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WRITTEN BY LEO DUFFY | 08 DECEMBER 2010 POSTED IN EMAILS - MY EMAILS
Week 3
Well you know I told you that we thought that the monsoon had arrived, well this week it surely did, and in style.
The storm
Every weekday (Sunday to Thursday) VSO provide lunch at the VSO head office if we want it for 10 taka (just over 11pence), it consists of a wonderful ‘dal’ (lentil soup / sauce) a not too spicy vegetable mix/ curry, usually another vegetable surprise (from hash browns, fried aubergines to spicy spinach), the usual boiled rice, and some peeled cucumber and tomatoes, oh and some seasonal fruit (pineapples and mangos at present) all ate with my right hand (cutlery is redundant here!) It has become the main meal we have each day as when we get home, the accumulation of the heat, the thought of cooking on a camping stove and our brains mashed with bangla verbs and script usually mean we don’t end up cooking at night. But unfortunately after Bangla on Saturdays (yes we do 6 day weeks on Induction) we have no lunch cooked for us, so it has become the norm to frequent the food stall outside VSO. It sells a number of fried foods from bits of fried fish to Samosas. One day we were out on the street at lunchtime getting our expensive lunch of a couple of ‘singaras’ (potato and vegetable mashed in pastry and fried) for the sum of 2 taka (just over 2pence) when the heavens opened. As we were nearer the other induction flat, we decided to go and munch on our food at the other half of our groups flat. When we finally climbed the 4 flights of stairs the wind was whipping up quite a storm. The rain was being blown over the balcony and into the sitting room at such a force, that within seconds, the floor became a lake. The palms were being tossed around and bending like rubber!
Outside, opposite our ‘Singara’ stall was one of the numerous building sites of a 10/12-storey shell (a street is not complete without one!). Health and safety would have a field day (year) here. The scaffolding is made of bamboo, on which men with no shoes and no hats wearing ‘Longis’ (a male sarong / skirt), shin their way precariously up and down, with their feet clamped around the bamboo pole, which near resembles an ape’s foot attached to a tree. Most of the building sites have this bamboo structure around them, with huge lengths of cloth draped over the outside, to keep any falling debris within.
Well on this day, the bamboo structure looked even more precarious than normal. The wind seamed to have caught it in its grasp, and was hell bent on having some fun with it. We watched from the windswept, waterlogged balcony as it creaked and swayed, when finally the wind filled the cloth like a sail, and the mast followed, the bamboo structure started to peel away from the top of the building, slowly at first as the wind eased it away from its home, then all of a sudden it started cracking like thunder, and we heard cries from the street below as bit by bit the wind dragged it away from its tethers. As it fell blue sparks shot into the air as it hit the power cables above our ‘singara’ stand. Unfortunately / Fortunately our view was obscured by another building and we could only hear the cries from below (even above the noise of the storm). We retired into the living room, subdued, and in the dark as the electricity was now out, we could here the commotion below, but as none of us could have done anything helpful, and with the electric lines hanging, and the remainder of the scaffolding still half attached to the building by the corner length of cloth, and half balancing on the power cables, we felt we had best stay put. This seams to be a normal occurrence here, and they are used to it. We could even see rickshaws’ still trying to pass underneath!!! We never found out if anyone was really hurt, but later when the storm subsided, we saw an ambulance drive past without stopping, which we felt was good news. (And the next day the ‘Singara’ stand was still doing business)
The Holy Road!
There seams to be holes in the most of the roads, dotted around just to add more obstacles for the rickshaw wala’s to avoid. Some of these holes are about 3 ft round and range from a couple of inches deep to not being able to see the bottom! (Usually a sewers of some kind) As sometimes we chose to walk, we have grown accustomed to acknowledging and avoiding them. Ah but here comes the fun bit. When it rains, the roads have a tendency of turning to rivers! and the holes.. sort of become lost, so unless you have a great memory you tend to not go down the roads with the big holes. But then initiative is not yet widely known about here! and so not everyone thinks the same as we do, and sure enough the following day we walked round a corner to find a baby taxi head first in one of the deeper ones, with its back wheels dangling in the air .. . !
Up Beat!
I was going to be a little more up beat about things this week, as Dhaka does have a huge business area, and some houses do have Air con, TV’s, more than 1 car and fully fitted kitchens (although still with camping stoves). Many people go to work in suits, and earn a fair wage, and manage to feed and clothe their families. From what I have seen of Dhaka so far as well as having quite an up and coming city, they house one of the most pleasant and hospitable inhabitants for a city I have to this day experienced. They say hello, often followed by ‘where you from?’ they are eager to help you if you are lost (and not down a dark alley as in some cities), you’re never far away from transport (Rickshaw Wala’s don’t seam to understand the concept of walking, and will sometimes follow you all the way down a street in amazement, feeling for sure that you will soon give up this silly thought and hop in their rickshaw), and its not only the foreigners that are haggled with (they haggle with the locals too.
Not so up beat!
I said I was going to be up beat, but then last night I experienced something I would like to mention, please don’t judge me till you have read it all.
We don’t get the opportunity to go out a lot; we can’t go out on our own at night (its not advisable). As most of us are single, it means planning with each other to go out, which given we are separated between flats; it’s not that easy (no phones neither). Well this week we had our second Hartal since we arrived, (general strike), during which we (as foreigners) are seriously not advised to go out of doors. No motorised vehicles venture out, just Rickshaws, so even if you had a car, you couldn’t go anywhere. So we were feeling a little cooped up, and planned to go out on Saturday night (NB not a weekend to us). We tried finding a café we had been told about; hence six of us stared walking down one of the main streets. We started to be accosted by beggars, although it started with the old men and women, then the maimed, and the eyeless (usually through leprosy), it soon went onto the mothers with babies, and the very little children.
A number of types of Beggars in Bangladesh (A common sight)
1) There are a number of maimed individuals, sometimes due to a loss through an accident of some form, sometimes due to leprosy, some who fought during the liberation war, and some who have had it chopped off due to thieving (unsure yet as to if this is the law that has done this or vigilantes). Some have crutches; others have what I have named. Wide skateboards, and some (I have seen 2 now) roll down the street.
2) There are the blind, again mainly through leprosy who usually have someone who leads them begging in front.
3) There are the women with babies
4) And there are the children
Some of these are legitimate and (mainly I believe, the maimed and the blind) and if you have a couple of taka on you, and no other beggars are around then it doesn’t hurt the conscience to give them it.
But then there are organised beggars usually the latter 2, whom are sent out to beg. You can sometimes see them return to a well ish dressed man who takes their money.
You are not advised to give money to beggars for this reason. Also sometimes you get hassled by a few which is in itself daunting, but if you give into one, you then get mobbed all beggars in the vicinity and are unable to move, which is not something you would ever wish to experience. The locals get annoyed by this and normally try and disperse them, as they do it not only to foreigners but to Bangladeshi’s too. If you give into them it only encourages beggars, and they are trying to clamp down on it.
Back to last night, well there was this 2/3 year old little boy grabbing onto my clothes with only a pair of tattered shorts on (no shoes), running along with all the other beggars, we tried to walk fast and not make eye contact, but I could still hear his crying, and the look of sheer despair on his face and I can’t start to explain the feeling you have with this tugging at your hem, all the other beggars melted into the background behind the tears of this one child. I was so close to stopping (not a good idea) and opening my purse and giving him something, anything. I had started to slow down, and realised I was loosing the rest of the group, and more and more beggars were tripping me up, dancing around, moaning, crying. I quickly sped up and met the rest of my group at which point we all darted into the nearest store (all with security guards). Please note that not only do passers by get hassled by beggars, but also so do the local shop holders, all of whom try to help by shouting at them to go away. You never feel in danger of your life, as for every beggar there are 20 local people around to help you who get frustrated by it.
As I caught up with the rest, I mentioned how I had seen this little child and his face and his cries. Then one of them said, ‘oh the one who looked like a 2 yr old with the red bowl, don’t feel sorry for him, I just gave him 10 taka.’ It evolved that as soon as he had got the money, the leader had taken it from him and sent him out straight away… no wonder he was so distraught. I wanted to go back and pull that kid off the street and take him away to the Mother Teresa orphanage where he had a hell of a better chance in life, whoever owned him should be locked away!!
So it goes back to my rationale on how I can emotionally cope with this, without giving into beggars, nor feeling morally wrong for not giving people who are less well off than me something.
Mother Teresa has the answer. About 2 blocks away from where I was, is the compound I referred to that belongs to the sisters of Mother Teresa. Here, she not only helps out the maimed, the handicapped, the mental, the disabled, the old and the orphaned, she also has a kind of what I could call a ‘soup kitchen’ for those who are really starving. She goes out collecting those who cannot get to her, she gets them medical attention and she houses them when necessary. So if there is anywhere I want to give any money to… its there. I thoroughly believe that she has the best ability to ensure to goes where it is most needed. There are also tones of NGO’s working on all the above issues, it’s just at present, I don’t know of them, and at least with the Mother Superior, you can see the process, and the end result. You know its not being misused, or grabbed by some well ish dress man on the street corner (that is worse than a pimp in my eyes!)
VSO have us busy from dusk till dawn during induction, so I have it on my list of things to do when I start my real job next month (3 weeks to go). I am hoping to go and suss out what kind of things she might need to help her and her many helpers on their way.
Well best be going, have a 9-hour bus journey tomorrow to Tala in the SW of Bangladesh, all on my todd. I’m off on a placement visit for a few days. We are all leaving Dhaka to visit other current volunteers around Bangladesh to get a little experience of what life is like working as a volunteer. So I wont have Bangla lessons for 5 days.yipee., nor will I see any of the other inductees (not soo yippee). Bit scared of the journey as I’ve heard a number of horrific stories about the roads and bus accidents… but I’m sure I’ll be alright if I close my eyes.
Till next week
Monique
(Still not ready to shout ‘ I’m a volunteer get me out of here’, but had a couple of near cries)
Week 4 (I’m a volunteer get me out of here!!)
Well its been an up and down week, if I’d written this at the beginning of the week, I would have been talking about the décor of our toilet, the wonderful sounds you here in the night whilst sat on the toilet, and the little book of horrors!
However as it the end of the week, things have taken a 180-degree U turn. Thankfully.
Last weekend I decided to catch a nasty bug, I awoke during the night to find myself playing the guessing game of ‘which end will it come out of next’. A game that I have found most people play at some time or other in Bangladesh. I spent many hours watching the ant trail from the hole in the floor, right around the wall and out the door. As I sat, I heard the numerous animals of the night singing their songs, especially one outstanding tenor of a frog, whom I pictured as a great bulbous operatic singer (and no I wasn’t on drugs). I realised how Paul McCartney had come up with the Frog Chorus, all those years ago, and had not, until now, realised the pain that must have instigated the creation.
I introduced myself to the VSO traveller’s health manual, since renamed as ‘the little book of horrors’. As the symptoms I had, diagnosed themselves into a number of freighting diseases, I reacquainted myself with the ant trail more and more. The longer it went on, the more dehydrated I became, and not even water was staying down. After 3 attempts at dehydration salts, and 3 reps of vigorous exercising of the stomach, back and neck muscles, I decide it was time to ring the doctor for advice.
As I could not get in to see the doctor personally, (as I had become very close to the ants and could not leave them for very long, in case they missed me!), a swift diagnosis was made and course of medication delivered (A lovely man from VSO drove round Dhaka getting me more re hydration salts and my medication). The medication swiftly did the trick and I caught up on some sleep (16 hours of it). When I was more campus mentus, I referred to the ‘little book of horrors’ and found the medication I had been given was twice the amount given to people with Cholera. The book was swiftly stored away for future use (hopefully by someone else!) I still don’t know what I had, and would prefer not to know, nor have a re occurrence.
At the beginning of the week, everyone started out on their long journeys to their placement visits. Mine was supposed to be a 9/10-hour trip to the South West of Bangladesh. But due to my illness my plans got changed. In stead I took a 30-minute journey on a bus out of Dhaka to Savar to a couple of volunteers there. Which I must admit was better than a 9-hour journey.
Day 1
I met Jean another MIS person who is working for an established NGO called VERC who deal with Micro finance, education and water purification amongst other things. Even though they had had little time to plan my visit, they had a packed and well-organised itinerary for me. On arrival I had a meeting with the Executive director and all is staff, who all did a brief description about their role in the organisation over tea and biscuits.
The Village Bank
Then a car took us on a field trip to a local village who were having a micro finance meeting.
Micro Finance is a way that very poor people can save, borrow and insure. Each week the women of the village meet on the floor of the village’s largest veranda, with a village finance officer from VERC who manages their micro finance affairs.
Here they all sit whilst he notes down all money transactions
- a.a) Savings
Could be as little as a taka a week (under 1 pence). They save initially to show that they have the ability to put money away on a regular basis.
- a.b) Loans
These are for things such as a cow, a fishing boat, and a bicycle van to get to market, chickens, and seeds. They will normally have had to show a small period of savings ability to build up the trust initially.
- a.c) Repayment of loans
Usually from the profit of something they had the loan for. During a crisis, flood
etc., all loan repayments are put on hold and more loans are given to get them out of the crisis
- a.d) Life Insurance
Death can cost a family a lot of money, the insurance will help pay for a funeral cost and keep the family going during any transition period required. It usually costs 1 taka (under 1 pence) a week.
By directing this at women, it gives them empowerment within the village unit. Many of the women are the actual farmers, and the men are the ones who take it to market. At the end of the meeting they sometimes move onto other matters/ issues within the village. VERC also offer training on how to create /sustain a profitable business, and help villagers improve crops, and other things related to ensuring that they can repay the money they take out as a loan.
It was so heart warming to see these women, all with whatever money they had saved grasped in their hands, working with the VERC representative sorting out their families finances. We were introduced to all of them, and when we asked who had had a loan, they all put their hands up, each one with a story of what they had spend it on, from cows to crops. One lady took us to her plot of land, about 4 acres, and showed us such a variety of crops that she was growing, ensuring all year round coverage. She had everything from potatoes, pumpkins, spinach, and mangos, corn. the list went on and on, a whole grocers stall in one small plot. You could see how the village was self-sustainable.
The village entertainment
Another woman took us to her house (3 huts in a sort of courtyard). Here, all her family lived, 4 generations of them. She took us into her hut where there was a kitchen dresser (full of glasses and plates and pans and lipstick!) and a bed!. We all sat on the bed ( negates the need for a sofa!) and introduced ourselves, and were asked all the normal questions about our family and why we went married? ( Normal questions). They went to the well and brought us water, which we sipped scarily (still not sure about water from deep wells.). We were treated to biscuits, which were only brought out on special occasions, and very soon the whole village had made their way into this tiny space for a gawk at their special visitors. I gave them endless entertainment by taking photos with my digital camera and kept handing it round for them to see.
Latrines
We moved onto another village not far away to see their Water Purification progress. (Loosely translated as using a proper toilet and not any piece of ground you fancied, washing your hands with soap after the toilet and before eating, and using proper rubbish areas and not just throwing rubbish anywhere!)
This village had started 9 months ago. VERC worked with them to educate them on why they might want to clean up their village, though the implementation of toilets and cleanliness activities right up to on-going monitoring of health status within the village, as this usually improved with the implementation of all these activities.
They start by helping them calculate how much effluent there is in the village each year and relate it to something they can imagine, and then explain that that is how much that they are walking in around their village.
They help the villagers create a map of the village’s huts and water wells. (And over time when a toilet is built they add this to the map) They have another chart with cartoon pictures associated to the targets, that showed per family, over time, which ones had a toilet, were using the toilet, knew how to wash their hands after and were keeping the toilet consistently clean. This might all seam basic to you and me, but believe me this is not. It is a major achievement within the village and they can see over time and with use of another chart measuring sickness in the village, that disease decreases as more and more of the village comply with the objectives. This village had just been given the plaque to say it was 100% Clean. They were so proud and took us on a tour of their toilets.
The toilet
Each toilet costs around 1,200 taka, a year’s salary for some of these people. I asked why they didn’t subsidise this cost, but they used to and found out that when people are given it they didn’t use it or look after it, where as because they all saved for their own and installed them themselves, they were very proud of them, and hence used them and kept them well maintained. They mainly consist of a concrete slab with a tray/bowl built into them (the cheaper plastic, the more expensive pottery), and sometimes a grip stand (to put your feet on). The bowl then leads down a pipe to 4 concrete rings that made a 8ftish well (sess pit), which is covered and has a tube pipe coming out of it, that goes 8ft into the air to release methane (sometimes bamboo if really poor). The sess pit is usually placed at a distance from the actual toilet, but for those with little space, it is directly underneath. Every 2/3 years when it is full, a person disinfects it with gasoline & fertilisers and empties it (there are people employed to do this job full time…nice!)
So the tour began, we were shown to toilet after toilet, one their son built, one their father built, one that he built. and on and on. The villagers were all so welcoming; we were given flowers and were treated like royalty. It was so nice to see the real Bangladesh people, there were men holding babies, there were elderly people holding each other hands, there were women and men working together for the good of their village. We were finally taken to the poorest woman in the village, she was the last to put her latrine in, and it had been a group effort, she had no money and one son who worked mainly away (her husband had died during the liberation). Her son had returned to build the toilet for her, and she was the proudest mother going, she made sure we could see exactly how clean her plastic bowl was, and how tall her bamboo methane tube was, and that she had a jug of fresh water by the side every day with hand made clay soap.
After all that, we finished at a gathering of the girls of the village. Every week when the elders gathered to talk about cleanliness, they, with the use of cartoon posters, talked about how to keep their village clean, and how to go to the toilet. Here again we all sat on the bed and listened to songs they sang for us and the regular questions about out families and why we weren’t married.
And that was just the morning!
In the afternoon I spent mainly back at the office with Jean and her colleagues discussing what work she was doing and her approach, and any helpful hints for me. Sounds like listening and absorbing is the order of the day for the first few months.
That evening I had a candlelight dinner with Jean and Danielle, another volunteer. (Seams like electricity isn’t as reliable out here as it is in Dhaka). They brought out the one bottle of wine they saved for guests and we shared all our experiences of being a volunteer. Both have been here since January, and it was nice to here what they had gone though, and that my minor emotional ups and downs were natural, a problem halved is a problem shared and all that.
Nearly time to get out of here
After dinner I went back to sleep at Danielle’s flat. She had warned me earlier that she had killer ants, but assured me that they shouldn’t be a problem in her spare room. As we both dusted off the numerous mites of the spare beds sheets she reassured me that ones we had got rid of them, they should come back. At 4 o’clock in the morning, I felt something was amiss, I could feel something, I was tucked up in my mossi net, so thought I must be dreaming things, but no, there was definitely something, so I put the flashlight on. And there all over my arms and my legs were hundreds a little red ants. ‘I’m a volunteer, get me out of here’ I wined, but only a few hundred ants heard. So I jumped out of bed, half pulling the mossi net with me. I ran to the shower and drowned every last one of them, those that remained back in my bed got well and truly squashed. I spray repellent everywhere and re sealed my mossi net cocoon, I lay there for the next few hours, half gassed, half paranoid that every movement was another ant trying to penetrate my skin. Needless to say little sleep after that.
Day 2
The next day I took my bitten body to CDD with Danielle, she is a teacher. CDD is a teacher trainer organisation for people who help the disabled. We did a workshop in the morning on English skills required by CDD, which reminded me so much of a business workshop, same structure, just a different topic. In the afternoon we went to a classroom where students were being taught how to work with a disabled person, assess their needs and build a contraption from natural resources that might make their life easier. The things you can build from bamboo are endless!!
I had a great few days and it was nice to finally meet the real Bangladesh and its people. I wanted to put a brick wall up around them and save them from the western ways. Theirs is a family orientated way and with the little support from NGOs that they have, it really is a lifestyle that is precious and worth keeping. I know we are teaching them about sanitation and how to manage finances and prepare for the future, and all that is helping them, I know. My concern is what else will follow, and will that benefit them?
So I by the end of this week
- I have one disease under my belt,
- I’ve put the little book of horrors into storage for what I hope to be the rest of my stay,
- I have seen lots of very clean toilets,
- I’ve seen men looking after children, and amazing Bangladesh village life
- I’ve seen what you can build with bamboo
- Been given flowers, dodgy water and biscuits (and generally treated like royalty)
- Been eaten alive, and killed many insects
Not bad for one week
So goodbye for now
Monique
(I’m still a Volunteer, and I’ll stay
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 5
Getting around Bangladesh
Well this week’s not been too eventful, I am getting settled in and ‘not as much’ is astounding me, but then there’s always something that blows your mind.
We all came back from our various locations scattered around Bangladesh on our various modes of transport with our various experiences.
Jam, who went to Sylett, spent 8 hours on a train being constantly stared at by the female sharing her seat… and eventually her food.
Gill and Sarah travelled their 9 hours to Rangamati and the Hill Tracks by bus. So when asked if they would prefer to return to Dhaka with some DFID representatives in their 4 wheel drive, they jumped at the opportunity of comfort and air con. Good job too, as god knows where they would have been stranded if they didn’t. The rains decided to wash away the main bridge, and the driver managed to detour around the river to end up in a 4 hour traffic jam on a road that soon turned into a river. (it was so deep that the water was coming into the vehicle). It took them all of 14 hours to get home.
Graham, Ann and Biort spent 6 hours travelling via ferry and bus to Jessore , where they were informed by the volunteer they visited, of her bus experience. She had been on a bus going to Dhaka which had contemplated taking the scenic route over the edge of a cliff. Whilst the bus was teetering on the edge, deciding weather to go all the way or not, she had to climb out the back window. The bus finally decided to stay put and not make the drop, but it didn’t change her feelings on bus travel, and has since decided to utilise the cheap internal airlines (£16 vs. the £3 bus fare). Hence they all decided to return via plane and reduced their travel time to 30mins, whilst increasing their level of perceived safety.
Harrison, the jammi sod, managed to get a lift in a 4 wheel, with another NGO visiting Nasingda, and hence got air con luxury both ways
Varied Experiences
As far as experiences we all seamed to have similar tales to tell, from Water Purification to Micro Finance, as well as a few personal tales to tell.
In Jessore, they went to ‘Banchete Shekha’, (‘Learn to Survive’), which is one of the largest rural women’s organisations in the country working to improve the socioeconomic positions of women; it is a haven for poor, downtrodden and destitute women. The founder and Executive Director, Angela Gomes, was nominated for the Nobel peace prize. To date is supports around 25,000 women. They do everything from social and economical development right through to support services. The volunteer out there at present, whilst doing her role as Organisational development advisor, has also adopted a project that is trying to help children of imprisoned mothers. In Bangladesh when a woman gets imprisoned, any child she has under the age of 5 accompanies her and spends every day, in the same conditions. They are working to build (as well as agree access to) a child day care centre for children to go and play, be fed and mix with other children, outside the prison, then return to their mothers in the evening.
In Sylett, Jam visited the tea plantations where many of the ‘tribal / ethnic minorities’ live and work. They are paid a measly ½ a dollar a day, think about that next time you drink a cup of tea!
Harrison visited a rural medical centre that successfully utilise a number of natural medicines to heal diseases (as western medication is far beyond their financial means).
Gill and Sarah, in Rangamati, hiked in the rain for over an hour. They rowed across a lake, climbed a mountain and slid down a slippery slop into a Tribal village where they were shown a newly installed water pipe. Previously the villagers had had to do the same hike to get water to the village. From the state of Sarah’s clay laden clothes, she wouldn’t have managed enough for a cup of tea if she’d had to do it.
Bangla Galore!
On Saturday we had our 3rd Hartal, (strike) this one was a full day one, so yet again we were confined to our flats and the Bangla teachers came to us to give us the lessons. (No escaping Bangla!!)
We had our most exciting Bangla lesson this week; we were taken to do some practical exercises, an excursion!!! gees I feel like I’m back at school! We visited Lalbag Fort, an old derelict building in the old part of Dhaka. We’ve started to learn that a lot of new Bangla words are English words with the words ‘kor’ on the end. (saves them inventing their own).. like ‘e-mail kor’, ‘phone kor’.. etc. Well this day we saw a film crew shooting a TV ad, ‘shooting kor’, and we also saw lots of couples walking the gardens holding hands (shock horror!), ‘dating kor’. It was a beautiful, peaceful little haven, and it was hard to believe that a few 100 yards behind the wall was the hustle and bustle/ chaos of Dhaka streets.
Well Bangla lessons finally finished yesterday. So no more homework yippee. Just practical… yikes.
Women’s Rights!
We’ve had a couple of interesting sessions at VSO, one on women’s rights. It sounds like over the last few terms of office in power, women had about 30 of the 300 MP seats dedicated to them. However this came with its own problems. as in it wasn’t hence true democracy. So the current party promised to sort this out in the next session if they won, so they removed the 30 dedicated seats, and then forgot to sort the problem out / it has gone to the bottom of their list. This has meant that there are now only 4 women in parliament. The prime minister (wife of the late assassinated PM), the leader of the opposition (daughter of another assassinated PM, who blames the PM’s husband for killing her father. before he died of course), the PM’s sister and one more. Both leaders ensure that they are never in the same room together. which makes for great debates… not! Not really flying the flag for female empowerment, as both women are there by default and are awaiting succession by male members of their families. (The PM currently is trying to handover to her son!)
Ethnic Communities
It all goes back to the wonderful British Empire who split up Pakistan and India. Well when they split it up by religion, they didn’t acknowledge the tribal communities, and hence 900,000 ended up in India, and 100,000 in the now Bangladesh. Now there are over 1 million ethnic minorities trying to assert their rights in a country of 130 million people. Not easy. I can’t begin to list the atrocities that were committed against them, and hence they were sort of at war with the various governments until 1998 when a peace agreement was signed. Shame the government then decided not to fulfil their end of the bargain, and so they are back at square one. They are endlessly canvassing the UN and the World Bank to support them.
AIDs / HIV and STD’s
Well this one was the most interesting for me, as this is what I am here to help with. I wont say too much now. Other than sound like they are way back in the 80’s way of thinking over here and they don’t even differentiate between being HIV positive and having AIDs. There was a man recently who was dying of AIDs and needed hospital care in his final days, they couldn’t find a hospital that would take him and so he ended up dying at home. Even a number of the medical professions are archaic in their beliefs! Sound like I’m going to have fun!!
Memorable moments
When reading the instructions on the thermometer
‘Do not swallow the battery’ & ‘do not expose to high temperatures’ (lets hope not!)
Ann and Biort’s passports got mislaid, and hence they have had to fill in forms to have them renewed. Norway’s form is postcard sized, and will take one day to be renewed. The British have given Ann a 12 page form, and 2 other forms including one that requests her fathers Birth certificate and ID form (?????), and will take 4 weeks to renew… no wonder with all that paper work to go through!
At the Fort, there was a helpful and informative old man who took it upon himself to point out a few things. At one point, whilst we were taking photos, he pointed at a derelict building at one end of the fort and said “10 taka”, then he pointed at the mosque at the other end and said “100 taka”. Being naive / cynical, we all thought he was asking for 10 taka if we took at picture of the decrepit building and 100 taka if we took one of the pretty mosque. Whilst we all debated the rationale for the difference in price and the cheek of the this, up till now pretty friendly and helpful man, our teacher explained that he meant that the old building was on the back of the 10 taka note, and the Mosque was on the 100 taka… ohhhh… That will teach you not to be cynical, and do your Bangla Homework!
So much for an uneventful week
I’m a volunteer and want to get started.
Monique
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”
Report Week 6
We have finally finished our induction training yipeeee. I’m really itching to get started
Introduction to HASAB
Harrison and I were invited for lunch with our NGO. They came to pick us up in their car and we were greeted with flowers and coca cola (as it was a special occasion!) We were shown round the spacious office and introduced to all 13 members of HASAB. Everyone was so welcoming; we were shown the empty spaces that are going to be our work areas. (Assured that they will be ready when we start on) They told us that they are trying to get us computers, at which Harrison jumped for joy “a computer. A computer just for me?” Harrison had hardly touched a computer before he came here, and has since been trying to improve on his 2 finger typing method. It takes him 4 hours to type a short letter to his wife; I think he is the Internet cafes’ best customer! It’s nice to see that we are not only here to help, but also we will return with new skills too!
Politics!
I met one of the founding members of HASAB; he is the HR and Admin Manager. From the reaction of people around him, he is extremely well respected and is obviously the cornerstone of the organisation. They are currently looking for a new Executive Director, and when I asked him why was he not the ED, he said he hated politics. They have just appointed a new ED and she hopefully starts on the 10th August, so we’ll all be new.
The key is to be Flexible
I am supposed to be hired as an Advisor in MIS, but already they are mentioning things they want me to work on that are nothing to do with MIS. Luckily one of things that VSO requires is the ability to be flexible. From the brief networking (gossip) that I have done, I have been informed that HASAB’s donor (Family Health International) are not happy with HASAB’s presentation and documentation ability. They know that HASAB are doing the work, they are just not showing it on paper, which is one of the Donors major requirements. So obviously the outcome is, if they don’t improve, they will have their funds terminated. But this is gossip, and here, that replaces the TV soaps, so I’ll wait to see what HASAB say / know themselves during my initial assessment!! In our initial meeting this week they mentioned they needed help with financial planning, budget proposals, and strategic direction documentation. All sounds like great fun and challenging, plus I am eager to understand the fundraising side of things.
Report No 7
As you’ve probably gathered, the weekly reports have been replaced by just plain old reports, as I am finding it hard to find the time to regularly sit down and write them, there is so much going on.
So I’ve been here 8 weeks and 2 days, and I’ve been in my job 11days, and already its has changed 3 times. I knew they wanted me to be flexible, but I never realised how much until now. I’ll be a blumin contortionist soon!
New starters
So we finally arrived at our new NGO bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well they’d done exactly what they promised and wow, the amount of work they had done to get it all ready in time. I was informed that they were working late into the night the evening before we arrived to get it all ready. They had created 2 brand new cubicles, each with 2 desks, 2 chairs, a phone, a document holder, a notepad, a pen, a pencil, a rubber, a ruler, a hole punch, a stapler & staples, scissors, a highlighter, and a container to put them all in (like a stubby. with a world map on), an asset sheet for me to sign to say I had accepted everything! and … yes.. A computer and a printer. WOW (IBM could learn a bit from this!)
Harrison was downstairs with the Program staff, and I was upstairs with the ED (not yet appointed), and the finance people. It soon became apparent, that the computers were shared, Harrisons being the one with all the resource information on which had come from the resource room, and mine was the one connected to the internet, which meant I get a regular visit from the admin person to download everyone’s e-mail. It’s the thought that counts! It’s definitely more than I had expected.
I had decided, after listening to previous volunteers, that the best strategy for the first few weeks was to sit back and observe. Those who hadn’t and had gone in all guns blazing usually didn’t do well in the long run. So that was what I was going to do…..
They booked me a number of meetings and agreed that they would really like for me too not only tackle the MIS; my priority was to facilitate and contribute to the Strategic document and next year’s proposal.
HASAB are an umbrella organisation who focus on supporting and funding 3 different areas of HIV/ AIDs & STI’s. They used to support anyone who had a connection with HIV and STI’s (Sexually Transmitted Infections), but the donors (FHI), asked them to concentrate on specific areas instead. So these are
- MSM: Males who have sex with males (I’ll explain later why MSM)
- SW: Street Based Sex Workers (Not brothels nor hotel based)
- HIV, STI infected people
HASAB get their funding from Family Health International, FHI (who get it from USAID).
Workshop. Vs. training
So all went well for the last week, I have observed a little, and helped a little. They held a workshop on advocacy (a training course on how to educate people on facts about STI’s and HIV). They don’t call courses ‘training’ as its just not done; they say people wouldn’t come if they thought it was training. The fact is that teaching here is very old school and involves being lectured at, were as workshops are a more interactive way of learning. So workshops are a fun way to learn, and training is not! So HASAB has a catalogue of workshops they offer, and no training. (And that was I told!)
Well to measure the success of the workshop they give the participants a pre and post course question sheet to fill in. Its like a flaming comprehension, with essays for answers about your knowledge of certain things. Then the poor facilitator has to type each one up and evaluate, in their opinion, the success of the course. (Which takes them about 2 weeks to do and the results are very subjective.) So I did a quick 3 hour session with them on how to implement quantitative / measurable feedback questionnaires. (Using smiley faces.) I showed them how to turn session objectives into feedback questions, which in future will enable them to improve the course. After 3 hours they not only had created the feedback forms, they could see the time it would save them in typing up and they had learnt how to do it for the next workshop (I hope!). Who would have thought that all those feedback forms I reluctantly filled in, on the numerous courses I attended would have their benefit!
TALK about being OPEN!
I went to a wonderful TASK force meeting of the major NGO’s within Bangladesh who work with HIV, AIDs and STIs. Both FHI & USAID were present. The Bangladesh culture I have witnessed so far is very strict when it comes it sex and people officially don’t have it until after they are married off, and dateing is not acceptable. The subject of sex is very much a taboo. Considering that there is 130 million people here, its obviously only be taboo on the surface! Well was I in for a surprise, talk about open… even I blushed when we were all asked first had we ever seen a filmdom, (all hands raised), then secondly had we ever used one! , (Nearly all hands raised. and this was in a room full of men and women!). Then we went through the pros and cons for femidoms within the sex industry. The conversation went into an explicit depth that I had never though possible in a professional meeting. Although initially slightly taken aback by the openness, it was so nice to see the enthusiasm of the people I shall be working with.
We then went onto talking about the problems faced by the families of people who die from aids, one instance was of a family whose house the community wanted to burn to the ground after he died, another was of a mother in law who turned the widow and children out on the street as soon as her son died. There’s a lot of education to be done!
The bombshell !
We were taken to be introduced formally to the country director of FHI, Pam. I had been asked to confirm some deadlines for the budget proposal, and the strategy paper that they had previously requested from HSASB.
Ah… they were not interested in either anymore.. Why … well they had a number of issues that needed addressing. OK, I can understand that, but surely a proposal is still required to gain budget from October onwards.
Ah… well they have a consultant coming from America to review HASAB… well, that’s nice. But surely but surely a proposal is still required to gain budget from October onwards.
Ah. Well. Noo. We would rather you address the issues we have first.
OK. Observation time over… yep. I decided to take over control of the meeting as my wonderful deputy ED did not seam to understand what was going on. (Or just didn’t want to!)
OK. You don’t want us to submit a request for more funds. And you have a consultant coming. Be honest with us. What’s his remit?
Pause…….
Ah. Well you know we aren’t happy with your performance, so he will be evaluating the added benefit of HASAB vs FHI working directly with the NGO’s and not through an umbrella organisation.
OK. So lets be blunt, if the consultants findings are negative, you stop funds.
BINGO!
My deputy ED’s face dropped.
So, finding a positive, I thanked her for her openness, asked her to detail the issues she had, and mentioned that I felt that by informing us so honestly of the status we are in, that we now have the opportunity to do something about it before the consultant arrives!! (And she tentatively agreed as I organised a follow up meeting to assess our status again in 3 weeks)
Action stations
So yes. Observation is over, after an urgent management meeting back at HASAB, where I reported what we had learnt, I have been given the go ahead to take ownership of the PPP (Please Pam Project). The issues they mentioned fall into the categories of fact & fiction, but the end result is HASAB still need to manage their relationship with FHI and rebuild respect and trust with accurate and up-to-date data if they want funding (which they are not the best at. a summary report is 30 pages long. no wonder no one knows what they have done).
I ensured we held a full team meeting (drivers, admin and all. which they thought was really weird letting everyone in on the facts rather than the far more entertaining method of gossip). We laid the cards on the table; we have a lot of work to do in the next few months if we want to retain funding. All non-important meetings have been put on hold, and regular meetings with agendas! Have been planned. (Shock horror!)
So I have a new job, with titles that range from Crisis Management Advisor to Sales and Marketing. I’ll be honest, part of me wonders if FHI are right and they should work direct with the NGO’s and cut out the middleman.
But for now, I am here at behest of HASAB, and I will do everything I am able to do
- Understand were we are today
- Highlight the Successes
- Log the problems & manage the actions required to resolve
- Present all this in a concise format
- Implement process for continued monitoring & evaluation
In general: regain their trust & show we are doing a valid job. (Even though, I don’t really know if we are yet.)
Fate or what?
So for all of you who know me… yes. I’m in my element, this is fate. I am doing what I am good at, even though it is not what I was sent to do.
They all came into work today (and its weekend), and I didn’t ask, they volunteered, and they all participated in creating an action plan for the next few weeks. Gees I’ve only been here a week and we are a team.
This afternoon, I had to present the status and our action plan to the Executive board and the new ED (who starts next week), just before, I started to get slightly concerned that I had taken control, and nobody had asked me too, and maybe its not what they want. And all that self doubt stuff. But it went well, and the new ED was happy for me to continue. (Lets see if that changes when she arrives. At the end of the day. I am supposed to be here as an advisor, not a doer. So I am prepared to step back if asked). But for now, I’m using this crisis to advise on standard project monitoring and evaluating.
On a lighter note
Morning entertainment!
Yes I still have planned myself time to visit the Mother Teresa’s Children’s home. Last Friday morning I went to the “Old and Destitute” home at a very ungodly hour to help in whichever way I could. So they set me to help the girls washing the bed sheets. I ask you. I don’t even wash my own bed sheets. That’s what one has a cleaner for! But I got stuck in and became the entertainment of the morning. I ended up drenched, not only in washing water, but also in sweat, and sun burnt. I met a 13yr old girl who had run away from her father and step mother (mother had died, and step mum hated her), The reason being they were trying to marry her off. The sister is trying to find s a school that will take her, but it looks like this is her home for a few years.
Children’s home
I then went to the children’s home at the other side of Dhaka and met loads of babies and orphans. Many unwed women come here a few months before they are due and stay until they have the baby, at which point they leave the baby for hopeful adoption and return to their villages where no one knows what has happened. (If they knew they would be ostracised) The horror behind it is, that many women keep trying to self-abort, and if it doesn’t work and that end up seeing the pregnancy through to the end, the babies end up deformed and mentally ill. So there is a whole room for these children who have not been adopted.
They try and adopt out all children, but they have strict rules in Bangladesh that foreigners can’t adopt, and you can only adopt within the same religion. Hence all the Muslim boys go first; followed by the Hindu boys and many Catholics and girls end up spending their lives at the children’s home.
Not one of my brightest ideas
I had brought some ‘ball pit’ balls with me from the UK, so said I could give them out for them to play with. Initially most of the children (1-2 yrs. olds) were just coming round from a sleep, so they sleepily looked at the balls in bewilderment. Then one by one as they realised what they held in their hands, they realised that they could throw them, and one by one, the balls went hurling though the air, with the helpers running after them, bending down under cupboards. I started to gasp, as I realised what was happening, before long, there were balls flying all over the place, Sister was laughing as I tried in vain to apologise to the helpers as they ducked the flying missiles. Maybe not one of my best ideas.
Trying to make recompense, I asked if I could do anything to help. So they said they fed street children every Monday and Friday morning, and it sometimes is a bit hectic, so any help then would be appreciated.
Feeding of the masses
So this week, I got up bright and early yet again, and started off to the other side of Dhaka. They told me to arrive before 10, as they fed them at 10:30, so I could be there to help set up. I arrived at 20mins to 10. As I entered the courtyard I was greeted by over a hundred children, sat patiently waiting for their food. Sister cried over to me. “They came early! They were blocking the road, so we had to let them in…. quick get started with dishing out the rice.” SO that’s what I did for the next hour, I dished the Friday menu of rice, dall (lentil soup/ sauce) and one egg out. They let them have seconds of the rice and dall, one boy who had perfectly positioned himself right next to me have seven servings. (But only one egg, they are expensive). The Monday menu is chicken curry! Sister goes out in the mornings to where the launches are (the port), and spreads the word that food will be available to any child that wants it, so here they were, and all bar 3 were boys. . It’s the boys who run away from their village homes to find their fortune in the city. We fed over 170, they originally cooked 150 eggs, but we ran out and had to cook another load, as the children sat patiently waiting.
After the mass feeding, I went to see the children from the home. I cautiously passed the room I had disrupted last week, and smiled at the concerned faces of the helpers who looked at me with a “what’s she brought this week” expression! And came to rest in the Handicap children’s room and helped feed them lunch, followed by playtime. The helpers here thought I was nuts trying to play ‘clap hands’ and the ‘hokey pokey’ with children who couldn’t even walk properly. Well to everyone’s amusement, they had a blumin good go, although one of them was laughing so much she collapsed on the floor in hysterics and nearly bumped her head. Gees I can move fast when I need too! So now that’s two lots of helpers that think I’m mad.
I had a wonderful day and I hope that I can continue to go, and that the workload doesn’t impose on what has become just as important to me as helping the NGO.
Sorry it’s been so long since last I wrote, but as you can see I have been a wee bit tied up. I hope I have made up it in length.
Got to go now, its 9pm and I still have loads of work to, and I have to be up at 5am to go to Chittagong. I am spending the next 2 weeks out on the road collecting information from every NGO we support. We have a lot to do, I will do my best, to gather the facts and present a plan for the future, and then its up to FHI to decide if it fits with their strategy!
So long,
I’m a volunteer and I’ve got loads to do, so I think I’ll stay a while if you don’t mind!
Monique
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 6
We have finally finished our induction training yipeeee. I’m really itching to get started
Introduction to HASAB
Harrison and I were invited for lunch with our NGO. They came to pick us up in their car and we were greeted with flowers and coca cola (as it was a special occasion!) We were shown round the spacious office and introduced to all 13 members of HASAB. Everyone was so welcoming; we were shown the empty spaces that are going to be our work areas. (Assured that they will be ready when we start on) They told us that they are trying to get us computers, at which Harrison jumped for joy “a computer. A computer just for me?”. Harrison had hardly touched a computer before he came here, and has since been trying to improve on his 2 finger typing method. It takes him 4 hours to type a short letter to his wife; I think he is the Internet cafes’ best customer! It’s nice to see that we are not only here to help, but also we will return with new skills too!
Politics!
I met one of the founding members of HASAB; he is the HR and Admin Manager. From the reaction of people around him, he is extremely well respected and is obviously the cornerstone of the organisation. They are currently looking for a new Executive Director, and when I asked him why was he not the ED, he said he hated politics. They have just appointed a new ED and she hopefully starts on the 10th August, so we’ll all be new.
The key is to be Flexible
I am supposed to be hired as an Advisor in MIS, but already they are mentioning things they want me to work on that are nothing to do with MIS. Luckily one of things that VSO requires is the ability to be flexible. From the brief networking (gossip) that I have done, I have been informed that HASAB’s donor (Family Health International) are not happy with HASAB’s presentation and documentation ability. They know that HASAB are doing the work, they are just not showing it on paper, which is one of the Donors major requirements. So obviously the outcome is, if they don’t improve, they will have their funds terminated. But this is gossip, and here, that replaces the TV soaps, so I’ll wait to see what HASAB say / know themselves during my initial assessment!! In our initial meeting this week they mentioned they needed help with financial planning, budget proposals, and strategic direction documentation. All sounds like great fun and challenging, plus I am eager to understand the fundraising side of things.
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 8
If there’s anyone still out there reading this War and Peace tribute, then this report is definitely an eye opener.
I’ve gone from working with the nuns to cruising the streets with sex workers looking for sex! (Dad. don’t worry I’m safe…. the nuns are far nicer here than they were at school!)
As I mentioned last time, I have been on my tour of Bangladesh, and the first Non Governmental Organisation (NGO / Charity) that I went to visit was YPSA, a youth protection and support agency. As well as the youth projects, water sanitation, and micro finance, they work with floating sex workers (women who sleep on the streets).
What do you do, when you know nothing & have nothing?
These are the poorest of the poor and the outcasts of the society; they have nothing bar the clothes on their backs. So they do the only thing they know how to for money, sell their bodies. They charge between 10 & 60 taka (12 to 70 pence) dependant on the service required.
We try to educate them on HIV and Sexual Transmitted Infections (STIs) in a number of ways, through ‘outreach’ (going out to them on the street) and through Drop in Centres.
Drop in Centres (DICs)
These women (although some of them are mere girls) have no where to sleep, and are often harassed by police and hoodlums, so the centres, (open during the day) offer security for them to sleep (on a bare floor), the opportunity to bathe, wash their clothes, cook, see a doctor (once or twice a week), get free condoms and learn about HIV and other STIs. It’s sort of like a daytime hostel.
As part of my assessment I was taken to all 3 of YPSA’s drop-in-centres (DICs) in Chittagong. I half expected a cold welcome, as how, could I, a rich foreigner even start to understand their plight. But I was astounded by their welcome. I must admit I have never met someone whose livelihood is one of the oldest professions in the world, so initially I was slightly apprehensive. Yes I’m sometimes naive! I know this will sound lame. But they are normal people!
Amongst the sex workers, they have some peer educators, sex workers who are chosen by YPSA to be paid advocators of condoms (£10 a month). The are trained to educate on HIV and STIs, and distribute condoms to other sex workers.
In the first centre, I was led into one of the 2 small rest rooms where they all sat on the floor waiting patiently for the foreigner’s arrival. (They’d awoken many of them especially for me!) They offered me a chair, which I promptly refuse and sat down on the floor with them. I explained (through my program officer from HASAB who recently added translator onto his job description) who we were and why we were there.
The Education & Training Material
Before long they were showing me the materials they used to educate on what HIV was. They each chose one of 20 picture cards showing a number of different actions, and they had to explain what the action on the card portrayed and if you could catch HIV from that action portrayed. I was in hysterics, as some of the shy ones looked at their cards, hoping for the needle or the mosquito, only to find 2 people having sex, then quickly looked around for one of their more extravert friends and secretly swapped it for their blood transfusion card.
With the use of teaching aids (ok … a plastic penis!) They showed me expertly how to put a condom on single handed (I initially thought it was because they don’t use their left hand, but then I was informed, that they were just showing off!) Quite impressed with this, I later discussed this with my college, who said. “That was nothing. You should see them doing it with the mouth! But they charge extra!”
They told me how wonderful they felt the centre was, and the staff that worked there, that for the first time in most of their lives someone cared about them!. Some of them were learning to read and write, (most are illiterate), they are leaning about their rights, they feel they actually have knowledge, especially about their bodies. They think it is amazing that when they ask their clients to use a condom that they are more educated than them and they end up telling the clients about diseases. They are starting to feel that they are not the lowest of the low, which is what they are constantly being told. They have increased their knowledge and they want to keep increasing it, they want to learn handicrafts so that they can start earning an income in a different way and give their children a better future.
Innocent Victims of circumstance
Many of them had children with them, at night, for a price, these are looked after by older women (sort of babysitters), who unfortunately, sometimes abuse the children. As we sat there talking (through sign language and an interpreter) I noticed an unusually quiet girl in the corner. 2 days before we had arrived she had had a run in with a “hoodlum” trying to move her on from where she and her ‘1 month 15 day old baby son’ were sleeping. In the scuffle he had grabbed her baby out of her hands and had thrown him to the floor killing him. So there she sat in the corner, with a look of sheer helplessness on her face. The man had been arrested but they weren’t confident that he was going to get put away. The other sex workers had had a whip round for the babies funeral, otherwise it would have ended up on a rubbish tip. (Yes I had to fight hard to fight back the tears, until I retired to my room that is!)
Over the last week that’s one of many of the sad stories I have been told, I wont depress you with the rest!
What they need
The main things they want is medication, some recreation at the DIC for them and their children, and lockers to leave their valuables in (as they usually get stolen on the street, so they cant even start to save money as it goes as soon as they keep it.).
The problem is that FHI (our donors); don’t offer free medicine, so we rely on other donations to supply any medicine free. Its has really started to annoy me, everywhere we have been they are screaming out for medication. We are educating them about a STI they might have and then saying “ ha… but you need money to get rid of it!” I do worry if it’s better not to know than to know and not be able to do anything about it! We also refer people to local free hospitals if its something more major, but they rarely go as they don’t get the same warmth and respect from the hospital staff that they get from the people working in the DIC’s, as they are seen as the lepers of society. (HIV testing is hardly available as it costs so much, so we currently concentrate mainly on education of how not to spread it)
After doing some research and networking (the most important skill required in Bangladesh to get anything done), there are some other NGOs that we could work with to resolve some of our issues.
One offers Skill Raining for destitute women (handicrafts), another offers medical consultancy (including medication) which our Donors will provide money for, another offers Micro Finance (savings and loans), they wont offer loans to the Sex Workers as they are too mobile, but they could offer a savings scheme?
So next step is to get HASAB networking and integrate our Program with theirs to help us where we need it. (That’s if we are given the chance!)
Field visit or Safari??
At night in Chittagong, I met up with one of my VSO friends, Sarah, and my NGO thought she might want to join us on our field visit. So we all jumped into the jeep and went Cruising the streets looking for the Sex!
Well ok, we were actually looking for the peer educators to see their progress, but it felt like we were in a jungle, on safari, trying to spot unusually creatures. We drove along a street surrounded by trees and verges. Every now an then, Torfique would shout out… “There. I see one… over there”. To which Sarah and I would twist around to see what he was pointing at… it was usually the shadow of some couple entwined on the ground. We finally came to halt at the bottom of a verge were one of the peer educators was stationed fully equipped with the noticeable big blue bag full of condoms and lubricant. She welcomed us as she updated us on the status of condom distribution for the evening (She had given 18 workers up to 10 condoms each, so far). You could see an old man lurking in the bushes (her pimp), she was just about to finish her work for the NGO and start work herself, he was loitering waiting for her to finish and start earning her some money! That’s when reality hits you… all this false front of friendship and hope you have created during the day,.. Reality is, after all the work you are doing to help, they are sex workers and most of them are owned by some pimp and have to earn him money!
Paparazzi!
We moved onto the train station where we were soon mobbed by people grabbing at me, Sarah said I had a look of panic on my face as my initial instinct was that these were beggars each pulling at my clothes, but then I realised…I knew them all, they were the Sex workers who we had met in the drop in centre earlier in the day. Sarah couldn’t believe it, I seam to know everyone, I had been in Chittagong less than 24 hours and I seamed to know more people than she did. As each wanted to tell me proudly, how many condoms they had used that night, we started to attract quite a crowd, Torfique started to fear for the Sex Workers, as he said the police might harass them. We swiftly tried to move back to the car, but the crowds grew and grew ... word must have gotten around, and soon a photographer joined the group, trying to take photos of the foreigners with the Sex workers. Sarah and I cover ourselves with our ornas, (scarves!). The cheek of the photographer, he paid one of the SW we knew to come in between us and get our attention so he could get a good photo, I managed to realise what was happening just in time to glance away… the cheek. Well she got 10 taka for it. (10p) As we clambered back into the car, they pleaded for me to return next time for longer, and be their guest, and they would show me the ropes!.
I don’t think I’m up for being in the spotlight! but this was the beginning of the “royal foreigner visit”, and I soon realised, I would have to get used to it!
After a couple of day’s assessment with the NGO, and a wonderful catching up session with Sarah, I flew back to Dhaka on to SAS, in Barisal, in the South West of Dhaka. Here I met up with more Sex Workers and DIC’s and a yet another wonderful team.
My personal refuge
On return back to Dhaka, the team were eager to work the weekend if that’s what I wanted, but we all needed one day of, so I allowed myself a visit back to the Children’s home. I arrived even earlier this week, but as per usual the children had gotten there first. This time we had an over whelming 207 street children sit on the floor waiting for their rice, daal and an egg. One tried to stuff a plate under his mucky shirt to take to his sick brother. (Sister soon put a stop to that … she put it in a plastic bag instead! but did it in secret so no one else could see… didn’t want everyone doing it!)
Towards the end of the session, a group of 3 boys tentatively put their faces round the door and stood in amazement at what lay before their eyes… it was obviously there first time. One was about 9, the other 7 and then a 4/5 ish wee boy. They were brothers who had just arrived into the city to seek their fortune and send money back to their family’s village. You could see the older ones responsibilities weighing heavily on his shoulders as he tried to feed his little brother, who looked undernourished & feverish. I was so worried about him, I pointed him out to sister, who got all this info out of them… and also informed them that if they ever needed it, the home offered support for undernourished children. With a slight bit of worry lifted from the young child’s shoulders, he smiled sweetly as he thanked her and returned to stuffing his face with rice!
With the feeding of the masses over, I returned to the 2nd floor where my mentally disabled and handicapped were. One was missing, the girl with water on her brain, she had fallen over and was in hospital suffering from concussion! I sat and played with the others and they tried teaching me a hand clapping game. I tried my best to understand them and repeat the words they were singing, but in vein. When one of the older ones who speaks quiet good English said, “why cant you remember the words, they are in English!” Ok I’m thick, I not only can’t understand Bangla, I can’t recognise English an more!
Well the tour is not yet over, places to go people to see, so long,
Monique
I’m a volunteer and I am building options for my next vocation, so far I’m teetering on the edge of Sew Work or being a Nun!
Bideshi gawking!
I’ve mentioned how we foreigners ( bideshies), get stared at constantly, well we are finally finding out what is more interesting. Biort saw a little boy with a lolly the other day, who gave him a quick up and down and then returned to his lolly. Biort wanted to shout at him and say ‘oi, I’m a Bideshi. Stare at me!’ sorry Biort the lolly’s more interesting!
We were on a rickshaw just about to set off from BAGHA the other night when an ambulance pulled up outside the gate; they opened the back door getting ready to transport the patient. The rickshaw Walla jumped down, as did all the other Rickshaw Walla’s and went for a nosy, leaving all paying customers stranded.
Oh well, it’s a good job I’m not a sick Bideshi with a bag full of lollies.
Silly questions
- June Fair?
Near by there has been a ‘SCI fair ‘ going which has been advertised as running throughout June. No, Bangladesh is not that advanced it does not stand for Science (which we all initially thought it did!); it stands for Small Cottage Industry. Well come the second week of July it was still going, when I asked why, the reply I got was “well they haven’t sold all their goods yet”, of course… silly question!
- Take a photo?
Some of the others where out taking photos, when they decide they wanted one of themselves together, so they asked a nearby boy if he would please take a photo of them. The boy was overwhelmed with pleasure and excitement, “me?” he asked, “you want me?” as if he had just won the lottery. “Please” they replied. The boy moved towards the group posing for the photo and squeezed beside them with a wide smile and waited for someone to take the photo. “ No, we want you to take the photo!” The smile vanished in an instant, he’d not won the lottery, and he sulked over to take the photo.
- Are you married?
We all visit the local Internet café quite a lot. They have become very interested in us and ask many questions, every visit they get more personal. I finally got the “are you married” one. “No” I replied “but I have a partner”. “Oh that is awful” he retorted. “ I like you, you will marry me”. So much for being offered a choice!
Graham got the same question. When he replied, “ I am divorced”, the retort he got was, “and did she not like you anymore?” Today Graham asked VSO for the Bangla translation for “Mind your own business!”
Am I Married?
I have got to be acquainted with a number of Bangladeshi men in my day to day life, the tailor, the shopkeeper, the drivers, the internet guys, and so far all of them have been extremely polite and friendly and are eager to try out their command of the English Language with you. …. Beware!!!, for some people in this culture it is not the norm for women to be friendly to men, and unfortunately, as I am finding to my embarrassment ‘some’ of them are getting the wrong impression.
Most conversations start with the ’what’s your name?’ followed by the country, work and family questions. After a few encounters, some choose to expand on this, with ‘why you work her?’ and then it comes ‘ why are you not married?’ I say I have a partner. But for some this is not a recognised term. Remember they mainly do-arranged marriages; people do not date before and definitely do not have number of boyfriends before they find one they choose to marry.
So then it comes… “ I like you!”.. Now remember this is also a country where women who turn down a proposal of marriage are shunned and quite often have acid thrown at their faces to put off any future offers. So this is where you have to be diplomatic, I have started to realise (too late be it!) that when a man says he likes you… he 9 times out of 10 does not mean it in just a friendly way. And when they say ‘I really like you!’ you need to get ‘REALLY’ worried. I stupidly once said, ‘well I think you are very nice too’, not knowing what else to say in response. You can just imagine the grin that appeared on his face (and his brain ticking over… British passport on the way!!!, that’s $9,000 thousand I don’t have to find!). Needless to say I had a lot of back peddling to do. Its not an easy job, and too be honest it not only deeply uncomfortable at the time, but its highly inconvenient, as I’m running out of shops to go to!
So I talked this over with some of the Volunteers that have been here a bit longer to see what they thought. When I did the pre departure training course with VSO this topic was discussed in depth, do you tell the truth and then try and explain your reasons in a foreign language to an alien culture, that will find it almost impossible to understand (and risk being married off) or do you lie (and oh! What a tangled web we lead when we practice to deceive!). Well when I asked the old volunteers they responded in unison, … ‘ you fool… if anyone asks… you are married!’ I really didn’t want to do this, especially to people I work with, but I really do have to think it through long and hard.
I start work tomorrow, and I know the question will not be long in coming. I had a very long discussion with my flat mates last night about my quandary and what worked well with them. So the verdict is…. I have to do a welcome presentation to the people I will be working directly working with, in which I am are supposed to tell them a bit about myself, family etc., I will say I have a long standing partner and in our culture that it is similar to being married, and explain briefly that, so far, I have not found this easy to explain, so they should just see me as married, and if anyone asks I will just be saying that I am married.
What a life I’m having, I’ve gone from being told I am getting married, to deciding myself that I am married within one week! And I didn’t even get to wear the dress or have the party!
Induction is over, time to say goodbye to new friends
The expected turn!
So as the induction has come to an end, we went out to the Nordic Club for a BBQ to celebrate (one of the rare places you can get alcohol!). We had a great night, which ended in everyone doing a little turn! (A song), as we heard a Philippine love song, a Ugandan ‘grateful’ song and dance, I started to worry, as I don’t know the words to anything. As Ann came to the end of ‘Scotland the Brave’, I tried in vain to remember just one verse of something other than a nursery rhyme. Gillian started singing ‘Streets on London’, and to my great relief the rest of the Brits joined in and I was off the hook. It was yet another close shave, this is the 3rd time it has happened; every time people get together they seam to ask you to do a turn of some kind! So PLEASE if anyone has any lyrics to songs that they think I might now the tune too, please feel free to send them to me! (Or any better ideas that don’t involve singing)
Woman out late
As we left the Nordic Club it was near Midnight, our taxi had to drop one of the girls off at the other induction flat first. It is not acceptable for women to be out late, and especially not on their own. So the landlady locks the girls out whenever she has the opportunity, so they have to bang on the door until she comes down and has the opportunity to let them know exactly what she thinks of their outrageous behaviour. Well, as it was well past 9pm, the door was well and truly locked, so we waited with her until the tirade came. And she definitely arrived in style, wailing in Bangla, what we only assumed was condemnation about our going ones, Sarah sheepishly smiled and crept passed like a naught little girl who had been caught returning home well after her curfew. Well she is female. And its just not done out here (says me. from the same haven of the taxi!)…. I’ve been told that my future landlady is just the same, so I’m going to have fun!
Now to the real reason I am out hear!
D-Day has finally arrived, and tomorrow I start the job I came half way round the world to do! I am starting to get slightly nervous, but excited all the same.
I’m sorry this weeks report is so late; I have been really busy getting ready.
I’m starting to realise, that now the initial shocks are diminishing, the stories are getting fewer, so hopefully my essays will reduce!
Farewell for now,
A slightly apprehensive Monique
Here goes!
.
Ah… they were not interested in either anymore. Why … well they had a number of issues that needed addressing. OK, I can understand that, but surely a proposal is still required to gain budget from October onwards.
Ah… well they have a consultant coming from America to review HASAB… well, that’s nice. But surely but surely a proposal is still required to gain budget from October onwards.
Ah. Well. noo.. We would rather you address the issues we have first.
OK. Observation time over… yep. I decided to take over control of the meeting as my wonderful deputy ED did not seam to understand what was going on. (Or just didn’t want to!)
OK. You don’t want us to submit a request for more funds. And you have a consultant coming. Be honest with us. What’s his remit.
Pause…….
Ah. well you know we aren’t happy with your performance, so he will be evaluating the added benefit of HASAB vs FHI working directly with the NGO’s and not through an umbrella organisation.
OK. So lets be blunt, if the consultant’s findings are negative, you stop funds.
BINGO!
My deputy ED’s face dropped.
So, finding a positive, I thanked her for her openness, asked her to detail the issues she had, and mentioned that I felt that by informing us so honestly of the status we are in, that we now have the opportunity to do something about it before the consultant arrives!! (And she tentatively agreed as I organised a follow up meeting to assess our status again in 3 weeks)
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 8
As you’ve probably gathered, the weekly reports have been replaced by just plain old reports, as I am finding it hard to find the time to regularly sit down and write them, there is so much going on.
So I’ve been here 8 weeks and 2 days, and I’ve been in my job 11days, and already its has changed 3 times. I knew they wanted me to be flexible, but I never realised how much until now. I’ll be a blumin contortionist soon!
New starters
So we finally arrived at our new NGO bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well they’d done exactly what they promised and wow, the amount of work they had done to get it all ready in time. I was informed that they were working late into the night the evening before we arrived to get it all ready. They had created 2 brand new cubicles, each with 2 desks, 2 chairs, a phone, a document holder, a notepad, a pen, a pencil, a rubber, a ruler, a hole punch, a stapler & staples, scissors, a highlighter, and a container to put them all in (like a stubby. with a world map on), an asset sheet for me to sign to say I had accepted everything! And … yes. A computer and a printer. WOW (IBM could learn a bit from this!)
Harrison was downstairs with the Program staff, and I was upstairs with the ED (not yet appointed), and the finance people. It soon became apparent, that the computers were shared, Harrisons being the one with all the resource information on which had come from the resource room, and mine was the one connected to the internet, which meant I get a regular visit from the admin person to download everyone’s e-mail. It’s the thought that counts! It’s definitely more than I had expected.
I had decided, after listening to previous volunteers, that the best strategy for the first few weeks was to sit back and observe. Those who hadn’t and had gone in all guns blazing usually didn’t do well in the long run. So that was what I was going to do…
They booked me a number of meetings and agreed that they would really like for me too not only tackle the MIS; my priority was to facilitate and contribute to the Strategic document and next year’s proposal.
HASAB are an umbrella organisation that focus on supporting and funding 3 different areas of HIV/ AIDs & STI’s. They used to support anyone who had a connection with HIV and STI’s (Sexually Transmitted Infections), but the donors (FHI), asked them to concentrate on specific areas instead. So these are
- MSM: Males who have sex with males (I’ll explain later why MSM)
- SW: Street Based Sex Workers (Not brothels nor hotel based)
- HIV, STI infected people
HASAB get their funding from Family Health International, FHI (who get it from USAID).
Workshop. Vs. training
So all went well for the last week, I have observed a little, and helped a little. They held a workshop on advocacy (a training course on how to educate people on facts about STI’s and HIV). They don’t call courses ‘training’ as its just not done; they say people wouldn’t come if they thought it was training. The fact is that teaching here is very old school and involves being lectured at, was as workshops are a more interactive way of learning. So workshops are a fun way to learn, and training is not!. So HASAB has a catalogue of workshops they offer, and no training. (And that was I told!)
Well to measure the success of the workshop they give the participants a pre and post course question sheet to fill in. Its like a flaming comprehension, with essays for answers about your knowledge of certain things. Then the poor facilitator has to type each one up and evaluate, in their opinion, the success of the course. (Which takes them about 2 weeks to do and the results are very subjective.) So I did a quick 3 hour session with them on how to implement quantitative / measurable feedback questionnaires. (Using smiley faces.) I showed them how to turn session objectives into feedback questions, which in future will enable them to improve the course. After 3 hours they not only had created the feedback forms, they could see the time it would save them in typing up and they had learnt how to do it for the next workshop (I hope!). Who would have thought that all those feedback forms I reluctantly filled in, on the numerous course I attended would have their benefit!
TALK about being OPEN!
I went to a wonderful TASK force meeting of the major NGO’s within Bangladesh who work with HIV, AIDs and STIs. Both FHI & USAID were present. The Bangladesh culture I have witnessed so far is very strict when it comes it sex and people officially don’t have it until after they are married off, and dating is not acceptable. The subject of sex is very much a taboo. Considering that there is 130 million people here, its obviously only be taboo on the surface! Well was I in for a surprise, talk about open… even I blushed when we were all asked first had we ever seen a filmdom, (all hands raised), then secondly had we ever used one! , (Nearly all hands raised. and this was in a room full of men and women!). Then we went through the pros and cons for femidoms within the sex industry. The conversation went into an explicit depth that I had never though possible in a professional meeting. Although initially slightly taken aback by the openness, it was so nice to see the enthusiasm of the people I shall be working with.
We then went onto talking about the problems faced by the families of people who die from aids, one instance was of a family whose house the community wanted to burn to the ground after he died, another was of a mother in law who turned the widow and children out on the street as soon as her son died. There’s a lot of education to be done!
The bombshell!
We were taken to be introduced formally to the country director of FHI, Pam. I had been asked to confirm some deadlines for the budget proposal, and the strategy paper that they had previously requested from HSASB
Action stations
So yes. Observation is over, after an urgent management meeting back at HASAB, where I reported what we had learnt, I have been given the go ahead to take ownership of the PPP (Please Pam Project). The issues they mentioned fall into the categories of fact & fiction, but the end result is HASAB still need to manage their relationship with FHI and rebuild respect and trust with accurate and up-to-date data if they want funding (which they are not the best at. a summary report is 30 pages long. no wonder no one knows what they have done).
I ensured we held a full team meeting (drivers, admin and all. which they thought was really weird letting everyone in on the facts rather than the far more entertaining method of gossip). We laid the cards on the table; we have a lot of work to do in the next few months if we want to retain funding. All non-important meetings have been put on hold, and regular meetings with agendas! Have been planned. (Shock horror!)
So I have a new job, with titles that range from Crisis Management Advisor to Sales and Marketing. I’ll be honest, part of me wonders if FHI are right and they should work direct with the NGO’s and cut out the middleman.
But for now, I am here at behest of HASAB, and I will do everything I am able to do
- Understand were we are today
- Highlight the Successes
- Log the problems & manage the actions required to resolve
- Present all this in a concise format
- Implement process for continued monitoring & evaluation
In general: regain their trust & show we are doing a valid job. (Even though, I don’t really know if we are yet.)
Fate or what?
So for all of you who know me… yes. I’m in my element, this is fate. I am doing what I am good at, even though it is not what I was sent to do.
They all came into work today (and its weekend), and I didn’t ask, they volunteered, and they all participated in creating an action plan for the next few weeks. Gees I’ve only been here a week and we are a team.
This afternoon, I had to present the status and our action plan to the Executive board and the new ED (who starts next week), just before, I started to get slightly concerned that I had taken control, and nobody had asked me too, and maybe its not what they want. And all that self doubt stuff. But it went well, and the new ED was happy for me to continue. (Lets see if that changes when she arrives. At the end of the day. I am supposed to be here as an advisor, not a doer. So I am prepared to step back if asked). But for now, I’m using this crisis to advise on standard project monitoring and evaluating.
On a lighter note
Morning entertainment!
Yes I still have planned myself time to visit the Mother Teresa’s Children’s home. Last Friday morning I went to the “Old and Destitute” home at a very ungodly hour to help in whichever way I could. So they set me to help the girls washing the bed sheets. I ask you. I don’t even wash my own bed sheets. That’s what one has a cleaner for! But I got stuck in and became the entertainment of the morning. I ended up drenched, not only in washing water, but also in sweat, and sun burnt. I met a 13yr old girl who had run away from her father and step mother (mother had died, and step mum hated her), The reason being they were trying to marry her off. The sister is trying to find s a school that will take her, but it looks like this is her home for a few years.
Children’s home
I then went to the children’s home at the other side of Dhaka and met loads of babies and orphans. Many unwed women come here a few months before they are due and stay until they have the baby, at which point they leave the baby for hopeful adoption and return to their villages where no one knows what has happened. (If they knew they would be ostracised) The horror behind it is, that many women keep trying to self-abort, and if it doesn’t work and that end up seeing the pregnancy through to the end, the babies end up deformed and mentally ill. So there is a whole room for these children who have not been adopted.
They try and adopt out all children, but they have strict rules in Bangladesh that foreigners can’t adopt, and you can only adopt within the same religion. Hence all the Muslim boys go first; followed by the Hindu boys and many Catholics and girls end up spending their lives at the children’s home.
Not one of my brightest ideas
I had brought some ‘ball pit’ balls with me from the UK, so said I could give them out for them to play with. Initially most of the children (1-2 yrs. olds) were just coming round from a sleep, so they sleepily looked at the balls in bewilderment. Then one by one as they realised what they held in their hands, they realised that they could throw them, and one by one, the balls went hurling though the air, with the helpers running after them, bending down under cupboards. I started to gasp, as I realised what was happening, before long, there were balls flying all over the place, Sister was laughing as I tried in vain to apologise to the helpers as they ducked the flying missiles. Maybe not one of my best ideas.
Trying to make recompense, I asked if I could do anything to help. So they said they fed street children every Monday and Friday morning, and it sometimes is a bit hectic, so any help then would be appreciated.
Feeding of the masses
So this week, I got up bright and early yet again, and started off to the other side of Dhaka. They told me to arrive before 10, as they fed them at 10:30, so I could be there to help set up. I arrived at 20mins to 10. As I entered the courtyard I was greeted by over a hundred children, sat patiently waiting for their food. Sister cried over to me. “They came early! They were blocking the road, so we had to let them in…. quick get started with dishing out the rice.” SO that’s what I did for the next hour, I dished the Friday menu of rice, dall (lentil soup/ sauce) and one egg out. They let them have seconds of the rice and dall, one boy who had perfectly positioned himself right next to me have seven servings. (But only one egg, they are expensive). The Monday menu is chicken curry! Sister goes out in the mornings to where the launches are (the port), and spreads the word that food will be available to any child that wants it, so here they were, and all bar 3 were boys. . It’s the boys who run away from their village homes to find their fortune in the city. We fed over 170, they originally cooked 150 eggs, but we ran out and had to cook another load, as the children sat patiently waiting.
After the mass feeding, I went to see the children from the home. I cautiously passed the room I had disrupted last week, and smiled at the concerned faces of the helpers who looked at me with a “what’s she brought this week” expression! And came to rest in the Handicap children’s room and helped feed them lunch, followed by playtime. The helpers here thought I was nuts trying to play ‘clap hands’ and the ‘hokey pokey’ with children who couldn’t even walk properly. Well to everyone’s amusement, they had a blumin good go, although one of them was laughing so much she collapsed on the floor in hysterics and nearly bumped her head. gees I can move fast when I need too! So now that’s two lots of helpers that think I’m mad.
I had a wonderful day and I hope that I can continue to go, and that the workload doesn’t impose on what has become just as important to me as helping the NGO.
Sorry it’s been so long since last I wrote, but as you can see I have been a wee bit tied up. I hope I have made up it in length.
Got to go now, its 9pm and I still have loads of work to, and I have to be up at 5am to go to Chittagong. I am spending the next 2 weeks out on the road collecting information from every NGO we support. We have a lot to do, I will do my best, to gather the facts and present a plan for the future, and then its up to FHI to decide if it fits with their strategy!
So long,
I’m a volunteer and I’ve got loads to do, so I think I’ll stay a while if you don’t mind!
Monique
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 10
Over the last few days I’ve been living it up, house sitting for a friend who actually earns real money, in Gulshan, the posh part of Dhaka, and I was going to tell you all about hot water and air-conditioning etc. But then I realised, I’ve been here a while now, and I haven’t really told you about my humble abode, so how would you appreciate my excitement about hot water!
I live in a 5-storey apartment block, owned by a family who also live in it. They rent out the ground floor (as most do, as it’s the floor that gets the rats) to an invisible man and the forth floor to us, 3 volunteers. (And no we don’t have an elevator).
For volunteers, its actually quiet nicely decorated, no not with wallpaper but it has polished concrete floors (poor mans marble) and the concrete walls are painted a light colour. It has 3 small bedrooms, 1 small living room, 1 shared bathroom, a galley kitchen (that means it cant fit 2 people in it), a central area that leads to all the rooms where we have put our table in, and a small balcony that not only gives you a wonderful incite into our neighbours lives, but also offers a small piece of the ever evolving Dhaka skyline. The people living here before I arrived had furnished it extremely well, so we have a sofa and cutlery and beds and fans (which is more than some of the outside Dhaka volunteers had to start with. so I cant grumble)
The Pets
The flat comes fully equipped with the mandatory house pets to keep you entertained: -
- The jumping cockroaches. Once when there was one on the kitchen floor, and I wanted a coffee, I threw a bowl over it. Needless to say as neither my flat mate Iona nor I will touch them; the bowl stayed there for a number of days until our cleaner came and picked it up with her bare hands whist looking in astonishment at two horrified ‘Bideshi’ faces hiding in the corner.
- Ants. Ok so you can’t leave anything out, as they and their million mates find it. From rice to packet ‘cup a soup’, they even eat through the packaging, if they can smell it, they WILL get to it. So most of our stuff is rapped in endless supplies of cling film or stuffed in the fridge. Ever so often a grain of sugar escapes your spoon and the next day the ant army have targeted in, and set trail for their men to follow.
- The wood mites. Flamin noisy for their size and leave dust mounds everywhere and a bugger to get rid of. On my first day in the flat, after a long day moving my belongings up 4 endless flights of stairs and unpacking, I finally laid my weary head to rest on my pillow as the wooden lattes collapsed beneath me, the blumin mites had eaten the blumin wood away.
As well as those you get the geckos who are great, as they eat the spiders who catch all types of flying bugs, like mosies, who bite you and give you dengue fever and malaria…I think I’ve said enough about my pets, now what about the other house occupants.
The woman at the bottom of the stairs
Oh yes, the woman who lives at the bottom of the stairs… well she actually lives in the slum round the corner, when Pakistan got split, so did her family, and she cant get to them, so she (along with a few thousand others in the same position) live in a slum round the corner. But for some unknown reason, our landlady took pity on her, and every day she comes at dawn and sleeps on the floor at the bottom of the stairwell, she sometimes bathes from the tap underneath the stairs as the slums don’t have running water (with her clothes on, as all Bangladeshi’s seam to bathe fully clothed!). They seam to feed her throughout the day and in the evening she plods on back to her slum.
The man in the wall
Oh yeh, I didn’t believe this myself for weeks until I actually saw him. Yep he lives in the wall, all 20 inches of it. He seams to be the guard, but he lives here all the time, like all the help do. In Bangladesh there are very few mechanised things, everything is done by hand, so virtually everyone has an ‘aya’(maid) and a ‘cook’ and a ‘guard’ and a ‘driver’. Even our driver at work goes home every night to a cook and an aya. And they all live in. Its seams if you don’t have one, then you probably are one! (Nobody at work can believe that we only have a cleaner for a few hours a week.)
So back to our little man, the whole starts about 2ft off the floor, its 20inches deep, 4ft wide and 4ft tall and has a small kind of gate for a door, that he puts a curtain behind for privacy during the day when he sleeps, but mainly when I see him sat in the wall he has his legs dangling out. It isn’t big enough for him to lie down in, so he kind of mushes a mattress into the whole, like you would fit a large piece of paper into a small box, and then he kind of cuddles up into the mattress. Kind of cosy like!
He has a few shelves above him for his belongings and you won’t believe it, he has a blumin TV perched on one of them. Even we don’t have a TV.
Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble!
In the rest of the house you have 2 drivers, who spend most of the time cleaning the cars that are locked behind the full wrought iron gates, and sometime open the padlock for you in the morning. (Oh yes I live in fort knocks. but then so does everyone here). There’s a couple of aya’s who sometimes bring us special food on special occasions, usually birthdays, weddings and feasts. You know it’s coming as usually the night before, you see a cauldron on a bonfire in the street below, and numerous farm animals tethered. Then as the night grows, and the pots boil, you see them being slaughtered and chopped up and thrown into the pot by loads of men huddled around. (I assume Shakespeare got his inspiration for Macbeth here, but obviously felt witches were more believable!)
Master of the house
Oh and then you’ve got my lovely landlady, who orchestrates all this, the men might be in charge outside, but inside its definitely the woman’s domain. I think I mentioned that where I live is like fort knocks, that because, well, how do I say. Its in the middle of a kind of family dispute?, fight for territorial space?, Oh yes, I have it, Gang warfare! And in our friendly area, they keep bumping each other off. So our landlady, as does every other, bolts the doors at night as well as the catch lock, so, after 9:30ish you ain’t getting in without knocking the whole house up, which we try to minimise to once or twice a week, and sometimes we inform her in advance that we will be out late, gees I feel like a naught teenager every time I go out. (But I ain’t complaining as nobodies been bumped off in our house… yet!)
My abode
Well, since I was the last in, I have the tiniest Sauna… I mean room. But its home, the bathroom is clean and has cold running water in the morning, and sometimes warm at night (if its been a hot day!). There’s no TV, but there’s a packed bookcase that I have nearly worked my way through and sometimes my radio picks up the world service ( blumin Americans have the adjoining frequency, and a bigger booster, so normally BCC gets drowned out!)
Mainly I catch up on work, play patience on my laptop and sometimes watch DVD’s ( 120 tk, 120p a DVD… maybe they are not legit?). DVD’s are dangerous, sometimes you can become a hermit, I got the series ‘24’ set and nobody saw me for days. I warned Iona that it was addictive, but sure enough she disappeared behind her laptop for 3 days.
Out and about
We have to wash all our clothes by hand but the cleaner will clean (sort of) the big stuff. Most people send their clothes to be ironed at the little shop round the corner (again if it needs doing there is usually someone who does. Its.3tk an item, 10tk for sheets. (3p & 10p) He’s a lovely, young, cheerful, rounded chap and attempts to teach me a new bangla word every visit ( I now sign my name in Bangla which he proudly shows all passers by). The other month they didn’t have power for 2 weeks, that didn’t stop them; you would often see your clothes on a back of a rickshaw being transported to a fellow tradesman. I bet it cost him a bundle, but he didn’t loose any customers!.
There’s a little stall / shop between the ironing shop and the flat which sells ant infested groceries, milk and cold drinks. We get the latter from him whenever we need change for Rickshaws, and he never bats an eyelid, so sometime we buy washing powder too, in gratitude for all the small change.
There are some young boys who play cricket in the street below that I have got to know, and more importantly, they have got to recognise me. Once when I was on a Rickshaw with Harrison, I was so busy yapping that I only realised that I had missed my turning when all the lads playing cricket were shouting at the Rickshaw Wala to turn me around.
Watching the world go by
Many a time I stand on the balcony, mesmerised with events, there’s a building being a block away and I can sit for hours watching the bare footed, half clothed men carrying baskets of mixed concrete on their heads, up open stairwells that safety officers would …well… to be honest it would be better if any safety officers didn’t come to Bangladesh, it might not be good for their health!
I’m so often reminded of a film that had James Garner in I think ( I cant remember the title), where he has a broken leg and is confined to looking out his window where he becomes engrossed in the lives of his neighbours. Its surreal, you can spend hours gawking at people going about their every day lives in such confined places, children playing cricket in the streets, aya’s scrubbing clothes on the rooftops, old women bathing fully dressed, men praying, women cooking, families sharing 3 and 4 to a bedroom which transforms into study, their play area and their eating place ….. And they in turn… watch me…. better than any TV, and this is no soap opera, this IS real life.
So that’s my flat and no, me time to tell you of the hijacked fridge (we are only allowed one, but that isn’t big enough to protect us from ants so we hijacked it from VSO and they want it back… something about rules and only being allowed one per flat!). Anyway unfortunately the toilet seat is cracked and you get pinched every time you….., well if they come to mend the seat, they might recapture the fridge, so we will just have to face the pinches…we stand united! well its better than sitting.. Especially on that seat…OW!
That’s all for now folks, my boyfriend arrive tomorrow for his summer holiday in Bangladesh! (Yes everybody laughs…. he must love me!), so got to go and wash my hair in this lovely hot water I have, in this posh flat I’m house-sitting!
Till next time,
Monique
I’m a volunteer and I can do without the TV
(but hot water would be nice and a washing machine.. and a cooker …and air-conditioning…and clear reception on the World Service…and some more books…and a toilet seat that doesn’t pinch… but the fridge STAYS!!)
“I’m a Volunteer, Get me out of here!”:
Report Week 11
Well so much has happened since my last report, were shall I start.
Summer Vacation with a difference
My boyfriend came for his ‘summer vacation’ and we managed to find a few sightseeing places away from the hustle and bustle of Dhaka. We flew down to Chittagong and briefly visited one of our NGO’s followed by a 3 ½ hour bumpy jeep ride towards Burma and up into the hills tracks and the beautiful Bunderbans. Endless lush hills undulating into one another, and scattered here and there were the varied tribal villages. We stayed at a bamboo cottage perched on the edge of a hill overlooking the valley and the river below.
The wildlife!
The scenery was breath taking, we spent a few days walking through the overgrowth, meeting various wildlife (ok. insects!). We were personally introduced to a number of leaches who invited themselves back to our hut with us, one of them decided to get slightly over personal with Gary’s behind, so with our relationship facing its hardest test yet, I closed my eyes and did what any dutiful girlfriend should do and poured salt water all over parts I’d rather not have, and watch this 4 inch blob fall to its death with a pint of Gary’s blood oozing out of it. (Those suckers don’t half suck!).
The night show!
We spent a sleepless night in a torrential storm listening to the heavy rain and the lightning come closer and closer until WAM, it blew out a nearby electricity cable, and we waited for the landslide, and the bamboo poles holding our hut to give way, plummeting us down the hillside to the river, but alas, morning and sunshine came first and our adventure was over.
We travelled back to Dhaka on the never-ending journey where we seamed to be the entertainment for an overloaded train.
Talk about modern relationship!
After a few days rest and recuperation in the still borrowed luxury flat in Gulshan we thought we’d brave it out on another train, this time up to Srimongal, Sylett in the North, were we stayed at the DFID tea gardens.
We borrowed a couple of bicycles and peddled our way up through endless scenic tea estates and local villages, until we finally found ourselves lost, but with the standard collection of local children. We clambered up and down mud banks and through rivers to the nearest main road where ….. yeh you guessed it…. yet another misshape.. Gary’s chain went… so being the dutiful girlfriend I am. And the fact that the roads where mainly flat, I pushed him all the way back to the tea estate. (Ok. nearly all the way. my arm gave way on the last stretch and we swapped and he had to push me. but nobody could fault him for being sexist!)
Bangladesh… sees it before the tourist does!
So as you can see, you can definitely have your adventures in Bangladesh, I’m sure it would have a certain appeal to certain tourists, (but I can’t see Gary recommending it to his friends back home!)
Holiday Over
Anyway. Holiday over and back to work and my oh my. What a task lays ahead…
Trouble at mill!
Ok, I think I told you that within my first week, I was told by the donor (cause I asked!) that we due to loose all our funding at the end of October, when our current budget was up, mainly due to the donor not wanting to use Sub grantees anymore, probably because I had come to learn, that, the man managing it in our organisation, although a lovely man, could not managed a piss up in a brewery. (And I had to agree with them). Unfortunately the Executive Committee (a group of volunteers, like a general board, who reign over an NGO) liked him and had put him in charge when we had no Executive Director. Unfortunately, no matter how great everyone else was in the organisation, and they were, if the figurehead is useless, and, as is the case in Bangladesh, autonomy is alien, and everything has to go through the one person, then nothing gets done well. And this is what our Donors had come to realise, so as they had no control over the man in charge, they do the only thing they can do, and drop the NGO.
New Captain at the Helm
So, now we have a new ED who is wonderful and understands western ways, and is doing her utmost to implement them. Put her and me together and tortoise and hare come to mind, but then who won!, and at least we are both in the same race. (Yes. I am the hare!)
Anyway with a little advice (as that’s my job!) we’ve managed to get an extension until the end of the year, which gives us time to put our ship in shape, with a new helm. And a chance to submit a new proposal to continue acting as sub grantees for our 7 NGO partners.
I’m starting to realise that maybe due to previous relationships with the deputy ED, that the donor just doesn’t think we can do a good job, so I’ve been working with the ED explaining this and that one of the priorities is a change in management, as this would show that we have assessed our organisation and understood the problem areas, and made the necessary changes, so that we could handle the workload effectively, which we have, until now, not been doing to their satisfaction. (In brief…we need to get rid of the deputy ED. should be fun!)
Back to Basics
So, I have been implementing basic management tools like agendas with actions and owners. Yes, this too, is alien to them…. someone told them that everything has to be done in a participatory way, so they have interpreted this as no one taking individual ownership, it drives me insane, so I introduced a column for owners where they list virtually everyone’s names, but I ask them to underline the lead owner…. Its sort of working at present… but we will see.
Time expands to fit the work available?
As normal in any organisation, we can’t get rid of the deputy ED overnight, so the ED and I are working on various HR tools to see if we can manage him out. Unfortunately he is still head of all the programs and all the workload that we have to do, so I have spent quite a lot of time trying to introduce work plans into his thinking. At present he promises the world to everyone, (even when they don’t ask!!) a, as he wants to constantly please. But unfortunately even with 24 working hours in a day, we don’t have enough staff to fulfil his promises and this ends up with not only unhappy donors and customers, but also very tired and unhappy staff.
Q: Hi-tech versus colourful bits of paper?
A: Whichever works!
To try and explain workload etc., I tried MS Project first (far too advanced), and then I moved to just excel… nope, still too advanced. So then I sat with him with pieces of coloured paper representing work items (with indicating duration), and we sat allocating work to people. When the next months workload covered two months, and I asked him to maybe prioritise what is absolutely essential for next month, he looked aghast, and his response was ‘ everything of course!’
Since we seemed to be having fun, bit by bit his team started joining in, and each adding another piece of work that hadn’t been represented. (He had them doing workshops but didn’t realise they needed time to build the workshop first!) Finally we now had 3 months of workload in one month, so an education on prioritisation was given, he couldn’t cope with the thought of informing people that a piece of work could not be done as promised, but I think we all finally got it through to him that it had to be done. (I did try to explain that forewarning people was better than letting them down at the last moment, but he didn’t want to understand)
His team found the exercise fruitful, as they were given the opportunity to explain other work that needed to be done, which he had always chosen to ignore. Like preparation and report write up. I think he really hated me, up to now he had been content with his head in the sand, now it was out and on prime display… You cant please everyone, the good thing being that when he started ringing people, altering deadlines, explaining that we had too much workload on, most of them didn’t actually want what he had previously offered, or where quite happy with the delay, and the odd few that weren’t (usually for a very good reason), well we rearranged the coloured paper a little and fitted the urgent work in… and the staff offered to work weekends now that they understood the reasons.
Begging with the best
Holiday Over
Anyway. Holiday over and back to work and my oh my. What a task lays ahead…..
Trouble at mill!
Ok, I think I told you that within my first week, I was told by the donor (cause I asked!) that we due to loose all our funding at the end of October, when our current budget was up, mainly due to the donor not wanting to use Sub grantees anymore, probably because I had come to learn, that, the man managing it in our organisation, although a lovely man, could not managed a piss up in a brewery. (And I had to agree with them). Unfortunately the Executive Committee (a group of volunteers, like a general board, who reign over an NGO) liked him and had put him in charge when we had no Executive Director. Unfortunately, no matter how great everyone else was in the organisation, and they were, if the figurehead is useless, and, as is the case in Bangladesh, autonomy is alien, and everything has to go through the one person, then nothing gets done well. And this is what our Donors had come to realise, so as they had no control over the man in charge, they do the only thing they can do, and drop the NGO.
New Captain at the Helm
So, now we have a new ED who is wonderful and understands western ways, and is doing her utmost to implement them. Put her and me together and tortoise and hare come to mind, but then who won! and at least we are both in the same race. (Yes. I am the hare!)
Anyway with a little advice (as that’s my job!) we’ve managed to get an extension until the end of the year, which gives us time to put our ship in shape, with a new helm. And a chance to submit a new proposal to continue acting as sub grantees for our 7 NGO partners.
I’m starting to realise that maybe due to previous relationships with the deputy ED, that the donor just doesn’t think we can do a good job, so I’ve been working with the ED explaining this and that one of the priorities is a change in management, as this would show that we have assessed our organisation and understood the problem areas, and made the necessary changes, so that we could handle the workload effectively, which we have, until now, not been doing to their satisfaction. (In brief…we need to get rid of the deputy ED. should be fun!)
Back to Basics
So, I have been implementing basic management tools like agendas with actions and owners. Yes, this too, is alien to them…. someone told them that everything has to be done in a participatory way, so they have interpreted this as no one taking individual ownership, it drives me insane, so I introduced a column for owners where they list virtually everyone’s names, but I ask them to underline the lead owner…. Its sort of working at present… but we will see.
Time expands to fit the work available?
As normal in any organisation, we can’t get rid of the deputy ED overnight, so the ED and I are working on various HR tools to see if we can manage him out. Unfortunately he is still head of all the programs and all the workload that we have to do, so I have spent quite a lot of time trying to introduce work plans into his thinking. At present he promises the world to everyone, (even when they don’t ask!!) a, as he wants to constantly please. But unfortunately even with 24 working hours in a day, we don’t have enough staff to fulfil his promises and this ends up with not only unhappy donors and customers, but also very tired and unhappy staff.
Q: Hi-tech versus colourful bits of paper?
A: Whichever works!
To try and explain workload etc., I tried MS Project first (far too advanced), and then I moved to just excel… nope, still too advanced. So then I sat with him with pieces of coloured paper representing work items (with width indicating duration), and we sat allocating work to people. When the next months workload covered two months, and I asked him to maybe prioritise what is absolutely essential for next month, he looked aghast, and his response was ‘ everything of course!’
Since we seemed to be having fun, bit by bit his team started joining in, and each adding another piece of work that hadn’t been represented. (He had them doing workshops but didn’t realise they needed time to build the workshop first!) Finally we now had 3 months of workload in one month, so an education on prioritisation was given, he couldn’t cope with the thought of informing people that a piece of work could not be done as promised, but I think we all finally got it through to him that it had to be done. (I did try to explain that forewarning people was better than letting them down at the last moment, but he didn’t want to understand)
His team found the exercise fruitful, as they were given the opportunity to explain other work that needed to be done, which he had always chosen to ignore. Like preparation and report write up. I think he really hated me, up to now he had been content with his head in the sand, now it was out and on prime display… You cant please everyone, the good thing being that when he started ringing people, altering deadlines, explaining that we had too much workload on, most of them didn’t actually want what he had previously offered, or where quite happy with the delay, and the odd few that weren’t (usually for a very good reason), well we rearranged the coloured paper a little and fitted the urgent work in… and the staff offered to work weekends now that they understood the reasons.
Begging with the best
We’ve also been working on diversification of Donors, at present they are solely reliant on one, and when/ if they choose not to extend. Well we will have nothing to fall back on. So we have started the mandatory networking with the UN and World health Organisation and World bank and so forth, all sounds very grand… but personally I don’t see begging as grand, and that is what we seem to be doing.
I’m trying to work with the ED on transforming her wonderful begging skills into marketing instead… but that’s a long process, and she in turn is trying to get me to understand the Bangladeshi culture…. I don’t know whose got the hardest job, but we have built up a wonderful working relationship, we are the ying and yang, and she is making working in this frustration that little bit more bearable.
Got the Donors external consultant coming next week to assess HASABS continued worth (if any!), as well as our strategy-planning workshop, so better leave it here, tones to do…
Till next time,
Monique
I’m a volunteer and playing with coloured paper is more fun than MS Project any day! (And when it goes wrong, you just cut another piece!)
Re bearable.
Got the Donors external consultant coming next week to assess HASABS continued worth (if any!), as well as our strategy-planning workshop, so better leave it here, tones to do…
Till next time,
Monique
I’m a volunteer and playing with coloured paper is more fun than MS Project any day! (And when it goes wrong, you just cut another piece!)
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