Louise in Bangladesh: Village people

Although Bangladesh is one of the poorest countries in the world, its people are no longer starving - just desperately poor. Living a real hand to mouth existence, means working very hard every day to get the food for tomorrow with no time to think about change. In the rural areas life is much the same as it has been for centuries. Apart from the motor bikes and bicycles which are the only vehicles that can negotiate the tracks, life has a Thomas Hardy quality to it. People are just dressed more colourfully. Children can walk 30, 40, 50 minutes to get to school. Small markets where produce can be sold are found at the larger track junctions and can take over to an hour to cycle to. Houses are either wooden constructions with a palm leaf roof or have corrugated iron walls and roof to match. Underfoot it’s beaten earth, brushed clean every day by the women. As I mentioned the personal and household washing is done in the nearby pond which also holds the fish villagers eat. There may be a couple of dogs and a cat mooching around. They’re the same as the people really – just enough to eat but wouldn’t mind a bit more. The men work in the paddy fields and the women tend to both the numerous fish and shrimp ponds, grow and shell (is that the right word?) the enormous snails that provide much of the fish food, crush the shells for fertiliser, tend to the vegetables, keep the place clean, look after their homes, cook and have more children.

We visited a couple of primary schools and a high school, met local youth club organisers and the Village Committee. All very interesting – no, really. Our host NGO was Renaissance, an small organisation set up years ago by dedicated local people. They try to improve the lot of the local villagers through education, awareness raising and empowerment. They sponsor bright youngsters through high school and have just had their first university place acceptance for a future local doctor. They also provide non-formal education. This is school for what they call drop-outs. We wouldn't call them drop-outs - they are children who for some reason (usually having to work in the fields, or being married at under 16) are not able to go to school. One of the young women we met is doing economics among her 'A' levels and is intending to be a banker. This from someone whose village has no electricity, mains water or sanitation, and who has seen TV or listened to the radio about 6 times in her life. The dedication of these children to their education is humbling.

Out there in the sticks there is not much rubbish. Everything is used. The children in one of the primary schools had old lighter gas or fly spray aerosols as pencil cases. It’s a different picture around the markets, towns and cities though. There is rubbish everywhere. As there is no national or local infrastructure to have it collected and disposed of people just drop things as and when it’s finished with. In fact the rubbish from our apartment is taken by the boy who guards the building, he dumps it in the street around the corner, a couple of beggars will go through it for anything salvageable and the rest is left to rot where it is. As I have already said, I’m here in the best season and it’s true for all sorts of reasons, but the lack of smell must be a key one. I’m not looking forward to the warmer weather.

By the way, I touched a crocodile the other day! In the grounds of an ancient mosque there is a big lake with an almost as ancient crocodile who is hand-fed chickens for lunch. She had just had lunch and was taking a siesta on the side of the lake. The old man looking after her allowed us to approach – from behind her, very slowly and carefully, and stroke her, very slowly and carefully, and then back away very slowly and carefully. We lived to tell the tale. Phew.

Then on the coach on the way back to Dhaka there was an elephant by the side of the road. Unexpected. Marvellous.

High school students, volunteers and Renaissance staff.