.

For the groom, the decision was much easier and Kyson also looked stunning in his traditional white outfit with incredible embroidery. (Boys never really have those ‘does my bum look big in this?’, hair, make-up and jewellery issues anyway – OK, OK for those extraordinarily stylish men in my life I apologise – you know who you are and I know as you read this you are checking your grooming and you all look awesome as always…………). In fact, Kyson went to great lengths to make sure he looked fabulous (and even if he dressed in a Michelin man suit his bum is never going to look big).

The first day began with drinks and nibblies – (rather like happy hour at the Secretariat minus the Nutella jar for donations Waltergator!!!!) - in Lysanna’s and Kyson’s flat (as you know they live in the flat below mine) – so there was great excitement around the building as the celebrations began. Miriam, who was delighted to be Lysanna’s bridesmaid, did an exceptional job with helping the bride get ready. I was also honoured when Lysanna asked me to be her guardian and take on the responsibility of giving her hand in marriage. (Unfortunately, none of her family members were able to travel to Khagrachari for the ceremony, however, the happy couple are having their vows blessed in England in January with Lysanna’s family).

We left the compound in a convoy of four-wheel drives (Burra Para is around one and a half hours drive from here over some fairly challenging terrain – the first photo is the police escort jeep during about attempt number five – (your guys would have made it first run Inspector Neil – especially if either Lesley or ‘Arraine had been driving) to get up one of the hills while the convoy waits behind. It was a sight of wonderment for the people as we drove out of town and even more so for the villagers. They very rarely see foreigners and now one of their sons is about to marry a ‘bideshi’. So there was a very long guard of honour of curious witnesses and an excited welcoming crowd when we arrived (similar to when Her Majesty came to visit us at Government House!!!!!).

While the approximately 1500 guests mingled and waited for the first banquet to be served, the bride and groom were whisked away for some private traditional aspects of the ceremony. It was during these blessings that I, along with Mathura, (our Executive Director) offered Lysanna’s hand - not so clear in the piccie but I was very proud and privileged. (It was also a very colourful scene that you would have luved WW.)

At wedding feasts here in the hills of the Desh, the kitchens are fascinating – rather like an outback muster where everything is cooked outdoors in cauldrons by an incredibly energetic team of chefs. I’m always amazed at how they manage to get all the equipment in an out of such a remote area and set up so efficiently. I’m not so sure about the hygiene conditions, especially as the site was literally around the corner from the pig-sty, however, the feast was delectable (and my tummy survived another Deshi dining experience).

A party with a band, dancing and much merriment followed – these people know how to socialise and the locally produced rice-wine is the source of refreshment to ensure that the celebrations are as loud as possible and continue until the last person is standing. (Again a bit like happy hour at the Secretariat – just joking guys, or maybe like our favourite tavern in Jackson Gwen.) As the night came to an end some of us headed home and others bunked down wherever there was body space. The journey home in the dark was another adventure but the drivers here have amazing skills which we should be teaching some of those people you come into contact with Sir Geoffrey.

The following morning, more of the traditional official procedures were to be conducted down by the Burra Para stream, so I arranged to get a lift back with some of the other guests who would also be returning in time for the celebrations. My transport was late and because it had rained through the night, some of the hills were beyond the climbing capacity of the vehicle. We had to walk some of the distance, which wasn’t a problem except it meant we missed some of the ceremonies. Being delayed had benefits and disappointments. Part of the ceremony includes sacrificing a goat, pig and chickens – all in full view of the guests………..that part of the ceremony was complete by the time I arrived – thus the disappointment (NOT!!!!). But I was disappointed not to see Lysanna and Kyson exchange food, drinks and candles and other elements of their betrothal.

Another feast followed and more merriment until about mid-afternoon it seemed as though even the most stoic of party animals was ready for departure. As we left there were some emotional scenes – the community members and us ‘bideshis’ very aware we had just witnessed the making of history. I’m sure you join me in wishing Lysanna and Kyson a sensational future together.

With regard to work, my program is much the same. I am fortunate to be surrounded by brilliant, happy, sharing, caring people who are teaching me so much – I know, I know, I’m supposed to be teaching them but they are geniuses (I’m just not in the same ballpark, but if they can line-dance when I leave has my posting been successful?). Work on the publication continues (Jordan, I think you should come now and help your dear old Mum with this and then return for Christmas as well). I have attended some very impressive training sessions where I am honoured to be asked to contribute – if we ran training sessions as efficiently and effectively in Aus, the impact on our workforce would be massive. I’m not sure if I shared before that I have also had a couple of fabulous opportunities to teach street kids in Dhaka – I will check so I’m not boring you to snores with repeats (don’t worry Adrian and Fabbie, I get the reports) and if not I have to tell you about that amazing experience.

I have just returned from a week in Kuala Lumpur (another blog) – a very welcome mid-placement break – yep, I’ve been here for six months………..Carol flew in from Aus and generously shared her leave with me. We had a splendid time, no line-dancing but plenty of shopping, sight-seeing (aren’t the shops inside the towers classed as sight-seeing), girlie pampering (thank you for the hairdresser advice Peter – the bush has been tamed!!!), lazing by the pool and eating fabulous food (thank you Christine for the froggie recommendation) – the only disappointment was we didn’t find one coffee up to GOW standard.

I don’t wish to sound like a broken record my luvvies but I am extremely grateful for each and every time you include contact with me in your busy schedules. I’m not convinced I would be able to continue my experience here without your encouragement, awesome wishes, and simply ‘being there’ for me. After returning from KL, I was a tad unsettled, so your sms, emails, letters, calls and care packages have been of paramount importance as I settle back into the next half of the adventure. Special wishes to you all – and take best care.

Abar dEkha hObe

Hugs from the Desh
Marguerite

Line Dancing into Calcutta or Always Check the Fine Print

But before we go to Calcutta some reassurance that I really am still making a contribution to Zabarang workwise. The commitment of the team here energises me every day and my glorious young friend and colleague Miriam, also provides me with extraordinary support both professionally and personally. I have completed some draft policy reviews and will present these to the Senior Management Team as soon as we are all in the office at the same time. I am currently co-ordinating a glossy magazine (could certainly do with your expertise Jordan) covering the unique Multi-Lingual Education (MLE) program that Zabarang has introduced into 60 pre-primary schools (they have established) in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. The sensational members of the Shishur Kamaytan (Children’s Action Through Edcucation) team I work with, developed the program for indigenous children to enable them better access to education by learning in their mother-tongue in pre-primary school and then progressing to Bangla for the transition to primary school. The magazine will outline the challenging steps of the program development, the impressive implementation and achievements to date and the ambitious future direction of the MLE pogram. It will be presented at a conference of Multi-Lingual Education specialists in Bangkok in July.
One of the most delightful and rewarding opportunities I have had so far, apart from visiting the pre-primary schools (where we are enthusiastically welcomed with flowers and fondly farewelled every visit), is attending the child participation group forum. 40 young people have been elected to represent the children and youth in their villages and to address the issues and concerns they are dealing with, not just to do with education, but socially and domestically. Huge challenges and they are an inspiring group of young people and I was very proud when they asked me to make a presentation which I was assured they enjoyed. They also luved the koalas, which I gave them as good luck tokens (thank you David and Peter).
Now turning the calendar back, I arrived here with a six month visa with a clause that stated I had to leave the country within the first three months to validate the second three months. If you are asking, ‘What the………?’ join the club - I can’t answer (but don’t worry Fabbie, there is a point to this story). Apparently, it happens from time to time, so Saifullah from VSO (the organisation that brought me to Bangladesh after AVI recruitment) advises it’s easiest to get a visa for India, travel to the border, have my visa stamped and return to Bangladesh. Meanwhile, my Scottish mate Yvonne has plans for party time in India before she leaves to go home. So we decided to take advantage of the trip and explore Calcutta for a couple of days. Passport and Indian visa in hand (eventually granted, after three days, from extremely ‘non-smiling face’ at the Indian High Commission in Dhaka) we set off on the 10 hour bus journey – bearable though, as we travelled through the night so slept most of the trip.
When we arrived at the border Yvonne (who had been to India twice before) advised me that sometimes the customs and immigration officers can be difficult so to stay very low key…..yeah, sure no probs…..well again the blonde curly hair attracts a considerable amount of attention and the border crossing becomes quite an amusing process. You have to get off the bus, walk across the border and catch another bus on the Indian side. Almost everyone who was crossing the border that morning wanted to know where we are from and where we are going. We had to line up for about an hour to have our passports stamped and pay the exit tax. When the officers saw my Aussie passport, yep you guessed it we talked cricket and Ricky, which made the process a little less serious than expected. Then we had to wait for the border gates to actually be opened along with a crowd of not so smiley faces.
As you leave Bangladesh (through a steel fence) there is an area of land less than 1 kilometre wide that is neither Bangladesh nor India and literally called ‘no-man’s land’. It is the most unusual and in some sense eerie feeling crossing this space – hundreds of thousands of Bangladeshis fled through here during the war of independence. So I considered the only one way to lighten up tripping across this patch of turf that belongs to nobody, and make it memorable was to line-dance to Keith Urban courtesy of my iPod…….(just not the same without you Carol and I’m sure I’ve forgotten some of the steps). At least I knew I couldn’t get arrested and line-dancing always instigates some smiling faces
The next step was getting through the Indian immigration desk and the officer was a real live version of Brutus (from Popeye the sailor man cartoon fame……..for those of you old enough to remember - I could name, names but you know who you are Waltergator and Co). He tried to create some non-existent problem about my Indian visa and I was about to ask him if he realised that Ricky Ponting was my friend when a very helpful (and extraordinarily handsome) Bangladeshi/American businessman waiting in the queue behind me took care of the ‘problem’ in no uncertain terms. He also assured me I won’t have any such difficulties when I visit him in Los Angeles (very impressive business card!!!!!!). Yvonne passed through like a local and muttered some comment like ‘bloody Aussies – nothing but trouble’…………….
The bus trip to Calcutta only took about an hour and we easily found our accommodation – a VERY ordinary guest house - because Yvonne had stayed there before. I was glad we were only spending two nights there. We asked for the room to be cleaned again and the sheets to be changed and then went exploring.
Calcutta is very different to Dhaka in the sense that it is full of tourists, who interestingly enough hardly even acknowledge each other. But the poverty is as obvious and heart-wrenching as Dhaka and the divide between the rich and poor even more evident. And here the de-humanising of rickshaw drivers stoops to a different level with the guys actually running (mostly barefoot) inside a wooden frame attached to the buggy carrying their passengers – no bicycles for these guys – again I ask the question…………same planet?????? Calcutta also has a strange element of cosmopolitan style - obviously developed to accommodate the expanding tourist trade. The traffic is a crazy mix (but not as frenetic a challenge as Dhaka for you Sir Geoffrey, Lesley and ‘Arraine) and some scenes with all the old yellow taxis could be from a by-gone era movie made in New York (trivia question for you Lorraine and Sharon P – name one of those movies).
The next couple of days we spent sight-seeing – Mother Theresa’s home was a highlight (humbling and inspiring) and St Patrick’s Cathedral was also impressive. Of course we explored the markets, bazaars (a patchwork of colourful scenes for your art WW) and many restaurants and pubs (and even enjoyed one decent cup of coffee GOWers – my search is less urgent now knowing I now have my own GOW filter at home – many salutes).
It’s such a small world – as we were enjoying happy hour in one of the pubs, Joe, from the UK and also a VSO volunteer in Bangladesh, (and at that mo in Calcutta ‘cos of visa issues) just wandered in………he’s great fun (extremely bright) and it was a bonus to have his company for some of the next few days. (Joe and Yvonne are in the right hand corner of the piccie of street scene of Calcutta.)
On the third day we moved to the exceptionally decadent Grand Oberoi International Hotel – a special early birthday treat for Yvonne (creative thinking that got us a huge discount as well as cake and flowers). The photo says it all – an unbelievable oasis playground apparently for the wealthy and famous (and those of us pretending to be - that’s Yvonne snoozing away last night’s party poolside). While it was a very welcome retreat, I also experienced some sense of the surreal when we stepped outside the complex into the streets of marketeers, beggars and homeless, not to mention the stench (yes, I do remember you mentioning this Hunk).
One of the major highlights was going to the 20/20 cricket match at Eden oval with over 78,000 (mostly male) crazy cricket fans. The match was between the Calcutta Night Riders (a combined team of Aussies, New Zealanders, South Africans and Indians) and the Blue Indians (I just made that up because I can’t remember the name of the other team but they were wearing blue). Anyway, guess who was the opening batsman? … yep RP …… I wanted to run on to the oval and tell him that half of my conversation time since I have been in the Desh has been about him. Unfortunately he only scored a few runs and I was almost inclined to cover up my Aussie T-shirt in case the crowd blamed me for the Night Riders not winning. It truly was an unforgettable experience and worth the semi-scary cattle-run type entry and exit system.
We also did some ‘what happens on tour, stays on tour partying’ particularly at a very popular tavern nearby (you would have luved it Gwen). I only line-danced on the bar because I was asked to …………… don’t worry Jordan I’m just kidding, but we did dance into the wee (Yvonne’s influence) hours of each morning. So much fun and we met some wonderful, interesting and friendly people, mostly locals who are all visiting us in Australia and Scotland (yes, most of them are dreaming but there’s no harm in that).
The party came to an end all too soon and as we packed to go to the airport, I realised I had bought a lot more trinkets and souvenirs than I could squeeze into my bag. But Yvonne (after my ‘no I’m not leaving any of my tool kit behind’ comment – you understand Alex) came to the rescue and also stuffed her bag to the zip-wrenching limits.
The taxi trip to the airport was like a thrill-seeking ride at a theme park, (akin to travelling around Lonnie with ‘Arraine) because the taxi driver was annoyed that the concierge at the hotel had told him how much the fee was and he could not rip us off. Obviously we arrived safely though.After a long wait at the airport (the plane was delayed several times but at least not cancelled like some others), we cruised through customs (with smiling faces) and bid farewell to Calcutta. Within 45 minutes of rickety aeroplane travel, we were safely on the ground in Dhaka. We bought our allowance of duty free grog and cigarettes (just cos we could) and were beckoned to the front of the immigration queue. Yvonne reminded me again that sometimes these guys can be a little tricky. Then the bombshell - the immigration officer, after examining my passport and visa advised me “Madam, you are unable to re-enter Bangladesh”. I asked him if he was joking with me but already I could tell by his body language this was no joke. (I wanted to tell him that I had just had an audience with Ricky Ponting but I realised that this may not be the time to be talking cricket, especially if he was a Calcutta Knight Riders fan). He asked me why I had left the country and I explained I had been advised the conditions of my visa stated I must exit and re-enter the country before the end of April to validate my stay in Bangladesh for the next three months – bizarre but true. He agreed that this was indeed correct, however, he pointed out that the officer at the Bangladesh High Commission in Australia had mistakenly ticked single entry instead of multiple entry and so we have ‘khub SOmoSSa’ (big problem) – I have no permission to re-enter Bangladesh. By now a crowd of officers had gathered and my passport and visa passed to each of them for examination. When I noticed one of them smile (he must have experienced some of your training Inspector Neil) and despite Yvonne passing me her friendly ‘don’t do it’ glance, I seized the opportunity – ‘Australiai bhalo lagi na – aj amar Des Bangladesh – ami jani kothay na’ (you don’t like the Australian – today my country is now Bangladesh – I do not know where to go) …. thank goodness it worked – situ diffused – obviously by their unified smiles and laughter, they were more than a little amused by my attempt at Bangla and replied “of course we like the Australian and we will do everything we can to help”. So I followed the instructions, paid the $US50 and was provided with a 15 day interim visa and advised to get myself to the visa office ASAP (another blog). In the meantime Yvonne had tracked down our luggage and we had a team of officers assisting us out of the airport (minus customs check) to find some form of suitable transport to get us back to her flat. While we were putting our bags into the CNG, Yvonne told me that we’ve just witnessed a first – most people violating visa conditions in the Desh end up in tears or worse. As we depart the airport I hear her muttering ‘bloody Aussies………nothing but trouble’ and I’m thinking…………………..now that’s an important lesson in “read the fine print”!!!! (I hear you snoring Fabbie!!!)
Again my luvvies I send my eternal appreciation for taking such special care of me. I really am only able to continue my adventure in the Desh because of your support. Every sms (yep we have network in the hills now), phone call, email, letter, card and care package has contributed to my happiness here in Khagrachari – now Inspector Steve if you could just speak to those mates of yours at Country Energy about our problem with continual black-outs here, life will be as good as it gets.
Stay well, take special care.

Abar dEkha hObe
Hugs from the Desh
Marguerite

PS – Adrian, you had better be awake by my next blog when Lysanna (from the UK) and Kyson (Tripura) make history as they marry in Kyson’s village and I ‘give the bride away’.

New Year Desh Style

Well I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy many New Year parties in Australia but have never experienced anything quite like the five days of partying in mid-April to celebrate Biju (Chakma tribe), Bwisu(Tripura tribe) or Sangrai (Marma tribe) - to mark the New Year in Bangladesh.
The New Year celebrations kicked off with a community march starting at the oval just near where we live, then proceeded through town and finished around an hour later, at the cultural festival site on the outskirts of town. It was so much fun and a wonderful experience dancing (even some moments of line-dancing) and singing (we could have done with your assistance Jane) through the streets with hundreds of the local villagers. A very impressive cultural show, with typical Bangladeshi high volume merriment followed. Miriam and I apparently featured on national television when the celebrations were broadcast around the country. I promise, even though I have not seen the footage, our behaviour was very respectable…………………. We were then invited to join the dignitaries to a very impressive buffet – I have learnt it pays to be a little adventurous and sample the traditional delicacies because presentation can often be deceiving, and most of the food, while usually spicy, is extraordinarily YUM – khub mojar kabar (translated = this food is delicious – problem is when you make this comment your plate is piled high again).
Talking food, there’s an added bonus to keeping company with the awesome volunteers from other countries – aside from learning so much about their amazing experiences, I get to enjoy a diverse range of gastronomical treats. Elyse, Miriam, Lysanna and Kyson (who you have all met previously) and Omari (my gorgeous friend from Kenya) are always cooking up fabulous dishes……so I’m wondering if the Aussie barbie or my tuna pasta bake will ever make the grade. I have to tell you though, the Vegemite (thank you Dawnie) sandwiches I made for arvo-tea were an absolute hit. They have asked for a repeat.
OK, back to Biju………….In the evening, my fab volunteer friends Beth (from England) and Yvonne (from Scotland) arrived three hours late on the bus from Dhaka to join the five day food and wine fest. I know some of you will be curious about the wine factor, given we are residing in a Muslim country. The Chittagong Hill Tracts (which is akin to a state or territory in Australia and where Khagrachari is located) is the exception, with a diverse range of religions observing each others’ celebrations and traditions. The area is famous for rice-wine and while I haven’t sampled it myself, I understand the taste ranges from ‘smooth as silk’ to ‘residual rocket fuel’. (Would luv to try to bring some to happy hour Waltergator, but I think I would have to declare it as inflammable goods.) Nevertheless, it is consumed with great gusto, particularly by foreigners (I have caused some confusion for the locals – a foreigner who doesn’t drink alcohol!!!!!!! but they are very respectful and always provide plenty of juice and of course tea). (Mind you the other ex-pats are more confused to be in the company of an Aussie who doesn’t drink alcohol – so you can see our reputation for enjoying a grog or ten is alive and well all over the world.)
That night a horde of us indulged at System (our favourite restaurant) and some of us ‘kicked on’ back at my place – all very civilized of course because we were briefed about the ‘non-stop’ partying ahead of us for the next three days and our 0800 start the following morning for the pilgrimage to Matai Pukhini, Nunchari.

This event occurs once a year when approximately five thousand Christians participate in a pilgrimage to the ‘Holy Pond’ to bathe in symbolic spiritual renewal. As you can imagine it is fairly unique for foreigners to participate and we were very noticeable in the crowd (especially as we travelled with police escorts). However, the locals were delighted with our presence and encouraged us as we trekked the long climb in the extreme heat. This hike was a challenge even for the fittest of us and a few rests were necessary along the way. The effort was worth every drop of sweat though. It’s not known how many foreigners have actually swum in the pond but Lysanna and I decided to brave the stares and, with the assistance of some local women, stripped off and bathed in the holy water. Terry, (a fantastic new mate from Canada who works with Save the Children), said the gallery of photographers on the bank of the pond multiplied in seconds – you can imagine how unusual it would have been for these people to see white skinned ‘bidehsis’ participating in this ritual. I will spare you those piccies (don’t worry Jordan, it wasn’t as embarrassing as it sounds because we covered up in borrowed rinais to maintain our dignity) but I have include a couple of the actual swim and some of the journey. Even though the water was muddy and we were sharing with sacred goats that were being blessed, it was a remarkable opportunity and one I am grateful we had the opportunity to experience. The trek back was a little less challenging after being refreshed by the cool water. We were all fairly tired, but managed to party a little…….OK, a lot, that night after dinner at a friend’s house.

The real feasting began around 10am the next day before we even left the building where my flat is located. One of the families downstairs invited us in to start the day with a feast of dishes and rice wine that could have been enough to get us through the next month. The fabulous fare included braised goat, chunky chick peas, barbie pork and noodles (and of course rice wine)…………… there is an expectation to visit as many homes as possible and an order of sorts to the way the day progresses whereby the host from the next place to be visited delivers a message to say it’s time to move on. On the first day we visited no less than 15 homes enjoying an staggering assortment of dishes….the hospitality was incredible and the fun and dancing into the night……unforgettable. The merriment continued for the next three days and when Yvonne and Beth left – (after almost missing the bus) we all wondered if our bodies would survive the revelry. What else can I say but Happy New Year Bangladesh.
Yes, yes, yes – I am doing some work. I have begun some policy reviews and have made more visits to schools. Karen, the Managing Director from Save the Children Australia was here a few weeks ago and we spent the day visiting schools and had a special meeting with the student representative group from one of the neighbouring villages. Karen and I have decided we have to try to get some project going with the Australian Cricket Board for the village kids of this cricket crazy nation. If anybody has a particular contact I would be grateful. My consultation roles with Zabarang is progressing and the marvellous staff there are so supportive…………..particularly as my visa issues continue – bonus is the fiasco resulted in a trip to Calcutta (yep – next blog we’re off to India folks).
I know I have tried to express my gratitude for your TLC before but I am truly staggered, flattered and humbled by you support, generosity and interest. Your parcels, emails, phone calls, sms and letters have been critical to my happiness and wellbeing in the Desh. I am very happy and comfortable here, however, there have been one or two challenging moments and a nano second of ‘flat-time’. It’s amazing how your contact in one form or another has been perfectly timed to lift my spirits, not to mention, save my hair and feet and provide goodies for the local kids. For those who are waiting on replies to emails and letters they are in the mail……………….
Take special care luvvies – still missing you all and for one reason or another am reminded of you every day.

Abar dEkha hObe
Hugs from the Desh

Marguerite

The Truth About My "Mission"

Well life just continues to get better in Khagrachari and for those of you who have been cheeky enough to ask if I am actually here to work or socialise, the work report is coming. But I still have to share about the trip to the little village outside of Matiranga.
Mathura (our sensational Executive Director) invited us to his brother’s wedding. About 1,000 guests attended (and the winning wedge for the Secretariat Trivial Pursuit competitors goes to the team that guesses how many people with blonde curly hair were at the celebrations!!!). Most weddings here involve three days of traditional rituals and one is for as many of the guests as possible to return to the groom’s village to have another reception with the people who cannot travel to the reception held in the town. Because this village is in a restricted area outside the boundaries of my security clearance I had to get special permission and travel with armed police (they could do with some donations of some modern equipment Sir Geoffrey and Inspector Neil).
And on this occasion I was invited to travel in the entourage of the Chairman of the Chittagong Hill Tracts District – which is a very impressive honour. He made me feel very welcome when I had the chance to meet and chat with him before we started the one and a half hour drive prior to continuing the journey on foot.
After the dusty road trip to Matiranga we had to trek over some very rough terrain for a around two hours, literally across the top of the CHT. There were quite a few very steep hills and narrow tracks that had very ‘can’t see the bottom’ drops if we slipped. However, everyone took special care of the ‘bideshi’. Mind you I’m sure I was fitter than any of the ten or fifteen others (all male) in the group. The young police officer who was walking behind me most of the way was breathing so heavily I was concerned he was going to have a heart attack. And after he asked me for about the fifth time if I needed a break, I realised it was for his benefit not mine – he was unbelievably unfit (perhaps you could send those runners that you’re not using for the lunch time shuffle in my absence Adrian and I’ll pass them on to him). I was stunned that most of these guys were not carrying any water despite the fact it was almost 38 degrees!!!! We had to cross a couple of rivers and I almost walked through the river instead of over the bridge, just to cool off, but the state of the water would have required your most protective waders Andy and Paul.
We made it to the village all in one piece and to a very enthusiastic welcome. The bride and groom were stunning and the groom’s mother and I struck up an instant rapport even though we could not understand a word each other was saying. The reception was another feast and after some very boisterous singing and line-dancing (well I’m here to share skills - but it wasn’t the same without you Carol), it was time to say farewell and trek back to Matiranga. On the way back one of the young cops was able pick up mobile network right at the top of the hilliest area of the CHT and luckily I had my mobile phone with me. So I was able to phone Jordan for a few minutes and make Aussie history - perhaps even world history if Mathura’s estimation is correct - that I am not only the first Australian but probably the first foreigner to visit this area. I hope the next visitors can line-dance because there is now a precedent in Gunti village. What a wonderful day and inspiring experiencing - the generosity of the poorest of the poor.
I think the fact that the Chairman invited me to his home for tea when we arrived back in Khagrachari (and yes we talked about cricket as well as a number of other more serious matters) is proof that I was an honourable Aussie representative.
OK – there really is a work component to this trip. Zabarang,Kalyan Samity (ZKS), as I think I may have shared before is a very dynamic progressive NGO. You will be able to read about us on the net soon as Miriam (my brilliant young friend and colleague) and Amal, our IT specialist , (can you tell Evahn that Amal has only been on stress leave once since I’ve been here) are building the website as we speak. ZKS is committed to assisting the poorest communities (and the definition of ‘poorest’ here is very different from what we understand by poor in Aus) by developing sustainable programs which will empower the people to make changes to improve their lives with the emphasis on all aspects of eduction.
The team at ZKS is a group of inspiring young indigenous people – as well as fun loving and sociable. At the moment I am familiarising myself with each project ZKS is involved in and the roles of the multi-national donor organisations that sponsor their projects (pleased to report Save the Children Australia is one). I am here to focus on education programs and will assist and advise with strategic planning for the inclusion of these programs into the organisation’s framework.
So far I have had the opportunity to visit several pre-schools (trips for which I require a police escort) where the teachers are instructing in the children’s mother tongue in the first year and Bangla in year two. So the children will be multi-lingual by the time they start school. The children are amazing, so happy, receptive and wanting to learn. They enjoy having visitors and some of them already remember my name without being prompted………………very special experiences.
While they are enjoying school, I despair about their lifestyles ………..some of these children have to walk for miles often barefoot, and that’s after they’ve spent time collecting water from the nearest wells and helping around the house. They have very little, if any play and leisure time. Nevertheless, they are happy little characters and luv to sing and dance – no line-dancing (yet) but some Australian songs.
At ZKS, I am also assisting with some policy reviews and we are right in the middle of a huge recruitment process for staff for another extensive primary school education project for which ZKS successfully bid.
My project manager Bikram and I get on extremely well – he appreciates the fact that I’m a details person (and laughs at my jokes….oh and my singing) and is notably supportive of everybody on his team. He likes to take us to the tea shop just along from the office and I am going to treat him to some special Australian coffee that I understand is on the way from Australia (thank you soooooooooooo much GOWs).
And many thanks again to all of you for the special care packages, phone calls, emails and letters ………………..I’m almost lost for words (I know that would be a first) to try and express my gratitude.
Life here is actually very comfie – I am getting used to the regular power cuts – some times for six hours - so I have a charge light and two great torches (thank you Andy and Iain). When the power fails the water supply runs out, so I have simply learnt to fill buckets in preparation. On the weekends I sometimes have my shower later in the morning. Because the water tank is on the roof, the water is warm enough then to stand under without bracing myself for the initial shock of the usual cold water. I am used to boiling and filtering drinking water (and even assisted Lysanna with the construction of the filter, incidentally, she is an engineer and I suspect she could construct anything). I am almost used to sleeping under a mosquito net. I am not so spooked by the mouse size cockroaches any more, I have only seen one hand size spider in my flat and I have become used to the film of dust that settles over everything every day no matter how many times I wipe everything down.
I have a wonderful cleaning lady, Fatima, who comes twice a week and washes the floors and does the heavy washing (by hand of course – amazing to watch). I also have an awesome ironing man, Shooboohd, who is also the local corner shopkeeper. (I know those of you who have suffered and ironing session with me will be asking does he iron things inside out first? – well he will as soon as I can learn enough Bangla to explain to him that it makes it easier to iron on the outside!!!!!). I will try to get a photo of his iron – it must weigh 30 kilos and is filled with hot coals – incredible). It is expected that as a foreigner, I will employ some local people to help with domestics which in turn provides them with an income ……I don’t have any problem with that rationale but I do worry about the dismal amount they get paid. But for reasons best explained some other time, I’ll share my thoughts on that matter at a later date.
There are some aspects that I struggle with, apart from the poverty of course. One major one is seeing the people - men, women and children -who walk for days barefoot from their remote villages, to take cane to the markets to get enough money to buy rice to feed their families. The bundles are enormous, strapped around their bodies and then up over their heads...(I just can’t believe life can be so harsh in the same world we share). I don’t like the way some people treat the rickshaw drivers – geez those guys are amazingly fit, sometimes carrying three and four passengers on board, some of whom would do themselves a favour, health wise by walking. I am never going to get used to that guttural clearing of the throat and nose and spitting in the street that is accepted as normal practice here - at least men peeing in the street is very rare in Khagrachari (unlike Dhaka). And about toilets – well let’s just not go there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One other thing, I would really appreciate is having access to my mobile phone – but if I put that into perspective with the aforementioned about the locals, it seems rather insignificant doesn’t it.?
So now you know that I am actually doing some work while I’m here, I will give you a break from the blogging and share with you next time about the week of partying we have just enjoyed for Biju (New Year).
Again thank you sooooooooooooooooooo much for staying in touch – I think about you all often for one reason or another and wish you all lots of smiley days luvvies.
Abar dEkha hObe
Hugs from the Desh

Marguerite

Tripping to Khagrachari

KHAGRACHARI at last – I luuuuuuuuuuuuuv being here. But you have to come with me from Dhaka first, so pour yourselves a glass of wine (or three) or make a cuppa because this could be a marathon (and for those of you who have won the Nobel Prize for your literature expertise – happy for you to share your reviews with someone who cares………just kidding, I luv your comments).
Alimgir, the driver, and Ronjon (both with smiling faces), turned up fifteen minutes early with the ute (and Inspector Steve…..absolutely no resemblance, in any sense, to the utes of Aussie country boys) loaded to the rafters with the furniture we had to take with me from Dhaka – two problems already. As most of you know fifteen minutes early for me is like asking me to be there yesterday and the ritual ‘paint job’ was only half done – how could I possibly travel to Khagrachari without applying mascara (my young friend Alex will understand this for sure). The second issue : where the hell am I supposed to fit everything I have accumulated to make life as comfie as possible while living in the bush. No problem – these guys could pack an elephant into a matchbox – (and Dawnie they laughed when I explained the value of the tool kit and made a very secure spot inside the cabin). With fond farewells from all my wonderful flatmates we’re on our way – well not quite – as we turn into the busy main road, I realise I have left my glasses at the flat………..the smiling faces change momentarily to ‘are you sure’ expressions and after a ‘no find’ search of my bag, Ronjon runs back to the flat (a quicker option than trying to manoeuvre thru the traffic again) and it’s not long before he returns with the specs and smiling face.
The trip out of Dhaka was the same ‘you have to experience it to believe it’ madness (still think you could pull it off Lesley and 'Arraine) – but I was relaxed because Alimgir is an excellent driver and Ronjon (who at this stage, I find out is a stowaway and has come along to experience a trip out of Dhaka) was very chatty - which suits me just fine as most of you know!!!!. While we saw a lot of that inexplicable poverty, the guys were great tour guides, pointing out landmarks, explaining vegetation and what happens in the villages along the way…..at several points we could have almost reached out of the ute and touched the barbed wire fence of the Indian border. Whe we stopped to get petrol and a young guy convinced me to buy the local newspaper (if the photo is clear enough, you can see the loaded ute reflected in the windows at the servo). We also stopped at a flash hotel along the way for a very enjoyable lunch. All the waiters are dressed in the colours of the Bangladesh cricket team and yep the obligatory ‘do you know Ricky Ponting????’ – but wait, in this group we discover Brett Lee and Adam Gilchrist fans - I decided to limit my friendship claim to Ricky Ponting (well Jordan sat next to him at a Pink concert once, doesn’t that constitute a friendship?).
After travelling over terrain that included very narrow, long-drop if you go over the edge, dusty, windy, deep ditched tracks (and bridges in various states of repair or disrepair!!!!) we come around a bend and the view is breathtaking – lush jungle and hills for as far as I can see (no glasses necessary to appreciate this scenery). We can see Khagrachari in the distance carved into the side of one of the great hills.
There are some formalities to go through before we get there though – two check points – just a matter of producing my passport and security clearance stating what I am doing in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) (and I'm sure they ask Almigir about my hair) to the army duty officers and signing the register. (These guys, while very formal, are more friendly like your troops Inspector Neil). The captain of the army cricket team just happened to be at the check point and by now you know the conversation that followed when he saw my Australian passport.

A little further down the road we repeated the same formalities at the second check point and Kyson, who works at Zabarang, was there to greet me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a very warm welcome.
As we drove through Khagrachari, I am already comfortable and the differences between this big rural town in the CHT and Dhaka are not only obvious but a relief – minimum car traffic, no CNGs, little dust pollution and room to move around without having to walk in somebody else’s space. Rickshaws are the main mode of transportation, and some of them are very fancily decorated (remind me of your super creative talents Wendy) and most are generally in much better condition than those in Dhaka.
Finally we drove through the gates and up the driveway of the compound where my flat is situated on the third floor of a building which is still being constructed. The guys insisted on unloading without my help (except for the tool kit which they passed to me as priority). When we opened the doors to the flat, I couldn’t believe my eyes - the walls are pink!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(not quite purple, but the next best choice). It is also very big – two large bedrooms and one smaller – so plenty of room for you all any time between now and end January 2009. The kitchen is basic but functional (and you can cook up a feast here any time Mon Ami) and I am slowly getting organised to a comfie lifestyle Khagrachari style.

On the night of my arrival, the staff from Zabarang had organised a welcome party for me at their favourite restaurant which was so much fun............a little tricky remembering all their names that night, but I'm happy to say I know most of them now. The food was super and they all enjoyed the rice wine - very toxic apparently and this district is famous for the production. They cannot believe they have met a foreigner who not only doesn't drink rice wine, but doesn't drink alcohol.....they are waiting for Jordan's visit so he can restore the Aussie drinking reputation which is even know about in this remote, restricted area of the world.

Some of the greatest bonuses of my life here are Miriam (who I think I introduced you to in a previous blog), Lysanna (also from the UK) and Kyson who all live in my block of flats. They are amazing people and the piccie is of the special breakfast they treated me to on my first morning here. Settling in has been made so much easier because nothing is too much trouble for them and they are all fabulous cooks. I am going to have a lot of catching up to do when I finally get an oven - (which is 'going to be available next week' - for the last three weeks).

The day after I arrived was International Women's Day so we joined in the march and rally. Then, after having a cuppa at the local tea shop (you can see us heading there in one of the piccies) we enjoyed the days cultural activities. The local people embraced me like a long-lost relative and I feel so welcome and comfie here.

The weekend (which incidentally is Friday and Saturday here) was a whirlwind of social functions I wondered if I was actually going to be able to cope with the pace.

My first day at Zabarang on Sunday was a wonderful meet and greet - all the staff have wonderful senses of humour and extraordinary commitment to the aims and objectives of their organisation. The level of busy reminds me of the Secretariat, except without the resources - so I know my colleagues and friends would have a lot of admiration for this team.

There is so much more to share - particularly the trip with the Chairman of the Chittagong Hill Tracts with his armed escorts, to a wedding in a village where, not only am I the only Australian to have ever visited but most probably the only foreigner.

But because I am concerned that those of you who are drinking wine while reading this are probably intoxicated and those of you who chose coffee are on caffeine overload - I will keep that trek for the next chapter.

I still miss you all very much and am so grateful to you for staying in touch. Take special care.
Abar dEkha hObe
Hugs from the Desh

Marguerite

Piccies from Srimongol

The next chapter

I hope you are all well and thank you again for all your news. The adventure continues in earnest with so many interesting chapters, and while I appreciate you are all very busy it’s very difficult to know what to omit. As some of you already know, I have arrived safely in Khargrachari and am very happy here and will tell you all the Khagrachari news in my next blog. But I wanted to share with you some pre-Dhaka departure chapters so bear with me. You’ll have to decide how much you want to read (or ring Adrian and ask him for a synopsis).

A couple of weekends ago, Beth(UK), Colin (UK), Ryan (Canadian –who incidentally knows all the words to our National Anthem and Waltzing Matilda – he’s a crazy rugby fan), decided it was time to get away from the frenetic chaos of Dhaka and take a six hour train trip to Srimongol, which is a tea garden district in the north east. We arrived at the station at 0600 and within five minutes we were in the centre of a forty person huddle. (Bangladeshis are very curious and they ask about five standard questions “Apnar nam ki?” – what is your name, (their attempts at Marguerite are commendable) : “Apnar des ki?” – what is your country (Australia prompts huge smiles followed by cricket and Ricky Ponting comments) : “Apnar kothay aken” – where are you staying (they grin and nod approvingly at Lalmatia and Khagrachari even if they don’t know where these places are) : “What is your religion” - recovering Catholic receives quizzical looks but is acceptable because they understand Catholic – what they don’t understand is if you don’t have a religion at all : and “Are you married” - I have three (tin)husbands and two (duiy) boyfriends provokes great laughter. So by the time we answered the obligatory round of questions and taok photos of every rising Bangladeshi star it was time to leave. (One of the great regrets is that we rarely get to see the people again to give them a print of their photo – one of my most rewarding moments has been delivering copies of photos to our neighbourhood kids – similar responses to what we would get if we gave our kids a car!!!!!!)

The train trip was a whole new experience - the slums along the side of the railway track have to be seen to be believed. Some of the huts are made of tarpaulins held together with what looks like very thick masking tape. They are so close to the tracks it is a wonder they stay upright as the train speeds past and they also have to withstand the harsh weather conditions. The level of sanitation is unthinkable – which leads me to the conditions of the toilets on the train – a once only experience for this traveller – I’ll stop drinking for two days before any future train trip just to avoid the need (and for my Secretariat friends – I promise I will never complain about the drips again – can’t promise the same for the toilet roll changing – as you know in most places here it’s not an issue and still very much a bideshi (foreigner) practice.

OK, enough toilet talk……the trip itself was fun and we took a picnic to enjoy on the train. Some of the others practiced their Bangla in preparation for their exams but I told them I’d keep my eye on the map to make sure the train was going in the right direction – which was just as well because at one station in the middle of nowhere there was a guy (Bengali) standing on the platform with an ‘I luv Australia’ T-shirt on – so I was able to give him directions and told him “yes Ricky Ponting and I are great mates”.

Srimongol is a lush green hilly district and I appreciated begin able to shuffle for the first time in weeks (no terrain we can’t handle Waltergator and Adrian although avoiding the potholes is a challenge). The people were so welcoming and fascinated because they very rarely have foreign visitors – they are extremely poor but so generous and we must have had 2,956 cups of tea – don’t worry GOW members (especially you M2, I have not given up coffee, so keep practising).

There were plenty of highlights, including a walk through the tea plantations and surrounding rice fields where the people left their hard labour to come and chat and invite us for more tea and visit their homes. Ryan, Beth and I especially enjoyed a few hours taking classes in the primary school with amazingly responsive children and teachers, who scored extra marks for their assessments because they joined in with, and clapped at my singing.

I also had special fun playing cricket with the kids who have established a pitch (which is as hard as a rock) in the middle of the rice fields – I scored a couple of sixes because the cow in the next field (which was actually the boundary) conveniently moved in closer just as I took my turn at batting and the kids were semi-impressed at my bowling attempts. They are crazy about cricket here and some of these kids are extremely talented but, unfortunately will almost certainly never have a chance to further their cricketing ambitions.

The visit to Srimongol was over too quickly and we were soon back on the train but not before creating the usual gathering of curious locals. We were fortunate enough to share the cabin with Superintendent Aziz (who I think I mentioned before is in charge of a special police unit – no where near as important as yours though Sir Geoffrey). He was very astute and spoke excellent English – we discussed a range of issues from beggars to politics and the future of both our countries (while the others read and did some more study. As the journey finished he gave me his number and said if their was anything he could ever do for me to call him – considering he was rather cute, I had a few suggestions but noticed my friends had stopped what they were up to and now listening to my conversation with Aziz so I thought it best not to embarrass them, him or myself.

Needless to say I f ailed my Bangla exam and am probably one of the teacher’s biggest disappointments as a student. They think those of us of a more mature age should have better aptitude……….I suggested to her that, because I am older, English has been my first language (or mother tongue as they refer to it here) for longer, so it would naturally take more time for me to learn a new language. Her response ‘Bochi na’ – I do not understand – so I told her we were even, she doesn’t understand my English and I don’t understand her Bangla. For those of you, particularly Peter, Wendy, Jordan and Mon Ami who find learning new languages not so challenging I salute you. I am currently investigating finding a teacher here in Khagrachari who gives private lessons because there are so many dialects here, and even though I can understand some of the conversation, to participate in the community and my job, I will have to have a clearer understanding than I have now.

I miss you all every day and if you ever feel like dropping me a line - or better still, dropping in………although I will need a little notice for your visit so we can arrange the necessary clearances and security arrangements…………. the address is

Zabarang Kalyan Samity

Kharapur, Khagrachari Sadar

KAGRACHARI – 4400

BANGLADESH

Take special care of yourselves and will blog while in Dhaka next week with photos.

Abar dEkha hObe

Hugs from the Desh

Marguerite