The siege continues

I'll admit, there is a perverse element of excitement to living in a city that is "under siege". But once the tingle that the word 'siege' sends down my sweaty spine fades away, it is all too easy to forget that I am, in fact, living in a city that is under siege; while there are many demonstrations and much violence taking place in various parts of Dhaka, life in the so-called 'Golden Triangle' of diplomatic neighbourhoods where I live and work has a 'business as usual' feel to it. Sure, there is less traffic (an unusual treat) since the blockades around the city prevent cars from coming into or out of the area, and some of the shops close early but, other than that, ostensibly, all is well. The constant hum of political discussions that infiltrate these tumultuous days is the only reminder I have that just a few kilometers away millions of Bangladeshis are actively engaged in their version of the democratic process. The rebel in me would love to get out and see the action, but for the moment I am obeying my mother’s telepathic warnings and staying put.

I try to keep abreast on the situation and what is happening, but every person I talk to has a different perspective on what is really going on and why, and every newspaper I read seems to contradict itself on a daily basis. Basically, the opposition is demanding constitutional reforms to the Electoral Commission in order to ensure that the upcoming elections are fair. Whether this is just an excuse to create chaos and make the ruling party look bad or whether it is a legitimate democratic requirement is unclear. What is clear is that little progress is being made and no matter what happens it will never be possible to please everyone.

So, in the meantime I remain trapped in my Banani (home) – Gulshan (work) bubble. Fortunately the Canadian Club also happens to be trapped in the same bubble, so I can heal my frustration about not being able to explore the rest of the city and country by with tennis and squash therapy.

I shouldn’t complain so much, really. There are still lots of interesting things to experience and observe in my part of town. Like construction workers digging ditches by candlelight. Children tugging on my shirt asking for “baksheesh! baksheesh!”. The curious unidirectional Bangladeshi head bob, which can mean “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, or “I don’t understand” (I’m convinced there must be subtle differences that I have thus far failed to pick up on). Women in bright saris. Men with bushy, henna-tinted beards. Men praying in the street. Children stringing long chains of colourful flowers together. Cows munching on grass by the lake…. I am very excited to take in all of the wonderful things that the rest of Bangladesh has to offer, but I also recognize the upside to being forced to enjoy what I have at my fingertips.

In other news, I’ve started Bangla classes. It is taught phonetically, and I must say it’s tough to wrap my head around a new way of pronouncing familiar letters at this stage in life. I later have the option to learn script, but I’m not sure I’ll get that far…

ami khub klanto: I am very tired. So I’m off. My love to all you loyal readers. Cross your fingers the siege ends and I can start to move and shake and, most importantly, have some more interesting tales to recount on my blog!