Postcards from the Edge

of Bangladesh

The knitting circle

As winter is coming, some of the women around Moanoghar have started knitting little hats to sell to make some extra income. Leading this knitting initiative is Memory. Of course. She really is pretty savvy when it comes to earning some extra cash. She also collects weaving products from local women to then sell on in town, and is heading off to a UNDP tribal fair thing in Dhaka to do more of the same. Perhaps one day I should dedicate a post of Memory and her life, as she features on my blog quite often and she really is quite the character. I can just imagine her in the ‘real’ world, where if she had been given the same opportunities that for example I have, she’d be a real ball breaker in the corporate world who lets nothing and no-one stand in her way. She’d be unstoppable! And I find her plenty unstoppable enough as it is.

Anyway, so somehow this little knitting circle has taken to knitting in my lounge on weekend mornings. Not really sure how this happened. It usually starts with Memory coming to say hello in the morning, usually at about 8:30am on my day off. A lie-in, as a concept, doesn’t exist here. So the morning hello starts off with her banging the life out of my front door. There is no ‘knock knock’ and maybe wait a few minutes to give me time to actually get to the front door. It starts with incessant banging, accompanied with shouts of ‘Hello?! Hello?! Hello?!’. I often want to open the door and ask her where the fire is. But I expect the joke wouldn’t translate well. In fact, it would be easy to think that perhaps the fire is IN my house, and she’s desperately trying to get me out to save me, based on the way she attacks my front door.

Right. So once in my house, Memory tends to make herself comfortable and other ladies drift in and out for gossip and knitting. I kind of hang around for the first 10 minutes, then get bored and end up doing what ever I was doing before the knitting group arrived. After a while, the ladies realise that it’s actually far colder in my house than it is outside, so they move outside into the sun to continue the knitting and gossiping.

The Knitting Ladies

My life back in London or Cape Town will seem unbelievably quiet, neighbour wise, compared to life here.


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