Book Fair and Goodbye Woes

I haven't written in a while, but I have been doing and thinking so much this weekend...The closure is creating a sort of out-of-body experience for me. I am increasingly respecting all I have learned, getting really sentimental about the people I have come to love as family, and overthinking the development that remains to be done here in Bangladesh.

On Friday, Azim took us out again for our "final goodbye" that actually was another "second to last goodbye" after we made new plans for next week. After a morning of internet browsing, catching up a little on work, and lunch at el Toro, we took CNG's to the National Museum in Dhaka. We stood amidst the crowd before a red iron gate and waited for a silly-expressioned, takes-himself-all-too-seriously-in-an-endearing-way Bangladeshi man to come out of the crowd. For a good twenty minutes, all that came from the crowd were weird stares, solicitations for buying flags and maps, and some outward curiosity. Finally, we called and he came.

We followed Azim and his friend Jahid all over the area, weaving in and out of traffic. Azim was the first in the group and he didn't exactly make any efforts to ensure that all eight of us could cross when he darted into oblivion. I just followed and whenever anyone got mad that they nearly hit me, I just played stupid. It worked quite to my favor. It's kind of been my gameplan since arrival. We finally got to the book fair, where there was a huge line to get in. The crowding was insane, and no one even knew where the line ended. As it turned out, it was spiraling backwards, but ended up creating a coil shape and not getting out of it. More and more people needed to get in line but there was no more sidewalk for them to stand on, so they made the best out of the small area. The line was moving quite quickly, but line jumpers just breezed by people. A group of guys stepped right in front of me, and because I have zero cultural tact, I yelled at them. I think it made them very uncomfortable, so they went right behind me, splitting our group up. It was awkward and funny at the same time. Such is my life.

The book fair was a big market of book stands, but most books were in Bangla. It was interesting to see so many people in line for new reading material. I guess their market system doesn't provide them with Borders and Barnes and Noble, so this was the most convenient place to get the goods. It was an encouraging sight to see people so interested in reading. I bought Muhammad Yunus' book and I hope I can have him sign it before I go.

The crowds at the fair were insane. It smelled like feces and sweat and we couldn't even walk two by two. At one point, the crowd, as usual, circled us and stared. We were waiting for Debrah and Reema to finish buying their books and people just kept moving in on me, Azim, Nick, and Evan (who for part of that time was running back to get Reema and Debrah). When Jahid finally returned, he could barely break through, and was jumping around and making odd noises. He so WOULD do that. The tv cameras were upon us and people were yelling questions at us. In these situations, I am always either very excited at the novelty of my undeserving celebrity or I become an introverted coward, horribly offended by the excess of attention. In this instance, I just kind of took the attention as standard and tried not to react in any way. I was afraid, however, because of the recent Warden messages the embassy has been sending. Apparently the Dutch comics about Mohammed that stirred emotions only a few years ago have come back in second edition. Crowds can easily get out of hand, and I am easily wound up. Bad combo in this situation.

We left the fair and went to the fine arts museum(?). There, a big round room had paintings hung in sequence according to their place in the titled work "The Story of Sidr (Sidr is the name of the cyclone that recently hit Bangladesh causing horrible damage to the southern villages)". The painter was there, and you could buy some of his work if you wanted. The paintings were beautiful but I can't really afford to spend a few hundred dollars on a piece of art. I'm a college student; no need. The rest of the museum was nice. There were beautiful stone sculptures in a nice outdoor yard behind the main building and college kids were hanging out on the roof, creating a pretty cool atmosphere.

I haven't mentioned this yet, but Nick's friend from the field/ translator was with us. He told us a few stories about his time at Dhaka University (he's a student too). Supposedly, before the current system of martial law was put into place, the student body was violently divided. Student groups were provided guns by the university and given a lot of power in the political process. People everywhere have said different scary things about the student population, but until now I just assumed them to be intimidated by the passion and drive for change. I figured people don't like change, so these speculations are just expressed fears of the change passionate people can bring. They were actually fears of the violence and physical pain that government-supplied guns can bring.

After that, the weekend mostly consisted of me being sick and trying to get better by working out and relaxing at the American Club and working on some reportage. My project is due this Wednesday, I have a presentation Thursday, dinner with the bosses after that, Azim-goodbye on Friday, Professor Littke arrives Sunday, and I leave midnight next Monday. I have thought about friends and family constantly while I have been here, pining over their existence at every calm moment, but now I am getting the chance to see them, and all I can think about are the people here. I don't want to go. I want to give the servant-girl, Badon, an education and a new wardrobe and a new life in general. When I leave, there is no one to defend her against the irrationality encompassed in Saleha-apa's morning banter. I want my partner here to realize she can conquer the legal system and leave for Canada to get the education she wants and raise her son without the constant worries of an exhusband's insanity. A few months is so long to be away from the people I love, but I just wish it would be easier for me to come back and check up on things.

I was talking to Debrah about how awful it is to see the impact we make on these people and then leave them. We have met so many people in the field and in remote BRAC offices who have expressed great joys in our presence, have truly appreciated the simplest things about us (often, surprisingly, not just the simplicity of my blonde hair). I told Debrah we should just be conscious of the fact that, as people in the development field, we are going to meet and touch people all over the world, each of whom will come from a different life situation. We should just be encouraged and appreciative of the fact that we have already come into contact with so many amazing people, knowing there are so many more to come. Our time here shouldn't be reflecting poorly on the limitations of our global communications systems, but reflecting positively on the apparent goodness of humanity. <3>