Samba Kings are gone, but AA Bangla’s blog is here to stay…

Two weeks since we arrived back in Sydney from Dhaka. Swapped street stall Chais for Gloria Jean’s Cocoa Loco  Frappacinos. My fun-loving Bengali chums for Bondi’s skinny-jeans set. And Bollywood movies for nightly viewings of MasterChef (still waiting for Bangladeshi special).

Last Mango in Dhaka…

This is it. Last post for Project TOTO Bangladesh – for me, anyway. Sharna’s up tomorrow. It’s been both rollicking adventure and inspiring eye-opener, all wrapped up in the tastiest chapati bread imaginable.

But before I get misty-eyed and start bidding all a sad farewell, I’ll recap today’s activities. It was our last trip to the field, and lots of fun.

Back in concrete jungle with the cool kids…

After so many days beavering away in the Actionaid office in downtown Dhaka, working with AA Bangladesh’s dream team to get their blog up and running, we’re finally out in the field.

Yesterday, literally. Today – more concrete jungle, than lush cane fields. Oh rural Bangladesh, how I miss thee.

But I digress. Mind’s drifting back to the serenity. Oh the serenity…

Today we hop in van with Hasan, Amir and Towfic – los tres amigos Bangladeshi, and take off for Mohammadpur, in the city’s west.

Old Dhaka’s worth the herniated disc…

Today Sharna and I met up with one former Actionaider and one present one, Jo and Lara. They’ve been awesome ever since we got here, and even got us into the heavily fortified bunker that is the Australia Club. With pool and tennis courts it makes the Greenzone look like a kid’s playground.

Squeezed into a baby taxi, a steel cage on wheels. Three girls in back, and me up front, sitting on driver’s lap. If we crash, it’ll be death by a thousand cuts as we’re sieved through the steel grates. Hold on tight guys – we’re off to Old Dhaka’s bustling bazaars.

It’s Saturday – Bangladeshi Sunday – but traffic’s still full on. Old Dhaka, in the city’s south, is a maze of narrow alleyways. Streets are so packed. Like we’re in the video game Tetris, but with jazzed-up rickshaws and tricycles, not L-shaped blocks.

First stop is the old Armenian church, built back in the late 1700s. Armenians had a big presence here back then as merchants, and there’s still a small community, we’re told. Highlight is the friendly church Labrador that is instantly attracted to Sharna’s toes. Dogs are a rare sight here.

Now that’s a soccer game!

Okay. Sorry guys, this is tricky. Another blackout has darkened Dhaka, so my shiny screen’s the only light I have.

One of the Canadian t-shirt wearing hotel brigade just knocked on my door with my clothes in vacuum-sealed bags, cardboard inserts and even little plastic clips. That’s awesome – thought they were still balled up in my backpack.

Today we were lucky to catch a 1Goal event hosted by ActionAid Bangladesh in one of the poorer districts in Dhaka’s east. AA’s dynamic duo, Hasan and Amir, set up a soccer match for some of the boys and girls from the one of Dhaka’s poorer suburbs as part of the 1Goal Campaign.

To give, or not to give…

Just polished off most mouth-watering fish curry at a charming spot in Dhaka’s northern suburb of Gulshan. Inside restaurant it’s cool and calm.

Upper class locals sit around and talk shop, squishing curry into balls and popping them into their mouths. A giant plastic capsicum dangles above our heads with total indifference.

It’s a picture of dignified serenity.

Then we step outside and chaos descends.

On visions, adventures, and getting perspective

It’s been a long time coming, but Sharna and I have finally arrived in Dhaka, as part of Actionaid’s Project TOTO. Crazy tired – like the worn-out, washed-up boxer in Martin Scorsese’s classic Raging Bull, which, oddly, was on last night’s in-flight entertainment.

With a quick layover in Singapore’s heavenly airport, I duck into the men’s, and what’s this – has the turbulence-heavy, sleep-deprived trip over given me visions? The word ‘TOTO’ magically appears before me, in gold lettering across the top of the toilet.

Does Bangladesh’s Masterchef wear cravats too?

Sitting in a Sydney café, bundled up in jacket and scarf, as the icy rain pelts down outside. Light flickers from my laptop’s shimmering screen – the only warmth on this drabbest of days. Locals shuffle past, musing on what shade of pink Mat Preston’s pants will be tonight on MasterChef, and if they’ll match his cravat.

Hmm… food for thought, and really does help us through these dreary winter days.

But wait. Suddenly it hits me with the force of a rapidly descending mini-grand piano landing on my head that Sharna and I will be in face-meltingly hot Dhaka in a matter of days.  Our realities will be up-ended, like a flipped Chapati frying in a Bangladeshi street stall.

Check out this Wentworth Courier Article…

Feature article for the Wentworth Courier…

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