Amar sonar Bangla

Chirodin Tomar Aakash

Images from south west Bangladesh


Back in March I spent a week in the south west corner of Bangladesh. I was in Barisal Division, and enjoyed a wonderful few days exploring Barisal city and the surrounding countryside.

Barisal (pronounced Borishal) is essentially a port city, and during my time there several locals predicted that in some years it will become one of the most important in South Asia. At present though it’s a fairly relaxed port and doesn’t match Chittagong for its activity and freneticism.

The area is also known for its abundance of rivers, which cut through the land and inspired some to crown this area the ‘Venice of Bangladesh.’ As I roamed the countryside, it was easy to see why,.

I also made a trip down to Kuakata, a peaceful and as yet largely underdeveloped seaside town, which sits at one of the southern most points of this country. Known for its long beach that stretches for 18 kilometers along the coast, Kuakata is also an attraction for visitors due to the unobstructed views of both the sunrise and sunset peacefully enjoyed here daily.

As in previous blog posts, I will let my photos tell the story of my week in the south west of this beautiful country. The title of this post is a lyric from Amar Shonar Bangla, the national anthem of Bangladesh, written by Rabrindranath Tagore.

It’s a beautiful song and for the most part celebrates the natural charm of this land. “Chirodin Tomar Aakash” literally translates as, “Forever your skies,” and comes from the full lyric, Chirodin tomar aakash, tomar baatas, ogo aamar praane baajay bashi.”

This means, “Forever your skies, your air, plays a flute in my heart.” It’s an ode to this region of the world that never fails to delight, and for good reason, instigates immense pride from those who live here and call it home.

I hope you enjoy the following images.


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All images © John Stanlake


Shhhooorrroodddiiii

The Search for Charadi (Sho-ro-di)


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The name was etched, deep into my mind by the end of the day, and it’s my own fault quite honestly. My chosen method for traveling within Bangladesh more often than not exposes me to a carnage that rears its head when I decide to select a random name on the map and voyage there. This carnage is obviously caused entirely by my own doing rather than the location I would like to point out.

When I began writing this post, I was in Barisal, and as the map below indicates, this is a region in the south west of Bangladesh, which in many ways encapsulates the stereotypical image people hold of this country; one of endless rivers and waterways, of dense, green paddy fields, bustling markets, and incredible hospitality.


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Anyway, back to the now infamous (in my mind at least) Sho-ro-di. I made the decision to venture to a place which bore no mention in the Lonely Planet guide for the Barisal region. I’ve adopted this method previously on my travels within this country, and if truth be told, it tends to deliver mixed results.

Today was no different. I scoured the map for a little while and searched names of towns or villages that lay within an hour by bus from my base in Barisal. The reasoning being that one hour is far enough to feel a little adventurous, but close enough to (hopefully) avoid becoming stranded by nightfall. There were three or four contenders, but in the end I settled on Charadi, which in my misinformed mind was pronounced Cha-raaaa-diiii.

Having identified my chosen place for the day, I filled my bag with the essentials for such an escapade. A fully charged camera, water, sufficient taka, and of course sun cream (for the weak, fragile body I possess), and upon leaving my hotel room, I was filled with the familiar sentiments of excitement and trepidation.

The hotel manager kindly told me which bus terminal to head for and thus I confidently requested a waiting rickshaw driver to take me there. He had a broad smile and the stained, red teeth of a man who regularly chews tobacco.

Traffic was congested with early morning commuters, heavy goods vehicles and sporadic roadworks. Nevertheless, undeterred by this and the increasing heat, my driver ploughed on resiliently and with a kind of do or die attitude that whilst admirable, made for an anxious journey…on my part. Anyway, we reached the bus terminal and I bid farewell to the rickshaw driver and part one of the mystery tour was done.

Or so I thought. It became apparent in no time at all that reaching Charadi would not involve the straightforward task of jumping on a bus. Failure to acknowledge the vital component of correct pronunciation was my first mistake, and when I greeted the bus counter chap with Cha-RA-di, a blank look faced me. I then tried CHA-ra-di, which once again drew puzzlement. Cho-ra-di, Cha-ro-di, Chooooo-od-iiii, Chaaa-raaaa-di, Cha-laaa-di, Cho-looo-di, all followed, until finally someone gasped excitedly, “SHO-RO-DI!” and there were knowing nods all round.

Relief and joy soon turned to disappointment however, as it turned out this was not the correct bus terminal at all, and after the small conference involving me, three men from the bus terminal, one man from the adjacent tea shop and approximately seven other interested onlookers, which eventually identified Sho-ro-di as my desired destination, it was concluded that I was to head back in the exact direction I had just come from.

The day was young however, and I was still in relatively high spirits, so this detour in no way hampered my enthusiasm…yet. I made my way to the launch ghat (ferry port), but frustratingly my mastery of the pronunciation was once again below par and this time it took two policemen, one ticket vendor, and three recently disembarked ferry passengers to decipher my ramblings. “Aaaaah, Sho-ro-di!” once again filled the air with a mix of triumph and relief.

A small boy was enlisted to guide me to the correct boat. One minute he was sat minding his own business, and the next he’s leading me through a small market to the water’s edge. He did earn 20 taka for his due diligence and effort though.

After a short journey on a small passenger boat, I arrived on the opposite riverbank and a kind, older gentleman directed me to the bus I needed to reach the now almost mystical town of Charadi. To be honest I don’t think a great many foreigners ride the local bus to this town, so my presence generated a few double takes.


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Initial impressions of my destination were not altogether positive. The first part of the bus journey involved a broad and dusty main road, littered with plastic bottles and other trash, and I wondered if the beautiful scenery that I’d set out to capture with my camera lay somewhere faraway from here, perhaps right back in the opposite direction, but as we took a left turn off the main road, my hopes for Charadi picked up.

While the road quality deteriorated, the surrounding countryside did the exact opposite and seemed to be rejuvenated with a surrounding landscape of dense green trees and glistening streams. Small villages bordered the winding, bumpy road, and after about fifteen minutes of this view through the bus window, we came to a halt. I had made it, some two hours after setting out.


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Over the course of the subsequent hours, I spent my day drinking tea, wandering through the small town and neighbouring countryside, and even visited a local primary school!

Was it worth it? Well, hopefully the following photos will answer that question better than words can. However, what I will say briefly is that I once again encountered a beautiful corner of this country, and in my next blog post I’ll share a series of photos from a week spent in the south west, which will hopefully demonstrate the incredible joy of travel and adventure.


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Charadi was a quiet and peaceful market town, sat on the bank of a river, which I strolled along for a while. My challenge in reaching here was due in main to my sub-standard pronunciation and short term memory loss. To be perfectly honest as I stood, forlorn and desperately trying to communicate the name ‘Charadi’ to a fairly large audience, I couldn’t help thinking of this video from Disney’s Pete’s Dragon…

Passamaquaddy – Pete’s Dragon


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Panch Bochhor (পাঁচ বছর)

Marking 5 years


I like milestones. They provide a satisfying sense of accomplishment and achievement whilst ensuring the preservation of a little focus and direction.

This post is a celebration of one such milestone. April 9th, 2016 marked exactly 5 years since I first posted on this blog.  It’s a pleasant feeling to know that despite the many twists and turns, the sporadic uprooting, the hellos and the goodbyes, and the often unplanned wanderings, I have still found time to regularly (well, kind of regularly) update and commit part of my energy and heart to this little project.

A project that began with the somewhat vague aim of recording my ramblings has now grown into a means by which to document a multitude of experiences that came along the way.


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What this milestone also represents is that it is now a little over five years since I arrived in Bangladesh. When I think back to that time (March 2011), I really had no idea I would remain so long in this country, but I don’t regret it one bit. I arrived on a short term contract with a cautious ambition to perhaps extend that to a year. Five years on I’m still here aside from a one year sabbatical (of sorts) in Guyana.

Bangladesh has been good to me, and I am very grateful for that. I can’t really believe how quickly the five years have flown by, but in that time I’ve been lucky enough to explore this country a little and also travel to Nepal, India, Cambodia, Myanmar, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, Laos, Bhutan, Thailand, and even back to Rwanda a couple of times.

Most importantly though I have been lucky enough to work in a job that has inspired me to grow and learn. I’ve been surrounded by some fantastic colleagues right from the start, and they have been a source of constant knowledge whilst encouraging me to change and develop my outlook on many, many things.

I have of course also been privileged to teach and work with students who have taught me far more than I have them.

As always with these short posts that mark a milestone, I prefer to let images tell the story, so here are a few which I think sum up just why that tentative first few months turned into five years and provided me with so many amazing adventures under this one sun.


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Sunset on the water



All images © John Stanlake


You Set The Scenes

A new project


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So I’d like to take the opportunity to use this somewhat older (hmmm, let’s say more ‘mature’) platform of communication to tell you about a new project I’ve started working on.

I say I, but it is in fact ‘we’ – my good friend Rich and I. We know each other from our days in Prague when we both completed the same TEFL course (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) and have remained good friends ever since.

Rich still lives and works in the Czech Republic in a town called Podebrady, and he came up with the idea of creating a Vlog (video log) in which we both contribute regular videos offering a little glimpse into our individual experiences in the Czech Republic and Bangladesh respectively.

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The slight twist is that in doing so, we will set each other various challenges. We will also seek input from our viewers (who will hopefully exist!) and ask for suggestions for challenges they would like to see us complete, hence the name of the vlog – You Set The Scenes. Also, crucially, whoever receives the most thumbs up on youtube for their video wins the challenge.

*The name of the vlog is also a little nod to one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite bands.*

The main aims of this new project are as follows:

  1. For Rich and I to keep in touch!
  2. To hopefully offer viewers a little glimpse into what our lives are like as expats.
  3. To offer a positive look into the culture and environment of both Bangladesh and the Czech Republic.
  4. To motivate Rich and I to explore our locations further and hopefully create a richer personal understanding of our surroundings.
  5. To do things we may not have previously considered, which will no doubt at some points make us appear awkward and uncomfortable…perhaps much to the amusement of our viewers (again, if we have any)!

So that’s it really. I’m sure it will be a challenge at times, but also worthwhile, rewarding and fun. We both love exploring and getting away from the ‘tourist track’ and hope that this new vlog will reflect that.

Check out the trailer…

Our first challenge was to learn and recite a tongue twister in the native language of our countries.  So I learned a tongue twister in Bangla, and Rich learned one in Czech. You can see how we got on below.

Rich’s Czech Tongue Twister

and

John’s Bangla Tongue Twister

Please like our facebook page and subscribe to our youtube channel. We are also on Twitter and you can follow us at @YouSetTheScenes.

We hope you enjoy our future videos, and please comment below with any suggestions you would like us to try!


 


Four Years Through a Lens


Almost four years ago to the day I began my random musings on this blog. In that time it has evolved from a predominantly word-based account of travels and the daily life of living internationally, to (I hope) an increasingly image-focussed reflection upon the diverse, distinct, and unique environments I am lucky enough to find myself in.

Two years ago I marked the second full year of this blog with a selection of images that captured the essence of that period.

https://johnstanlake.com/2013/04/09/two-years-through-a-lens/

Two years on again, I would like to repeat this exercise with ten carefully selected images from the period April 2013 to April 2015, which are collectively some of my favourites from this time and provide a small glimpse into another two years of travel, exploration, and life as an expat.


1. December 28th, 2013 – Angkor Wat, Cambodia

An incredible sunrise at one of the world’s most ancient and mysterious archeological sites. It is moments like this that make the cramped buses, early mornings, and days of unwashed clothes completely worth it.

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2. December 18th, 2013 – Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar

Taken as I stood on a bridge with the city of Yangon sprawled around me, this image sticks in my mind as the famous Shwedagon Pagoda seemed to be visible across the whole city.

Shwedagon Pagoda, Yangon, Myanmar


3. July 2013 – Prague, Czech Republic

I’ve never actually written about Prague in this blog, but it’s where my teaching life began in 2009, so it holds a special place in my heart. Visiting again in 2013 reminded me just how wonderful the city is. One of Europe’s finest.

Prague, Czech Republic


4. Georgetown, Guyana

My home for one year until June 2013, Georgetown (and Guyana) has a vibrancy that’s hard to explain in words. You really have to experience it to realise how the diverse cultures fuse together to create an intriguing country.

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5.  December 2013 – Bagan, Myanmar

Sunrise over the ancient pagodas in Bagan. It’s hard to put into words quite how beautiful this morning was, so hopefully the photo provides some idea.

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6.  January 1st, 2014 – Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Spending the first day of 2014 in Ho Chi Minh City was a nice way to kick off a year that involved more travel and exploration. It was my first time in the south of Vietnam and I plan to return one day.

Ho Chi Minh City


7. March 2014 – Sandwip, Bangladesh

The photo may speak for itself, but Sandwip (a small island west of Chittagong) was a total joy to experience when I stayed there for a few days with a colleague’s family. This photo was taken one early evening, and it’s one of my personal favourites from any of my travels.

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8. August 2015 – Dartmoor, Devon, UK

It’s always nice to go home. Sights like this make it all the more worth it…

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9. July 2014 – Huye, Rwanda

This is less about the actual image and more about the significance of the location. Fours years after leaving Rwanda, July 2014 was the first time I set foot once again in the Land of a Thousand Hills. It was a special feeling to be back there, even if just for a week.

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10. March 2015 – Jessore, Bangladesh

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.”

– Robert Frost

Jessore, Bangladesh


 


46 Cups of Tea

A statistical and image-based reflection on a week in west Bangladesh


After nine straight weeks of teaching, the question was how to fill nine days of vacation. On this occasion I decided to remain in Bangladesh and take the opportunity to explore this country a little further, and having never ventured due west before, that is where I went. The division of Khulna to be precise, which borders India and comprises a number of districts, including Jessore and Khulna.



Travelling individually has always felt a little daunting to me, so the prospect of spending the duration of the break navigating an unfamiliar area of Bangladesh alone provoked mixed emotions. Nevertheless, I survived, and I’m here to report in. I’ll spare the mundane play by play account of what happened and instead present an array of telling statistics. Prior to leaving Chittagong I decided I’d take a pad and pen with me on the trip and keep a tally of the inevitable and the unexpected in equal measure.



So, here it is, the story of my week in Jessore and Khulna in numbers, beginning with the most important and reflective of all…

46 – Cups of tea consumed

20 – Cups of tea I paid for

26 – Cups of tea bought for me by ever hospitable locals



10 – Invites to homes

4 – Invites accepted

659 – Photos taken (see a select set here – Jessore & Khulna)


Rice paddies near the India border, Benapol.


6 – Modes of transport used during the trip


37 – Times my unmarried status evoked confused frowns

21 – Times it was suggested I marry in Bangladesh

4 – Business cards received

27 – Business cards distributed

3 – Occasions in which I was asked if I came from Japan

24 – Jibes received regarding England’s woeful Cricket World Cup campaign

12 – Times I was asked to reveal my salary

6 – 15th century mosques visited


Singar Mosque, Bagerhat

7 – Hindu temples visited


Here is a list of events which occurred just once, but I deemed worthy enough to scribble down in my notepad…

  • Requested to convert to Islam for marriage purposes
  • Military border parades witnessed

Daily flag lowering ceremony, Benapole border


  • Squeezed into a body-hugging Bangladesh cricket shirt and told, “It fits perfectly boss!”
  • Asked if Iranian
  • Told to cancel my hotel booking and sleep in the home of a man I had met just 30 minutes previously
  • After briefly chatting with a man I met earlier in the day, he then text to inform me he was knocking on my hotel room door and requested I open said door…
  • ‘Adventure Parks’ visited that made me want to scream “WHY??!!” at the person who recommended it and assured me it was “very beautiful…”

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Yes….this is a plastic T-Rex….


  • Told I was lying about my age as I couldn’t possibly be as young as I was claiming
  • Told a man he was the least friendliest person I had ever met in Bangladesh after he spent a good five minutes ridiculing my intelligence for not carrying my passport and stating that as the British were “Kings” I am practically a disgrace to the great nation of Britain

And finally, a list of occurrences that initially I had firm intentions of meticulously tracking. Yet, as the hours and days passed, I soon realised it would be impossible to keep an accurate record due to the sheer volume. So, in the end they became uncountable, but no less significant…

  • Asked the question, “Your country?”
  • Confused questions with suspicious facial expressions regarding my reason for being in Jessore/Khulna/Bangladesh
  • Enthusiastically praised for my comprehensive Bangla language proficiency


  • Robustly chastised for my low level of Bangla language proficiency
  • Pondered the meaning of life
  • Wondered if rural Bangladesh is the most beautiful place on earth


  • Wondered why my bus driver was trying to overtake three other buses up ahead
  • Wondered how that 93rd passenger was going to find a space to squeeze into on the already cramped bus, but soon realising there was space for passengers 94, 95 and 96.

So that concludes a brief look at my week in the west. It was fascinating, eye-opening, and at times a little testing. However, it was completely worth it, and evidence once again of why I often question why more tourists don’t come and explore this golden land.

Selfishly I’m glad they don’t though, because there were times on the trip as I sat on the back of a wagon and we meandered our way down a silent, tree-lined country road in the early evening, just as the sun began to set, that I thought to myself, “I’m totally at peace right now.”

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Baro


“Does it bother you that I talk so much?”

Asma

Tucked inconspicuously away from the noise and chaos of one of Chittagong’s longest and busiest main roads you’ll find a small tea shop. Not particularly unique in appearance, it is sandwiched on either side by two further tea shops, and all three function identically, serving very similar items to a wide variety of people who happen to sit down that day. It’s easy to miss the turning into the road these shops are situated on, and most people will pass straight by. My chance encounter came about in a characteristically haphazard manner. I was stranded at the back of a huge line of people all waiting to gain entry into the Indian High Commission. As I stood there exchanging frustrated head nods and tuts with fellow embassy hopefuls, I pondered if it were more logical to continue standing in this line, or whether I should try my luck at camouflaging up and attempt a covert border crossing through the mangrove forests of the Sundarbans.

The tea shop

All was not lost though and help was at hand in the form of a cup of tea and a citizen from the very country I was trying hard to get a visa for. Sharmistha, my friend, colleague, and fellow tea enthusiast had learned of my queue predicament and very kindly arrived to offer moral support/language translation skills. She also went off in search of tea and came back telling the tale of the shop this blog centres around. However, it is much less to do with the actual shop, but rather the person who serves the tea and runs the establishment. Her name is Asma, and she is just twelve years old (“baro” in Bangla).

After eventually entering the High Commission, both Sharmistha and I returned to Asma’s shop for another cup of tea, but also because we wanted to learn more about this tenacious 12 year old. She informed us the shop is her father’s, but as he works as a security guard in a neighbouring hospital, Asma has been assigned the crucial duty of ensuring the tea business runs smoothly. Thus, she sits from morning until evening each day serving tea, paan, bread, and cigarettes to customers, 99% of whom are most probably men. She is twelve remember.

Sharmistha and I have returned to chat with Asma several times now and also with her father and some of the regular patrons of the shop. It is clear they think very highly of Asma, and why wouldn’t they?! She is outgoing, friendly, efficient, and has one of the warmest and most engaging smiles I’ve ever seen. Asma has inspired me to use this blog in future to highlight some of the characters I regularly meet here in Chittagong. Special thanks must go to Sharmistha, who is responsible for the majority of the translation that was required!

When we first met Asma two months ago, she was not attending school. Her father had promised to send her once he found a suitable arrangement for the tea shop around his work schedule. He had tried employing others to run it in his absence, but claimed he was unable to trust them. It therefore fell upon Asma to keep everything in order.

This was a wise choice. From observing Asma she is highly efficient and able to confidently deal with the pressures of a bustling tea stand. She is also very astute with money. On one occasion we came to pay for our tea and Asma’s father wouldn’t take our money. Typical Bangladesh hospitality once again. We protested and exclaimed that if Asma were here, she would certainly accept our money. He laughed and replied, “Yes, you’re right!”

We returned once again to see Asma yesterday and the great news is she is now attending school. Her classes begin at 6.00am and finish for the day at 11.00am. She returns home, eats lunch, completes her homework, and by 2.00pm she is at the tea stand where she’ll remain until around 8.00pm.

We enquired about school and she told us she enjoys it. Currently in class 4, she finds the lessons interesting, and also playing games, something she has previously had little time to do when whole days were spent at work.

Asma attends school with her friend from next door, and this works well as, “She is a good girl, who doesn’t fight with me and she helps her mother.” The school they attend is divided with classes for girls held in the mornings and the classes for boys held in the afternoon. Asma didn’t seem too concerned by this arrangement and wisely concluded that;

“If boys and girls are put together, there will be trouble!”

Originally from a village in Noakhali district to the north west of Chittagong, Asma’s father decided to move to the city in search of work. She admitted to missing village life and particularly her grandparents and the other children she used to play with. The green, the rice fields and the ponds are also aspects of village life she misses. However, her mother is here with her in Chittagong and this is incredibly important for Asma. She told us;

“I love talking with my mother. If I’m not sleeping when I’m at home, I’m talking to my mother. I love her very much.”

As I mentioned earlier, Asma receives respect and affection from the people who regularly visit the tea stand. Whilst we were there yesterday a local policeman stopped for tea and is clearly fond of her. He referred to Asma as “mamoni” an affectionate term used for younger people. Another younger man was asking Asma about school and encouraged her to go there and “make good friends.”

Some regulars seem to look at me and Sharmistha with puzzled eyes, perhaps wondering why we keep returning to the small tea stand and drinking up to three cups of tea at a time just so that we can learn more about the girl with the infectious smile. Asma asked Sharmistha yesterday, “Does it bother you that I talk so much?!”

No Asma, it really does not.

So that is Asma, a twelve year old girl balancing a life of school and work at such a young age. She does so with a smile and positivity that is truly inspiring. She is also extremely wise. As I left yesterday her advice for me was;

“Stay well, and eat your rice well.”


Heigh-Ho!


In my previous blog I presented the photographic evidence of copious tea shop visits and interactions with the owners and clientele. During those photo walks I also captured a few images of people at work.

I found that it was quite fascinating to sit and photograph people going about their daily work and trades. I wanted to post this blog simply to present the images that reflect daily life here as I see it through my lens.

This is what I enjoy most about engaging in one of my favourite hobbies here in Chittagong. Through photography I extract so much joy from being able to view and explore this fascinating city and country and to view sights that perhaps seem ordinary or even mundane to one set of eyes, yet to others tell a story.

So, here are the results. Some of the photos were taken some months/years ago, but all are from Bangladesh. Also you may notice that there are few women featured. This was obviously not a conscious decision of mine, but rather reflective of the trades I photographed, and crucially, my location.


The Welders

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The CNG driver

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The Rickshawalah

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Rickshawalahs


The man who fixes the rickshawalah’s wheels…

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The Boatmen

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The Tailors

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The Fishermen

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…and the man who transports their catch to market

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to the man who sells them at the market…


The Farmer

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The Produce Sellers

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The Butcher


The Ice Cream Man

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The Jeweller


The Carpenter

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The Cooks

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The Load Carriers and Goods Transporters

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And finally, the metalsmith

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Bhaiya, Cha Khaben?

Tea Shops of Chittagong


It’s probably no secret that one of my favourite activities in Chittagong is drinking tea. You may be thinking well, he’s British, so it kind of figures. Along with queuing (standing in line) and in depth discussions about the weather, we Brits love nothing more than a hot brew. Drinking tea; It’s what we do. When we’re upset, confused, nervous, celebrating, commiserating, pontificating, procrastinating, gossiping, etc, etc….we put the kettle on, and we go straight for the teabags.

Well, here in Chittagong there seems to be a similar culture. One of the main differences being however, that tea drinking is a far more public event. Groups of men and women (but usually men given the culture) can be found far and wide across the city (and the country of course) sipping on hot, sweet tea, and I often end up becoming a member of one of these groups. In all honesty the tea here in Bangladesh is ok, but it’s not so much the tea that draws me in, but rather the experience that surrounds it.

I love the scene and the way life is played out over cups of tea. The comings and goings, the cross section of diverse characters, the energy, the humour, the mystery, and the undulating pace of each individual experience. The tea stalls/shops come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, and it’s incredible just how many exist here. I could go on and on trying to describe it in words, but recently I decided it would be far easier, and probably a much greater sensory experience to present Chittagong’s tea drinking through a series of images.

Thus, in the past two weeks I have wandered around the city visiting a vast array of Cha-er dokan (tea shops) and here are the photos I captured. It’s also safe to say that in excess of twenty cups of tea were consumed in the process! I should also state that whilst in some photos the people do not look overly happy about the image being taken, I always make a point of checking with people (often 2-3 times) that they are ok for me to take the photo. From my experience it is very common for the people I’ve met to switch to their most serious expression when the photo is taken.

A common scene found across the city and country

‘Adda’ – informal conversations on a quiet day

A variety of snacks to accompany your tea

This shop is as wide and as deep as the photo suggests

The roadside tea shop

Bananas, bread and tea

Beside the rail tracks, the tea shack – a community centre

Learning the trade early

One of the noisier tea shops – located by the side of a frequently congested main road

TMT – a larger establishment with a reputation for fine tea

One of the many tea sellers who populate this city

A bustling tea/food shop

The rickshawallah’s break

Discussing the day over early evening cha

The hub of a road or area

A common snack here in Chittagong

Evening entertainment at the tea shop

No finer way to spend 10 minutes

The essentials

Watching the world go by

A small cup of tea and condensed milk greatness

Tea shop faces

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The mobile teawallah

And finally in an ode to tea drinking here is a song from one of my favourite bands, Kula Shaker, who have captured the magic of a nice cup of tea magically. Enjoy!

Drink Tea for the Love of God


 


Brishti Hobe – A Day in Bangladesh

Despite the backpack I carry on my shoulders each day, which commonly provokes sniggers, I am not Bangladeshi. It’s obvious of course, but sometimes I receive very clear reminders. I experienced one such reminder this past Saturday, and having not written anything for a while on this blog I thought I’d share my story of one fine day (as a foreigner) in Bangladesh.

My proud backpack

It all started at 7.30am on a grey, but uncomfortably humid morning. The mission was to escape Chittagong armed only with a bottle of water, a camera, and a resolute willingness to explore. Thus, after a quick coffee and a piece of bread, a fairly random ‘plan’ was hatched. Essentially it entailed buying a bus ticket, boarding the vehicle, riding it for an unspecified amount of time, and ultimately jumping off when our gut feeling signalled it was time. A foolproof plan of that there’s no doubt…

On a basic level the plan worked. We bought bus tickets to Cox’s Bazar, a coastal town roughly four hours south of Chittagong. There was never any intention of a day by the sea though, and three hours into the journey we decided this would be a suitable time to abandon ship, which turned out to be easier said than done. Explaining to the driver and his assistant that we’d gone far enough at this point turned into a 5 minute to and fro. A vigorous debate ensued between us all, prolonged of course by the language barrier. When we finally convinced our hosts to stop and let us off, we left a bus full of confused and concerned faces all wondering just why these two strange foreigners were stood by the side of the road, marooned in the middle of nowhere, and 60 kilometres from the final destination stated on their tickets.

Who needs a complete bus?

Not our bus, but impressive nonetheless

It is true, we had no idea where we were, but as always here in Bangladesh it doesn’t take long for someone to offer a friendly smile and an inquisitive hello. On this day it took little under two minutes and we were soon summoned over to a group of men, sat down in plastic chairs and swiftly offered a cup of tea. For me no day out in Bangladesh is complete without an obligatory cup of tea surrounded by interesting new faces. So, given that this condition had been met within moments of us setting foot off the bus, I concluded that whatever happened from this point onwards, it would end well.

Our mission for the day was photography and we were exactly where we wanted to be – out of the city and surrounded by flat, green, rural Bangladesh. Our location was perfect, now all we needed was the photographs. Unfortunately this is where our plan faltered a little. The aim had been to spend the day wandering, perhaps aimlessly, but with the very definite purpose of capturing scenes of rice paddies, local people going about their daily lives, sunlight hitting the various ponds dotted across the landscape, and finally an epic sunset that would make the early start and the bus trip worth it. It didn’t quite pan out this way.

Within five minutes of bidding our tea hosts farewell, the skies darkened ominously, and it was not long before a man from the group of tea drinkers came up behind us with a concerned look on his face and exclaimed “brishti hobe!” – rain is coming! He was correct, and so very kindly invited us to shelter in his home until the shower passed. An hour later we were still there, but it didn’t matter, he and his family made us typically welcome and we had as much fun sat there getting to know his relatives as we would have had exploring the area.

Our host had two children. He also lived with his wife, mother, father and sister who brought us juice and biscuits and seemed concerned that we politely refused the offer of rice several times. His father sat in a separate room and with a warm but somewhat confused look on his face (probably in response to the mystery of how two foreigners had ended up stranded in his house and disrupting the usual equilibrium) invited us to sit. He stared at me intently and then proceeded to ask me a series of quick-fire questions in Bangla. Now, I can respond to several basic questions and even respond with questions of my own, but once the introductions are complete and the comments about how hot it is are over, I’m stumped. This didn’t deter our host though – the questions came thick and fast, much to the amusement of his wife who was peeling lentils outside in a corridor, and sniggering heartily. The more inquisitive he became, the more confused I sounded.

Our host's wife and daughter

Our host’s wife and daughter

Our host's neighbour

Our host’s neighbour

Outside the rain continued to pour down and our hopes of photography faded. No matter though; we were walked over to a neighbour’s house and once again the introductions began. A jovial man welcomed us and we got the sense he was perhaps a central figure in the community. Insisting we sit for a while and drink some famous Sylheti green tea, he proceeded to call his son….and then hand me the phone. I chatted to his son for a while, who was as hospitable as his father and invited me to stay in his home in Srimangal. It is unlikely that such an invitation would be extended to a stranger you had never met before in the UK, but here in Bangladesh it is commonplace.

Finally the rain did ease, and as a glimpse of sunlight began to poke its way through the clouds we thanked our new friends who had provided shelter, tea and kind hospitality. At this point we headed up the road, once again completely aimlessly. We were lucky enough to capture some images of the surrounding countryside (and unfortunately a forlorn bus, which was the latest victim of Bangladesh’s unpredictable highways), but overall the main highlights of the day had been the people we met and the experiences we shared.

Another day in Bangladesh.

 

Unfortunately not an untypical scene

Here are some further images from the day

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The view as we stepped off the bus