Sitting here jet-lagged and watching TV at 3 in the morning, I never realized Tim Allen and Jonathan Taylor Thomas were fluent in Hindi. Although Bangla is the language spoken in Bangladesh, most of their TV programming is Indian, and so Hindi is heard most frequently. I guess it is similar to how in Canada, we see mostly American programming. Fortunately they speak the same language as us, for the most part.
Despite a few hurdles along the way, such as my visa showing up the day before I was to leave, and typhoon Nuri delaying my arrival by a few days, I finally made it to Dhaka. Upon landing, I was greeted with a blast of humidity. It seemed to seep right through the walls of the plane even as we waited to exit. Stepping out into the hot Dhaka night, I looked around, remembering the anxiety I felt my first time landing in Dhaka back in 2006; I saw the grimy metal bars, holding off people with their hands sticking through, the chaos of taxis and sounds, but this time, I felt a certain familiarity, as if maybe I am finally starting to get used to this country.
My hotel room overlooks Gulshan lake, a murky lake with mysterious black blobs that seem to swirl up from the lake bed, and saturated with fish, although I see nobody fishing. Apparently about twice a year chemicals are dumped into the lake to cull the fish and belly-up they go, coating the surface. I was watching the pouring rain beat down onto the water, trying to work up enough nerve to get up and go to NIPSOM, the university I will be working with. It always takes a little coaxing to get myself out onto the chaotic streets, kind of like jumping into a cold pool; you know you will warm up as soon as you jump in and start swimming, but the hardest part is just getting in!
Once at NIPSOM, I found Dr. Akhtar pretty easily. My supervisor, Hugh, and I had met with him about three times during our last trip. He has a big round happy face and smiles all the time. He dies his hair with henna (this plant Indian people use to die patterns on their hands and also their hair) so it is a bright red, and he speaks with a husky, whispering voice, as if he were the godfather. When my appointed research assistant, Zakia walked into Dr. Akhtar’s office that morning, I liked her instantly. She had a friendly smile and exuded positive energy. We went off to talk about the details of the project and I found her to be sharp, awake, and to have a good sense of humour. Unfortunately she has exams until the middle of September, so Zakia and Dr. Akhtar have selected someone else to come with me to Bogra for the first few weeks.
I made a decision this time to try as hard as possible to do things the local way, and not force anything the way I am used to, “the Canadian way”. For example, when working here back in 2006 with another organization, I tried to rush social pleasantries and force instructions to get right to work. I didn’t like how slow every process had to be and I realize now I was being impatient. I would try to clear up all ambiguities by repeating things over and over again. I found in the end this didn’t work at all; no matter how much I tried to speed up meetings, they were often slower than I expected, and no matter how many times I repeated things, there were still misunderstandings. I decided this time, just to sit back, practice a little more patience, and allow things to happen the Bangladeshi way. So Dr. Akhtar led the conversation, I waited for cues to speak or change the subject, and I was happy to find, we discussed almost everything I wanted to talk about that first day.
The microscope I dragged all the way from Canada has been delivered undamaged to NIPSOM after a hair-raising CNG ride (CNG stands for compressed natural gas, and is what people call the auto-rickshaws that use this fuel); I used one hand to make sure the scope didn’t fly out, and the other to make sure I didn’t fly out! Now only one more day here in the capital and then it is off to Bogra District to begin preparations for the field work.