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
