Today there wasn’t too much news, besides the growing inevitability of government retaliation. It seems clear that many more army officers will be found dead once the military is allowed to sweep the BDR’s campus, which could nullify the amnesty that the government previously granted. News sources around the world have been unable to come up with a consistent tally of bodies found. Expected death totals range from fifty to more than one hundred.
At noon today we got word that our personal cell phones may lose service due to government action. During times of unrest the government has cut off cell phones in Dhaka to impede the formation of large crowds or other organizing efforts. It is a surprisingly effective way of gaining the upper hand, as government officials can still communicate freely. However our phones are still working, so it looks like they have put that option on hold.
The Regional Security Officer of the American Embassy also emailed those on his list to warn us against travelling outside of the diplomatic enclave (where I live) and that cars bearing American diplomatic license plates were not to leave the city.
We also received news today that the BDR stations throughout the country are participating in this rebellion, and that the police are getting restless as well. This would be the worst-case scenario as right now the government and army are united (along with the public sentiment) against the ghastly violence started by the BDR.
The former is probably the main reason that people do not seem too concerned. There is a lack of political motivation, it is more a salary dispute than anything else, and the public is on the side of stability. Nonetheless, the violence has rattled the city, and many students who live in the Dhanmondi area have been staying with friends in Gulshan.
In Dhanmondi, things remain tense. Although the government and BDR representatives reached a ceasefire, the BDR have not laid down all their weapons or returned to their barracks. Understandably, they are a bit hesitant to make themselves defenseless to the furious army outside the Rifle Square gates. There are still potentially dozens of fallen army officers within the BDR headquarters, but the government has started to press its hand. This afternoon Prime Minister Sheikh Hassina issued a stern warning to the BDR that if they do not return to their barracks, she will use all force necessary to protect Bangladesh. The BDR had threatened to blow up their campus, where staff and families of the people who live their remain.
Ideally, this stand off will be resolved peacefully, though I’m not betting on it. The mutineers have indeed began returning in earnest to their barracks, and hopefully this will be the beginning of the end to this bizarre and violent episode.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Mutiny Update
Things have settled down, and I've been able to get some more reliable information on what happened and what's been happening recently. The Daily Star, our local newspaper, has been able to cobble together a reasonable narrative of yesterday's events, but there are still some significant holes. You can read the article here. Here are some of the most striking statements:
----
"Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina offered a general amnesty to the mutineers who held more than 100 top officers hostage. But law-enforcers, surrounding the headquarters since morning yesterday, told The Daily Star that many of the officers were feared dead including Director General of BDR Maj Gen Shakil Ahmed."
"Bodies of the two officers -- Col Mujibul Huq and Lt Col Enayetul Haq -- were recovered from a sewage system outside the BDR headquarters. But their deaths were not officially declared till filing of this report at 3:45am today."
----
"Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina offered a general amnesty to the mutineers who held more than 100 top officers hostage. But law-enforcers, surrounding the headquarters since morning yesterday, told The Daily Star that many of the officers were feared dead including Director General of BDR Maj Gen Shakil Ahmed."
"Bodies of the two officers -- Col Mujibul Huq and Lt Col Enayetul Haq -- were recovered from a sewage system outside the BDR headquarters. But their deaths were not officially declared till filing of this report at 3:45am today."
"Sources said the number of dead officers would be much higher. Witnesses said they saw scores of bodies lying on the ground in and around Pilkhana, adding that some jawans were seen stabbing the bodies with bayonets. Unofficial sources claimed that at least a half of around 6,000 soldiers opposed the mutiny. Many of them were killed along with the officers, though it could not be confirmed. Some of the disagreeing soldiers fled Pilkhana as soon as they saw the killing of the officers, unconfirmed sources said."
"The mutiny apparently had no specific leader, although the rebels named one Nayek Shahid as their leader in their television interviews. Sources said they were acting as sparse small groups."
"Thousands of army personnel surrounded the BDR headquarters with cannons, recoilless rifles, heavy machineguns and rocket launchers. Trucks after trucks, soldiers after soldiers filed through the streets of Dhanmondi, Satmasjid Road and Jigatola."
"At least three civilians were dead and 23 civilians were injured from bullets fired indiscriminately by the mutineers. One BDR jawan was admitted to Dhaka Medical College Hospital (DMCH)."
"Several thousand others, who are family members of the jawans (mutineers) and officers, also remained hostage to the situation as they could not come out of the Pilkhana area."
"The situation was so tense that when a stray bullet seriously injured a student near Jigatola at noon, he lay on the ground for more than an hour till he could be rescued and admitted to Ibn Sina Hospital at 3:00pm, where he was declared dead."
"Hundreds of BDR soldiers wearing red bandanas or helmets and partly covering their faces, were seen staging armed processions in front of the gates since 10.30am. They chanted slogans saying, 'We have been deprived for a long time, we have deep grievances.'"
"During the BNP rule between 1991 and 1996, the lower tier of BDR had staged mutinies in Dhaka, Chittagong, Feni, Jessore, Khulna and Naogaon, expressing similar grievances. Those mutinies did not witness bloodshed and the jawans were assured of measures addressing their issues which were ultimately shelved."
----
Clearly some questions remain unanswered. But this appears to be, at it's heart, a simple salary/power dispute. The BDR didn't want the army controlling them and wanted army pay and benefits. Their demands were not immediately met, and he Bangladeshi mob mentality prevailed.
There hasn't been much news today, though the situation is far from resolved. It's hard for me to believe that these BDR men will simply go back to their barracks without any repercussion from the government, who has granted amnesty. Certainly this is a tricky situation for the government: they want it to be over, and granting amnesty got the mutineers to put down their arms. On the other hand, these are trained men who fired on unsuspecting army officers and rewarding them with amnesty and higher pay seems like setting a bad precedent. On the third hand, if you grand amnesty to stop the violence then just off all the people involved you aren't creating the most honest environment. I have the feeling there will be some more bodies floating in the rivers of Dhaka before all is said and done.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Violence in Dhanmondi
At about noon today I got a text from the school while I was supporting a Theory of Knowledge class that read "Due to violence at BDR in Dhanmondi, Bus #1 will not run Wed. afternoon or Thursday morning. All other AISD activities will continue as scheduled." This was the first piece of news I heard about what's been happening this afternoon, and I have yet to learn much more. I knew something bad happened when I found out that guns were involved, because virtually no civilians have access to firearms. I had no idea what was actually going on, but with a new government in power, military unrest is the last thing they need.
Dhanmondi is the old posh center of the city, but is now the heart of the university and older money populations. As a result, the place can be both beautiful and a powder keg for student protests. I've heard a few rumors about what has happened, but finding the true story has proven to be a difficult task. What seems to have happened is a rebellion by the Bangladeshi Border Defense Rifles, a group of soldiers. Shots were fired in Dhanmondi and at least one death has been reported. 16 others were injured by stray bullets of the gunfight that raged in and around the BDR headquarters (Daily Star newspaper). The headquarters are surrounded by a park that Jimmy and Sara ate lunch next to on Friday.
Teachers who have been here awhile are very calm about the whole situation, although the school is closing down completely at 4pm to give all the staff a chance to get home and make sure everything is secure. The veteran teachers explained that this sort of thing happened occasionally until the military government assumed control of the country two years ago. This does not appear to be a situation that will endanger anyone as far north as Gulshan and Baridhara, and the American club is still open. One teacher who lived in Bangladesh in 1975 said that in that year there were three coups and they all began with something smallish and odd like this.
Although the Daily Star's website provides some rudimentary information on it's front page, all of the story links are dead or more likely the website cannot handle the amount of hits that are coming in right now. The local news stations are covering it in Bangla, but Jimmy cannot understand them. CNN and Al Jazeera are focusing on the plane crash in Amsterdam. Unlike the Mumbia attacks, which were covered extensively on the local CNN, there is only a brief scrolling line about the one dead in Dhaka. This isn't even accurate as there is only one civilian dead, but more soldiers.
I am writing this as we watch the local news, which just switched to the rebel soldiers inside the park gates. The men being interviewed are wearing military fatigues and in full combat gear. One is holding two grenades in his hand. We are trying to decipher what is going on, and Jimmy seems to think one of them just said something about getting "Sheikh" (Hassina, the current Prime Minister) out of Bangladesh. They are taking turns shouting into the microphone, some have orange cloth over their faces.
The soldiers are demanding a meeting with the Prime Minister to hear their demands. This seems a bit odd because they are a small rebel force in the middle of the city, I can't figure out what their bargaining power. Here is what the Daily Star says:
Dhanmondi is the old posh center of the city, but is now the heart of the university and older money populations. As a result, the place can be both beautiful and a powder keg for student protests. I've heard a few rumors about what has happened, but finding the true story has proven to be a difficult task. What seems to have happened is a rebellion by the Bangladeshi Border Defense Rifles, a group of soldiers. Shots were fired in Dhanmondi and at least one death has been reported. 16 others were injured by stray bullets of the gunfight that raged in and around the BDR headquarters (Daily Star newspaper). The headquarters are surrounded by a park that Jimmy and Sara ate lunch next to on Friday.
Teachers who have been here awhile are very calm about the whole situation, although the school is closing down completely at 4pm to give all the staff a chance to get home and make sure everything is secure. The veteran teachers explained that this sort of thing happened occasionally until the military government assumed control of the country two years ago. This does not appear to be a situation that will endanger anyone as far north as Gulshan and Baridhara, and the American club is still open. One teacher who lived in Bangladesh in 1975 said that in that year there were three coups and they all began with something smallish and odd like this.
Although the Daily Star's website provides some rudimentary information on it's front page, all of the story links are dead or more likely the website cannot handle the amount of hits that are coming in right now. The local news stations are covering it in Bangla, but Jimmy cannot understand them. CNN and Al Jazeera are focusing on the plane crash in Amsterdam. Unlike the Mumbia attacks, which were covered extensively on the local CNN, there is only a brief scrolling line about the one dead in Dhaka. This isn't even accurate as there is only one civilian dead, but more soldiers.
I am writing this as we watch the local news, which just switched to the rebel soldiers inside the park gates. The men being interviewed are wearing military fatigues and in full combat gear. One is holding two grenades in his hand. We are trying to decipher what is going on, and Jimmy seems to think one of them just said something about getting "Sheikh" (Hassina, the current Prime Minister) out of Bangladesh. They are taking turns shouting into the microphone, some have orange cloth over their faces.
The soldiers are demanding a meeting with the Prime Minister to hear their demands. This seems a bit odd because they are a small rebel force in the middle of the city, I can't figure out what their bargaining power. Here is what the Daily Star says:
--- Talking to reporters inside the BDR headquarters, the soldiers said they would not talk to anybody except the prime minister and the home minister.
“We will allow the PM and cabinet members in. We will tell them our demands. You ask them to come right now. We will call ceasefire once they are in,” a BDR jawan said.
The BDR jawans also demanded the army cordon be withdrawn before any type of talks.
“We want the PM and the home minister to come. We want to tell them that we need freedom.”
“Everybody knows how miserably we live. We cannot work independently. We don’t have a department of our own.”
The BDR jawans claimed that there were up to 20,000 BDR soldiers inside the headquarters. “We have no problem to surrender our arms. But we won’t turn in ourselves until our demands are met, and this war will continue.” -----
Again, I'm not sure exactly what they want. We are just watching the screen and picking up the occasional word or phrase.
The actions of the Dhanmondi BDR soldiers reverberated in the South, where their colleagues in Kulna also sacked a local camp...
OK, found some more information about what is happening here (this will also give you an idea of the writing in this newspaper):
Thousands of rounds of gunshots and mortar firing are rocking the BDR Headquarters and adjacent areas in Dhaka as “angry and aggrieved” BDR soldiers launched a violent and armed mutiny against their high command from around 7:45am.
At least four army officers have been killed and dozens have been held hostage, claimed one of the protesting soldiers at BDR gate number-3 at around 10:30am.
Sources said that the number of death could be much higher as the soldiers have been firing all sorts of weapons at all directions.
Fire and smoke can be seen from the outer perimeters of the Bangladesh Rifles headquarters.
According to reports from The Daily Star correspondents, heavy weapons like cannons have been used to damage some buildings, while the soldiers driving armoured vehicles were shooting at any attempt of the Rab or the Bangladesh Army to enter the BDR perimeter.
With all of its five gates closed, hundreds of soldiers wearing red bandana and partly covering their faces with yellow clothes were seen staging armed processions in front of the gates—letting the people know that they were angry.
“We have been deprived for a long time, we have deep grievances,” the soldiers chanted as their slogans.
Meanwhile, due to the violent situation, all the adjacent markets including the New Market have been closed. Doors and windows of all nearby buildings have been closed.
Thousands of people who have homes in the BDR headquarter area have remained stranded while many relatives of BDR officers and soldiers who had either came out of the perimeters or have just arrived from other places were seen crying for their near and dear ones who might have been held hostage by the situation.
At about 11:45am, army personnel were trying to enter inside the BDR headquarters as the BDR soldiers guarded all its gates.
Thousands of army personnel have encircled the BDR headquarters and are advancing slowly to enter the premises with firing gunshots.
Heavy weapons including recoil less riles and rocket launchers have been deployed. And helicopters are also firing shots inside the BDR compound.
Army personnel are offering to talk with the rebel BDR soldiers over loudspeaker while the rebel soldiers are firing gunshots from inside the headquarters.----
Monday, February 23, 2009
Holud Back!
Last Friday night I finally got to attend an Holud,
the groom's party before the wedding. The wife's family and about 400 not so select guests are entertained by the groom's family. I was a friend of a friend of a friend of an uncle of the groom, but that was plenty close enough. I got the sense that part of the event was showing off just how many people one could attract to such an event.The party was held in a giant party tent on the property of the groom's family in Dahnmundi (closer to downtown than Baridhara). An enormous structure, the beautiful mansion housed the groom's father and his family, as well as the groom's three uncles, each brother getting their own floor. From what I saw of the first that was an ample amount of space. I ended up meeting three of the brothers over the course of the night, although I can't be sure about the number because they all looked very much alike. I got a chuckle in my head thinking about the four of them in that one house.
We (Sara, Jimmy and I) were invited by Sara's childhood friend from Virginia, who moved back to Bangladesh after his kids graduated college. Interestingly enough, his youngest son went to U Penn with me and I actually recognized him from pictures in the father's Dhaka apartment. The only white people in the place, the three of us were constantly under surveillance, both human
and electronic. The camera men who filmed people entering and relayed the footage to a couple projectors in the tent seemed to have a startling knack for finding us. I wore Jimmy's Punjabi which, despite our disparate heights, managed to fit me as well. I didn't want to be the only person there in western clothes. As it was, there were some Bengalis there in shirts and slacks, and I'm not sure if the three of us wearing Bengali clothes didn't attract even more attention.Essentially the program was: hang out, eat some appetizers (delicious); hang out; the bride's part enters and the grooms party throws flowers and spices on them and hand feeds them sweets as they enter; eat some dinner (great chicken biryani, buffet style); the groom and his party enters and some more flowers thrown.
From here there was a period of time when there was dancing by the groom's family on one stage and in an ornate golden seating area the groom and bride's family did a photo shoot. There must have been six or seven professional photographers huddled around the family. Directly in front of the seating area were rows of chairs filled with about 250 people taking it all in. Eventually the two stages merged when the groom got up on stage for a grand finale dance. All of the dancing was traditional Bengali moves, except for some popular Hindi songs from Bollywood movies that were snuck in by the younger participants.
After the dancing there was a video that the wife-to-be and her friend's made. It was basically a story of the wife falling madly in love with the husband via a newspaper advertisement and
devising a way to ensnare him by cooking hypnotically delicious food. Unfortunately I missed some of the "subtleties" because the subtitles were in Bangla.We left at about midnight because I had to get back and rested for the basketball tournament, but I've heard the party can go to about 4AM. A band was starting to warm up when we left, but I'm still impressed people could dance and talk that late without any booze.
Here are some more pictures:
The bride's party making their entrance
Some of the family getting their dance on
The crowd watching the dancers and groomWednesday, February 18, 2009
A Bit too Close for Comfort
As young Americans in Bangladesh, the other interns and I often find ourselves awkwardly refusing the friendly advances of strangers. Many people here expect you to be willing and excited to make their acquaintance, and will often request our phone numbers and e-mail addresses after only a brief and confused conversation. Although we never thought of actually giving our cell phone numbers, at first we were not smart enough to simply claim phonelessness. Trying to be as cordial as possible, "I have one, but I don't know my number" usually fumbled from our lips. Once a Bangladeshi has your phone number, there seems to be about a 70-30 chance that you will get five calls in a row from him a couple times a week.
Jimmy paid the price for this politeness in September of last year while shopping for a Punjabi at a local store. A man who works in the shop got a hold of Jimmy's phone number despite Jimmy not knowing the digits by replying "O that's ok, just call my phone then I'll get your number." It was the last time Jimmy made that error, but it came back to haunt him just last week.
Needing a new Punjabi for a holud we went to last Friday, Jimmy returned to the scene of his naive blunder. At six foot four, Jimmy stands out about as much as possible here and the clerk had no trouble recognizing him even after five months. After going through his phone he found Jimmy's number and called. When Jimmy's phone buzzed in his pocket, the clerk knew he had his man. "Jimmy!" he cried, and thus Jimmy was pulled into a conversation full of invasive questions.
A couple days later, Jimmy received this stunning text message. I'm pretty sure it was translated into English because it turns its subject, friendship, into quite the uninviting proposition... the puberty bit is a hint as well. Without any further adieu:
"FRIENDSHIP is exuberant with happiness and misery. FRIENDSHIP is beautiful having an ambiguous nature. FRIENDSHIP is full of sound.fury,pain and power. FRIENDSHIP is something that sometime oscillating & rupture. FRIENDSHIP is full of ambivalent & mysteries. FRIENDSHIP is a part of inveigle & dramatic stage.By attaining puberty with billows. FRIENDSHIP becomes perspcacious & blooming. FRIENDSHIP is soft sunrise handsome & lovely.will u be my friend...?"
Although I encouraged Jimmy to write "lol, totally!" Jimmy declined to reply. We can't figure out what inveigle was meant to be, or exactly how one attains puberty with billows. What I hope you do understand is how forward and odd some of the Bangladeshi men we meet can be.
Jimmy paid the price for this politeness in September of last year while shopping for a Punjabi at a local store. A man who works in the shop got a hold of Jimmy's phone number despite Jimmy not knowing the digits by replying "O that's ok, just call my phone then I'll get your number." It was the last time Jimmy made that error, but it came back to haunt him just last week.
Needing a new Punjabi for a holud we went to last Friday, Jimmy returned to the scene of his naive blunder. At six foot four, Jimmy stands out about as much as possible here and the clerk had no trouble recognizing him even after five months. After going through his phone he found Jimmy's number and called. When Jimmy's phone buzzed in his pocket, the clerk knew he had his man. "Jimmy!" he cried, and thus Jimmy was pulled into a conversation full of invasive questions.
A couple days later, Jimmy received this stunning text message. I'm pretty sure it was translated into English because it turns its subject, friendship, into quite the uninviting proposition... the puberty bit is a hint as well. Without any further adieu:
"FRIENDSHIP is exuberant with happiness and misery. FRIENDSHIP is beautiful having an ambiguous nature. FRIENDSHIP is full of sound.fury,pain and power. FRIENDSHIP is something that sometime oscillating & rupture. FRIENDSHIP is full of ambivalent & mysteries. FRIENDSHIP is a part of inveigle & dramatic stage.By attaining puberty with billows. FRIENDSHIP becomes perspcacious & blooming. FRIENDSHIP is soft sunrise handsome & lovely.will u be my friend...?"
Although I encouraged Jimmy to write "lol, totally!" Jimmy declined to reply. We can't figure out what inveigle was meant to be, or exactly how one attains puberty with billows. What I hope you do understand is how forward and odd some of the Bangladeshi men we meet can be.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Dhaka Invitational Girls Basketball Tournament
For the past six weeks I have been coaching the high school girls basketball team at AIS/D. I had never worked with girls before athletically but I was getting an itch to get involved in competitive basketball. I also knew many of the players and was pretty sure it would be an enjoyable experience. Indeed, I have had a great time, and will be sad when the season ends this weekend after our A team travels to Nepal to compete in the annual South Asian International School Association (SAISA) tournament.
Athletics in a SAISA school are run differently than back in the states, to say the least. Each season is about six weeks long (about half of a typical US sport season) and ends with a SAISA wide tournament. The only other games that these athletes can get are friendlies against local teams and the local tournament that pits AIS/D against schools in Dhaka and sometimes a school or two from Chittagong. In total, most teams will play about 10-12 games all season.
The head coach of the girls b-ball team is an Art teacher named Krista who really knows the game well. She is probably the main reason I decided to fill a sudden vacancy in the coaching ranks. I hadn't really had an opportunity to coach the boys because the activities coordinator had (sort of) filled the positions before I was even hired. Working with Krista has been great because she isn't possessive of practices and has let me lead plenty of drills and introduce the three-quarter-court press that we run. Although my role was more of A-team assistant during the season, much of what decides who goes to SAISA is based on who has put in the most time helping the program. Considering that this will be my one season coaching, I am disappointed but see why I'm not going to Kathmandu (the school only sends two coaches). Because of this, I spent the last weekend coaching our B team in the local tournament, where they finished last the previous year.
Happily, we managed seventh out of ten this year, going 2-3 and winning our last game (a barn burner at 14-12!). It was an exhausting experience because I tried to help out as much as possible with the varsity, and coaching many of these girls through their first formal competition was taxing but certainly rewarding. My most difficult task was not teaching "X's and O's" or plays, but teaching them to play as hard as they could. At my school athletics is often not the intense endeavor it can be elsewhere around the world. I'm happy to say that by the last game girls were flying around the court covering for each other on defense, embracing the spirit of hustle and team work that makes for strong defense. We shut out the other team, Chittagong Grammar, in the fourth quarter to propel us to an emotional victory. We had been tossed around by more skilled and experienced girls throughout the tournament, but won this one against a bigger team and I couldn't have been more proud of them. Many of them officially got the basketball bug, and when I reminded them after our season ended that 5 seniors would be leaving the current SAISA team next year a few of their eyes lit up.
So now I am working with the A-team full time trying to get them ready for SAISA this weekend. Today we scrimmaged for the whole practice, taking breaks when we were exhausted to shoot free-throws while tired. I wish I could see them take the court in Nepal and put all of their hard work on display. Last year they finished fourth at the local tournament and last at SAISA. This year we cruised through the local tournament, winning every game by double digits (the final was 36-22). They have improved dramatically this season, especially with respect to their confidence. Girls who didn't realize they could throw the ball that far are spotting up for jump shots and others who were afraid to handle the ball now call for it when they are open. When Krista and I met as the season was starting, we were on the same page: goal number one is teaching how to compete. I think we've achieved this goal to the best of our ability.
Teaching girls has been an extremely enjoyable experience. I haven't had one ego battle, never had to seriously discipline them for not trying to do what I ask. Perhaps the real challenge has been realizing that I can't overwhelm them too much with directives. While constant barking can keep boys on task and help them push themselves, most of these girls seem to respond to calmer discourse (although I am pretty vocal during sprints to make sure they are truly running at full speed, something I never thought I would have to teach). My motto has been "find the good and praise it at the top of your lungs so everyone knows."
I had never really considered becoming a girls basketball coach, but I could definitely see myself working with either boys or girls down the road. Especially if I ended up with a group as respectful and willing as these young ladies have been. Nothing makes a coach happier than to hear "can I stick around and shoot a little bit after practice"... well, unless you have a life, which I barely have here. I certainly wouldn't say there are too many places I'd rather be around here than teaching basketball to receptive players.
The point guard of our team is a particularly hard working athlete, and I've been spending extra care and attention in my efforts to mold her into a truly dangerous player. Today in scrimmage she was pushing the ball, making good decisions in transition and I could see her developing into a more vocal floor leader. She's only a junior and by far our best player so hopefully she'll continue to work on the things I've taught her and keep expanding her game after I'm gone.
One thing is for certain, I'll be looking to get into coaching as soon as is possible in the states (depending on what my full time job is!).
Athletics in a SAISA school are run differently than back in the states, to say the least. Each season is about six weeks long (about half of a typical US sport season) and ends with a SAISA wide tournament. The only other games that these athletes can get are friendlies against local teams and the local tournament that pits AIS/D against schools in Dhaka and sometimes a school or two from Chittagong. In total, most teams will play about 10-12 games all season.
The head coach of the girls b-ball team is an Art teacher named Krista who really knows the game well. She is probably the main reason I decided to fill a sudden vacancy in the coaching ranks. I hadn't really had an opportunity to coach the boys because the activities coordinator had (sort of) filled the positions before I was even hired. Working with Krista has been great because she isn't possessive of practices and has let me lead plenty of drills and introduce the three-quarter-court press that we run. Although my role was more of A-team assistant during the season, much of what decides who goes to SAISA is based on who has put in the most time helping the program. Considering that this will be my one season coaching, I am disappointed but see why I'm not going to Kathmandu (the school only sends two coaches). Because of this, I spent the last weekend coaching our B team in the local tournament, where they finished last the previous year.
Happily, we managed seventh out of ten this year, going 2-3 and winning our last game (a barn burner at 14-12!). It was an exhausting experience because I tried to help out as much as possible with the varsity, and coaching many of these girls through their first formal competition was taxing but certainly rewarding. My most difficult task was not teaching "X's and O's" or plays, but teaching them to play as hard as they could. At my school athletics is often not the intense endeavor it can be elsewhere around the world. I'm happy to say that by the last game girls were flying around the court covering for each other on defense, embracing the spirit of hustle and team work that makes for strong defense. We shut out the other team, Chittagong Grammar, in the fourth quarter to propel us to an emotional victory. We had been tossed around by more skilled and experienced girls throughout the tournament, but won this one against a bigger team and I couldn't have been more proud of them. Many of them officially got the basketball bug, and when I reminded them after our season ended that 5 seniors would be leaving the current SAISA team next year a few of their eyes lit up.
So now I am working with the A-team full time trying to get them ready for SAISA this weekend. Today we scrimmaged for the whole practice, taking breaks when we were exhausted to shoot free-throws while tired. I wish I could see them take the court in Nepal and put all of their hard work on display. Last year they finished fourth at the local tournament and last at SAISA. This year we cruised through the local tournament, winning every game by double digits (the final was 36-22). They have improved dramatically this season, especially with respect to their confidence. Girls who didn't realize they could throw the ball that far are spotting up for jump shots and others who were afraid to handle the ball now call for it when they are open. When Krista and I met as the season was starting, we were on the same page: goal number one is teaching how to compete. I think we've achieved this goal to the best of our ability.
Teaching girls has been an extremely enjoyable experience. I haven't had one ego battle, never had to seriously discipline them for not trying to do what I ask. Perhaps the real challenge has been realizing that I can't overwhelm them too much with directives. While constant barking can keep boys on task and help them push themselves, most of these girls seem to respond to calmer discourse (although I am pretty vocal during sprints to make sure they are truly running at full speed, something I never thought I would have to teach). My motto has been "find the good and praise it at the top of your lungs so everyone knows."
I had never really considered becoming a girls basketball coach, but I could definitely see myself working with either boys or girls down the road. Especially if I ended up with a group as respectful and willing as these young ladies have been. Nothing makes a coach happier than to hear "can I stick around and shoot a little bit after practice"... well, unless you have a life, which I barely have here. I certainly wouldn't say there are too many places I'd rather be around here than teaching basketball to receptive players.
The point guard of our team is a particularly hard working athlete, and I've been spending extra care and attention in my efforts to mold her into a truly dangerous player. Today in scrimmage she was pushing the ball, making good decisions in transition and I could see her developing into a more vocal floor leader. She's only a junior and by far our best player so hopefully she'll continue to work on the things I've taught her and keep expanding her game after I'm gone.
One thing is for certain, I'll be looking to get into coaching as soon as is possible in the states (depending on what my full time job is!).
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Saturday Morning Hoops with the Bangladeshi State Police
So this began when I ran into my twin students’ father, Dan, as I was leaving the weight room at school. His son played basketball and I am currently coaching his daughter. I also play with Dan every once and a while on weekend mornings at the American club. He’s probably over 50 but he’s lanky and can still move pretty well. We have a similar sense of the game, and like to play with each other because, at least in my opinion, we both “play the game the right way.”
He told me that some guys from the embassy were going to play the Bangladeshi State Police (yes, the same police as the ones mentioned in the previous post) on Saturday morning if I wanted to come help out. I immediately answered in the affirmative, my mind scampering over possible images of a third world State Police team. I was pretty sure they would be fairly tall (most of the army and police force are much taller than the rest of the population) and in fine shape. Their skill level, on the other hand, was a complete unknown.
I was a little bit uneasy about the whole thing before I heard that the US ambassador would also be playing. When you are competing against the State Police in a country like Bangladesh, it pays to have a diplomat or two on the court with you. We were playing on their turf, and I didn’t want it to be a “the State Police never lose” scenario… even though we aren’t inmates, I couldn’t help think of The Longest Yard.
It turns out that the American Embassy participates in a few different sporting exhibitions with the State Police as a gesture of fellowship and goodwill. They stomped us in softball and cricket, and had challenged us to a game of hoops. Basketball is a truly American game in the minds of the Bangladeshi people, but they still thought they would beat us. The Friday before we played a official from the Bangladeshi Police called and told the Ambassador’s office that we might be in for a long morning.
We assembled at 8:45AM in the embassy parking lot, a somewhat rag-tag group of men in their thirties, forties and fifties, a stud Department of Defense attaché, a couple of AIS/D high school players and me. Most of them were people I had played with before. We were all excited to finally see our opponents in action.
The ten of us traveled in style in two white 14 passenger vans following the Ambassador’s BMW 755, which was sandwiched between two white SUVs with their siren’s blaring. With the motorcade acting as a fullback, busting through the chaotic Dhaka traffic, we reached our destination with little resistance. One of the people we were playing with gave me a half sheet of paper with our schedule printed on it. Over the course of the three and half hour program we were to play, then have some speeches and gifts, then a reception with tea. We had wondered how much pageantry was to be involved, and it appeared we would get our fill.
After about ten minutes of driving, I had no idea where we were. I realized then just how enormous Dhaka is, and how it all looks the same to me.
When we arrived at the police headquarters I understood this was going to be quite the affair. A covered area with plush seating extended along the whole left sideline, and behind the seating were some event tents where our reception would be. The concrete court was blue with red lines and the key was colored in red. On the right sideline were the two benches, with the scorer’s table in a covered area in the middle. On either baseline, and behind the State Police’s bench, a crowd was starting to gather. A noisy twelve-piece band rattled in the corner next to our bench, belting out national hymns.
The masters of ceremony for the event were a man and woman who had uncertain but exceedingly polite English. Right before we tipped off the ambassador (the “special guest”) made a speech entirely in Bangla, which really impressed me. It’s meaning was lost to me (although I could guess there were some general pro Bangladeshi-American relations remarks, as well as some jokes about being old/out of shape), but it got some laughs from the crowd.
As we were warming up, I analyzed our competition. Thoughts: no one under six feet, no one over 6’7’’; no one can shoot; everyone fit; a few dunkers. It must have looked like quite the lopsided contest during warm ups as the police’s crisp passes, high-flying lay ups and official uniforms contrasted with our older men, un-tucked, mismatching shirts and unorganized style. I was still pretty confident though, because I figured the police had never encountered the American style of play. We had planned to pack into a zone defense and force them to make outside shots, and I didn’t see anyone who looked like knocking down anything from deep.
The game began and after James swished an open mid range two pointer, I got loose for a three pointer and then drove past my defender for a floater on our next possessions. Like that we were up 7-0, eventually extending our lead to 30-14 by the end of the half. Our big men were able to keep them from getting offensive rebounds, and they were clearly unprepared for the amount of motion, passing and shooting that we brought on offense.
The police were extremely polite and had excellent sportsmanship. They occasionally vented their frustrations by yelling at each other, but for the most part everyone seemed happy just to be playing. As the game got going a crowd steadily grew around the roped off court, probably peaking at about 200 people. Our bench didn’t have any spectators behind it, instead we were flanked by five camouflaged men carrying Glocs and MP-5 machine guns to protect the Ambassador.
We took out our best players after the third quarter, leading 50-24 and ended up closing the game 55-44. The police made some adjustments and started trying to run-out after our shots to get lay-ups by throwing the ball over our out of shape, older team. Their tallest player managed to stuff in two slam dunks on fast breaks which sent the crowd into a frenzy. They were probably the highlights as far as exciting plays by either side. As the Inspector General of the Police Force said after the game “this was not exactly an NBA league match.”
After the match it was time for more photos of both teams together, just the Ambassador and the Police, just the Police, just the Americans, Americans holding the gifts etc. We each received collared t-shirts in festive metallic silver wrapping paper that read “For You On Your Wedding!” The shirts seem to be of pretty high quality, but the insignia is a bit mysterious. There are two players jumping towards a floating hoop, one laying the ball in, normal enough. However I am at a loss to explain the acronyms found on the uniforms of each team: DMP and APBN. I wracked my brain all day and consulted some of the people we played with, but could find no answers to the baffling letters. Each shirt was a triple extra large, so I don’t know how much wear its going to get. Yet it will serve as a symbolic reminder of the unpredictability and fun of this cultural exchange.
He told me that some guys from the embassy were going to play the Bangladeshi State Police (yes, the same police as the ones mentioned in the previous post) on Saturday morning if I wanted to come help out. I immediately answered in the affirmative, my mind scampering over possible images of a third world State Police team. I was pretty sure they would be fairly tall (most of the army and police force are much taller than the rest of the population) and in fine shape. Their skill level, on the other hand, was a complete unknown.
I was a little bit uneasy about the whole thing before I heard that the US ambassador would also be playing. When you are competing against the State Police in a country like Bangladesh, it pays to have a diplomat or two on the court with you. We were playing on their turf, and I didn’t want it to be a “the State Police never lose” scenario… even though we aren’t inmates, I couldn’t help think of The Longest Yard.
It turns out that the American Embassy participates in a few different sporting exhibitions with the State Police as a gesture of fellowship and goodwill. They stomped us in softball and cricket, and had challenged us to a game of hoops. Basketball is a truly American game in the minds of the Bangladeshi people, but they still thought they would beat us. The Friday before we played a official from the Bangladeshi Police called and told the Ambassador’s office that we might be in for a long morning.
We assembled at 8:45AM in the embassy parking lot, a somewhat rag-tag group of men in their thirties, forties and fifties, a stud Department of Defense attaché, a couple of AIS/D high school players and me. Most of them were people I had played with before. We were all excited to finally see our opponents in action.
The ten of us traveled in style in two white 14 passenger vans following the Ambassador’s BMW 755, which was sandwiched between two white SUVs with their siren’s blaring. With the motorcade acting as a fullback, busting through the chaotic Dhaka traffic, we reached our destination with little resistance. One of the people we were playing with gave me a half sheet of paper with our schedule printed on it. Over the course of the three and half hour program we were to play, then have some speeches and gifts, then a reception with tea. We had wondered how much pageantry was to be involved, and it appeared we would get our fill.
After about ten minutes of driving, I had no idea where we were. I realized then just how enormous Dhaka is, and how it all looks the same to me.
When we arrived at the police headquarters I understood this was going to be quite the affair. A covered area with plush seating extended along the whole left sideline, and behind the seating were some event tents where our reception would be. The concrete court was blue with red lines and the key was colored in red. On the right sideline were the two benches, with the scorer’s table in a covered area in the middle. On either baseline, and behind the State Police’s bench, a crowd was starting to gather. A noisy twelve-piece band rattled in the corner next to our bench, belting out national hymns.
The masters of ceremony for the event were a man and woman who had uncertain but exceedingly polite English. Right before we tipped off the ambassador (the “special guest”) made a speech entirely in Bangla, which really impressed me. It’s meaning was lost to me (although I could guess there were some general pro Bangladeshi-American relations remarks, as well as some jokes about being old/out of shape), but it got some laughs from the crowd.
As we were warming up, I analyzed our competition. Thoughts: no one under six feet, no one over 6’7’’; no one can shoot; everyone fit; a few dunkers. It must have looked like quite the lopsided contest during warm ups as the police’s crisp passes, high-flying lay ups and official uniforms contrasted with our older men, un-tucked, mismatching shirts and unorganized style. I was still pretty confident though, because I figured the police had never encountered the American style of play. We had planned to pack into a zone defense and force them to make outside shots, and I didn’t see anyone who looked like knocking down anything from deep.
The game began and after James swished an open mid range two pointer, I got loose for a three pointer and then drove past my defender for a floater on our next possessions. Like that we were up 7-0, eventually extending our lead to 30-14 by the end of the half. Our big men were able to keep them from getting offensive rebounds, and they were clearly unprepared for the amount of motion, passing and shooting that we brought on offense.
The police were extremely polite and had excellent sportsmanship. They occasionally vented their frustrations by yelling at each other, but for the most part everyone seemed happy just to be playing. As the game got going a crowd steadily grew around the roped off court, probably peaking at about 200 people. Our bench didn’t have any spectators behind it, instead we were flanked by five camouflaged men carrying Glocs and MP-5 machine guns to protect the Ambassador.
We took out our best players after the third quarter, leading 50-24 and ended up closing the game 55-44. The police made some adjustments and started trying to run-out after our shots to get lay-ups by throwing the ball over our out of shape, older team. Their tallest player managed to stuff in two slam dunks on fast breaks which sent the crowd into a frenzy. They were probably the highlights as far as exciting plays by either side. As the Inspector General of the Police Force said after the game “this was not exactly an NBA league match.”
After the match it was time for more photos of both teams together, just the Ambassador and the Police, just the Police, just the Americans, Americans holding the gifts etc. We each received collared t-shirts in festive metallic silver wrapping paper that read “For You On Your Wedding!” The shirts seem to be of pretty high quality, but the insignia is a bit mysterious. There are two players jumping towards a floating hoop, one laying the ball in, normal enough. However I am at a loss to explain the acronyms found on the uniforms of each team: DMP and APBN. I wracked my brain all day and consulted some of the people we played with, but could find no answers to the baffling letters. Each shirt was a triple extra large, so I don’t know how much wear its going to get. Yet it will serve as a symbolic reminder of the unpredictability and fun of this cultural exchange.
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