The trip was productive and uneventful--the perfect combination. My colleague and I spoke with all sorts of people about their thoughts on the upcoming election. Almost everyone we talked to is excited to have elections (Elections haven't been held here since 2001, as in 2007 the Caretaker Government took over for a couple of years.) and they are ready to vote. Only time, will tell what the outcome will be.
While speaking to people through a translator can be tiring and frustrating, I do enjoy getting out to hear what people's opinions are. Plus, I also get a kick out of the crowds that come and say hi to me--it's like I'm a superstar. (Mom, don't be worried, they won't hurt me!)
Katy and the Bangladeshis (My driver is on the right in the white shirt.)
I loved this teenager. I wonder if someone has told him what the phrase on his shirt means?
I will admit I was nervous to stay in some of the more rural areas of Bangladesh. I always joke that I didn't join USAID for a reason, but I'm not really joking--I don't even like camping. But I was (fairly) pleasantly surprised by the accommodations at the guest houses. Mom and Julie, think French Chateau, but slightly worse in Comilla and much better in Noakhali. Perhaps that will give you two and idea about how fared during my short trip? :)
We traveled back to Dhaka on Friday, which is the big prayer day for Muslims. My driver stopped for a quick mid-day prayer about half way through our trip.
My driver was also kind enough to stop at the World War II cemetery in Comilla. He mentioned it was on the way home and thought that I would like to see it. I was so tired I almost passed him up on his offer, but I'm glad we made the quick detour. The Mynamati War Cemetery is a resting place for a few hundred people who died fighting in the China, Burma, India theatre during World War II. It was very moving and it was a good reminder of the various nationalities who fought in the war. It also made me think more about my grandfather who I know fought in the China, Burma, India theatre (They once had only peanut butter to eat for weeks. My grandfather never ate peanut butter again.), but at the same time, it made me wish I had asked him more questions about it when he was alive. Dad, maybe you can shed some light on his time there?
Back in Dhaka, the following week marked the celebration of Eid al-Adha, or Festival of Sacrifice. Remember that bull sitting outside my hotel? Yeah, I finally figured out why he was sitting there. This Eid is marked by the celebration of sacrifice. Faithful Muslims are supposed to purchase a cow or goat (usually at quite hefty prices), become attached to the cow/goat, sacrifice the animal in the name of God, and finally share a third of the meat with those less fortunate, keep a third of the meat, and give a third to friends and family. It is the story of Ibrahim/Abraham.
I'll admit though, the whole concept is very different for me, as it is for many Westerners. My friend Kate and I did venture out to witness the tale end of one sacrifice. It was enough to make our stomachs turn. Phew. For a more visual depiction, I'll send you to my colleague's account of she and her husband's Eid outing.
And finally, a couple of shots from Dhaka.
The mosque near my hotel (taken from the rooftop pool area of my hotel)
Kate and Katy on a rickshaw!
6 comments:
KatyB!
I can't really add that much to your story about Grandpa in India. He was in Army Air Force radio intelligence and copied Japanese code all day and night - 1943/1944, I think. (Japanese Morse code consisted of 64 characters as opposed the English 26 letters - very difficult to learn.) It wasn't until 50 years later during a reunion that he found out that his code-copying work made a huge difference in the war. The monsoon was challenging as they were living/working in tents. He also mentioned that he went to reconnoiter a (supposedly) secret location in the mountains (to determine if the unit could properly receive signals) and was stopped by a wide river that he needed to cross. An Indian gentleman standing at the river crossing asked him if he was looking for a certain American unit on the other side; when he replied in the affirmative, the Indian pointed out the military field telephone hanging on a nearby tree - which connected to the American unit - and told him to ring them up ... some secret location!! We miss you!!
All my love,
Dad
Yucky! So now the chateau is not quite as bad? Good explanation and I can just picture the inns. Some of your pictures are absolutely great! I'd love to see the one of the cross at the WW II cemetery blown up. Thanks for the newsy postings and for the link to your friends' blog. Their house looks great and the kitchen is much more modern than I expected.
Yucky! So now the chateau is not quite as bad? Good explanation and I can just picture the inns. Some of your pictures are absolutely great! I'd love to see the one of the cross at the WW II cemetery blown up. Thanks for the newsy postings and for the link to your friends' blog. Their house looks great and the kitchen is much more modern than I expected.
Love and hugs,
Mom
Hi Kates! Glad your adventures are continuing to go well. Too bad you didn't have fun company and yummy food (we had clementines for dinner, I think?) to enjoy your rustic accommodations with. You were so grossed out by that place! What a funny memory.
LYBB,
Jules
PS, I emailed John & Sherry and told them about the TYH following you had created at the embassy in Dhaka. :)
Hi Katy,
I stumbled upon your blog while searching for information on how PMF's get into the State Department. I stayed because I lived in Bangladesh for 3.5 years and remember it fondly - the rickshaws, the food, the people, even the weather. Thanks for your write-ups; I hope you enjoyed your stay.
I got into the PMF finalist class of 2009 and hoping to do something with an international focus. Can you give me some hints on navigating the process? My email is alana dot strong at gmail dot com
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