Postcards from the Edge
of BangladeshChristmas: Chakma style
Since my Christmas plans ended up in a heap in the corner after being beaten senseless by Bangladeshi bureaucracy, I have spent my Christmas here, with my Chakma friends. I am so touched at the effort that people went to, in this hastily organised Christmas lunch. About 30 people attended the lunch, held at the meditation centre up the road. And I even got some presents, which I really didn’t expect.
The gift list is as follows:
- 1 x woven Chakma blanket (much needed as I’m currently sleeping with two pairs of bottoms and 3 tops at night because I’ve been too lazy to buy another blanket)
- 1 x box of Bangladeshi sweets
- 1 x mobile chain/accessory thing
- 1 x Moanoghar T shirt
- 3 x 2010 diaries (surplus has been distributed)
- 4 x pens
- 1 x muffler (the scarf like thing worn around the head, like a cartoon character with toothache). As modelled in the office by Moanoghar’s accountant today:
When Memory gave me the muffler, I thought ‘ah, that’s really sweet, but I’ll never actually wear it…’. Not so. I wore it in the office today. It’s forking freezing in there. With the glass-less windows with shutters that are always open, ‘in there’ is pretty much the same as ‘out there’ but without the added benefit of the lovely warm sun.
- 1 x pair of socks with fingers (also from Memory). Which is how these wonderful socks have been described to me before. I obviously didn’t have a clue what was being described to me.Um, ok, socks with… fingers you say? Until I received my very own pair yesterday. That look like such:
With the sole purpose to wear like so:
Genius. Clearly socks and sandals are a big enough fashion tend to require specialist socks. I shall wear mine with pride.
So all in all, despite being away from family and friends, it was a great Christmas. It was slightly surreal getting Christmas presents from a Buddhist monk though. I’d love to return the present giving one day, but what do you buy the man who isn’t allowed to own anything?
PS Did very much miss my sisters yesterday though. One having a braai (BBQ) by the pool in Cape Town, and the other having a snowy Christmas in England. And my little nephew who I spoke to briefly on the phone. It’s the first time I’ve been able to notice his accent (he’s a few months short of 3) and he sounds so…ENGLISH. Ok, I know he was born in and lives in England, his father is English and his mother has lived there for about 10 years, so yes, he IS English. But man, I really didn’t expect such a cute little English accent. I guess in my head he always sounded like a Saffa. When my sister made him say ‘you alright?’ it was just the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. I guess that is very much the downside of volunteering/living abroad, you miss out on so much, family and friends wise. So much happens that you just aren’t aware of, like your nephew turning into a Cockney. I fully expect to meet a Oliver Twist-esque character when I see him again in London. That’s how he looks, sounds and acts in my head now.
The Haircut
What WAS I thinking?
Lessons learnt:
- impromptu haircuts while out shopping after work are ill advised. This is especially true when living in Bangladesh.
- when the hairdresser in the ’salon’ is threading someone’s eyebrows when you arrive, and giving someone else a facial when you leave, caution should be exercised.
- there are three options for women’s haircuts in Bangladesh a) straight b) step and c) shaggy. No further descriptions are given on these three options.
- wet hair is not a prerequisite for a haircut in Bangladesh. Nor is a quick comb through first. The first thing that comes out is the pair of scissors. It was sit down, and BANG scissors to hair. Chop, chop, chop.
- a haircut for £1.20 is unlikely to be a good one.
As a special Christmas treat for myself, I am now the proud owner of a ’shaggy’. Can’t say it’s my best haircut (it’s currently vying for worst haircut, along with the time when I ended up with short hair, by mistake), but it certainly was the most fun. I was officially the first foreigner in the salon, and the hairdresser plans to not throw my hair away, but keep it as evidence.
Re Christmas: Upon hearing that I am staying in Rangers for Christmas, Buddha Datta (monk) has arranged a Christmas lunch for me in his meditation centre, with the Moanoghar ladies. And I have been given my first Christmas present, some sweet curd. From Jhimmi, who talked me into the haircut tonight…I’m glad I’m staying here for Christmas, in my lovely Rangamati with one special monk and some crazy ladies. It might sound like a sad Christmas, but really it’s not. Sure, I’d rather be with my family and friends, but that is what next Christmas is for. This Christmas is for this experience, which I’ll never get a chance to repeat. Christmas: Chakma style.
I’ll leave you with the words of VSO Bangladesh’s Christmas email to us:
Dear all,
Happy Merry Christmas to all of you.
Heavenly Joy and Peace comes in the World through the Born of Jesus Christ
Wishing you a bright Merry Christmas and A Bright Happy New Year 2010.
Take care and have a peaceful life.
Blessing GOD bless you.
Love it!
Christmas: Cancelled
Christ (yes you) it’s been a nightmare over the last few days… holiday plan wise.
India is a no go as it takes 6 days to apply for a visa, which you have to do in person, in Dhaka . If I did apply, I’d obviously only get the visa after New Year. And since I’m leaving Bangers in April, to travel through India for a few weeks, before heading back to London (and the finally onto South Africa), to go to all the hassle for a random mid-January holiday in Calcutta would just be silly. If it was possible, visa wise, to do NYE in Calcutta, then definitely a good idea. Otherwise it’s probably just a waste of time, money and visa-office-tears.
Bandarban is now also off the cards for Christmas (which is tomorrow, Estelle, tomorrow. Try not to forget). Laura is in full visa melt down, and heading aaaallll the way to The Hills for a few days is, again, just silly. While it would have been nice, it still wouldn’t really be ‘Christmas’. It would have been just A.N.Other weekend in The Hills. The other option is for me to go to Dhaka for The Day, but again, it’s a loooong way for something that will, at best, just be a pretty rubbish imitation of Christmas.
Right. Ok. So. I’m staying in Rangers. In a one woman boycott of all things festive. Really, I’ll probably just forget to remember that it’s Christmas. Or maaaaybe there is a Christmas party at another foreigner’s house (not the lovely UN booze girl, but another UN man). If so, I plan to gatecrash that.
Abort
Repeat Abort stop
Holiday plans in disarray due to f&*$%^^ Bangladeshi visa people. Impossible to get tourist visa once INSIDE Bangladesh.
So Laura has to leave Bangladesh, to come back in as a tourist. Which means screw St Martin’s, we’re going to India instead! Calcutta to be precise. Oh what fun. In the words of Laura, from an email she sent me to convince me to go with her:
- Calcutta has lots of silver jewellary
- It has bars
- Things in India are a lot cheaper
- Rum is about £2 a bottle
- We will have lots of fun
- There is a lovely fabric shop called weavers studio
- FAB INDIA – OH MY GOD how could I forget FabIndia!!!
Not that I needed much convincing. At all. For all of the above reasons, and more.
Now the drama to get visas for India starts. As we know I am about 10 hours from Dhaka and the Indian High Commission, who are notoriously difficult and full of vile people who make getting a tourist visa for India almost as difficult as getting a tourist visa for Bangladesh. Luckily my passport is in Dhaka, so I can let Laura deal with this new visa trauma. Only problem is passport photos for me. But there must be a way I can take my own, put them on my lovely Mac, make them into official passport sizes and email them to Laura to submit with my application form. It must be possible, it’s almost 2010. Google at the ready…
PS Any and all help on just how to get the best, and fastest, out of the Indian High Commission will be greatly appreciated.
Updated to add: Arse. I don’t think Laura can apply for an India visa on my behalf. AND we need to get ‘change of route’ permission from some Bangladesh Department of Whatever. We arrived in Bangladesh by air (plane) and will leave by land (bus). Apparently this is not ok to do without someone, somewhere signing something to say it is ok. There are clear and present dangers to the advancement of Bangladesh – one of which is this bureaucratic bun fight to get anything visa related done.
Planning a holiday in Bangladesh
Is a LOT of work.
My festive plans are such:
1) Travel from Rangamati to Bandarban on the 24th, to spend the 25th (I keep forgetting that is in fact Christmas day… It. Just. Does. Not. Feel. Like. Christmas. Here) and 26th with a friend.
2) On the 27th travel from Bandarban to Rangamati, with said friend, to check out some festival thing (I still can’t really be sure just WHAT the festival is all about, but I do know it has something to do with the Chakma king. And bingo. Somehow.) and maybe also check out some indigenous weaving (friend is into textiles).
3) On the 28th travel from Rangamati to St Martin’s island (Bangladesh’s very own coral island, at it’s southern most tip).
That sounds easy, doesn’t it? If your answer is yes, then you obviously don’t live, or have never attempted to holiday, in Bangladesh.
Let me explain for why:
Number 1) involves me getting security permission from Bandarban’s District Commissioner. Copies of my passport and visa have been emailed to a Bandarban NGO who is applying on my behalf. Travelling there also involves carrying numerous photocopies of passport and visa to hand out like sweets at the various army check points along the way.
Number 2) involves me applying for security permission from Rangamati’s District Commissioner for friend. By ‘me’ I mean Moanoghar is applying for the permission. Again copies of friend’s passport and visa are required. Except friend is currently having massive visa trauma at the hands of Bangladesh’s Most Bureaucratic Department. She’s trying to change her NGO visa (expiring soon) to a tourist visa (so she can stay and research Bangladesh’s textile industry for a few months for her MA back in the UK). Easy? Hell no. She’s been asked, by the official visa man handling her application, why would anyone want to be a tourist in Bangladesh (GOOD question). And why doesn’t she rather just go back home to England instead. And what is wrong with her family that she is here in Bangladesh alone, and not in England with them. And has been asked if her British passport is real. And has been told that she doesn’t look like a British person (what does a British person look like anyway?). This man is just not playing ball (besides perhaps with his own pair), and Laura is ready to kill.
And number 3) involves a 2 hour bus from Rangamati to Chittagong, then catching a 3 hour bus to Cox’s Bazar, then spending the night in Cox’s, then catching a 2 hour bus the next morning to Teknaf, then catching a 2 hour ferry to St Martins, then catching a 30 min (I guess, because I really have no idea on timing for this one…) local boat from the port to the resort we’re staying at. Hells Bells. Could it be any more convoluted? We’re meeting friends from Dhaka in Cox’s then travelling together. The crazy thing is that from Dhaka to St Martins is only about 320 miles, but it will take a day and half to get there. Just getting all the bus and ferry times has practically become a full time job for me, as obviously none of this information lies at the end of a Google search. And getting the timings right to get to Teknaf to catch the ferry is of VITAL importance, as there is only 1 ferry a day from Teknaf to St Martins and Lord help everyone around me all if we miss that. Ok, there isn’t only 1 ferry, there are actually 3 ferries a day. BUT they all leave at the same time…. logic people, LOGIC?! There is an option to just get the resort to lay on all the transport (hired mini vans, speed boats etc) but us VSO volunteers get paid peanuts* so that’s not an option.
And this is without any consideration for just how we’ll get some booze for the holiday. Man alive, now this gets complicated, so pay attention… There is local Bangladeshi booze (as shown here, and the effects of which are discussed here). But it is all predictibly rubbish, and it’s Christmas/New Years after all, and we think we deserve alcohol that might not have the added benefit of poisoning us. Sooooo…there is a (proper) booze warehouse in Dhaka, that only special people like diplomats and UN staff have access to. So I know someone who works for the UN’s WFP, a.k.a the other foreigner in Rangamati. Now she has a non-UN friend in Dhaka, who has been authorised to buy booze with her UN pass. So lovely friend of a friend in Dhaka is going to buy our booze on Wednesday, and there will be a booze-money exchange on Thursday with one Dhaka based VSO volunteer. Who will bring the booze down to St Martins. Did you manage to keep up with all that? THAT’S how complicated it is to buy decent booze in Bangladesh. The UN folks really have been AMAZING at helping us out. They obviously know how hard it is to face this country sober sometimes… They feel our pain, and I’m loving them for it. Not enough can be said for the kindness of virtual strangers.
* as the saying goes, if you pay peanuts, you get monkeys. Note to self VSO, note to self…
PS And note to Julie – All Guide Tours trips to Sundarbans fully booked for Xmas 
Should have listened to your sooner.
