Bangladesh #3

Adjk Sukrobar- today is Friday, Sabbath

I like to turn off the air conditioner so I can hear the sounds of the city while I watch the sun slowly fade in my neighborhood. Up on the roof I get the big, wide-angle view across the city. Up there I can see others on other roofs doing the same- drinking in the sweetness of evening approaching and the landscape cooling. About 6:30 the muezzins sing from the minarets and across the city they create a chorus of prayer. Every neighborhood has a mojid (mosque). Back in my apartment I wait until I can't see at all before turning on the lights. All the sounds interest me- even the water dripping on the air conditioner from outside or the workers at the apartment building breaking bricks to make mortar. The hand bells of the rickshaws, the dogs, ducks and crows all ring, quack, bark, and caw together.

My alarm clock. I bought an alarm clock in desperation because I don't sleep well, (not having a clear conscience), and sometimes I'm just falling asleep about the time I need to get up-5: 30. So I asked where to buy such a thing and had a Bangladeshi woman from the school explain to my driver where to go. (He's driving slower, by the way as he understands I can't take the relentless flirtation with death." You happy. I happy," he says." You have problem. I have problem"- the perfect relationship.) Zahid always says he knows exactly where to go but rarely gets there on the first try. It's ok. He's 22 and is supposed to know everything, of course. So at the wrong place- a little stand selling wrist watches- we got out together, he accompanying me to make sure I don't get overcharged. That makes him crazy when they charge me more, which is most of the time. He can be very forceful and is, by nature, intense. Maybe that's an understatement. It's when I say something to him in Bangla he doesn't know that I know, that's when the smile happens. Something great to see. So the clock. There was this plastic thing-quite big- with a silver dome on it that could be a clock. It was not even facing out- like they were hiding it. So I asked to see it and, sure enough, it was an alarm clock. This clock is a miniature mosque with the dome, minaret, and portals- all for $6. Zahid made him bring the price down to $5.50. This clock gets you up in the morning! Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of a chicken being killed by a raccoon? It's eye opening! A chicken wants to live just as much as you do, maybe more being a chicken. Imagine that the chicken is shrieking "ALLAH" and that's my clock. Going back to sleep is not an option. Since I wrote this I have learned to put the clock in one of the dresser drawers. That muffles it enough to be within reason, so that I don't dread sleep altogether.

Zahid drove me and Arman-the senior class president- to see the printer for the yearbook over on the other side of town. Arman is a very likeable Bangladeshi boy- tall and nice looking. He's been all over the world. His father employs 850 people in one of his businesses- a garment factory. Arman took my Mississippi John Hurt T shirt and had the factory make me up a dozen cut like that in very nice colors, just plain, no writing. They are 100% cotton and beautifully made, so soft I didn't believe it was cotton. I am waiting for the spring colors. Arman's father is a self-made man and active in the opposition party, the Awami League. Last year before the big five-year elections he made a splash by being featured in a dramatic photo on the front of The Star and all the bangla-language papers as well. During a demonstration by his opponents he waded into the fray with his numerous bodyguards and ordered them to start shooting, which they did, naturally. A number of people were killed but, naturally, there were no repercussions for him. The idea of the Magna Carta hasn't made its way over here yet. Zahid, by the way, is very aware of the unequal application of the law. Personally I haven't noticed any law at all. The heads of the two major parties are both women-daughters of heroes of the liberation war against Pakistan in 1970. Backing them, unfortunately, are lots of gangsters.

Arman is not like his father and hopefully his father will see that this is a good thing. One can hope. During the trip across the city I had a chance to ask Arman some questions like" Arman, what happens if you hit someone and injure him or kill him?" "The best thing, Mr. Winsor, is to get out of there fast. If you stick around the crowd will beat you, maybe kill you. Better to go home or some safe place like the embassy. If you go home they won't break down the door. They don't do that here." Next I asked, "Arman, see those police with the motorcycles. Do they give tickets for traffic violations?" "No tickets, Mr. Winsor. You just pay them. It's better that way because if you go to jail it's very hard to get out of there."This is very important information. So many new things.... I did see in the paper the other day-full color- what happened when "the crowd" caught a thief on a bus. There was very little left of the thief when they finished with him. In a small country with 130 million people- many of them on the street- it doesn't take very long for a crowd to gather, like no time at all. Justice is vigilante justice. It saves tax money, salaries for police, and there is none of the pickpocket aggravation you suffer in Paris or Madrid or Rome. And the frustrated masses get to let off a little steam. I think it is important to take the positive view. So many new things..

One of my advisees, Fayez, a great soccer player and devout Muslim, just came back from "Homra" in Saudi Arabia with his father and brother. Knowing less than nothing about Islam- one of the major religions and the world's fastest growing one- I asked him to talk to our advisory group about his experience." Is it like a mini Haj?" I asked as if I knew what a big Haj was. "Yes Mr. Winsor. You can do it any time. First we went to Mecca and walked 7 times around Allah's house. Then you are supposed to kiss this black stone but I couldn't do it." "Why not, Fayez?" I asked. "Was the line too long?" "No line, Mr. Winsor. You have to fight your way to it. It was too much. Next we ran back and forth seven times in this field and you are supposed to cut some of your hair. After that we drove to Medina at about 200 kilometers an hour and walked backwards there. I can't remember exactly." That sounds fascinating, Fayez. What a wonderful experience and I'm sure we've all learned much more about Islam's spiritual practices. Next time I hope you will tell us more about how Mohammed rode to heaven on a horse." "In our church, Fayez, we drink the blood and eat the body of Christ".

Next Sonibar (Saturday) Zahid and I are going with another poor Bangladeshi guy, Farid, to Gazipur. They both come from villages in this state and both send money to support their families there- Zahid, his father and Farid his wife and children. Farid has been the main "bearer" in the art room for twenty years. He's another great person-humble, intelligent.

Phonetic Bangla:
Tumi amar khub kachley
Eshey boshey chhiley
Jamon korey eshey koshey
Shonali phoring Joler Kenarey
You came and sat very close to me.
Just like a golden dragonfly sits on water's edge.
So many new things....
My beard is growing- Inshallah - God willing
Koda Haphej,
Ricker September, 2002