"You are Very Brave for Coming Here"

Yesterday I had made plans to go to the Bangladesh Independent Garment Worker Union Federation (BIGUF) office in Mirpur in the late afternoon to get to sit in on their lawyer doing what basically amounts to client intake. This meant I had the morning and early afternoon free, which first of all meant I slept in until 10 for the first time since being here. Ayub thought this was pretty hilarious, and couldn't believe I had slept so late.

Mr. Dhar came by a little bit later. He at least didn't have any eggs for Ayub to fry this time. We chatted about the World Cup for a bit (which is like the very best topic of conversation ever, everyone here watches it and has all sorts of opinions about it). He then went in the kitchen and said it smelled very good. I reiterated (for the 20th time) that Ayub was a good cook, and he responded, "I know." I told him that when we leave he needs to tell the people that move into our apartment that they should hire Ayub, and he said, "I know, I know." He then told me that his wife is a very good cook, listed all the dishes that she prepares and told me how much all the ingredients cost at the market. Ayub asked him when he was going to fix the ceiling in my bathroom which is still leaking every time it rains) and Mr. Dhar gave a typically evasive answer, which in my mind means it is never getting fixed.

I wanted to get some exercise (to try and work off all the carbs I am eating) so Charlie and I decided to walk to one of the parks (not the one that has a "lake" and piles of dirt). I brought my camera, and took tons of pictures, which I now realize is the surest way to draw even more attention to myself than usual. We passed by a group of teenage boys, who immediately asked me to take their picture.

This picture should erase any doubts that middle class teenagers are indeed the same all over the world. The only difference is that in America there is no way they would be so affectionate. Although women and men are not really allowed to touch in public, men are very affectionate with each other, and often walk down the streets holding hands.

I'm not sure if it was the camera, or my new bright pink scarf, but for some reason today was the day where I felt the most conspicuous since I've been here (which is saying a lot since I always feel like I stand out). Every single person we passed just stared at me, and the if there were a group of men one would for sure yell out, "how are you?" It is not flattering, just uncomfortable.

The park was actually very nice, much better than I was expecting, and the lake actually had water in it. For Dhaka, it was relatively peaceful.

After reading all about schistosomiasis in my guidebook, my stomach definitely tightened as I watched the kids from across the lake swim around in it carefree. While I was taking pictures of the lake, another group of teenage boys sitting near me asked me to take their picture.

Then another guy, who looked in his late teens / early 20s,  who was sitting by himself nearby askedm "what about me?" So I took his picture as well.
He came over to chat with us, totally puzzled as to why we would leave America to come here. We talked about Obama (which after the World Cup is the best topic of conversation, everyone loves him) and he said how he had a lot of respect for him. He said he was against all war, and that he viewed everyone as equal. He also told me that I was very brave to come here, especially since it was a Muslim country. This made me worried as my mind first went to the Jewish place, but I quickly realized he was talking about the fact I was a woman.

After hanging out in the park a bit longer, we headed to Gulshan 2 circle to find some of these mosquito killers that you plug into the wall. (I was on a mission to find these after hearing that Misha had been diagnosed with Dengue fever.) On the way we were followed by a shirtless, and barefoot little boy, begging for money. He followed us nearly the entire way and then waited outside the grocery store. I could see him the entire time through the glass doors, on occasion chatting with the door guard. Every time he caught my eye he would give me an adorable grin. Only the most unfeeling person in the world could have resisted this. I made up my mind that instead of giving him money I would buy him a treat, finally deciding on a Popsicle. When we went out I opened the paper wrapper and gave it to him. His eyes got big and his little face lit up and he gave me the most genuine, toothiest, smile ever, and wandered away, definitely enjoying it. I think this was easily one of my most favorite moments. I could  ruin it by over analyzing it to death, and feeling guilty, and apologizing, but I think I just want to leave it, as a really nice shared moment for both me and the little kid.

After the popsicle encounter, we set out to look for a coffee shop that was supposedly in Gulshan 2. It was on the second floor of one of the buildings, but all the stairs we tried were dead ends. Out of nowhere a guy somehow knew exactly what we were looking for and led us to the stairs (which were on the other side of the building, and which we would have never found.) Today was simply filled with an abundance of positive interactions between me and the Bangladeshis much to my delight. The coffee shop was really great. Less modern than the one from the weekend, but had more character and was much more artsy. It featured lots of interesting photographs on the wall and antique style furniture. Definitely one of the better places I have found. It even has a balcony filled with tables, although one would have to go there pretty late in the day for sitting outside to be at all feasible.

After getting back from the coffee shop I left for my office to pick up Nasim who was going to accompany me to the BIGUF office. On the way there the driver, Sayed, complained to me about Ayub as he blamed him for me taking the keys yesterday. I tried to placate him and told him it was a misunderstanding and that is how we do things in America. (I mean I always take the keys away from my chauffeur back home, don't you?) By the time we got to the office I think things were OK between us. Dealing with the squabbling of my driver and cook is something I thought I would only experience by watching movies like Gosford Park, never first hand.

The drive to Mirpur was interesting as I got to talk with Nasim about the labor movement and garment industry. I also got to see where the Prime Minister lives, and the Parliament, which is a really cool looking building designed by Louis Kahn. It was also nice just getting out of Gulshan. I can now see why Gulshan is considered the "posh" area of the city, as the rest of it is much more crowded, crazy and dirty.

On the way there, per usual, beggars banged on my window asking for money. One of them was a particularly insistent boy in his early teens who kept repeating something. I asked Nasim what he was saying, and he told me, that there was a particular reason I should not be giving money to this boy, as the word he kept repeating over and over again was "auntie" which is a term of respect given to older women. 

The BIGUF office was on the third floor of a very old and dingy building. It was not air-conditioned and was very stuffy. I was introduced to their lawyer, Salim. I really enjoyed being here as Nasim made a point of translating for me what everyone in the office was talking about.

I also got to sit in on one of Salim's client intake sessions, and he attempted to translate for me. He met with 2 young women (they couldn't have been older than 22) who had been illegally fired by their employer and then denied their legally required benefits (of one months wages). One of the girls had earned tk2800 per month (about $40.00) and the other tk3500(about $50.00). They both worked at least 50 hours a week, usually much more. One of them was very upset. Her eyes were red from crying, and she clutched a kleenex the entire time. Neither of them wanted to go back to that factory, but they both wanted the one month of pay that they are owed by law.
Once Salim meets with a worker, he sends a letter to the factory owner. They always attempt to negotiate and settle before filling with the court. Most  cases are settled.

On the way back it was just me and Sayed, and he turned out to be very chatty. With traffic it took about 45 minutes to get back and he definitely did not have a lack of things to talk about. I learned that he hates Bangladeshis, Koreans and the Chinese. He likes Americans, Canadians and the English. He especially like the English because his former boss was English and treated him and his family very well. He doesn't like the current PM Sheikh Hasina, preferring the opposition, although he feels the government here is just hopelessly corrupt. He also told me a bit about his family, he has 3 daughters and 1 son. He was happy to stop having kids after his first two daughters were born, but his wife wanted to have a son. He apologized that his English wasn't very good, and I gave my standard, "It's better than my Bangla" which he thought was funny.

All in all it ended up being a very good day.