Kathmandu

Thursday, 24 January 2008

I had one day (today) in Nepal, so I planned to make the most of it!

I spent the whole morning walking around lost.

My couchsurfing.com host, Richard, told me that because Kathmandu is not so big and there's a ring road around it, if you walk long enough you end up back in Thamel, the tourist part of town. Thus, he concluded, you can't get lost. The day started off well; I went to Durbar Square to people watch and soak up the atmosphere. The square is neat but kind of small and dirty. It's also a a great place to get hit by a motorbike. More fun is walking through the maze of narrow cobblestone streets in the area, where you catch sweet glimpses of everyday life.

I spun around for about 2 hours, wary of copping out and taking a taxi since I only had a wad of 1000 rupee bills which the ATM machine spat out at me. By noon, I weakly navigated to Durbar Marg, one of the main drags in central Kathmandu. Treated myself to Viennese chocolate cake and a cappuccino, which was fabulous. Then moved two storefronts down, where I had a veggie sandwich. Alas, no avocado, no sprouts, no cheese. But the bread was somewhat crusty.

With my newfound small bills, I took a taxi to Pashupati Temple, one of the major Hindu temples of the world. I didn't know that Hindus are ritually cremated at death, and this temple almost always has one in progress. Eager "student" guides pointed out the platforms for cremation, and I tried not to inhale as the smoke billowed and followed me around the various temple structures.

The temple was beautiful and atmospheric, although the experience was somewhat sullied by the constant approach of would-be guides. "This is the holy man," said Progress, a student wearing a jean jacket and fully reflective aviators, as he gestured to a lightly smiling man wearing saffron and orange, with a face dusted white. "Why we call him holy man? Because he pull heavy weight with his dick. Why he pull with his dick? Because it make him lose the sexy feeling, and this we call 'holy man.' " Guiding me towards another temple, he explained "now we visit Milk Baba, this holy man live only drink milk for 25 years." Peering into Milk Baba's empty room, he questioned a bystander in rapid Nepali. "Oh, Milk Baba not here, on tour in Colorado."

I finished the afternoon by walking to the Boudhanath Tibetan Buddhist Stupa. Like a mini Jokhang Square, Tibetan pilgrims circled the giant stupa while twirling their prayer wheels and browsing the surrounding shops. I sat at a rooftop cafe and enjoyed the people-watching for a good two hours, before making my way back to Richard's. Definitely a highlight of Kathmandu.

Richard and I had Japanese for dinner (yum!), and then we squeezed in a quick trip to Bhat Bhateni, a four-level supermarket with all sorts of imported groceries, knockoff clothing at reasonable, haggle-free prices, and more. Picked up chocolate and a pair of jeans. Yum!

And so concluded my one-day trip to Kathmandu. I never did make it back to Thamel!

ZIA

Wednesday, 23 January 2008

This morning I tool a CNG (stands for "compressed natural gas," is like a motorbike with a cab built around it,) to the airport. Amazing that this little tin can on wheels is allowed to sputter up the ramp to the international departure terminal alonside proper taxis and hotel vans!

After waiting in the initial security line for 10 minutes without moving, I realized that slippy Bangladeshis were simply sliding into the line from the sides. A well-polished man wearing a sweater vest came up to me and said that I was a foreigner, that I needed help, that this line would take too long. He said that for a little tip, I wouldn't have to wait. I said no thanks. 15 minutes later, I was back in front of him. Turns out he was the ID/ticket checker. Good good.

Found out my flight was delayed 2 hours. Then 3 hours. Then ambiguous hours. I was amused that Emirates handwrites their delay notices on a piece of printer paper and pastes it up in the window. No such system for my airline, GMG, though. Airport staff also yell at each other across the waiting areas to communicate, while their standard issue radios hang slackly at their belts.

Some grumpy Bangladeshi businessmen chided the GMG staff to feed us or otherwise compensate us for the delay. After waiting 4 hours past our scheduled departure time, the staff rounded us up and took us over to a restaurant, where they said they would feed us. Then then told us that it was time to board. And so we scurried back.

This is Dhaka

Tuesday, 22 January 2008

I'm off on a mini-adventure to Kathmandu, Nepal! (Visa run.)

I took the bus from Rayenda to Dhaka, which arrived in a record 9 hours. (My previous bus trip to Dhaka took 13, and when we rolled into the city on the night before Eid ul Azha, there were cows tied up and for sale, everywhere. The streets look different without cows!)

On my rickshaw ride through Dhaka, I:
- watched a bow, about 10 years, beaming and single-skipping rope backwards in the street
- passed by clusters of men on every street corner, idly sipping cha and eating bread delicately pinced between their thumbs and forefingers
- plugged my ears as my rickshaw driver yelped like a siren, so that the people, tricycles, buses, bicycles, rickshaws, cars, and taxis around us would move
- sped through a narrow alley of narrower shops where young men sat in circles, stamping and tamping teetering stacks of paper into envelopes and bags (plastic bags aren't allowed here)
- was involved in a three way decelerating rickshaw collision at a speed of about 2 miles per hour over a knot of poor pavement. All of us passengers simply poked our heads out from the sunshades to have a look, then sat back to let the drivers continue on
- passed the mildewed white walls of Dhaka University, where female students wearing smart glasses laughed and chatted easily on the curb
- caught a whiff of an unseet biscuit factory in production - yum!

This, I thought, is Dhaka.

Labor for Tigers

I have a mosquito bite on each cheek. Booo!

We're now up to 12 volunteers from 3 countries. A couple new projects: we're installing latrines in the countryside and will be starting work on our second and third HODR houses this week! I will miss this though, because I am off to Nepal for a visa run. I think.

On my way home today, I met an American guy who is working with the Sundarbans Tiger Project. It's a tiger research program with the University of Minnesota and the Bangladesh Department of Forestry; they're headed out to the mangroves on a boat to do some research on tiger prey, the programs dealing with man-eating (I know, crazy!), and other stuff. They say they are looking for laborers. Ding!

Actually, I doubt that will happen, but when Marc and I first found out we were going to Bangladesh, we saw an article about how some ranger outposts in the Sundarbans had been completely damaged by the cyclone. We thought it'd be a neat project to rebuilt a couple of those. This guy didn't know who to talk to about that, but I invited him to our base for breakfast or lunch tomorrow, so maybe we'll be able to find a link.

Other notes:
I also want a veggie sandwich with avocado, sprouts, and cheese. On crusty bread.

Door Number Two...

Yesterday, Marc and I met with Oxfam/Rupantar (local NGO) to talk about their housing relief program. When we first arrived in Rayenda, we met with the local government and were cleared to work in the area, since no one else had staked that out as their territory. Also, we're talking such small numbers, that it's not an "overlap in services" (horror!) if we do end up working in an area with another NGO presence.

This past week, we've been seeing people in Oxfam caps walking around the neighborhood, but when we try to talk to them, they sort of scurry off. (The survey crew is Bangladeshi, maybe they get nervous when foreigners approach, or maybe they just don't understand us.) Anyway, we've been hearing murmurings about an "Oxfam house" and thought we should pay them a visit to see if we could partner.

Turns out, Oxfam's program is simply distributing 2 bahn (1 bahn is 72 feet of tin which can be cut into pieces of varying length, it's a nonsensical unit of measure) of tin (in this case, probably 18 sheets of 8 ft. tin) along with a handful of nails. Based on what I've seen with previous housing material distribution programs, the tin will probably be of a thickness where it comes in a roll on a cardboard tube in a box and can be cut to length with the serrated metal edge on the box. Ok so not quite that bad, but close. We're using .40 gauge on our roof and .20 on our walls; we've seen other groups distribute .18 or .16.

Disturbingly, the families in the area now think that there's the possibility of getting an Oxfam house and, as with much relief, are weighing the benefit of accepting what's currently on offer versus the prospect of something better in the future. I can understand their position, but also have a bit of pride in what HODR has to offer!

In the afternoon, we stopped by a home we're considering for the third HODR Half house. The wife said that our house was too small, even after we explained that the idea was to provide half a house, and that the family could then use their salvaged materials to build the second half. This would have easily filled the footprint of their home. Then the husband said that we could drop off our materials, and that they would wait for the Oxfam house and add our materials to that design. Rajib tried to explain that Oxfam is only offering 2 bahn of tin (as a reference, our design is 5 bahn of tin, plus lumber and hardware and construction), but they wouldn't hear it. Some of the other community members tried to dissuade them, but they had made up their mind.

As we walked away, Rajib said that he was sad and angry at this man for being foolish with this decision. But when shelter has turned from a need to a want, it's difficult to "settle" for something less than you think can get. The Oxfam material distribution starts next week. That might clear things up.

Other notes:
At the end of our meeting with Oxfam, in walks Bibi Lamond, a woman from Oxfam who I met in the Philippines while assessing for Project Santo Domingo! Cool to meet someone in one place and see them in a totally different country, a year and a couple events later!

Tough to be a girl

Two other quick notes:
- there is a girl in our neighborhood who look like she might be pregnant. She is also 12.
- today while assessing, a woman told us that she needed money or any kind of aid, because she needed a dowry to marry off her daughter.

I gotta say that these kinds of things would seem to be hits to the self-confidence of Bengali girls. It certainly seems rough to an outsider.

I held a baby goat today

He was the size of a kitten and he was super mellow. I loved him! Then I gave him back and continued assessing.

One man said that he needed a house, pointed to a blank spot of land, said it was completely washed away. Then I pointed out to him that there was a tree growing in the middle of the plot. A tree that was obviously older than 2 months. He laughed and stopped asking.

Mud was a big hit. Volunteers formed a fire chain to pull mud up out of the riverbank, pass it up to the pathway, and then carry it over to the foundation we were packing. Super dirty, super slippy, super fun. We finished the job in one day.

Visited the people along the riverbank again this afternoon; they're poor, really heavily affected by the cyclone, living in a complete shantytown - but we're unable to help them at this point. The problem is that they don't own the land they live on. If we wanted to build them a house, the government or private property owner on whose land they're on could take the property back at any time. We can't cut the trees or clean up the area either, because the trees belong to the land owners, not the people living there. All that can be done for them is handouts of relief.

Two months after the storm, the continued distribution of relief is causing a big dependency/squatter problem along the riverbank. Families that didn't live in the area before have set up shack houses to benefit from some of the relief handouts and people are also desensitized to asking for relief; they have no qualms approaching and asking you piteously for anything. It's the part of Rayenda that is absolutely the poorest and most needy, yet we can't do anything for them, because they are landless. The only type of assistance we could do is a livelihood program, but that's difficult to pull together and run in only 3 months. Hmm.

A Warm Fuzzy Day

Walking between assessments, Rajib and I saw two boys at a distance, playing at the edge of the river, under the incomplete bridge next to our house. Buses arrive in Rayenda on the opposite side of the river, and small paddle boats shuttle people bath and forth to our village. One of the boys was Saddam, who introduces himself as "Saddam, like Saddam Hussein," and proceeds to draw his finger across his throat. He has really big eyes that kind of bug out, like a real, live Simpsons character. The other was a smaller, quieter boy who I didn't recognize. Pointing at him, Rajib said "this boy's father works in Kuwait. Today, he comes back." Aw! He was waiting for his dad to arrive.

Two new volunteers also arrived today; Rachel K (from the Philippines and Peru projects), and Bob (who was in Biloxi, MS at the same time as me).

Rachel packed some saris and salwar kameez from India with her. I am impatiently awaiting mine, which I ordered in the market a week ago. Flowy pants! Fun shirts!

The house is a bustle of activity now; there are people in every room, we scoot sideways past each other in the kitchen, and the banana branch is down to less than a dozen.

P.S. Maple syrup update. Sorry David, I didn't realize that there was any maple syrup in Biloxi. I must have missed it in Pisco as well; I was only around for the cactus syrup and Jorge's homebrew baby juice. Today, Rachel brought a jug of 100% real syrup from Quebec. I can't wait until the next Pancake Breakfast!

Pancake Brefassss!

Today was the first Pancake Breakfast of Project Rayenda! Thanks to Mike B, we even had 100% real maple syrup, which I don't think we've ever had on any deployment, even in the States.

Usually Pancake Breakfast has been on Monday, the morning after our weekly Sunday off-day. Since this is a Muslim country, we're taking Fridays off, the same as the people here. There's a dearth of good chocolate (any chocolate really, I miss Sublime Extremos!) out here, so we had only two options - plain and banana.

The bananas come from our very own banana branch, slowly a-ripening in our kitchen one hundred bananas at a time. We purchased the booty at a small stand in the market that's used to selling bananas two or three at a time. Imagine the vendor's surprise when we asked him for the whole stalk (100+ bananas for 300 taka, or about US$4.40)! Amazing that they sell these for $1.50 per piece in airports.

After breakfast, we started construction on our first house project! As of lunchtime, one wall is up and another is laid out. We also got two volunteers in this afternoon, Daniel B. (who volunteered in Indo) and Ally, a new volunteer from Australia. Now we are 8!

Lost in Translation

After 4 days, we have 6 people and a number of projects underway! We've been clearing a wall that was knocked over by the storm surge, playing with children at the Safe Spaces, and pulling together the final details of the HODR Half homes that we'll be building. We'll also be starting tree clearing and planning on the playground project I mentioned in the last post.

Language is a challenge here; most people know a couple phrases "What is your name, what is your country, ok thank you, goodbye," but there's a lack of deeper English comprehension. Right now we have Rajeev, our landlord's son, working with us as a guide. He's great, but we need more than one person. I'd especially like to have a female guide, since it would give a woman an employment opportunity, and would also give us a different perspective on the community.

I've "interviewed" about 4 different college students, and it kind of feels like that scene in "Mrs. Doubtfire" where Robin Williams is posing as a nanny candidate and he says "I...am...job." Today I tasked a girl with finding plastic folders at the market, and she took me to a cosmetics counter. I explained to another girl that I would ask her some questions, and she misunderstood and thought I wanted her to ask me questions. Later, while I was talking, she blurted out "Your conjugal?" (Marriage is a popular conversation topic here.)

It's also difficult to ask questions using why, where, how - concepts that are central to assessing community needs. The girls are very nervous - I think it's pretty uncommon for a female to be walking around and talking to so many people in a neighborhood, and they're definitely brave for trying. I try to engage them in conversation about school, their families, and what they like, before trying out their English in a variety of settings - one-on-one with me, shopping for household items or tools in the market, and talking with families in the neighborhood.

I haven't quite found the right person yet, but every girl is still eager to continue to "help" me as much as they can in the market. (That seems to be the favorite locale.) Now I have a posse of girls who follow me around as I buy mosquito nets and crosscut saws.

Staring contest!

There are not many tourists in Bangladesh. As a result, you are very, very interesting, should you ever come visit. Bangladeshis are not at all precious about staring, closely inspecting, or following you. Young girls have even touched my hand, since I guess the color is different from theirs. A little boy repeatedly poked me in the butt today. These crowds can be a little intimidating at first, but simply because of the number of people, not because it feels threatening at all. The men wear very hard expressions on their faces. It's like a game, to try to see how long it takes for people to begin to smile. Usually it just takes light eye contact and a smile. And sometimes the men simply lose interest and continue on their way, glaring.

Once, while walking down the main road in town, a crowd began to trail us. We picked up speed and closed the distance between us and some women walking ahead of us, in the same direction. One of the women turned around, and began to stare at us as she continued to walk forward. Meanwhile, a blind man with a stick was walking in the opposite direction, toward us. The woman walked straight into him, hitting her head against his stick. She wasn't so interested in staring at us anymore.

Another time, we walked through a part of town we hadn't been through before. A crowd gathered behind us, and we ridiculously wound our way through the narrow paths in the neighborhood. We came to a small creek, traversed by three bamboo poles lashed together. Marc and I easily scooted across, and as we continued on our way, I looked back behind us. About 30 men, women, and children had filled up the entire length of the bridge, crossing or waiting to cross to continue following us. Life is funny.

Work, work

So, what projects exactly are we going to be doing here? We don't know. Houses sustained uneven and random amounts of damage, the government has been remarkably quick to do structural repairs to damaged schools, and there aren't other NGOs working in our immediate area with whom we can partner.

But there are still a lot of possibilities. Save the Children (SC) is working in this general region, and two days ago Marc and I went to look at a couple of their projects. Similar to the UNICEF/CEDAPP "Ludotecas" in Peru, SC is running "Safe Spaces," unstructured play areas for children. The open-air spaces are covered with brightly colored canvas, and children draw, sing, dance, and play on mats on the ground. UNICEF has provided kits of toys, included chess boards, stuffed cats (few of which still have their eyes or heads), crayons, books, tambourines, jump ropes, and more. We tied a few of the individual jump ropes together and then jumped together while some adults turned the rope. Apparently the kids (and adults, judging by the crowd and amount of laughing and clapping) had never jumped rope like this before. We ran in and out of the floor, jumped and touched the floor, and jumped and spinned around. Then a boy came and jumped with us; the others were too shy. A couple days a week, a few volunteers could go to the Safe Spaces and play with the children. It's a simple yet exhausting project that is tremendously worthwhile.

SC also wants to build playgrounds at schools. While this isn't directly a disaster project, they want to shift the temporary Safe Spaces (winding down in a month) into a more permanent place for kids. Schools here have open fields for cricket or soccer, but no playground equipment.
SC plans to run a cash-for-work program to first raise the ground (entire schoolyards get flooded during the rainy season), and then build a playground. Maybe we can help build swings and slides!


Regarding housing, there is no one in our area doing any kind of shelter relief. Based on the average small-ish slabs that people have, we've come up with "the HODR Half" - a simple house with a roof pitched at only one angle, rather than peaked in the center. The idea is that this structure would give a family immediate shelter, and the materials can also be incorporated into a permanent, complete house. Families could take the material from the higher wall and use it when they expand their home. It would also be easier to build a roof with only one pitch, versus two. We are still totally playing with this idea, but it could be a great building project!

Christmas in Dhaka

Backtrack! Check out what I ate for Christmas. No, I did not eat a corn dog for Christmas dinner. It was a piece of chicken, stuffed with garlic and butter, and fried up somehow. I ordered it because it came with mashed potatoes, which sounded Christmas-y. I did not know that the potatoes would be shaped like chicken, and inexplicably, fish.

Altogether, pretty tasty, and impressive for a hotel restaurant which really focuses more on Bengali fare.

Also David, that comment was scary fast.

Project Rayenda begins!

We've rented a house, hired a cook (her name is Lovely!), scouted out work, and set up the house. Now all we have to do is begin.

Two contrary observations, unrelated to the project:
- did your mother ever chide you to eat your vegetables, saying that there were starving children somewhere in (insert country here)? If she used Bangladesh as an example, then she was probably right. The skinniest kids I have ever seen live here, and the old people, they're skinny too, they just look used to it. I feel really guilty about wasting any food here, so I try to round up every last grain of rice on my plate, curry hand be damned.
- while in Dhaka (last week), I read an article in an English-language Bangladeshi newspaper about how 68% of the population leads a sedentary lifestyle and consumes more calories than they spend. Um. Yesterday, watching the sliver of a man with wrists half as wide as mine pedal me to a kid's camp, I had to doubt the accuracy of the report.