Fear and Loathing in Dhaka

Fear:

So I made it through my first month in Bangladesh. Despite the daily trials and tribulations, I managed to come out relatively unscathed. Life in Dhaka can be hard, as Jim, one of the other tenants of Sabrina’s Home, found out this weekend. While returning from work on Thursday night, Jim was accosted and robbed. It was dark. He was riding in a covered cng (or baby taxi as Sabrina calls them). After a long day monitoring one of his company’s production facilities, Jim just wanted to check his email on his iPhone. A thud sounded from the back of the cab. The rough terrain of the Dhaka streets makes this a relatively common occurrence, so Jim paid no mind. Suddenly, there was a tear in the canvas roof. A small hand reached into the cab and began to struggle with Jim over the iPhone. In seconds, the thief was gone back into the night. The cng driver whipped the car around in hopes to make chase. Unfortunately, the crooked roads and densely populated streets made a pursuit difficult, nay, impossible. Jim returned home defeated. During my weeks here, I have gotten increasingly comfortable with travelling the city. This event, so close to home, reminded me of the dangers of Dhaka.

Loathing:

It is monsoon season. The rains have started and, I fear, will not stop. What began as a bi-weekly drizzle, has turned into a daily torrent. I find myself mentally preparing for the worst case scenario every time I leave the house. My messenger bag (or European carry-all, you decide) contains all of my work and entertainment materials, most of which are electronic. Needless to say, getting caught in a storm on the way to work could have dire consequences.  I thought that the heat was the most exhausting part of travel here, but the rains would have to be my choice now. I’ve grown to despise the downpours. Thus far, I have had luck avoiding the worst of it. I only hope that as the summer goes on I can continue to do so.

Dhaka:

This place is unlike anywhere I have been before. The sights and sounds of the city never stop (+1 for alliteration). There is construction on every corner. Buildings go up while others come down. The streets pulse with rickshaws, the life blood of Dhaka. Merchants peddle their wares from shop to shop. Despite my fear and loathing, there is one thing, above all else, that Dhaka makes me feel: Alive.

Until next time, good night my friends.