Walking Adventure

Some interesting adventures this weekend. In Bangladesh the weekend is Friday to Saturday, while Sunday is a working day. I went on a walk each day and managed to get lost both times! The first is the more interesting story...

I decided to head north on Gulshan Road when awkward staring and congestion forced me off the main road and onto the side streets. I got caught up watching some kids play an animated game of cricket and subsequently wandered around them, past a cancer center and an abandoned school, until I hit a small path that looked like it was going to a dead end (as it turns out, Dhaka is filled with streets that go to dead ends).

I stood awkwardly, considering what I should do, when I heard a man calling from behind. I turned, did a quick gut feeling check and decided he seemed alright. With a great deal of gesturing, I managed to ask him how to get back to the main road. He walked back a few steps and pointed to a small cluster of shanties next to a large abandoned building. I looked at the shanties, then looked back at him. What, like walk through them? He said something in Bangla, to which I stared blankly, and then he took the lead.

The shanties were made of pieces of wood, scraps of tin, and strips of cloth and plastic, strung together into a makeshift community. Collectively they created a pile of discarded garbage, leaning on itself for support. Take one out and they'd probably all fall. They were each missing one wall; the open side faced the abandoned building.

As we got closer, I saw that there was a gap between the row of homes and the building - a walkway. My guide casually strolled through. I hesitated, held my breath instinctively, and waited for something to happen. Nothing did, so I smiled meekly and walked in. My eyes were downcast at first. I felt like I was stomping through someone's living room (which I essentially was) - the living room of someone who probably resented my presence. I glanced upward and saw people sitting up, looking at me with eyes that were curious but not unfriendly. I exhaled and smiled slightly. They didn't reply in kind, but they didn't seem to mind me either. I let my eyes move from their faces to their surroundings.

Each shanty was probably no more than 5 feet wide and 5 feet high. They had a dirt floor and were mostly empty. Their inhabitants were crouched on their legs, comfortable in a position most westerners couldn't get into. Their homes were made of garbage - other people's unwanted, discarded things, but they were neat and tidy. Their bit of space was small, but they appreciated it, they cared about it. I looked down, wondering if I respected my things as much as they respected theirs. I looked forward. We were nearing the end. My guide was greeting a young boy in faded black shorts. I smiled and nodded hello, he stared at me, then smiled shyly in return.

We came out of the other side, bent down to get through a wire fence and a barrage of honks welcomed us to the main road. I felt myself completely relax and I turned to my friend. He extended his hand and in it was his business card. The only words in English were, "Nasir," "Farhad" and "Ambulance Service." I smiled and thanked him. He asked for my number. I told him that I didn't have a phone, he said, "No problem." I thanked him again, turned and walked to the road, smiling as he shouted, "Call me! Call me!" - the only bit of English he seemed to know.