Ship Breaking Yards

From the main road out of Chittagong you can occasionally catch a glimpse of the top of massive boats, cruise ships and oil tankers loom out towards the coast. Their proximity is shocking, the massive steel sideways skyscrapers are not floating on water, but rest comfortably in the sand an shallows. This is the area outside of Chittagong proper is a stretch of coast that houses ship breaking yards. Dozens of men, their dark, sinewy muscles taut, rip the giant steel whales apart with their hands and a little technological assistance, blow torches and cutters. This area gained some notoriety a few years ago in a National Geographic expose that highlighted the dangers that the workers face every day. The massive steel cords that are used to pull the ships onto land can occasionally snap, maiming or killing anyone in the path of the vicious backlash. Further, Bangladesh handles many of the ships that no one else will buy. The risk of radioactivity is much higher in the ships broken here, and there is an inherent danger in dealing with large steel objects with little to no protective gear or measures.
The ship breaking companies buy these ships for close to 10M US dollars, and sell off the parts, somehow for a profit. The stretch of highway that follows the coast about 1/8th of a mile inland is lined with shops selling some of the more hilarious items that the ship breaking companies sell: spiral staircases from the inside of boats, enormous water tanks, outdated nautical equipment of all kinds can be found for a price on this road. The chunk of land between the road and yards is occupied by what appears to be "every day villages," complete with small stores and some rice fields. However, everyone seems acutely aware that there is a giant industry next door, and that it is their role to conceal it from the unassuming eye. However, the enormity of the ships and the proximity of the stores that sell the unwanted parts renders these buffers largely ineffective.
These shipbreaking yards hold a special significance to me, because my building, just like every other large concrete building in Dhaka, is structurally supported by rebar from ship steel. The steel is broken down and made into the tubes that reinforce my home, so it was "reassuring" to see the terrible condition of the steel before it was processed.

As a result of the expose, it is basically impossible to gain access to them without permission from the owner or someone who works there. We attempted to procure such permission, but our one hope was out of the country and could not be of assistance. However, we were there, and figured that the worst they could do was say no, so we might as well give it a try. Once again, our heroic driver came to the rescue, walking into the yard to gain access for all of us (they are extremely suspicious of obvious foreigners). After about 10 uncomfortable minutes of sitting in the car while some curious villagers stared in through the windows our driver returned from his negotiation, saying "it is ok, lets go!" We asked if we could bring our cameras and he said "OK, Ok"... of course once we entered, the manager harshly warned us against taking pictures. Almost immediately I thought to myself "ya, I'm taking some pictures here." All three of us were secretly snapping, though we were sort of caught about half way through our visit and warned that they would take our cameras. Well I put the cap on my lens after that, but Jimmy was able to sneak a few more pictures while Sara distracted the manager with her exposed ankles and feminine charms.
Seeing the steel giants on land was truly awe inspiring. 8-10 stories high and a couple football fields long, the gargantuan ships seemed so out of place and surreal, uncomfortably beached, exposing the usually unseen 15 foot propellers. One ship had been broken directly in half, men climbed all over it, ripping off small steel scales. The ground between the entrance of the plant and the ships themselves was completely covered, no sand to be seen, with 12 by 12 steel squares. On either side of the steel path were engine parts, random components and massive metal beams.
We escaped with our cameras and some fantastic shots, and Sara even made a new friend when the manager asked for her number and she for some unknown reason, gave her actual digits. She received three calls that evening and the next before she finally picked up and told him she was no longer in Chittagong.