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’.
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