Sunday 5 July 2009

Southern Missions

  Last week was a slow week in the office. I am now working on a report that compares the subprime crisis in the United States, which brought the world economy to its knees, and the current microcredit practices in Bangladesh. Essentially it explores the reasons for why lending to the worlds poorest people can be a success, while lending to the poor in America failed so catastrophically, and the lessons that can be learned. Hopefully I'll be able to wrap it up before I leave. 
 This weekend saw yet another epic trip. On Thursday night we took a boat from Dhaka to the southern city of Barisal. The boat was a rusty, old, 200 foot steamer with three decks. The first deck was one large room, with over 100 people spread out on the floor. The scene was more reminiscent of a post WWII refugee exodus than a 21st century ferry, but such are the constant surprises in Bangladesh. The remaining decks comprised two different types of two-bed tiny cabin: regular and VIP - the only discernible difference being a carpet and the pretense of an AC unit on the wall. As we booked last minute, we were only able to secure 5 cabins for the 17 of us. It was a cozy ride. At some point during the night, a few of us found ourselves in conversation with the only other white person on the boat - a dutch missionary who had spent 30 years in Bangladesh and was heading to Barisal to attend the ordination of a Bishop. Needless to say he was keen to invite us and we were equally eager to attend.
 Arriving at the church complex at 6am, drenched to the core after a ten minute walk through intense monsoon rain, was one of the most absurd and trippy moments of my life. Adorned with bright, multicolored, flashing lights, this church and the 2000 seater tent set up for the service screamed Vegas kitsch like nothing I had seen before in Asia. As we watched the nuns set up for the 9am start time, I half expected them to break out in a rendition of "It's Raining Men"....appropriate on so many levels. We ate breakfast and returned for the 3 hour ordination, which was entirely in Bengali, but somehow missed-out on an invitation for the feast that followed. I was most upset. 
 Later that day we took a small wooden motor boat down river, eventually stumbling upon the remotest of villages. We stepped onto land, where the water-logged mud slipped and squelched beneath our bare feet (we attempted to convince ourselves that the silt had some highly therapeutic qualities but I highly doubt this was the case) and were suddenly surrounded by 100+ male villagers. Where the women were hiding is an unsolved mystery. They marched us to their football pitch and we soon found ourselves in a game of 7 of us against their best 7. The remaining villagers and girls from our group cheered from the sidelines. A moment must be devoted to acknowledge the pinnacle of my sporting achievements - this game involved more spectators than all of my other past athletic events combined, and I was not on the substitute bench for even a second (perhaps to the detriment of my team). Team Grameen even came away with a mud-soaked 1-0 victory. 
 Last night we went to the American Club - every big country has their own little country-club (no pun intended) in Dhaka - to celebrate 4th July. We were ridiculously over dressed for the occasion, and it was not exactly what we had imagined. In hindsight, the idea that their would be hoards of beautiful, blond, 20 year old, southern girls desperately seeking out microfinance volunteer workers was a bit of a stretch, but unfortunately there was nothing even close. Nevertheless, as 5 boys we made the most of an open bar, and plenty of fun ensued. 
 This week will mostly involve working on my report, and hopefully a photo-op with Dr Yunus. So until then...
Richard 

1 comment:

  1. cant wait to hear about your reunion with frenchie and the tall man. keep us all informed.

    much love,
    Nicky

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