See, Bangladesh is the perfect environment for rickshaws. The land is flat, flat, flat-- and that matters when you are hauling a 150 pound bike (before passengers), effectively with no breaks. There is an enormous population of unskilled laborers who flood to Dhaka in order to find work. There is a similarly large population of people who cannot afford to travel by compressed natural gas baby taxi. And everyone, especially those with a little money, hate's to walk too far in Bangladesh, it’s too damn hot.
Unfortunately, no one has come up with a better rickshaw model than the one I was lucky enough to operate for a few minutes about a month ago-- an experience that taught me plenty about how difficult they are to operate. Sure, they are heavy, but mostly they are unwieldy. The two back wheels spin at the same speed, which becomes a problem if you want to go around a corner with any pace. The wheels are also thin and the rickshaw is extremely back heavy, especially with passengers, so there are very real roll concerns.
From a passenger perspective, when the wheels hit a bump or an unexpected turn is made, you want to see it coming. I have definitely caught unexpected air on a couple of speed bumps. The seat is about 10 inches deep, so my ample American booty made sitting comfortably and stably a little more tricky. The key is to get good foot holds. As the rickshaws weave through traffic, its obvious that a love tap from a car could send the passengers flying onto hoods of cars or the asphalt.
So basically a rickshaw is a rather unsafe proposition before you add in that the driver has very little control over the wooden and metal tricycle.
Each rickshaw is hand made and most of them come from one place. Unfortunately I never got to visit the village, but most of them are made then customized by the person who rents them out or the renter. A rickshaw is basically a half of a bicycle with a carriage on two wheels instead of the back wheel. The carriage is made of wood and metal and welded on to the front end. There are no gears, and the breaks only control the front wheel. The more decorous rickshaws are surprisingly expressive and will often have portraits of family members, national heroes, and bollywood stars along with the rickshaw walla’s phone number.
Some rickshaw wallas seem to have painted their very dreams onto their vehicles. The power of the human spirit is constantly on display in this city where hope can seem to be justifiably lost. People work and strain and push with very little to gain except perhaps the next meal. It is a fragile and grinding existence. One toasty Dhaka day I was on my way to a friend’s, rolling in my car behind a walla carrying three passengers, laboring slowly down the road. On the back of the bike was a picture of a pastoral farm along the river, with a happy family on the grassy bank. This man may make fifty cents for taking three people one mile. The optimism of the bright colors clashed with the reality I observed. I eventually passed him and parked not too much further up the road. As I got out of my car and felt myself begin to sweat, the walla pedaled past, singing, smiling.
Clearly I have a soft spot in my heart of rickshaws, but I would say that 80 percent of my cursing in this country has been directed at them and their drivers. Something we might take for granted stateside is that taxi drivers have a driver’s license. In Dhaka, if you can pedal, you can start a business. Not all wallas were created equal, and some people think you should only take the older ones because they are less reckless. I think they are just less energetic.
Ironically, because they cannot change directions well, they pretty much rule the road. The classic move is to cross four lanes of traffic without even checking to see if it’s safe. The passengers ensure safety by putting out the "magic hand," which is far more respected than turn signals or laws of physics in Dhaka. Rickshaws quite literally expect cars to screech to a halt when they see the outstretched palm. So you have possibly inexperienced drivers of vehicles with basically zero safety measures built in that cannot turn at a sharp angle or stop.
So the rickshaws are dangerous and probably encourage the swelling of a city that needs to be at about 40% of its current population. On the other hand they can be a thoroughly pleasant experience.
When there is little traffic, it is the perfect speed for a city as overwhelming as Dhaka. You cannot truly take it in from the car: the heat, the smell, the noise, the colors. Walking is a bit too slow, the heat gets to you quickly, people approach you and occasionally touch you and a westerner is bound to draw a crowd in certain parts of the city. Rickshaws move at about 6-8 miles per hour. I think this is about the top speed at which my human brain can fully experience this environment. And yet in Dhaka it’s important to keep moving, generate a breeze and sit a little bit above the fray. Rickshaws can accomplish both objectives masterfully.
I’ll miss the ring of the rickshaw bell that used to drive me mad, I’ll miss the “rishkaw, bosh?” (that’s right, they mispronounce rickshaw), I'll miss bargaining mercilessly for the ride then tipping heavily anyways, and I’ll miss the bewildered expressions on the faces of my Bangladeshi neighbors as I coast by. It is an important Dhaka experience, and one that I am grateful to have had.
