Alfred Snider: May 2008

BANGLADESH MUSINGS

I had the great good fortune to go to Bangladesh for two weeks to work at the 15th All Asian Debating Championships hosted by North South University. Over on GLOBAL DEBATE I have posted a lot about the tournament and how well I think it went. This is more of a reaction to Bangladesh and my stay that was not connected to the tournament.

I want to say a few things initially. First, the people were some of the warmest, most welcoming and friendliest I have ever met anywhere in the world. Second, I did not get outside of Dhaka, so the following is really only about Dhaka and its environs. Third, Bangladesh is certainly a country with challenges, but the people I worked with and the young people there seem up to the challenge, and I look forward to seeing them succeed and cheering them on. Fourth, all of this ism my opinion based on my two-week stay and a lot of recent reading.

In no particularly order, then, here are some of my observations.

HORNS HONKING
The first thing you notice about Dhaka when you leave the airport is he horns honking. Actually, you notice it before you get into your first car. I have been in a lot of places where people love to honk their car horns. I have seen the different customs, like “watch out,” “here I come,” and “I am also on the road.” Dhaka is a place where the last custom applies. People just regularly honk their horn, and it seems for no apparent reason, thus the “I am also on the road” designation. You sort of get used to this while on the road, but the effect it has when you are off the road is a bit more troubling. At my first hotel (Hotel Eastern Residence, three star, I would go back) you cold clearly hear the honking from the hotel room. Luckily, I can sleep through such noise (it dies down about 2 AM) but if you cannot you are in trouble and should bring earplugs. At the second hotel I was at (Pan Pacific Sonargaon, five star, very nice) the room was soundproofed a bit better, but when you put your head up near to the window you can hear a steady chorus of honking from the crowded nearby roads. A few days after my return I was driving down the streets of Mexicali, Mexico and found the relative quiet to be relaxing. I have read a lot about noise pollution, and I am convinced that a constant bathing in such honking can be hard on you. By the way, my friends from India told me that it is even worse on streets in places like Mumbai and New Delhi. I need to remind myself of that before I go there.

THE GOVERNMENT
I do not know all of the details but I will tell you what I know. Democracy and the established political parties (the Awami League and the Bangladesh National Party) have not worked out well for Bangladesh. The parties have had long and protracted struggles and each of them has had a serious problem with corruption. The current corruption stories link them to massive kickbacks from the purchase of jet planes from Russia and a floating power plant from Japan. The military acted and overthrew the government, and now both party leaders are in prison awaiting trial on corruption charges. The military has appointed a number of “special advisers” to run the government. Most of these people are civilians or ex-military figures. The leader of the government is currently “special adviser” Dr. Fakruddin Ahmed. Other advisers run the ministries and the various arms of the government. The parties are always complaining about the situation and the newspapers are full of both condemnations and complements for the current “adviser” government. The people I talked to (quite an unscientific survey) seemed to have a lot of scorn for the parties and a lot of positive thins to say about the current government. They say that “things are better” since they took power – crime lower, economic activity up, corruption down, school support improving, etc. In fact, it seems like the “adviser” government had the popular support of the people. The two major parties do not seem to be able to rally people against the current government, and keep fighting between and among themselves. On e interesting point is that the current government has banned something called “indoor politics,” meaning that no political organizing can take place outside of the public view, or is it outside of their view? The current government seemed strongly in support of the major debate tournament I attended, with Fakruddin attending the opening ceremonies and the “adviser” for the education ministry attending the closing ceremonies. While I was there a plan was announced or elections in late December and the ban on indoor politics was lifted. There did not seem to be a lot of human rights abuses perpetrated by the government, but it is strange that the leaders of both political parties are in prison. Yet, Bangladesh has a functioning justice system with procedures and guaranteed rights, and it is not like they are being held without charge. The whole situation perplexes me. Shortly after my arrival I was heard to say that I could not decide which of these two things troubled me the most – that there is a military government or that people really seem to like it. I feel that I will revisit this issue later when events justify.

PEOPLE WITH GUNS
I am sure you are aware that the average income in Bangladesh is low by global standards. Yet, as I have often seen, the vigor of life and the enjoyment of its living is not always dulled by a lack of material well-being. As Peter Tosh has said, the poor often do an incredible thing, they take nothing and add nothing and get something. The low income levels in Bangladesh do create a divide between those who have considerable belongings and those who do not. What I am trying to find is an explanation for the large number of uniformed and semi-uniformed men on the streets with large guns. Combined with the fact that most windows are barred and yet there seemed to be a very low level of violent crime (reported in the media or talked about) it seems that the crimes are property crimes – desperate people stealing what hey can get their hands on. Many of the debate events had armed men, there was an armed guard at breakfast every morning at the Sonargaon, and late at night I had seen small groups of men patrolling the streets with sawed off shotguns. They did not seem to be protecting people, but protecting property. Those of you who know me have probably figured out by now that I did not feel more secure with this much high-powered weaponry on display. Maybe it was the way that the “adviser” government prevents crime, I am not sure. In any case, there were a lot of guns on display.

THE PEOPLE
Smiling, friendly, welcoming and a lot more. People were very helpful in almost every situation I was in. Whether finding a taxi or a certain location, people were cooperative and anxious to work through language barriers if need be. People also seem proud of what they have. The keeper of one of the schools I was in was very proud of his old school, the rickshaw drivers were proud of their three-wheeled vehicles and had hand painted them with colorful designs, students were proud of their school and bus drivers were proud of their often run down buses. This may be a low-income country, but it is not suffused with negativity. Fruit on sale was gorgeous and stacked in immaculate pyramids of display. Unlike other countries (which I shall not name at this time) there was no “Hey, how can we separate this rich foreigner from his money,” but rather an honest spirit of cooperation. Whenever I was suspicious about being “ripped off” it was always at a much more upscale location, such as a high-class restaurant.

SCARY HEADLINES
There are several English language newspapers in Bangladesh. I tried to read them carefully to get a feeling for the country. Much of the news was about the political situation of the adviser government and the political parties. Many of the other stories were about economic development issues, such as investment projects, trade agreements, new factories and agricultural breakthroughs. It is nice to see that in a time of food crisis Bangladesh is in he process of bringing in a bumper crop of rice. There were some news stories that I did find troubling, and for different reasons.

The water treatment plants to provide drinking water for Dhaka are close to breaking own, from age and also from the higher level of pollution in the source water (due mainly to discharges from tanneries) and at any time two of them might stop working and 25% of the city might not have potable water. This was already an issue as there were constant stories about diarrhea outbreaks due to people drinking stale water.
The citizens take a very active role in dealing with crime. Neighbors are anxious to protect each other and come to the aid of each other, in what you might call vigilante actions. Robbers break into a home to steal some gold jewelry that a man owns. There is a scuffle and the homeowner gets shot. Instead of calling the police and staying away, neighbors and friends call he police and jump right in, chasing the robbers, catching them and beating two of them to death with stones. The police arrive and the citizens turn them over along with the captured weapons. I am not sure what this really means but it is disturbing. I saw several stories like this.
Workers at a garment factory go on a rampage over unpaid wages, low wages and bad working conditions. They burn the factory and beat up some supervisors. This event went on for a second day. Stories indicated that when wages were denied even though families were going hungry the violence was triggered.
Aging and overburdened power plants were going off line more and more. New ones are apparently years away. Additional information about this below.

EMPTY SEATS
We were hosted most excellently at the tournament. They had great sponsorship and broad societal support for the event. The meals and the socials were enjoyable and impressive. I noticed, however, at the first night that there were a number of empty seats at the dinner that had been set and drink glasses full. But, no one was sitting there. It seemed to me that the troop of waiters would be glad to bring food to those tables if people only sat down there. I could be wrong, of course, but it did seem this way to me. If the money had been spent and the food was ready, why weren’t we thinking of a way to get it to some of the people we had seen standing in rice lines? I know, how do you get them into the hotel, they might disrupt the opening events, etc., etc. But, we are smart people, and we need to figure out how to solve a problem like this. Please do not see this as a criticism of the organizers. I am just concerned about the juxtaposition of delicious uneaten meals and hungry people. I had this feeling at each meal. Sure, I ate and enjoyed, but it was always there. I spoke about it often, and people were either touched or did not understand or thought I was crazy.

BOMB PROTECTION AND HOTEL SCREENING
Any time we would drive through the gate and onto the grounds of the Pan Pacific Sonargaon security guards would stop us. They would glance inside, but mainly they would look under the vehicle with mirrors on metal poles to see what was under the vehicle. “Are they looking for bombs,” asked Jason Jarvis. Yes, I think they were. At the main door to the lobby there were several soldiers staffing a screening station, and everyone had to walk through a metal detector as well as having all bags, purses, etc. run through a screening machine and checked out. I never saw anyone searched beyond that, nothing seems to get found, but it seemed a bit odd. It is nice, though, to know that people were not bringing guns into the hotel. Except, of course, the uniformed guards who had them.

TOO MUCH SERVICE
If you know me you might be aware that I eat slowly. I like to eat slowly and really enjoy my food. One problem in Bangladesh is that the wait service was almost too good. They kept trying to take my plate away well before I was done. In a buffet situation I would not dare leave a plate with any food on it at my seat and go to get anything else, because the plate would be gone when I returned. I began scanning the visual horizon for them coming so that I could say, “No, thank you.” The food was great and the service was good, don’t get me wrong.

BANGLA BELLY
I have traveled far and wide in this world. The last example of touristical indigestion I had was a few years ago in my house in Mexico when I did not wash the lettuce before eating it. Before that my last instance of “Montezuma’s revenge” was when I was 15. Upon arrival I was hanging out a lot with Jason Jarvis, and we shared our travel safety tips in this regard. Drink only bottled water, drink only boiling hot drinks that might be made with local water, avoid ice cubes that might be made with local water, use bottled water when brushing your teeth, keep your mouth closed during a shower, eat only fruits that can be peeled, and try and eat things that are steaming hot. I understand that it is not so much that other places are “dirty” but that we all become accustomed to the things (and the accompanying bacteria) that we eat or drink, but may not be ready for new varieties in new places. China is one of these problem spots, and during my last visit several in our party had trouble but I did not. I have survived Thailand and Malaysia and Montenegro and a lot of places in between. But, on my third night it got me. Jason and I both got struck with what we called “Bangla belly.” We think it was either the limejuice we had at dinner or else the vegetable balls with delicious curry sauce that we had that were not as hot as they should have been. In any case, later that evening we were both in the throes of the affliction and could trade stories of it the next day. I remained in my room all day. The hotel brought b some excellent rehydration fluid and I started eating some crackers later in the day. Fortunately I was not really scheduled for training that day. I recovered, of course, but was a bit more cautious after that. The hotel management seemed very concerned, but I did nit blame them and would stay there again. I would just make sure things are steaming and avoid the limejuice.

TRYING TO FIND A BAR – or-- RICKSHAWS IN A CYCLONE
It is apparently against the law for citizens of Bangladesh to consume alcohol. I expect this as a custom in a Muslim nation, but an outright legal ban seems a bit much. Before the Bangla belly struck we had decided to go in search of a drink. As you may know I like my high-class rum, and people were anxious to consume the one bottle I had bought from the duty free in Dubai, so we were out. The Lonely Planet guide had indicated that we could go to a place called “The American Club” (visions of Casablanca and “Rick’s”) and buy a membership and get a drink. We took off out of the hotel lobby and grabbed a couple of rickshaws. The drivers seemed glad to have us as passengers and we struck up a brief conversation. We got to the designated club and they said that they do not sell memberships, and apparently they do not view the Lonely Planet guide as the law, so we moved on. Our rickshaw drivers had waited for us, not wanting to lose a good fare. We were on our way to the Peacock Hotel (which apparently has a delightfully low-class expatriate bar) but never made it. A huge rainstorm came along and threatened to blow the rickshaws over as well as soak us, so we made for a nearby landmark (a Hyatt Hotel) and tumbled out. We were absolutely soaking wet. As we stood dripping on the doorstep we asked the doorman if we could come in, dry off and get a drink. He had to ask the lobby manager and eventually let us in. As we stood making a huge puddle in the middle of the lobby and not looking like the well-off tourists and business people who obviously frequented the place. We were brought some towels and shown to a restroom where we could try and dry off. We did not get dry but at least we stopped dripping so much and headed up to the top floor to the bar. Sure enough, a number of people who obviously were not citizens of Bangladesh were drinking there. The drinks were really expensive, even by comparison to USA airports. Plus the only kind of rum they had was Bacardi, which I do not like. Then a three-woman singing group from the Philippines took the stage and began singing a wide variety of pop and ethnic songs. The crowd started to get into it. The crowd seemed to be Japanese, Europeans, Chinese and Taiwanese along with a few Indians. Some of them were well along on getting drunk. We closed down the place (midnight, so not too tough) and then moved down to the lobby. We asked about getting a taxi and we waited while they investigated. We saw the singing trio and struck up a conversation. They said they had been doing this one gig for about five weeks and they lived on a nearby hotel. We asked them what they did for fun, and they told us that there was pretty much no fun to be had in Dhaka, so they mostly stayed in their hotel. I think this was the truth since we were fairly obvious that we were not trying to pick them up. We chatted a bit and then were told by the bellman that a taxi would be impossible this late at night. Huh? They said we could charter the hotel car if we wished. I knew that would be too expensive. So, we simply walked out the front door and soon saw our friendly rickshaw drivers. They had waited for us. We were glad to see them, the rain had stopped and we headed off back to our hotel. The rain had been short but incredibly furious and soaking. Little did we know that this was just the edge of the cyclone that had killed over 100,000 people in neighboring Burma. Given that, we lucked out. We gave a big tip to the rickshaw drivers.

STREET PEOPLE
In a crowded city like Dhaka there are people without homes. With no open space to squat in, they end of living on the streets. I saw one spot not far from my stay at the Hotel Eastern Residences that the same woman was bedding own for the night on a sidewalk slab with a blue piece of plastic two nights in a row and she was there the next day. That was home. On the street right outside of the North South University buildings there was a very cute and bright-eyed little girl whom I saw three times. One of the students told me that she seemed to have no home and was always on this street. She briefly grasped my hand as I walked down the street, on my way to lunch with Sarajit to discuss some issues. I shrugged off her grip and walked on, but she looked at me going and continued to smile. After the third time I did not see her again. She wore, on all three occasions, the same torn and dirty dress with no shoes. Her expression and gaze still haunts me. In a discussion about it later one of my Bangala hosts said, “Well, you cannot save them all.” As I write this from my porch in Mexico I am only now making the connection with a lesson I had absorbed much earlier. Some people think I am a fool for taking moral lessons and guidance from a silly British science fiction series like Doctor Who, but I am willing to take moral guidance from wherever I can find it. The Doctor and Donna are leaving Pompeii just as the volcano is erupting and destroying the entire city. Donna begs the Doctor to rescue the people, and h replies, “I cannot save all of them.” Donna replies, “Then just save one.” I did not do even that. I just walked on. What could I have done? Anything. Even a smile and a pat on the head, not to mention a small note of Taka currency or a sandwich from the restaurant I could have brought back to her on the street. I did nothing to help not even one. I have been sad and very personally disappointed in myself these last 48 hours here in Mexico. In the story the Doctor saves one family from Pompeii. I could not do even that. I will not it happen again.

ABSENCE OF PROSTITUTION
On the drive in from the airport with a very nice young man (who likes heavy metal music) named Shotta he was going on and on about Bangladesh and how things were improving. He mentioned to me that there were “no prostitutes in Bangladesh.” I was surprised and pleased to hear this. I have nothing against prostitutes; it is their customers that I have difficulties with. Most prostitutes do no do it by choice but out of necessity, while that is not true of the customers. As I was riding in a rickshaw back to my hotel one night I certainly heard the call of several street walkers who were encouraging me to try their services. I rode on and did not stop, of course, but I thought that Shotta might need to get out a bit more.

POWER OUTAGES AND SEATS IN ELEVATORS
The electricity infrastructure of Bangladesh seems to be aged, overburdened and close to collapse, at least from reading the news, talking to people and observing the rolling blackouts that occur in various parts of the city. It seems to be a fact of life that people have come to accept. I was told that the days when the debate tournament was at North South University that neighborhood had been exempted from the blackouts by the government. Interesting, as apparently you can negotiate for some blackout free days. Many well-off buildings have generators that kick in when the electricity fails. As I arrived at my five star hotel Sonargaon I was on my way up to my room in the elevator when I noticed that there was a comfortable leather bench in the elevator. I asked the bellman what that was for, and he said with a smile, for when the power goes out and you have to spend some time in the elevator. I should have guessed.

IF YOU ARE WHITE YOU DON’T NEED A BADGE
The tournament we were at had fancy badges for everyone with a personal photo. This was said to be needed for security reasons and to make sure it was easy for people to get into various meals and events. Jason Jarvis and I never were asked for a badge and never asked to identify ourselves. Could it be that our white skin identified us already? I know that white privilege exists and I regret it, but this is one I could have done without. I wanted one o the badges as a souvenir.

RECYCLED BUSES
There are lots of buses in Bangladesh, and most of them are full. This is the primary way that the people get around the large city. They look colorful and have interesting designs. Closer inspection shows them to be not of any recent design, but actually quite old. You do not readily notice it because they are remarkably well kept. Holes in the body are patched, missing sections have been replaced with sheet metal, windows have been replaced (not always matching the originals) and they are all well painted and decorated. I can imagine that the inner runnings are much the same. The buses that hauled us back and forth to the venues were better than the average, but I noticed once while waiting to return to the hotel that the driver would every so often pour some water into a hole in the engine cover (to his left) and then look down into the hole to make an appraisal of the situation. This should not be considered a criticism, because these buses were (I was told) often 30 or 40 years old but still operated effectively. When you can’t buy a new one, you keep the old ones running as long as you can. And they did.

TRAFFIC NIGHTMARE
There are lots of buses and far too many cars on Dhaka streets. I have seen traffic jams from Santiago to Athens but these were some of the more entertaining. The buses were actually a part of the problem. Instead of stopping at regular bus stops they would just stop amidst the traffic and take on and disgorge passengers. The buses then would not move until people had loaded and unloaded. The buses as well as the other traffic then became snarled into a total mess. Pictures in the newspapers documented and complained of this problem, but it was so widespread that the authorities did not seem to be able to do anything about it. Many streets were almost impossible to cross as pedestrians, with high barbed wire running down the middle of the street to discourage people from crossing. There were many overhead crosswalks, but not nearly enough. A couple of the female debaters from Korea said that crossing the main street near the Sonargaon had been one of the most difficult things they had ever done. This is quite a statement, since crossing major streets in Korea can be a challenge. At one point we were leaving a venue and the traffic was intense in the early afternoon. I asked why this was such a jam at this time of day and was informed that there were many schools in the area, and parents would come with their cars to pick up their children, thus making for a total mess in this neighborhood at this time of day.

CAR TO THE AIRPORT
On departing I had a choice of a normal taxi or the hotel car, and because the hotel car was not that much more expensive (and I could easily pay a fixed rate in advance) I decided to take the hotel car. My driver was a pleasant gentleman named Yaman. Upon getting in he asked me if I liked “Hezz” music. Thinking this was some sort of local ethnic music I said that I liked all sorts of music and looked forward to hearing it. A strange sort of “lounge” music came on and stayed on throughout my journey. Initially I tried to determine if it was of local production, but it clearly was not. It was some sort of jazz. I understood, he had asked me if I liked “jazz” music and then had put some on. It seemed strange as I went through the incredible traffic of the Dhaka rush hour with music that would have been quite at home at a Holiday Inn in Hyannis, Massachusetts. But then, strange inconsistencies like this are part of what one travels for. On arriving at the airport I was greeted by people willing to carry my quite heavy bag, so I agreed. After carrying it for me about twenty feet it was dropped and I was told this was as far as they could go. Irritated, I let off some currency and walked through a door, where someone else who was willing to carry my bag met me. We got about twenty more feet and they told me that was as far as they could go. More irritated, I dished out some currency and went through a door. When I was met by another potential luggage handler I said “no thanks” (much to his consternation) are carried it myself the remaining short distance to the check-in counter for Emirates Airways. He was upset and followed me constantly, but I was clearly done with such short-distance haulage and handled it myself. Emirates, by the way, is a wonderful airline. What with 200 movies at tour seat and wonderful food, it has become one of my favorite carriers. The movies even can be paused and turned back on later. Out of 200 I actually found four I was willing to watch. Lucky me, as I am quite picky about movies I am willing to submit to viewing.

CONCLUSION
Bangladesh has challenges. I knew that when I decided to go there. People had asked me, “Why Bangladesh?” For me, and answer was easy. Bangladesh is a society close to crisis, but it has an extremely active and inspiring debate community. From what I observed the debating sector of the society seems to be one of the most advanced. Everywhere I met debaters, teachers, high school students and former debaters who were incredibly enthusiastic about the debate experience. I didn’t go for the weather (very hot, very humid) or the traffic, but for the love of my life – debate. I was not disappointed and I would love to return to work with these inspiring people again. I want to thanks Zunaed Rabbani and Sarajit Baral along with many others who brought me here and took such good care of me. I look forward tom working with them again in promoting the global prospect of debate as a way to foster civil societies and promote the non-violent resolution of conflicts.