The Family

I suppose that now I’m leaving Rajshahi I should write about the family. The family I know better than any other in Bangladesh and so it’s really the closest thing to a family I have here. Not that I’ve ever been to their house or have ever had more than a perfunctory word with a few of them. My front room overlooks their house and yard and as my desk is in front of the window I’ve had many hours to be distracted by the view. I honestly think that they kept me sane during my time here by providing such a brilliantly human dimension to my experience which has sometimes been lonely and somewhat existential. I’ve felt somewhere in between an anthropologist and a Peeping Tom (although what is the difference other than perhaps a professional/amateur interest and approach?) watching them over the days. I have become aware of their relationships, of their dramas, of their daily lives and rhythms. The matriarch of the family is the indomitable, charismatic Sheela. She is probably in her early thirties, has incredible bronze skin, dark black shiny hair, and a powerful body after years of housework which, in Bangladesh, involves feats of strength and stamina that would confound most English athletes. She has two small children. She worries though because they can’t read or write and she doesn’t have the money to give them the education she wants for them.

Whilst I find the life very interesting from the outside the fact is that it seems to be somewhat of a treadmill with no spare money or time for social advance. There are nine of them in total consisting of three generations as far as I can count. However, even Sheela’s mum, the eldest of the family, is probably only in her fifties and so they’re a young bunch. They get up before I do and go to bed later than me and it would appear that the entire day is spent keeping the house ticking over. This is, of course, only a job for the women as the men go out to work long hours driving trucks or pulling rickshaws. And so, for the most part, this is a female domain. Indeed I feel privileged to be a party to this as the Bangladeshi house is a rather restricted zone for men. We are usually confined to the front rooms with no access to the inner workings. And so I get to see these women relax. I mean they are visibly more relaxed when the men are away; less shouting, more time taken over things, they laugh together and enjoy each others’ company. From my understanding this family still follows the rhythms of a rural household. There are two goats and a cow in the yard. They provide muck that is taken onto the roof and dried into patties which are then used as fuel for the fire to cook the food. Also on the roof beautiful clothes of every colour are dried, as is the straw that provides food for the goats and cow. There is a well pump which they use for drinking water and for washing themselves and their clothes. At the back of the yard there is a toilet. This is really just a bricked off area to provide a little privacy although privacy is not really an issue here. Indeed I’ve been confronted by blank stares when I’ve tried to explain to people here my need for privacy and how sometimes I just want to be by myself.

The children here are also fascinating. In England there seems to be a current trend to treat children like incredibly fragile objects. Not so here. The kids quite happily play on the roof, race up and down the bamboo ladder, balance precariously on brick walls, and are expected to help with many of the household chores, some of which involve using knives around twice their size. And yet the only times it ends in tears is when they get ignored for a while. One of them is a 'dushto chele' (cheeky boy) who tears around on the roof scuffing up the straw and throwing sticks. Here's a picture of the little bugger.

I’m really sorry I’m leaving this family behind because I feel genuinely attached to them. I believe I’ve learnt more about Bangladesh by observing their comings and goings than I ever would had I not seen it. What they think of me I don’t know. Probably a strange Gollum-like creature (if they’re conversant with the works of Tolkien) who peers from behind his laptop at them and who can only say one or two sentences before sheepishly retreating into his lonely prison cell.

A New Nation

I’ve been trying to write about women and the situations they face in Bangladesh. Lord knows I keep trying but it always descends into a swear-ridden rant. And so there is a back story to this that I promise to post eventually but I want to do justice to it first because its affecting me quite deeply. Needless to say that the situation is bad and very complex. So with that said I will continue. Now, I had a very interesting discussion with Mahmun, a Bangladeshi who works at VSO on the way down to Khulna where I’m currently staying. And what he said was this:

The situation that women are in now is a recent occurrence that has developed in the last thirty years in Bangladesh. You see Bangladesh was founded out of the Bangla language movement. Indeed it was this movement against the imposition of Urdu from Pakistan (which hardly anyone here could speak) that drove the independence struggle that culminated in the Liberation War. All countries require the foundations of a national identity on which to build. For Bangladesh this was not Islam but was the Bangla language. Sheikh Mujib was the first leader of Bangladesh and steered its people from armed and bloody insurgency to nation state around the idea of secularism. Indeed secularism is enshrined in the constitution. However, just three years into his rule Sheikh Mujib was assassinated in a plot designed and carried out by some disgruntled mid-level generals from the army. And thus the war on secularism began. From that time until the present powerful, conservative, and often radical Islamic groups have undermined the spirit in which the country was founded in their advocacy of a crude form of Islam.

But enough of the politics for the time being, its time to include some humans. Around thirty years ago, when Mahmun’s mum was young she took part in theatre and would go and play with her friends in the local park. Like most of her friends she wore the traditional Bengali sari. However, Mahmun’s sister, about the same age now, feels under a lot of pressure to wear the niqaab. On my arrival in Bangladesh I saw many women wearing the niqaab; that's the type of hijab that covers the entire body and the whole face other than the eyes. I assumed it was a ‘Muslim thing’. It didn’t cross my mind that this was not how things had always been. In fact the niqaab has no tradition in Bangladesh, it is an import from the Persian Gulf along with many Islamic ideas and practices that come under the common banner of Wahabbi Islam. This is the form of Islam that many believe Al Qaeda advocate and it appears to be corroding and corrupting Islam globally. According to Mahmun, women used to enjoy many of the freedoms that men did but that they have since been intimidated into their current state of servitude and fear.

Back to the politics I’m afraid. For even longer than Bangladesh has existed there has been a political group known as Jamaati Islami. Founded whilst Bangladesh was still part of Pakistan they are a group of conservative and often radical Islamists who actually fought against the Bangladeshi freedom fighters and who, despite growing calls for them to be put on trial as war criminals, enjoy not only freedom but prestige in many parts of society. It is this group who have been growing ever more powerful at grass roots level. One of their main practices is to make people choose: ‘Are you a Muslim or are you a Bangladeshi?’ The problem is that the Bangladeshi nation is a new one and so a national identity still doesn’t have deep roots in people’s hearts and minds. It is thus easier to dismantle this feeling of collective national identity and supplant it with a new international one based around religion.

So why do people opt for Islam over other identities? After all they are rational people who have their own minds to make up. A big issue here is the lack of education and widespread illiteracy. While it would be over simplistic to say that you need an education to have a critical mind a lack of it must certainly leave people less well-equipped to challenge new and powerful ideas sold by articulate and persuasive people. If people are not won over by sheer force of words then they may well be by material benefits. You don’t need to work in development to know that Bangladesh is one of the poorest nations on the planet. It is also one of the most corrupt. As I right this, the country’s two biggest political figures are facing charges and potential imprisonment for the huge amounts of money they embezzled during their respective terms. That would be like Gordon Brown being in a prison cell and David Cameron being on bail...........

Sorry I wondered off into a fantasy dream land there. Where was I? Oh yes, so mainstream politics is completely discredited and the government is only going to look after itself and to hell with the poor. It is in these conditions that Jamaati Islami (you remember them?) can thrive. With their incredibly wealthy supporters from some of Bangladesh’s biggest companies they can ply communities with healthcare centres, social services and, most importantly, Mosques and Medrassas from where they can inculcate more people. It thus becomes more understandable why the poor are siding more and more with this crude version of Islam. There have even been some allegations here that the head of the Red Crescent (the equivalent of the Red Cross) in Bangladesh is a supporter of Jamaati Islami and has been using disaster relief for victims of Cyclone Sidr to further the group’s cause.

All of this is rather worrying for the secularists of Bangladesh. Not to mention the Hindus, the Buddhists, the Christians, the Animists, and many Muslims to boot. So what is to be done? This is where I throw in my two pennies worth so you can stop reading now if you don’t want to hear me (by reading?) carp on. It seems fairly obvious that government must be made to work in Bangladesh for no national identity can take root without a national government that people can trust and that they feel can protect them from natural disasters, disease, and poverty. It also needs to be fair and grant people justice and for Allah’s sake politicians must stop pilfering millions of pounds that are supposed to be going into developing the country. I would also like to see Bangladesh learning some of the lessons from Britain. Now I know there were the train bombs and that bloke with a hook and the Daily Mail but other than that and Nick Griffin I think the UK is doing pretty bloomin’ well as far as curbing radical Islam goes. I don’t know much about it but I know whole communities are working together to take on the issue and have met with all kinds of successes so lets get some of these community workers out here and let them have a look. Maybe there won’t be any parallels but their might be and perhaps there are some things that could be applied here.

I know I moan about this place and Christ knows it bloody well deserves it sometimes but the people here a fantastic. Not in that Lonely Planet kind of way that’s gushing and usually features native pipe ceremonies. They’re REALLY fantastic. And they deserve better. And it would be a fucking shame if this country went down the drain because of some self-aggrandising, sadistic wankers. So come on, in the words of the great philosopher, musician and semi-professional footballer: ‘let’s get together and feel alright.’