This is a big one!

I have started noting down all the interesting, strange and memorable things that I have been observing so far in this amazing country. Each day brings with it something new to record.

The Bangladeshi Tourist Board has a slogan: Come to Bangladesh. Before the Tourists Do. I would hate to see what would happen to this country if a whole lot of tourists did come here. It is already so over-populated, polluted and falling apart. So far, I’ve seen people bathing in the village ponds which are also often the destination of the contents of the pipes from the village toilets; men urinating in the street “willy nilly” (pardon the pun); people throwing rubbish on the ground (there are very few rubbish bins here); cows walking the streets, eating said rubbish; various mountains of waste, often overflowing into the abovementioned ponds; a “road” being constructed out of nothing but tessellating bricks;… the list goes on. It’s difficult to imagine what effect more tourists would have on this country, given the reputation of tourists and the current environmental disasters that are happening here.

Despite all this negativity, there is so much for a tourist to see in Bangladesh. I have just returned from a weekend away in Sylhet in the north-eastern corner. Another youth ambassador (Will) has been living there for the past six months, so a few of us went to visit. Sylhet is rich, tea garden country. Many of the wealthy Bangladeshi businessmen living in London apparently come from Sylhet. It is a beautiful and varied part of the country. Highlights included a walk through the tea gardens at dusk; special fried wontons at the local Chinese restaurant; a BBQ at one of Will’s friend’s houses where I met a guy who is doing exactly the same job as me, so was able to get some good ideas; a trip to Jaflang, a beautiful river system where we took a ride on a little boat and watched all the locals at work; and a visit to the Indian border.

I was looking forward to going back to my quiet little village tomorrow, but Raju just phoned and said that he is sick, so we won’t be able to go back now until Tuesday. Will stay in crazy Dhaka and try to buy some things to make my room look a bit better, as well as taking advantage of the excellent broadband internet connection I have in this mansion-style apartment I’m staying in. My friend is house-sitting for someone who obviously has quite a lot of money and lives in the upmarket area of Gulshan.

In my village, everyone takes it pretty easy. I’m living in a teachers’ residence with three other teachers and the principal of a school, similar to a TAFE. My room is separated from the other four rooms, which allows me a little bit of privacy (but not much). We have a lovely lady who cooks and cleans for us and I’m in the process of gaining some excellent Bangladeshi cooking tips from her. Her name is Anju, and she calls me Apu, which means “sister”. I think that’s nice.

When I first arrived at Naora, Mr Haq, the Director of BACE said to Mr Hossein, the principal of the school, “She should want for nothing! If she needs anything, you must make sure she gets it. I don’t want to hear of any problems. If she has a problem, you need to endeavour to fix it as soon as possible.” “Wow!” I thought, “I’m really being taken care of”. Now I wish he hadn’t made such high demands, because every couple of hours, Mr Hossein says to me, “Any problem? If any problem, you make sure you’re frank and we can fix the problem. We like to make your life with no problem, so you tell me. Any problem?” and it’s driving me a little mad.

Work is very relaxed. Everyone has a job, but no one works very hard. I, like many of the other AYADs I’ve spoken to, pretty much have to create my own work, so I can make my working day as busy or as relaxed as I like. Mirja likes to make sure that I’m not working too hard. We drink lots of tea. Very sweet, but I’m getting used to it. Raju and I go out on the bike to visit the local schools. There are 25 that I will eventually have to see. So far I’ve seen about 7. I walk to work. Gradually the stares on the way turned into nods, which turned into smiles, which turned into hellos, which have now turned into “Asalam walekum! Kamon achen?”s! [Hello, how are you?]. It hasn’t taken long for my face to become familiar.

I go home for my lovely lunch that Anju cooks for me – rice, dhal, fish, vegetables. Sometimes chicken, but I’ve gone off them a bit. Chickens are bought fresh (live) from the market. You choose the one you want and they kill it and pluck it in front of you. It is difficult for me to eat an animal I’ve watched being killed. Luckily I haven’t had to do this very often.

After lunch I stay home and finish my working day preparing my upcoming training course on my computer. The people at work are totally fine with this. At 5.00, the teachers come home from school and we go for a walk around the village. Maybe to the market, or sometimes to the girls’ college down the road. The other day I went with Dolil (teacher) to visit the girls and we sat and chatted for a while. One of them started singing. It was the most beautiful moment. Everyone was quiet, and she had an amazing voice. When I left all the girls gave me a little poesy of flowers. There are two little kids who live down the road – Oishi (girl, 7) and Tasin (boy, 3). They have become my favourites. Will take photos of them to show you what I mean. Sweeties.

Every night the power goes out for a few hours. If there has been no afternoon storm to cool things down, it becomes unbearably hot during these times, because the fans switch off. We all light our candles and I can hear the teachers laughing and talking to each other in Bangla. Shorip usually starts practising his harmonium. I used to wander around the room, keeping watch for scary bugs, but I’ve gotten used to them a bit now. Now I practice my Bangla or stand outside watching the fireflies. The other night we went into Upsana’s (teacher, female) room and played cards. That was interesting.

I have a sit-down, flushing toilet and a shower! What luxury! Although I must say that the squat toilet thing is starting to grow on me. They are actually a lot more hygienic than the other sort, because you don’t have to touch anything, which is definitely a good thing. We had no electricity or running water for two days last week. I was tempted to bathe in the pond (a clean one – no sewerage pipes in this one), but felt it might be a little uncomfortable (and counter-productive) going in my shalwar kameez!

So after a lovely long weekend away and in Dhaka, I’m actually missing my little village. Looking forward to the quiet life again.