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| Spring
2001 |
"Our
brightly-colored bus is creeping down a jam-packed country highway,
jockeying for position in a low-speed, high-mass horse race. Horns
are blaring. A heavy rain pelts the windshield. Shopkeepers and fruit
sellers on either side of the road rush to cover their goods and produce
while mothers in brightly-colored saris hurry their children to shelter.
Lightning cracks the sky. Inside the dark bus, the passengers sing
lilting song in Bangla. I can't stand it! There's too much traffic.
The windshield wipers don't work. The driver won't stop honking. Someone
is smoking on the bus with all the windows closed. The Bangla singing
is driving me mad - it all sounds the same. I stare out my rain-soaked
window and seethe..
But there is a giant list of things I love about Bangladesh, too:
our Bangladeshi friends, young and old alike, who are some of the
most interesting people I've ever met; the sharp-proud, ancient-looking
sea ships that trade out of Chittagong; parata, the fried bread we
often have for breakfast; the cool breeze across the Meghna river
as it flows out of Chandpur; and much more. I have a predictable daily
routine that sometimes borders on the mundane - and what an experience!
Yesterday, I saw amazing 1,700-year-old Buddhist ruins. Today, an
auto-rickshaw driver fleeced me out of seventy taka. Tonight I will
be forced to eat way too much meat at dinner. Here is Bangladesh,
the days can be frustrating and often maddening but also interesting
and often exhilarating. Hey, just like real life!" |
| |
| Robin
Sloan |
| Spring
2001 |
| Independent
Internship in Bangladesh |
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