Off to the Countryside

For the dramatic effect of this story, it's important to mention it started at in this limbo of capitalism: Bashundara City, a giant shopping mall in Dhaka. This is where I realised: I really have to get out of here, to see more of this country than its AC controlled tourist destinations.

Two hours and two as-fast-as-you-can-go CNG rides through rush hour traffick later, I'm at the train station with my friend Mizan and his wife Tasfi. I got to know them in Bochum, and they now came to Dhaka to celebrate their wedding. When we met in that shopping mall, they invited me to spontaneously join their family visit in Joyourhat and Nawabganj, in the north-west of Bangladesh.

After four hours wating for the train to leave, and eight hours actually moving up north, my first day on the countryside begins.

By car, we travel from Joypurhat to Nawabganj.
Busses are on strike, because the opposition party BNP is protesting against Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina and her Awami Leage: They are clinging to power without democratic authorisation, since almost all oposition parties boycotted the 2014 elections.

Rice, the main staple crop of the country, is dried in the sun before being brought to the mill.

Arrival at Mizan's fathers house. Keeping cows and growing vegetables, the families living here can provide for most of their basic needs. They have running water, electricity, and even a TV.

Mizan has nine older sisters and brothers, who all have children. Some families are living here, others come over to visit. This means: You need a lot of rice. The storage basket is bigger than the cook. 

Because there are so many people gathering for this family event, we eat in shifts: The little ones are first, women last. They prepared delicious vegetarian food for me: rice, lots of vegetables, lentil soup, and lots of sweets. Mango and tamarind paste at the side. Sitting on the floor was no problem - but I still have to get used to Bengali table manners: You eat with your hands, and chew quite loudely.

A walk through the family's mango plantation, of which Mizan's friend Marfy took some pictures - thanks and copyright to him!

I know, this doesn't look like I came here to work...
I really needed some time off, and this country trip came just in time.

The traditional Bengali dress for women is called Saree. We girls are wearing light pants, called salwar, and kameez: a long, colorful shirt, which you combine with a scarf (urna). Very comfy!
Headscarfs are rather scarce for a Muslim country, but I also saw some women in burkas.

Nawabganj is also known as Mango Heaven. High season is in June - but green mango with salt is also higly recommendable!

This area is very lucky to be not much affected by climate change. People live a simple life, and especially women are busy all day with housework and field work, plus taking care of the children. I get the impression, though, that people are much happier here than many in Dhaka.

Bikes are the main vehicle of transportation. Roads do not provide for pedestrians. Boys usually have bikes way too big for them, which they use quite artistically, like this guy at his schoolyard. Social norms prohibit girls to bike, especially in rural areas. 

Despite Cricket being the "national" game (hello again, post-colonial influence), soccer is getting increasingly popular in Bangladesh. For some reason, I learned, Bangladeshis either support Brasil or Argentina for World Cups - and apparently do so quite passionately.
This is a leftover from last year.