A Bangladeshi holiday
Another trip to Bangladesh, a voyage into pure chaos, I leave happy yet arrive sad missing the infectious warmth of the place, the unsolvable riddle that is all around me, daring me to make sense out of senselessness. I will give you a brief catalogue of the most amusing moments, number one is the double new years eve trick the government pulled. In order to save energy the government decided to leave the country on permanent daylight savings time, this put Bangladesh on the same time zone as Thailand. I thought it was a laudable attempt, albeit funny, the country is crippled by rolling black outs during summer. Getting civil servants to take off their jackets and using the light of the sun rather than electricity into the evening seemed a good idea to save the planet and keep the power running. After a public outcry the government decided to change the country back to regular time on New Years Eve, giving the country two New Years Eve's in one hour. After the announcement they realised the double new years trick and said they would change the time back at 11.59 to 10.59 rather than at midnight. New Years Eve was auspicious, it was a full moon, a blue moon and a minor lunar eclipse. On Faiz's roof we drank, had a BBQ and gave our memories a light fill.
Number two was the beggar who came up to me and called me 'clean', there is a crossover in the word for clean and white. Language codifies a hierarchy based on the skin colour. The Aryan invasion of South Asia 4000 years ago has left many marks, many wonderful but this would have to be one of the most disturbing. Racism is so incessant, so incomprehensible, from the attacks on Indians in Australia, the discrimination against the indigenous people, it runs across the planet making me think how totally flawed our species is. I hope aliens don't find us in this state, its embarrassing.
Number three was our trip to Cox's Bazaar, reputed to be the world's longest beach and it is most beautiful. It was a Bangladeshi holiday, at first I got a bit annoyed at the pure chaos in the organisation, then I decided to go with the flow and all was good. It is always difficult to travel with more than a couple of people, but half a dozen Bengali's is pure theatre. One person details a plan, the next person completely ignores that person and details a plan, followed by another person and then the next. Everyone lays out a plan without any consideration to the others plan, a plan is not built, it happens, it is a plan where there is only the present, the past and the future do not exist. Two friends, Jami and his wife, brought 13 bags and a kettle, there was a birthday, business, three restaurant malfunctions, Faiz transformed from geek to photographer taking over a thousand pictures a day, more events than can be fit in a day without completing any. We were only there for a day and two nights but it was a good time.
The coastline south of Cox's Bazaar is quite beautiful, it would be an excellent spot for international tourism, good food, wonderful coastline hugged by a cliff but swimming fully clothed and the lack of alcohol would make it difficult. I sat looking out at the sea, watching the sunset thinking a beer would be just wonderful. Maybe as a family tourist destination, but then I imagine white women in bikini's, Bangladesh, I don't think so. A Saudi prince wanted to develop the area on the obscene condition that Bengali's are banned. Then I think, it doesn't matter whether the place develops or not for internationals, its a lovely holiday spot for the locals, low population, a break from the mayhem of the rest of the country, let it be.
Bangladesh is undoubtedly changing, on a purely selfish note I was shocked to see the number of white people across Dhaka, I took it that this was my desh, my panidesh, the only white guy in the country, alas my Bangladesh is being discovered. It was excellent to see my friends again, they are all doing well, although I was saddened by my sparing partner Jami's decline into moderation from pure fundamentalism. The passage of life makes it difficult to maintain extreme views, it requires blind commitment and a total disregard for reality. I don't think either of us are capable, my desire for an atheist planet has waned, it would be boring, lack colour, I'ld have no one to argue with. Maybe when atheism becomes the dominant position I will take up the cause of God. Then I think no, I've just lost all interest in the question, the suggestion or anything to do with it, lost interest in opposing something that doesn't exist. It makes me sigh, I used to enjoy arguing but as I get older it just becomes so boring, tiring, circular, pointless and more than anything else I've realised I'm not right, the opposing position is not wrong, it just is, and what it is, is very funny.
Now I am in Mumbai, India, tracking down Parsi's.
Video: Dhaka rickshaw ride
A video of a rickshaw ride in Bangladesh that finished in a puddle and a broken rickshaw. To watch click the play button on the video below.
Video: Bangladesh Baul Musicians
A video of Bangladeshi Baul musicians smoking and singing. The Bauls are Bengali mystics, both Muslim and Hindu whose songs espouse spiritual unity. To watch click the play button on the video below. The first part:
The second part:
The third part:
A monotheist with an Empire of Air
With the look of a man ten years in the mountains, a connection to the world soldered together by a process of elimination using a guide from an unknown script, colour blind to the rainbow of wires, his story stepped onto my page. Through the haze of industrialization gone backwards, with a cast of thousands, a dance troop of village nymphs to a soundtrack of toe tapping formula she with anarchist hair led the song into his life. She had the mischievous eyes of a self taught palm reader, an asymmetrical smile, one gold nose stud, three gold teeth and five gold earrings. He a godless monotheist and she a godless polytheist had an instant affinity in a land drowned in God. The terms un-negotiated, a closeness that porn could not see, text messages through the night, a conspiracy between compassionate relatives, subterfuge of friends, anonymous rooms by the hour and a loss making deal between their companies had been the grounds for the evolution of she with anarchist hair and he with an empire of air.
Bangladesh: Mafia by election
It all started on the Ganges river, the great river that carries half cooked Hindu's through Bangladesh and out into the Bay of Bengal. Moqtar, a child at the time, was in a row boat when he was hit on the head by an aberrant oar from a man with a head the size of a small coconut. He was propelled into the river where he sunk to the bottom unconscious. On the bed of the river the fish nibbled on his dead skin, changing his fat ratio until he slowly floated to the surface. A fisherman saw the young Moqtar's body floating, paddled over and brought him aboard. Clutched in the boy's hand was the smallest Koran in the world, made of gold, the tinyest inscriptions of the smallest Arabic in all of creation. Moqtar returned to the world with a Koran of immense power. His most pious relatives told him to sell it to make the family rich and powerful. Much bickering developed amongst the family, this Koran was the work of Satan. To free them of it, Moqtar told his family that he lost the most precious Koran in the world.
Bangladesh: Wedding Video
A friends wedding that I attened in Dhaka. If you can see a white guy carrying a rug above the bride, thats me.
