Learning to live with hartals, orientations, and Bangladeshi hospitality

I was scheduled to give an orientation to the job creation program for the three new MCC workers in Mymensingh on August 30. For weeks I had been making plans – arranging accommodations and food, scheduling visits to partners in surrounding cities, and writing a presentation. Two days before their scheduled arrival a hartal was called for August 30. Plans had to be changed as we could only travel as far as rickshaws would take us. I had wanted to go to our partner in Netragona, but the distance by car is an hour and definitely not possible by rickshaw. In the end everything turned out fine as we visited our Mymensingh partners and the places that our new volunteers would later utilize. This is one reason why Bangladeshis don’t plan too far in advance. You can make all the plans in the world, but if there is a hartal, you can’t go anywhere.

After the Mymensingh orientation, I accompanied the new volunteers to Boniful, Jochatro, Piergacha, and Sirajganj. We visited various aspects of MCC Bangladesh, and met with fellow MCC workers. Everything went smoothly until two new expats woke up with vomiting and diarrhea on the morning that we were scheduled to take a public bus to Mymensingh. Your first bus ride in Bangladesh is an experience enough without being sick on top of it. Also there aren’t many restrooms along the road for those with diarrhea. All day Saturday we waited for their health to improve, and they recovered enough that we could all go back to Mymensingh the next morning. Then I was busy showing the new expats how to find their houses, where to buy food, where to eat lunch, how to get to the internet café, where language class was, how to ride the rickshaw, taking clothes to the tailor, and what fun things are available in Mymensingh. We went to Taize, to the press club for chicken biriyani, and to coffee shops. All this activity consumed a lot of energy, so by Thursday I decided that I needed a vacation. I headed to Bandarban with some Dhaka friends for a few days of rest in the Chittagong hill tracts and hospitality of the indigenous people.

In between I’ve many experiences that are so unique that I can’t even describe. Last week Cecily and I went to a Muslim birthday party for a ten year girl. Her father is a doctor and her mother a teacher at an English medium school. All the guests were Mymensingh’s upper middle class, and the cake, the presents, and the dinner were all beautiful. Of course, the two hour load shedding before the party could begin was not completely enjoyable. Thursday night in Dhaka I went with a friend to her sister’s Hindu pre-birth party – sort of like a baby shower. I sat on the floor fanning myself while her mother slashed coconuts open and made pitas by candle light during another load-shedding. Then in Bandarban I sat in a “restaurant” run by an indigenous couple and ate roasted chicken kebabs and crab by candle light. I also had lunch at my friend’s brother’s house. They made us lots of delicious rice, vegetables, and fish. After we finished eating, I was tired and napped in their bed. At first I laid with my head at the foot of the bed, but I had to rotate my body as the family’s Buddhist’s gods would be happier if my head was near them.

Today is another hartal. I got back to Dhaka from Bandarban at 4 a.m., but did not have sufficient time to get to back to Mymensingh before the hartal started at 6 a.m. Today I was to have an important meeting as well as handicraft samples to move along in Mymensingh. But there is nothing to be done except maintain a good attitude when unexpected things disrupt my schedule.