Feeding the poor - Old Dhaka in the 1980s. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

Susan said that she was unprepared for another aspect of living in Bangladesh: family life.

She said, “I didn’t understand the importance of family in Bangladeshi culture before I came [in 1981].  Some of the very traditional obligations to family were still observed.  Having lived alone… it was an adjustment for me to report where I was going and to ask permission.”

However Susan said that her American father “always asked his parents for permission to go out, even as an adult.  If he was at his mother’s house, he would politely ask her permission as a form of respect.  So with my father as a model, it didn’t seem such a big departure from my own personal experiences.  It’s quite nice to give parents that respect.”

Unlike the majority of Bangladeshi wives, who typically live with their husband’s parents after marriage, Susan said she was never requested to dutifully massage her father-in-law’s feet.  Her mother-in-law, said Susan, “for the most part treated me as a honoured guest.”  What’s more, “Over time, [the Elahi family] came to rely on my tuna casserole after a meaty Eid.  They descended on it the first time I made it – it was great.”

The ever adaptable Susan also makes a pertinent observation that is applicable to any long term relationship.  She said, “The adjustments you make in married life are transferable wherever you live.  If you were a single woman living alone and didn’t go straight from parent to husband, a marriage to anyone, anywhere, is therefore a huge adjustment.  It’s hard to differentiate between the cultural adjustments and those that naturally occur when you enter a married relationship.”

At any rate, Susan said there were few opportunities to seek permission before heading out.

The Elahi's balcony in Old Dhaka. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

“I didn’t get out and about very much, due to the difficulty of travel.  Believe it or not, the traffic jams in Old Dhaka used to be worse than they are today.  If someone needed a lift from Old Dhaka, it was impossible to give them a ride and return home within 24 hours.  Traffic stood at a standstill for two hours straight.  Things move a little now, because trucks are not allowed to use the roads until after 10pm and a number of new roads have been built.”

Susan has noticed that over the years, as traffic in the capital has grown ever more congested, the patience and politeness that used to exist – even in Old Dhaka’s gridlocked streets – has completely disappeared.

“I see a lot of road rage and people are hugely impatient. That’s a difference that’s not for the better.”

However one form of transport Susan constantly availed of in Old Dhaka was the rickshaw, while in the company of her beloved sisters-in-law.

“I often went shopping with my sisters-in-law and I’d listen to them bantering back and forth.  We used to bargain hard in those days.  I learned how to do that, as well as learning Bangla. My youngest sister-in-law was still in high school when I arrived – I was so lucky to have her at home.  She was such a wonderful person and we became really close.  I dragged her everywhere – we were in a rickshaw most days, going out and about.  We also watched “Dallas” in English and what she couldn’t understand, I explained. It was so much fun. I miss her terribly.”

In a short amount of time, Susan and Ehsan lost “the core group of characters in our family.

“My sister-in-law died of cancer five years ago.  She never married and stayed at home to care for her parents.  Then five months after my sister-in-law died, my mother-in law also died of cancer.  A year ago this summer, my father-in-law passed away.  The cause was old age complications, but a great deal of it was a broken heart.

“It’s very tough to cope with the loss,” she said with downcast eyes.

While Susan’s eldest sister-in-law has a young family in Baridhara, her father-in-law’s younger sister and her husband are retired and currently live in the Old Dhaka house, which Susan still regularly visits.  As an artist, it’s also a source of inspiration – her paintings beautifully depict its old world charms.

She said, “After all these years, when I go back to the house on weekends, the shopkeepers say ‘Salaam’ when I pass by.”

Susan said the sense of community in Old Dhaka was strong – and continues to be so.

The children on the rooftop. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

She said, “We had to pass Dhaka University to reach our house and during a period of political turmoil [which frequently emanated from the university] I was coming back with my daughter from playgroup. I understood people saying they were going to set fire to cars.  It was such a worry.  But as my daughter and I made our way through the streets, shopkeepers in the old city waved us in. They were quickly pulling their shutters down but were willing to give us sanctuary because they saw me pass by every day.”

Susan said this was far from being a one-off – both the turmoil and the kindness bestowed to her.

Susan’s admiration for the community she was once a part of is still very much alive.  One of her most lasting impressions took place in the late 1980s, which she describes as “the epitome of the Bangladeshi spirit.”

“I was watching people queuing for water on an Old Dhaka street.  They were standing in a foot of horrible, stagnant floodwater, carrying any sort of jug or bucket they could find. Everyone in that line was smiling, talking; encouraging one another.  It was most incredible.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “Compare that with how people reacted to Hurricane Katrina. They were so stunned by the hardship they just sat down in the dirt and did nothing.”

This article concludes the story of Susan Elahi’s life in Dhaka.

Click here to return to Part 1 - “We came to Dhaka for six months but stayed 30 years:” an extraordinary expat from Kansas

Click here to return to Part 2 – “Dhaka was a completely different place back then.”

Click here to return to Part 1: “We came to Dhaka for six months but stayed 30 years:” An extraordinary expat from Kansas

Susan and Ehsan's children, Emily and Samia. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

Susan said she arrived in Dhaka “without fully realising that Bangladesh was only nine years old and that the impact of the war was still absolutely devastating.”

On a personal level, Susan said that many businesses owned by the Elahi family – including a large transport company and a joint textile venture – had simply “disappeared overnight,” after being commandeered by the Pakistani army.

She said, “In my entire life, I never understood the kind of abject poverty that existed.  I was absolutely ignorant that leprosy wasn’t extinct. Initially, [living in Dhaka] was just a great adventure.  But then there were times when I cried every day. It took a while for the crying to set in – after my daughter was born [in 1981], I felt the pinch of not having my family around.  The things that were available for babies back home weren’t available here.  I found it a big struggle.”

However she added, “Looking back, in some respects I believe my daughter had a better and more grounded childhood in Dhaka.  We had television for no more than two or three hours a day.  BTV started broadcasting at 5pm and we’d hang on for the 30 minute cartoon show.  On Wednesdays there was an English programme – for a while it was “Night Rider” and then the goofy, embarrassingly terrible US sitcom, ‘Laverne and Shirley.’  Then we had ‘Dallas’!  So my daughter had the most imaginative childhood, because she wasn’t exposed to the influence the media has in terms of branding and imitation, which can have a huge impact on children.”

I asked Susan whether she believes present day Dhaka is better than the one she experienced during previous decades.

She paused thoughtfully before saying, “It depends how you think of the word ‘better.’  We have certain conveniences now – Dhaka was a completely different place back then.”

Susan explained that during her first few years in Dhaka, “There were no big industries.”

As a result, a pervasive black market economy, known as “Business Two” sprang up as a substitute.

Susan said, “Business Two was everywhere.  ‘Business One’ were the original products.  ‘Business Two’ was the fakes.”

She provided a few examples of the “thriving business of adulterating products” and the extremely limited number of products available.

Wedding reception, 1980. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

“You could find L’Oreal shampoo, but there would be something completely different inside the bottle.  Tissue boxes were taken off aeroplanes and then sold in the markets.  Newspaper was stuffed up the bottom half of a tissue box to make it look full.  Occasionally, you could find toilet paper from China.  It was incredible – hot pink and it felt like crepe paper!  There was no bread – just little buns that were dry and crumbly, and made with bad quality flour.  Shortening contained palm oil, so it was bad for your health.  And Old Dhaka was much more polluted back then, as people used any manner of things for cooking and the CNGs [auto-rickshaws] were horrible because the two stroke engines ran on diesel.”

Nowadays Dhaka isn’t short of tasty pizza outlets – but this was another “convenience” absent from Susan’s earlier years.

As she explained, “When I made pizza for our family it was such a… process.  My father-in-law bought a five pound chunk of beef from the butchers that had to be chopped and ground using a hand operated grinder.  I’d run around the shops trying to find yeast.  There was “Dhaka Cheese” and a sort of waxy cheese from Comilla.  But that was it – there were no other choices, ever.  Making a pizza was a two day process.”

“And when I first arrived, fruits and vegetables were seasonal. During the rainy season, there was almost nothing.”

However Susan noticed that “little by little,” more products became available from 1982.

Then, during the summer of 1991, a big – if not historic – change took place when the first supermarket chain, Agora, opened in Bangladesh. It was located just across the street from Susan’s and Ehsan’s current home in Gulshan.  She recounted the profound effect Agora’s opening had on expat Bangladeshis, who she said return in large numbers during the summer months.

She said, “In strong British accents, the expats were saying, ‘Oh my gawd!’ They were even taking photographs of the store!  They didn’t believe they’d see it in their lifetimes.”

Thanks to the likes of Agora and the surge of imports in general, Susan said, “There are now many foods we can virtually have 12 months of year.”

The Elahi's town house. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

Now let us turn to a pressing question: is the extraordinary expat fluent in Bangla?

“I’ve been told I am,” she replied modestly.

“When I first arrived, if my husband and father-in-law went out to visit offices or do various jobs, I was left in a household of non-English speakers. [Learning Bangla] was something to do.”

And she certainly put a great deal of effort into learning.  Initially, Susan learnt the Old City dialect – “Certain words are totally Dhakaite,” she said.

She added, “There were no Bangla tutors at that time, so I was totally self-taught.  I had labels stuck on everything and I learned how to say, ‘Eta ki?’ [What is this?”].  I constantly had a notebook in my hand.  In Bangla, I asked people to repeat what they’d said and then I carefully wrote down a phonetic version.”

During a particular conversation that took place “four or five years” after she began learning Bangla, Susan was suddenly struck by the realisation that she’d achieved fluency.

“I said ‘volcanic eruption’ in Bangla.  It was a huge mouthful and a totally useless thing to know how to say – it just came up in conversation.  I was stunned!”

I asked Susan whether her Bangla skills are a frequent source of surprise to Bangladeshis, who may reasonably assume she’s yet another foreigner “just off the plane.”

Susan said, “Occasionally, someone will ask me – very, very slowly – ‘Do you speak Bangla?

Her reply?

“What would you like me to say? What is it you want to hear?”

“That’s fun,” she giggled.

However Susan certainly isn’t resting on her Bangla language skill laurels.

The family's 200-year old entrance. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

“After all these years, I’m sorry to say that I can write the grocery list but am hard pressed to write a proper letter.  But I can read.  I have difficulty reading newspapers because ‘high Bangla’ [formal Bangla] is used.  Being self taught, most of what I can say is highly colloquial. It gets me through though – I can read medicine labels.  But even now, I still see things I don’t understand. I still feel as if I’m learning.”

But it’s not only the enormous practical advantages she values about knowing Bangla – such as feeling safe in the knowledge that she can call someone for help.

She said, “People are so pleased if you can speak even a little Bangla.  You’ll notice a change in demeanour and a new sense of respect.  In Bangladesh, if you know even a bit of the language, it opens up the most incredible doors.  I think language is the most important commodity we have.”

However Susan also “kind of misses not understanding [Bangla] when in big crowds.  Before, I could block it out – it was white noise.  Now I hear snippets of conversations from all around… it’s is a distraction.”

I was curious as to whether Susan feels irritated when she encounters whiney foreign expats.  Her response was delightfully unsurprising.

“There’s no one who will defend this country more than I when [foreigners] start complaining.”

She added, “I think of the hardships we endured when I first came.  There really was nothing.  I think in many other places in the world; those who live there appreciate what it has to offer – such as the museums of Paris.  Bangladesh is a place that you love in spite of the challenges involved in living here.  And once you start focusing on the downsides, it’s very easy to overlook the improvements.”

Susan has taught art to elementary students at the American International School for the past 21 years, while Ehsan is deeply involved in business, managing several garment factories and properties.

The couple are clearly content and happy – could there possibly be plans to leave Dhaka someday?

“Well… I don’t know,” Susan says slowly.  It seems as though she hasn’t spent much time contemplating it.

“I have a great group of friends, both Bangladeshi and foreign – I’m very blessed in that way.  And I enjoy the support of family that many expats don’t have.  And as Dhaka… barrels ahead into the 21^st century, there aren’t many differences between the life I’d have in the States and what I have here.”

Yet it’s the differences she encountered in the past that she treasures above all else.

“As hard as it was at times, I feel very lucky to have been a part of the Old Dhaka community and to have experienced the real Bangladesh.  Nothing was prettied up and put on display for the foreigners.  I saw the good and the bad and how people actually lived. This was a rare gift and a unique experience.  It’s been very much an adventure.”

Click here to read Part 3: “The sense of community in Old Dhaka was strong – and still is.”

Click here to return to Part 1: “We came to Dhaka for six months but stayed 30 years:” An extraordinary expat from Kansas

By Mahnaz Khan, ULAB’s School of Business

Sabiha Sultana

It isn’t at all easy to manage a house and studies at the same time! Although the majority of female students at ULAB are not yet married, I know several who manage their house and studies very efficiently.  Sabiha Sultana, for example, is a student of ULAB’s English and Humanities Department.  She is married and in her fourth term – and has a Cumulative Grade Point Average (CGPA) of 3.93!

Sabiha described the challenges she has overcome to achieve academic success.  She said, “I was married three months before my HSC board exam.  My studies could have ended after marriage if my husband hadn’t helped me out.  My in-laws are still unsupportive about my education, even after two years of marriage and having a child as well.”

Like Sabiha, some students also have children, and therefore have huge responsibilities on their shoulders.  After reaching home in the evening, the mothers play with their children for a while before finishing off the cooking.  After feeding their children, they put them to bed – and only then can they sit down to study.  When their husbands return from work, the women serve them food and chat for a while.  Afterwards, there may be time for further study.

Sabiha’s day starts at 5am.  She said, “I wake up early to prepare breakfast and lunch for everyone.  After dropping my son off at my mum’s house, I start attending classes from 8am.  I mostly travel by tempo because it is very fast and saves me time. I pick up my son on my way home and then I prepare dinner and give him a little time before taking him to bed.  After taking some rest, I wake early to begin the routine again…  I spend most of my time at ULAB in the campus library because I can’t study at home.  Sometimes it’s a little maddening for my husband, because I can’t give him any time!”

She concluded, “This is how I manage my study and life… This is how it is.”

Some of the married female students also have part-time jobs.  If that is the case, their children stay with their grandmother so they can attend classes and work.  After all of that, when the female students return home, many will spend at least two hours preparing the evening meal!  Afterwards they will study and take care of their household. However there are also couples who share the cooking or other chores on the basis of who gets home earlier.

Adiba Raisa Hossain

Adiba Raisa Hossain, a student in her eighth term at ULAB’s Department of English and Humanities, said, “I don’t have a child yet.  Besides cooking, I do the dishes after we eat, and the laundry.  Keeping the house clean and tidy is my husband’s department.”

“I actually have two part time jobs,” she added.

“I am currently working as a research and public relations intern at ULAB’s Institute for Sustainable Development.  In the evening, I work as an apprentice chef under renowned chefs Gerard Wallace and James Boon at Bellagio.”

Thus we can see that the married women of ULAB are diligent and passionate!  The fact that they are capable of studying and maintaining so many responsibilities shows a zeal for independence.  It is obvious that ULAB plays an important role here, as Adiba Raisa Hossain explains, “My department’s faculty has always been extraordinarily supportive and understanding towards me.”  ULAB frequently offers make-up classes to assist those who were unable to attend due to family responsibilities.

Likewise, the 10 percent student fee waiver for females shows that ULAB encourages women to study at university level.  In a developing nation such as Bangladesh, females must think of making their careers bright.  This article is a prize for all those hard-working girls!

Susan Elahi in Dhaka, 1980. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

“My sister was crying as she watched me pack a year’s supply of tampons.  She couldn’t imagine why I wanted to go and live in Bangladesh,” said Kansas-born Susan Elahi.

The tearful scene took place in 1980, in Saint Louis, Missouri, as a 30-year-old Susan was preparing to set off with her Bangladeshi husband for what was supposed to be a six month “adventure” in Dhaka.

“It was all a great surprise to end up here,” she said with a smile.

Susan isn’t only referring to the geographical region she’s called home for three decades.  As she explains, “I never thought I’d get married or have children.  I had a good business and good friends – I was so happy that I didn’t think I needed to have all that in the equation.”

However as the mother-of-two reflects on her 32 year marriage, she glows with happiness and an enviable sense of contentment.

“In this day and age, [being married this long] is an unusual feat.  It’s lovely.  I think that because we started out as friends, it took us a long way.”

Susan and Ehsan first met in Missouri in 1975, through mutual friends.

“We realised we lived a block away, so we’d often go to the laundromat and do grocery shopping together.  To help Ehsan get a rent reduction, I painted his neighbour’s flat.  I made curtains too,” she said.

Susan and Ehsan “did a tonne of stuff together” for about three years.  “He was my best friend,” she said.

However dating was out of the question, as neither was single at the time.

“I was dating a stupid idiot and Ehsan had a girl who wanted to date him seriously…   It took some time for the light bulbs to switch on in our heads,” she added with a laugh.

The couple eventually married in 1979, when Susan was 29.  However after their first year of marital bliss, the local economy was hit by “a huge recession.”

Susan said, “Everyone was working two jobs just to pay the heating bills.  As much as we had invested in our education, we couldn’t seem to move ahead.  My parents, at the same age we were at that time, owned their own home.  It felt like the American dream was slipping away.  It was getting us down.”

And so the couple decided it was time for a sea change.

Susan and family cooking a meal at home shortly after she arrived. Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

When Ehsan and Susan arrived at Dhaka airport, every suitcase was meticulously combed by customs officials.  She said it was routine at the time.

With a mischievous grin, Susan recalled how “a customs official held up my tampon and asked, ‘What’s this?’”

“He’d only seen the mouse mattresses,” she added with a chuckle.

Susan and Ehsan had left Missouri in March, when the ground was still covered by three feet of snow.

“I was dying of the heat in Dhaka,” she said.  Needless to say, she’s well adjusted to it now.

Prior to Bangladesh, Susan had made just one other international trip, which was to neighbouring Canada.  Nowadays, the couple are regular jet-setters.

Susan said, “Bangladesh is a great jumping off place for so many other areas in the region.  It’s only a 20 minute flight to Kathmandu from Dhaka – when I was growing up in Kansas, Kathmandu seemed like the end of the world.”

Susan and Ehsan immediately moved into the Elahi’s 200-year-old home in Old Dhaka, where they lived for the next 10 years.

Susan said, “There were nine family members and 13 servants.  My mother-in-law kept apologising for being so short-handed!  You could eat off the floor in that house – absolutely.”

Susan said it took six months to paint the perimetre awnings because they were so high! Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi

Susan was presented with a wardrobe containing 200 saris. She said, “That’s the kind of acceptance Ehsan’s family’s had for me.  They accepted me before I came.  My father-in-law was adamant I would not be referred to as his daughter-in-law.  I was his daughter, because my father was so far away.”

The Ehsan family occupied the second floor of the building.  Susan illustrated her new home’s palatial proportions, “The ground floor was divided – half was rented to the government as a paper go-down. The other half was a girl’s school – with 600 students.”

The ceilings were 17 feet high, the walls were “hugely thick” and some of the original stained glass remained intact, along with a hall with louvered doors.

As beautiful as her home was, Susan said that no one in Old Dhaka was spared the annoyance posed by monkeys.

“They were huge and stole things,” she said.  The sneaky critters even managed to open the jars of pickles stored in their pantry.

As the monkey population increased, they became such a menace that local residents resorted to drastic measures.

“My father-in-law told me that people would put poison in big pots of cooked, sweetened rice, which were left out for the monkeys to eat.  But the monkeys were so clever – they’d call an old monkey to smell the rice and dip a finger in it. If it didn’t meet his approval, they would leave it alone and go somewhere else.”

Susan made excellent use of the saris bestowed to her.  She said, “I was in university when I first saw a woman wearing a sari. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.  I wondered why someone would choose to wear such an inconvenient garment.”

However to her surprise, “I discovered I could wrap it around me in three minutes flat.  No pins. I think it was some sort of contest to me.  My sister-in-law taught me how to put on a sari, and I was determined to learn quickly, because I didn’t want someone dressing me every day.  I thought, ‘Ha!  Now the shoe is on the other foot.  I can’t expect my western clothes to be accepted.’”

Susan's "Gaye Holude," which is one of several Bengali wedding traditions. It translates to "turmeric ceremony." Photo courtesy of Susan Elahi.

Susan said that in 1980, “there weren’t many foreign women here.  Somehow I heard of Dhaka American Women’s Club and I joined in 1981. But living in Old Dhaka without a car made it hard [to attend events regularly].”

She said the fact that she wore saris as opposed to a shalwar kameez, “points to the kind of changes that took place in Bangladesh over the years.  A married woman would never wear a shalwar kameez, because that’s what schoolgirls wore. We wore saris.”

But surely wearing a sari restricted her movement, at least somewhat?

“I got used to it, though it was hard getting into a CNG [auto-rickshaw].  And when my child threw up on me, I had to deal with all the fabric.  But it was also quite useful, because if my daughter was cold, I’d wrap her in it.”

It’s a beautiful image and one wishes that Susan, a talented painter, had made a self portrait of her child nestling in her ornate sari.

To be continued next week:  Part 2: “Dhaka was a completely different place back then.”

The article was written by Saddat Hossain, a student from the  Department of Media Studies and Journalism at the University of Liberal Arts, Bangladesh and appeared in November.

Photo: Seoul Ahmed, ULAB

An unauthorised roadside fish market is causing problems for students and staff as they walk between the two campuses at the University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh.

The market occupies around 20 metres of the footpath and roadside areas on Dhanmondi’s Road 7A from 7am until 10pm every day.  Students travelling between the two campuses are subjected to foul, fishy odours, as well as numerous flies and mosquitoes that may carry infectious diseases. When the sky is clear and the sun is beating down the situation gets even worse, as the heat creates even fouler smells of rotting fish.

The fish market’s customers are mostly local residents or random passersby.  Students rarely, if ever, buy fish from the market.

It is not only the fish that create such undesirable conditions: there are many ducks and chickens for sale too, and they are also slaughtered on the spot.  This causes a huge mess of organic discharges from the slaughtered animals.  Over the past few months, some students have suffered severe health problems and diseases, such as dengue fever. Open air fish markets may be contributing to a high rate of illness among students.

Farhana Hassan, a Media Studies and Journalist student at The University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh ULAB) said, “The foul smell and diseases are major problems, but we face others, such as the overcrowded footpaths and traffic jams that are caused by the fish market.”

Shameem Ahsan said, “I have classes at both campuses, with a very short break in between.  It takes so long to walk through the crowded footpath that I am sometimes late to class.”

Several other students said the troublesome fish market often makes them late for important classes, and even exams.  However, it is not only the students who face this obstacle – ULAB’s faculty members do too.

Photo: Seoul Ahmed, ULAB

Ms Nadia Rahman, a lecturer in the Department of English and Humanities said, “My office is inside the secondary campus, but I teach in the primary campus. So I am also often late to arrive.”

Several fish sellers said they are poor and rely on the market for their daily income – which is never a fixed amount.  They buy the fish from Karwan Bazar and arrive early in the morning to sell the fish at a tiny profit.  They remain at the market until they run out of stock.  If the fish remain unsold, the sellers suffer a loss.

Fish seller Luthfar said, “If the market is removed, how will we earn money? Where will we go?”

Fish seller Jashim said, “Every week, each and every one of us at this market pays Tk 10 to Dhaka City Corporation sweepers, who clear the mess on this road every morning.”

At present, no legal action has been taken against the fish market by local authorities.  However some students are planning to ask the authorities at ULAB to make an official complaint to the ward commissioner.

Who will the authorities give priority to – the poor fish sellers or the students?

Puppy napping...

With all due respect to my family’s deceased golden retriever, I’ve discovered that the Deshi dog outsmarts the likes of “Clancy” by a mile.  These pariah dogs, as they’re otherwise known, are native to the subcontinent and according to canine expert Gautam Das, the breed is “one of the few remaining examples of mankind’s original domestic dog. Their physical features are the same as those dogs whose fossil remains have been found in various parts of the world.”

These pariah puppies were rescued from Gulshan 1 in Dhaka.  A large group of street children, too young to know better, were tossing the puppies around like footballs, before leaving the vulnerable trio in the middle of a median strip to see whether they would venture out to cross the fatally busy street. The pups are now three months old  – or thereabouts – and have since found loving homes.  Each pup displayed extraordinary intelligence and an affection that knew no bounds. The same goes for “Grem,” the fourth puppy we’ve rescued and are currently fostering (she’s identified in captions).  Grem needs a long-term home, so please leave a comment on this blog or email me at jess.mudditt@gmail.com if you’re seduced by her charming gaze!

Puppy season is in full swing – and now’s the time to be kind and proud of the deshi dog.

For information about how to get involved in animal welfare, click here to find “Obhoyaronno – Bangladesh Animal Welfare Society” on Facebook.

If you’re looking for a vet in Dhaka, I recommend Dr Siamak.  Click here for contact details.

Too cute to comprehend!

Grem's soulful stare... She is hoping to find a permanent home soon.

Sweet sistas

Despite her young age, Grem is very well-behaved while being walked on a leash, and she's calm around our kitten (it's the kitten that isn't!). She loves fetching balls too.

Australia's Sex Discrimination Commissioner Elizabeth Broderick. Photo courtesy of the Australian High Commission, Dhaka

During a three day visit to Bangladesh, Australia’s Sex Discrimination Commissioner Elizabeth Broderick advocated her belief that, “Investing in women will have a greater impact on the global economy than almost anything else.”

“It will also build security and peace,” she said during her address as keynote speaker at the conference, “Recognising gender – at home, work and abroad,” held on 29 November at the BRAC Centre in Dhaka.

Broderick said that violence against women and sexual harassment is widespread in Australia, and indeed worldwide.  A study by the Australian Human Rights Commission found that 22 percent of Australian women had been sexually harassed in the workplace, and 1.2 million women over the age of 15 had experienced domestic violence.  Tragically, Australia’s indigenous Aboriginal women experience domestic violence at 35 times the rate of non-indigenous women.

Broderick said the commission’s study concluded that sexual harassment and violence against women costs the national economy $13.6 billion a year, mostly in terms of associated medical costs and loss of productivity in the workplace.

Acknowledging the fact that sexual harassment is a major problem in both Australia and Bangladesh, Broderick noted that in Bangladesh, private companies lack policies aimed at preventing it.

“I think that’s an area Bangladesh could potentially look into – and we have some good learning to share,” she said.

When Broderick said that up until 1966, Australian women were forced to resign from their job after marriage, the audience’s collective shock was audible.

Broderick said poignantly, “As a federal commissioner with two young children, I’ll never forget that this opportunity wouldn’t have been possible without the women’s rights movement.”

She applauded Bangladesh’s generous maternity leave schemes, which were developed well ahead of those in Australia.  Up until 2010, Australia and USA were the only OECD countries without paid parental leave.

However Broderick cautioned, “Strong laws are not enough to create gender equality. Cultural change and change at the family level is also required.”

Supreme Court Barrister Sara Hossain concurred.

Describing the national women’s policy as “disappointing”, Hosasin said, “There needs to be a loud and clear demand from women.  Positive change may not occur in the courts, as our judiciary is conservative.  A movement must be built on a different public level.”

Hossain’s address outlined Bangladesh’s reservations to the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) for reasons of personal law.

This means that Hindu women have no right to divorce whatsoever, she said.

And while a Christian male can obtain a divorce by proving infidelity, a Christian woman must prove both infidelity and cruelty or bestiality.

In Australia, Broderick confirmed that similar reservations to CEDAW exist for religious institutions.

However the State Minister for Women and Children’s Affairs Dr Shirin Sharmin Chowdhury said, “The fundamental rights in our constitution are a strong building block for gender equality.”

Between 26 and 30 November, Broderick met representatives from government and non-government organisations and visited Netrokona in northern Bangladesh to witness the positive changes being made at the community level.  Yesterday she launched Australia’s support for the Acid Survivor’s Foundation.

The visit was hosted by the Australian High Commission to promote an exchange of successful gender development initiatives in Australia and Bangladesh.

Speaking exclusively to The Independent, Broderick said, “I’ve been really impressed by the female activists I’ve met in Bangladesh. There’s a really strong group of activists here – it’s impressive.”

However Broderick knows only too well that achieving gender equality is difficult anywhere in the world.

She explained, “Often, the changes required to achieve gender equality go against deeply held cultural norms.  When you start challenging the local “sacred cows,” it’s difficult work.  But I felt really inspired here, because there are many women in Bangladesh who are fully prepared to lay out what those sacred cows are, and to start asking questions and prompt a national debate.”

Overall, Broderick believes Bangladesh is “doing a lot to promote gender equality.”

However she concluded, “Like every country in the world, more could be done.”

Though not for everyone...

A report documenting human rights abuses throughout the month of November has been published by human rights organisation Odhikar.

Political violence resulted in 15 deaths and injured another 759 people.

According to Odhikar’s report, “Evidence suggests that tension and violence between the two major political parties and internal conflicts within the parties are the primary source of political violence.”

The violence occurred “despite [political parties'] rhetoric of tolerance and democracy.”

The most high profile murder was that of Lokman Hossain, the Mayor of Narshingdi municipality, who was shot dead by a gang on 1 November.

In contravention of Article 28 of the constitution, which guarantees freedom of assembly, 11 meetings and assemblies were obstructed by imposing section 144 of the Code of Criminal Procedure.

“Complaints have been received that most of these incidents have been initiated by the ruling party Awami League,” states the report.

According to Odhikar’s statistics, three Bangladeshi citizens were allegedly killed, five injured and two abducted by India’s Border Security Force (BSF).

Odhikar’s case study of one death occurred on November 18, when 23-year-old Shariful Islam was shot dead near Border Pillar 179 while ploughing his field.

Seven people lost their lives in extra-judicial killings – with two men allegedly tortured to death by police.

Eight people died in Bangladeshi jails, with authorities citing ‘illness’ as the cause of death.

Odhikar believes that shortcomings in the criminal justice system contributed to the deaths of 20 people by public lynching.

Attacks on press freedom continued in November, with 14 journalists injured, three threatened and 10 attacked.

Odhikar’s press release states, “Those involved in attacks on journalists and in attempts to suppress free media must be identified, arrested and convicted through trials.”

Forty-one women and girls were raped last month – more than half of which were under the age of 16.  One girl was killed after being raped, and four were gang raped. Of the 14 women raped, three were subsequently murdered and nine were gang raped.

Thirty-one teenage girls and women were sexually harassed, with one victim committing suicide afterwards.

Thirty-two women were subjected to dowry related violence – 18 of which were murdered, and one took her life after the attack.

Two women were victims of acid attacks in November.

Odhikar recommends that, “Public awareness regarding the rights of women, prevention of violence against women and children, and related laws must be incorporated into primary, secondary and higher secondary school books.”

"Whoever said that cucumbers are cheaper in South Dhaka is a fool..." says the miffed shopper.

The controversial Local Government (City Corporation) (Amendment) Bill 2011 was passed by parliament today.  Dhaka City Corporation has been split into two parts  - Dhaka North City Corporation and Dhaka South City Corporation, with Dhaka’s mayor to be replaced by two government appointed administrators heading one half of Dhaka each. The bill’s purported aim is to improve the woefully inadequate services and amenities provided to residents.  Yet the world has but a tiny handful of “divided cities” – none of which can be reasonably deemed a success.

Take Belgium’s capital, Brussels.  Each of its 19 municipalities has an elected mayor, unlike the country’s other cities that merged municipalities back in the 1970s.  According to Wikipedia, “… the public institutions in Brussels offer a bewildering complexity.”

Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, has been divided since Turkey invaded in 1974. Approximately 40 percent of the country’s territory is occupied by Turkish troops.  According to the academic Anna Caramondani, “The city centre was suddenly divided and transformed into a dead-end, an “outskirt” of the city.”

In the Phillipines this year, the city of Lucena had two angry mayors holding office in separate City Halls. An article published on 18 June 2011 in Inquirer Southern Luzon explains,  “…Vice Mayor Roderick Alcala took his oath of office as the new city mayor, despite the refusal of unseated Mayor Barbara Ruby Talaga… to step down after the Commission on Elections ruled her election in May 2010 was illegal and invalid.”

Supporters rallied around the two city halls – just 1.5 kilometres apart -and the article quotes Talaga’s husband, who warned, “… should [our] political foe Alcala insist he was now the mayor, the city would have two performing mayors.”

Finally, let’s turn to London.  It is the largest urban zone in the European Union, the world’s largest financial centre alongside New York City, it has the world’s fifth-largest city GDP and attracts more international visitors than any other city.  And yet it also has two mayors, and two “Londons.”

However the reason behind the anomaly is due to the fact that London has been a major settlement for two millennia.  Its ancient core, the City ofLondon, retains its square-mile medieval boundaries and it has one of the world’s oldest local governments (in existence since the Middle Ages).  The City of Londonhas its own Lord Mayor, a City Corporation, and jurisdiction over a police force.  This leads to quaint situations where police chasing a criminal through the City of London must abandon their pursuit once the suspect crosses the square mile’s perimeter.

Question time for the Mayor of London, Boris Johnson

The “second” mayor, Boris Johnson, is the flamboyant Mayor of London, and also the Mayor of Greater London, which covers a much larger area.  Greater London is administered by parishes, with little co-ordination between them. Yet in other areas, ad-hoc single-purpose boards operate. It’s a confusing system to comprehend, and commentators such as I. Barlow describe it as “a system in chaos.”

Research shows a long-term global trend towards centralised city government administration.  For example, when New York City was consolidated into its present form in 1898, all local governments were replaced with a unified, centralized city government.  The New York City Council is a well oiled machine, consisting of 51 elected members, and the city government employs a staggering 250,000 people.

Its civic services are world class – in 2003, New York City launched a single 24-hour phone number for government information and non-emergency services. According to Wikipedia, “New Yorkers call 3-1-1 for recycling schedules, complaints about garbage pick-up, street parking rules, noise complaints, landlord disputes and information about health insurance, information relating to recreation centers, public pools, golf courses and other facilities, or to schedule inspections by the Department of Buildings.”  It is the simplicity of the scheme that makes it such a success: complexities tend to disadvantage the ordinary citizen. An example that comes to mind is Bangladesh government’s scheme to reduce traffic congestion by closing different commercial areas for one day of every week. Whilst it may lessen the intensity of the city’s traffic jams, it’s also a source of mind-boggling frustration for would-be consumers.

Not an easy life...

In an article published in The Independent on 27 November, Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina defended the proposed split by stating, “The population of the city is growing fast. We have to ensure civic facilities for everyone, which is why we are making two city corporations.”

However cities larger than Dhaka, such as China’s Beijing, Colombia’s Bogotá, Buenos Aires’ Argentina and Egypt’s Cairo, are all governed as a single municipality with one mayor.  In Japan – and no doubt many other countries, the federal government cannot remove a city mayor from office.

Shortly after the bill was passed (which took just nine minutes, as the ruling coalition has a three-fifths majority), LGRD Minister Syed Ashraful Islam told reporters that Sydney has five city corporations. This is incorrect: in 2004, the City of South Sydney was formally merged into the City of Sydney. The city is led by the Lord Mayor of Sydney.

Interestingly, the only other city larger than Dhaka is Delhi, and it has just approved the splitting of the Municipal Corporation of Delhi into three separate entities.  However The Times of India reported on 24 November, “With politics seen to be the chief driver for the decision, the jury is still out on whether the new arrangement will improve the sluggish MCD’s delivery of services, and reduce inefficiencies and corruption. While the corporation had become a behemoth, the possibility of its successor entities being no better has had critics of the move worried.”

For two consecutive years, Dhaka has been ranked by The Economist as the world’s second most unliveable city.  With no evidence to support the advantage of splitting a city municipality, there is a real and present danger that Dhaka could trump Harare in The Economist’s 2012 rankings.