The Bayous of Bangladesh by Hayden

The Bayous of Bangladesh – June 2014

I woke up early at 5:30 AM, two minutes early before my alarm was to go off, half dreading what was in front of me, and half excited with anticipation. My week so far in Dhaka had been busy with meetings lined up throughout the day broken up by waiting in dense periods of congested traffic. Each day though I had come home to the very comfortable and air conditioned confines of the Westin Hotel in Dhaka. Apparently it had lost its accreditation, but was still had the name rights. Either way it was a nice place to be staying for sure.  Today, however I was venturing out of the capital to the southern delta region of Bangladesh. Several of my colleagues had prepped me for a rough journey by saying “how is your back?”, or “you’re okay to survive a night without air conditioning right?” This was my first trip to the field since Austin was born and I had not made it to the field for about six months.

So I entered the Dhaka domestic terminal knowing the next half of my trip would be completely different from the first. It would be an adventure, probably uncomfortable, very hot, meals and hygiene would be a challenge, but it was not going to be boring. The domestic terminal was much like most buildings in Dhaka – pretty rough. I walked in with my bags to the security check where a rag tag officer waved a wand over me that beeped several times and then nodded me through. One or two random people walked by me unnoticed as this was happening. I then placed my luggage on the belt for scanning and the three bottles of water and laptop in my bags were all cleared. I went up to the United Airways desk and showed them my electronic ticket. A couple thoughts popped into my head while I waited in line:

 "Does United Airlines know about United Airways in Bangladesh? Probably not, but if they did I doubt they would care about the clear copyright infringement given how rag tag this airlines looks.

The United Airways slogan was unsettlingly odd. Under their name it read – “Your own airline in the sky”. Why would they come up with a slogan that odd. I hope that isn’t a reflection on the quality of the airlines.”

I am pretty impressed that UA has their own electronic ticketing system, but also unsettled that they did not ask me for any identification before giving me my boarding pass.

I waited in the departure lounge and counted about four other gringos that were flying on this bizarre airline, which made me feel better.  A young kid sat down beside me and tried to speak with me. He asked me if I spoke Malayasian. A question I had never been asked before. Apparently he was just returning from there and was bringing back two remote control airplanes (or are they called drones nowadays) as gifts that looked like they barely fit in his arms. We quickly ran out of things to say so I skimmed through the local paper. Not much too interesting.  Some food and environmntal safety scandals and political in-fighting and protests. Interestingly Bangladesh has a female Prime Minister and female Opposition Leader. I found this perplexing in a country where very few women are scene in the workplace as most our homebound as Bangladesh is a very conservative Muslim country. Bangladesh of course is now most infamous in the West for the poor labor practices of the textile industry. I did in fact drive the site of the Rana Plaza building which collapsed and killed 1,000 plus workers on the way to one of my meetings.    

Our flight was called and I stood up and followed a good number of passengers on to an old bus and were driven out to the far side of the runway.  Propeller plane. Ugh. At least it was not a miniature one, but it was definitely old. Like 20 to 30 years old. I sat down in the seat right next to my Malaysian friend and smiled at him awkwardly. I looked at the leather that was peeling away from the seats and thought optimistically that United Airways had probably just invested all their money into updating the engine.  Signs of normalcy started to emerge as a young flight attendant began to read through the familiar list of safety instructions. I looked in the seat pocket and was amazed United Airways had their own in-flight magazine. I flipped through a couple good articles on travel to Myanmar and some resort in Bangladesh. United Airways had actually several international flight destinations and was planning on starting a route to Doha this year. They must be doing something right I thought.

We taxied to the front of the runway and gained enough speed and shot up in the air over the Dhaka skyline of crowded buildings and streets. I settled in to more of the in-flight magazine and began to relax a bit. We landed soon enough an hour later in Jessore airport. I walked out into a throng of people who all seemed to be super happy and ecstatic over something. I followed the crowd into the VIP room where I realized I did not want to be. Some Bangladeshi Minister had been on our flight and they were now getting a town’s welcome. I pushed my way back outside the crowd and saw my black bag sitting alone by itself on a rack. I quickly recovered it and wheeled it outside the airport to see someone holding up a sign reading ACDI/VOCA – PROSHAR (the name of our current project – Program for Strengthening Household Access to Resources). I shook hands with Prodip, the Deputy Agricultural Team Leader, and a smiley young guy with a large goatee named Bashir. We quickly mounted into a white SUV and were on our way. I began to ask questions about the town of Jessore, the population, the weather, the religion, etc. Prodip conscientiously fielded each one. He was a short lighter skinned man, who informed me that he was a Hindu who was from the north of country. Bangladesh is about 10% Hindu. He had worked for international NGOs most of his career and seemed quite saavy. He knew the exact USAID proposal solicitation that had brought me out to Bangladesh, and had even printed out several reports and proposals on the dairy and livestock sectors to share with me. 

We drove on for several hours while I peppered Prodip with questions about the livestock system in Bangladesh. Bashir finally turned around and with a big smile on his face said, if you don’t talk to me I am going to fall asleep! We decided at that moment it was a good time to pause for a beverage and snacks. I purchased a big bag of dried snacks as apparently there was going to be no lunch spots along the way fitting for a foreigner. Our next stop came soon after, as it was time for Bashir to pray. We then stopped again at the ferry station, which was littered with trash and dusty little shops selling tea and dried food and some fruit. Because of Bangladesh’s many rivers there are also many fairy crossings which I learned can add quite some time on to a journey as it only leaves when the entire ferry is full of passengers. There is no ferry schedule. As we waited for the ferry to come back across from the other side of the river. Prodip walked the stalls and purchased a coconut which the gentleman deftly sliced open with several hacks from his machete. Prodip quickly picked up the shell and lifted it over his head gulping down the coconut water with immense satisfaction. I watched intently thinking how people in whole foods were paying $5 for the same product that Prodip just shelled out 20 cents for. After about five minutes of sweltering out in the sun I was getting uncomfortable so I went back into the car and turned on the engine and blasted the AC. Bashir turned up soon after and said to me with a big smile “Look you see. I pray to Allah and now the ferry comes”. And indeed the ferry, which was basically a huge flat piece of metal powered by a big generator had pulled up. We drove up on to it surrounded by several motor bikes, bicycles and pedestrians. We made it across the large river and continued on our way.

About half way through our journey the road went from a smoothly paved asphalgt to a rocky graveled road with huge chunks of old asphalt interspersed between large potholes reminding me of some of the worst roads I had encountered in Uganda. I unclicked my seat belt to allow my body to flow with the bumps in the road and settled in. Fortunately I was still engrossed in the details of Bangladesh cow fattening and dairy farming systems that the time passed quickly and we eventually arrived at our destination to the town of Sarankola. We drove through the center of town which was nothing more than small shops selling dried goods, bicycle repair shops and groups of men hanging around the small tea shops. As Bangladesh is a dry country, tea shops, are a big social hangout spot for men to commiserate and watch television. It definitely fit the description as one of the most remote and poor regions in Bangladesh. We made a brief pit stop at the one and only restaurant in town – “Tip Top” to put in our dinner reservation and order of rice, vegetables and stewed chicken for 8:00. We then continued to the only “clean” guest house in Sarankola. We entered a large compound and walked up a flight of stairs to my room. The quarters were pretty simple but adequate and as promised, clean. Most importantly there was a ceiling fan as I was wondering how I would survive the night without any air conditioning. Temperatures had been averaging in the 100s during the day and 80s at night. I put my things down and sat down on the extremely stiff bed. I looked under the sheets to see an inch thick padding over the top of the wood frame. I lied down exhausted for about thirty minutes and then got a call from Prodip who informed me we needed to head out to our next appointment to meet some ACDI/VOCA livestock farmers.

We drove along a narrow rural road as we passed several homesteads. The simple corrugated tin houses were on small pieces of land surrounded by squares of ponds. Dikes had been built around each of these ponds and were being used to cultivate fish.  I soon came to realize that these were not man made fish ponds but that this whole community was living on a marshy delta that surrounded the road we were driving on. There were long bamboo bridges connecting people’s homes to the main road. To make matters worse much of the water had high levels of saline since the water was essentially coming from the Indian Ocean through the Bay of Bengal and then making its way through the marshland into this poor farming community. The saline water meant that it was very hard to grow anything. There were some saline tolerant varieties of rice, but no saline resistant varieties. So farmers had to wait for the mosoon rains which would flush the saline water out before they could plant their one rice crop in the shallow pools of water. Much different than the three rice crops per year that communities in the non-saline areas of northern Bangaldesh could produce. Further complicating matters was the lack of drinking water. Communities would try and harvest the rains that fell during the rainy season in big clay sized pots or would dig out trenches where rain water would collect. It quickly became clear to me why livestock was so important as there was so little land for these farmers.

We got out of the car and walked across a narrow strip of land down to one of the households ACDI/VOCA was working with. We were greeted by the man of the household who was busy building a makeshift barn for his livestock. He was a short lean dark skinned man who was wearing a traditional cloth robe that was wrapped like a towel around his waist and pink shirt.  He was sweating profusely as he had been putting on the finishing touches of a small shelter he was building for his livestock. As we started talking to him several women in bright clean colorful saris walked up alongside several small children. We talked to the man for about thirty minutes and figured out that he was fattening his bull for sale around the Eid Holiday when he hoped to collect 25,000 takas or about $400. This was the big marketing window as demand for meat skyrocketed during the two Eid festivals every year. This, the sale of fish from his pond and a few vegetables his wife was growing and his own labor were going to be his only income for the year. As we sat and talked to him I looked around, flies were buzzing all around us, the homestead had a not so fresh cow manure smell and it was still oppressively hot and humid. I can’t believe people are surviving in these conditions I thought. Before we left I asked the man and his sons which team they were supporting in the World Cup. Finally a smile from everyone. He said, Brazil, but my brother is supporting Argentina. Funny enough, in this unbelievably remote part of the world, everybody was ready for the World Cup. There were even Argentine and Brazil flags that people had placed on their homes or were selling in the markets.  Soccer knows no boundaries. Everybody would be gathered around the few tea shops in Sarankola watching their teams play next week. I asked him if he was going to be cheering for the USA. He looked at me rather blankly and did not reply. As we left he apologized that he could not feed me. My stomach sank as if I needed any other further evidence of how bleak this family’s situation was.

We continued on and met one other cattle farmer who seemed to be in a slightly better position. As we talked to him the crowd surrounding us seemed to be multiplying and after fifteen minutes there must have been 25 people listening in on our conversation intently. I was braced for laughter or jeering remarks but everybody was very respectful. There was a serious curiosity among the people, different than the warm smiles one got in Uganda.  There was also a clear division of groups between men and women.

By this time it was starting to get dark, but we had one more meeting and we pushed on. I asked Prodip if he was getting tired and he said quickly said no. I was exhausted having gotten up at 5:30 in the morning. We drove into the center of town and met a man who owned one of the local veterinary pharmacies. He was an impressive entrepreneur who had started his own poultry business and then expanded to open his own vet store. He had several ideas for expanding his business. He was the perfect small business person that any development project would want to partner with as he was interested in providing training and advice to his clients so that they could increase their livestock holdings thereby improving his own business.  An embedded service as we call it in the business, and a much more sustainable way of delivering technical information to farmers than through NGO led trainings.

After finishing our meeting we went back to Tip Top and dined on our curried vegetable and stewed chicken. I had to admit it was very tasty. All the men around the table grabbed handfuls of rice, moving their hands around in circular motions in the spicy curried sauces and quickly ate. Prodip insisted on getting the bill telling me I would get breakfast tomorrow morning.  After eating I could not wait to get back to the room. I plopped down on my rock hard mattress and finally took a pause. What a day I thought. After plugging in my phone up popped a skype message from Jess. “Hayden? Are you there?” Somehow I was getting a 3G signal on my travel phone. I typed back. “You would not believe where I am right now”.  I tried to explain using comparative Uganda names and places but it was difficult. This place was truly unique.