3 Days in Chittagong

Going to Chittagong earlier this week was the first time I have left Dhaka since arriving here a little over 2 weeks ago. (Also the first time I have left the diplomatic area of Gulshan, Baridhara and Banani).

This was also my first experience flying out of the Dhaka airport. The departures are about as organized as the arrivals were. Security was almost non-existent. To put things in perspective, I went through stricter security going to the Washtenaw County court house in Michigan. The airline was United Airways. (Not to be confused of course with a certain other airline that sounds just slightly similar.)

The plane was small, holding only about 40 people and was one of those with twin jet propellers. Much to my amusement the flight attendant gave a demonstration about wearing seat belts, and everyone on the plane buckled up, although this never happens, ever, in cars.

Now, I am definitely a huge believer in cultural sensitivity, and do believe to a certain extent in cultural relativism (only to a degree of course, I draw the line at cultural norms being used to excuse violence or abuse). I also feel that as a foreigner in another country it is my job to adjust my behavior and expectations not the other way around. (Meaning I wear a scarf across my chest as is the custom, and would wear one around my head if required, I don't shake hands with men unless they make the gesture first etc.) Where I am having the hardest time with this is when it comes to safety issues. In particular things like not wearing seat-belts, or buses that don't stop at the actual bus stops instead people jump on and off while it is still moving. I don't understand why things are done like this. I guess it took a long time for seat-belt use to become common in America... Government education campaigns etc. But still...

The Chittagong airport was surprisingly modern and pretty clean. Much less chaotic than Dhaka's. We were picked up in a nice air conditioned car and taken to the hotel which was about a 30 minute drive. Chittagong sits on the Bay of Bengal, and it is one of the largest seaports in South Asia. The road from the airport to the city passes by a few of the docks, and I could see some of the ships being built. Fort the first time since being here I also saw sparkling water (not quite blue but almost). Chittagong is also much greener than Dhaka (which isn't hard) and there is fairly lush trees lining many of the roads. The road also took us through what looked kind of like crowded villages, but I 'm not sure what they were. The shops and houses that lined the street were all open air. There were piles of dirt in between many, in which children were playing (a small group were crouched on the ground playing marbles). One thing I am confused about (and it confuses me in Dhaka too) is that it seems every store sells the same thing, bread and chips and maybe candy. There is such an abundance of them I have no idea how they stay in business. (I thought the same exact thing in the Dubai mall, oddly enough, although there it was because of a surplus of designer clothing stores for children, just a slight difference.) Some of the shops do sell different things like chickens (not plucked or anything, just lined up in a row on the ground in front of the store) or meat (a few slabs hanging from hooks).

A small brook ran under the road at one point, and the scene of the woman washing her clothes in the water would have been much more picturesque if there had not been garbage strewn around the surrounding area.

We arrived at the hotel, The Saint Martin, which was actually pretty nice. Very old, and nothing really fancy, but clean and very decent. My room had a cheetah print bed spread and cheetah print curtains covering the entire wall facing the outside, and a red velvet couch and chair.

I had breakfast with one of the women from the office named Anindita (I felt bad because the three women took a train down last night that didn't arrive until midnight). She had already eaten but felt bad for me and didn't want me to have to eat alone. We talked about the office, and her kids, and the time she spent in Chicago. 

After breakfast I had an hour or so to recharge in my room, and then I went with 2 other women to one of the Solidarity Center's Office in Chittagong. There are 2 offices, one focuses on the EPZ zones, one focuses on the shrimp industry. We went to the shrimp one. It was another 30 minute or so ride. Traffic here is just as terrible and scary as Dhaka. I honestly have no idea as to where I I was  in the city at any point. It is such a strange feeling to be do dependent on other people for everything. (I consider myself a very resourceful and independent person, and I have never felt as helpless as I do here. It's a very weird feeling.) We arrived at the office which is on the second floor of a fairly rundown and dingy building. Monira, woman who runs it sat down and talked to me for awhile and told me about all the stuff they are doing here. Mainly it consists of training with regards to worker's rights, legal aid and negotiations. The training usually takes the entire day so the Solidarity Center provides transportation, meals and the wages that the worker lost by coming to training. The vast majority of factory workers are illiterate and completely uneducated. Most have no idea that there are any laws at all that protect them. They simply do not know that they have the right to organize, or that there are safety requirements, and maximum hours etc. Most of the training centers around simply informing them of their legal rights. They also provide free legal aid, and training with regards to how to negotiate contracts, and talk to employers etc. The work they are doing is so important, and necessary. It is such a luxury of being a comfortable Westerner to think that the workers here do not deserve to make enough money to basically survive. It really bothers me that so many people are just so comfortable with having poor people in the developing world bare the brunt of globalization, as if this is an inevitable consequence and not the result of specific choices that have been made by corporations, governments (of both the developed and developing world) and consumers.

The reason for my visit to Chittagong is that the Solidarity Center holds what it calls stakeholder meetings for various industries in different parts of the country, in which workers, union leaders, factory managers and owners, and government officials are invited to attend. The first one was regarding the seafood processing industry which is Bangladesh's second largest export industry, and a major one around Chittagong as it is on the Bay of Bengal. There were 30 people in attendance, and actually a surprising (to me) number of factory managers. Unionizaton in the seafood industry is very new, especially in Chittagong. There has been greater success in Khulna (which is is in the SW part of the country) so one of the union leaders from there was invited to discuss the goings on there. I have to admit that I didn't understand much of it as Ruxanna and Anindita, 2 women who work at the Gulshan office, took turns translating for me.

By far the most interesting moment was when a factory manager gave a long speech (which involved him standing up and making a lot of gestures) about how the workers problems were more social in nature than economic. He said that all of our time would be much better spent trying to solve their problems at home (such as men leaving their wives) than worrying their right to organize. He specifically talked a lot about female workers, and his tone was completely patronizing. This really angered many of the women at the Solidarity Center, especially Lily who is on of the Program Directors and has a PhD in this area. She was moderating so she had to really watch her words, but afterward told me if she hadn't been moderating she would of really let him have it. Many of the woman spoke about how women workers need to be treated the same as men, and not judged for having to work (there is a definite stigma about women working outside the home). A lawyer from BLAST (a well-respected legal aid service) said that in fact they do help women who have been left by their husbands. Many of the other managers felt like the first manager was being attacked and were very upset.  My understanding of all that transpired is pretty limited as it was being translated for me, and I think a lot was left out, and I also don't think I have the cultural knowledge to get the meaning behind all of this high-context stuff.

The next morning Lily, Anindita and a guy from the Chittagong office (I never could catch his name) took me to a man made lake outside of Chittagong. It was made by the British while Bangladesh was still a colony. It was a huge lake surrounded by tropical trees and was very peaceful. A nice change of pace from the crazy city.

I had lunch at the restaurant of the hotel by myself. This attracted a lot of attention from the curious waiters. I ordered chicken curry. This made the head waiter laugh. He kept coming up to me and giggling. I asked him what was funny, and finally he said, "it is funny, you American and you order Bangladeshi food," then he laughed even more, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. One of the waiters also stood by me almost the entire time and as soon as I took a bite of rice would scoop more rice onto my plate. One of my more odder dining experiences. 

Later we had the second stakeholders meeting of the RGM (ready-made-garment) industry. Again consisting of the workers, union leaders, factory owners and government officials. Again translation was an issue. Here the most interesting part was when one of the workers (and I think a union organizer) talked about his choice to go into the garment industry, he said:

If I had chosen to become a construction worker I could have built the palaces that the factory owners live in and earn tk500 a day. If I had worked as a day laborer I could have spent the day working on the palaces that the factory owners live in and made tk300 per day. Instead I chose to work in the factories they own and I only make tk100. I regret my choice.

After this meeting Nasim, Anindita and the guy from the Chittagong office took me to see the Bay of Bengal. Again the picturesque settings were slightly spoiled by Bangladesh's largest fertilizer plant in the background, but it was nice getting the fresh breeze of the ocean air (which I realize doesn't sound that appealing given the close proximity of the fertilizer plant). We bought coconuts from a guy selling them out of a cart attached to the back of his bicycle. He cut a hole out of the top and put a straw in, and we drank the coconut milk (which was actually more salty than sweet) right out of the coconut. We then took a long walk towards the a beach market, where there were tons of shops and open air restaurants. I even got to dip my toes in the Bay. It was definitely one the more fun times I've had since being here, and made me feel more a part of the country and much less of an outsider.

The next day we had the third stakeholder meeting, this time about the EPZ industry. We actually went to the EPZ which has huge stone gates that proclaim "Chittagong Export Processing Zone". This meeting was attended mainly by factory management, but also the lead director of this EPZ, who entered with an entourage and immediately introduced himself to me first. I got very little out of this meeting as Anindita and Ruksana were both very busy doing other things, so could only translate a little for me. 

I did learn that in the EPZs the factories hire counselors for each factory and they are responsible for kind of being the go between between management and the workers, and try to understand what issues the workers are facing. 

Later I took a plane back to Dhaka with Anindita. The view from the plane was actually breathtaking (in a good way!) Bangladesh is a country of rivers, and as we flew (around 5, so the sun was very low) the rivers below would catch the rays of the sun and light up, looking so much like interconnected veins. There was a certain haze, and both the sky and the ground were a bluish-grey color, and for the first time in my life I could not tell where the ground ended and the sky began. As we approached Dhaka, the glint on the water turned to glint on the metal roofs of factories, which was in its own way still beautiful.