Things I'm going to love missing
1. "I wanna' live forever..."
This last installment was going to start in a very different way. Any regular readers of my blog will know I’ve found the stare factor a bit much sometimes. I’ve been photographed on my way to work, filmed while sleeping on a bus, snapped as I stepped out to buy tomatoes and crossing the road and eating dinner and climbing onto rickshaws. Basically, from the minute I leave my front door, to the minute I return, I’m at serious risk of falling prey to the pedestrian paparazzi.
Not content with sneaking pics using mobile phones, people have surrounded me in vegetable patches, at the local market, as I’ve waited for a break in traffic or have been in CNGs. To cut a long story short, a moment’s peace is a rare thing for a bideshi (foreigner), and especially a female bideshi. Apparently, we’re the main attraction at the zoo, the kind of zoo where interaction is encouraged. Or Angelina Jolie, I guess, depending on which way you spin it.
Of course all this staring is to be expected (right?). It is not as if Bangladesh is a melting pot of multiculturalism. And bideshis wear weird clothes, eat strange food, have strange customs, behave inappropriately, talk in odd languages, and turn up in the strangest places. Under these conditions, how could you not stare, if you were a local? It’s only natural.
Natural or not, it can become extremely trying. When I’m hot and sweaty and stinky, or tired, or in a rush, or stuck in one of Dhaka’s notoriously hideous traffic jams, or going about the banalities of my everyday life, I’ve found out I’m not inclined to encourage idle chit chat with complete strangers who want my mobile number.
I don’t want to be facebook friends either. Or teach you English. Or visit your family, marry you/your brother/your cousin/your friend. While I’m on topic, I also can’t do you any favours with Australia’s immigration department, or find you a job, or give you money. Or give you Ricky Ponting’s home address.
When all is said and done, I am really looking forward to getting back my anonymity. While it has occasionally been lovely to feel a part of a community, albeit a weird one-sided one where everyone knows my name but I have no idea of theirs, I yearn for the days when a trip to the corner shop isn’t fraught with the prospect of my photo doing the rounds at ‘the pub’ (read tea stall). I mean, I can hear them now “Oi, you should have seen the Sheila I saw the other day! You wouldn’t believe it! She was walking around, cool as you like, completely alone AT SIX PM! And she SMILED RIGHT AT ME! I know she wanted me, you could just tell.” Hmm…Ok, so that might resemble more a conversation or two I’ve overheard in Australian pubs, but you get my drift.
I guess this all means I really do want to be just like everyone else.
But the stare factor hasn’t made it to number one of things I’m going to love missing. As I glance over at my sister, currently bent over a bucket, there is something way more significant that needs to top this list. I hereby declare that I, Lyrian Fleming, am looking so very, very forward to not worrying if every meal prepared outside of my kitchen is going to leave me purging all the things I’ve ever eaten, and the things I have only ever dreamt of eating, out of my system.
Salmonella, E coli, and all your buddies – our departure will come not a moment too soon. Bangla belly, I bid you an eager farewell, with just a small, modest request. Please go gentle on us, we’ve still got Delhi to deal with…
Things I'm going to miss loving
1. The beehive of life
What better way to end the 'desh than by quickly tapping this out as I'm hunched over the fan, sweating at 6am, having stopped to hear the last morning call to prayer. I'm in a rush, bags packed, and have a flight to Kolkata in two hours. I have to go out onto the street and hail some form of transport, and squish me, my pack, and my sister into whatever it is that comes our way, but something will, because that's the way Bangladesh works.
For all the open sewers, the creepy crawlies, the heat, the stench, the broken pavements, the failing electricity and all the other things which I haven't got the time to go into, Bangladesh has carved out a little piece of my heart. There's a hole in there somewhere that is being filled by a whole horde of people who have spotted the space and are now madly setting up shop. Sticking up tarps, tying ropes, securing foundations, painting everything in hypercolours, and probably installing a variety of horns which can be blasted at any given moment.
Not quite the tidy metaphor my English teachers would have liked, but you get my point.
Things I'm going to miss loving
1. The beehive of life
What better way to end the 'desh than by quickly tapping this out as I'm hunched over the fan, sweating at 6am, having stopped to hear the last morning call to prayer. I'm in a rush, bags packed, and have a flight to Kolkata in two hours. I have to go out onto the street and hail some form of transport, and squish me, my pack, and my sister into whatever it is that comes our way, but something will, because that's the way Bangladesh works.
For all the open sewers, the creepy crawlies, the heat, the stench, the broken pavements, the failing electricity and all the other things which I haven't got the time to go into, Bangladesh has carved out a little piece of my heart. There's a hole in there somewhere that is being filled by a whole horde of people who have spotted the space and are now madly setting up shop. Sticking up tarps, tying ropes, securing foundations, painting everything in hypercolours, and probably installing a variety of horns which can be blasted at any given moment.
Not quite the tidy metaphor my English teachers would have liked, but you get my point.
So it is with a bit of a chuckle I am admitting to myself that the very thing that has driven me so crazy here, the sheer chaos of the place, is probably the thing I will miss the most. I know I will miss the cacophony, the crowds, and the crazy pace of life that goes hand in hand with over 150 million people living in a football field. One that's always just moments away from being flooded.
Amazing to admit, but it's true.
And I'm going to leave it here, because it's time to rush out the door. I've got a plane to catch that I don't want to miss. A big shout out to everyone who helped make my stay just that little bit easier with phone calls, packages, visits, letters, post cards, e mails, text messages and everything in between. Every little gesture helped immensely.
Allah Hafez x
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