Memories of the 1971 Liberation War

I have often wondered about the seemingly contradictory patriotism of Bangladeshis. In most cases, it is the ferocious snarl of a country that only recently gained independence after centuries of colonial rule (Mogul then British). However, the sort of nationalist sentiment that lead an older woman in Old Dhaka to shout at me and my group "you are a foreigner, this is my ground, my air, my water" is undermined in my mind by the way that most people treat their country and countrymen. How often have a seen a window roll down and a bag of trash ejected onto the street, or read about working class Bangladeshis (what we would consider unbearably impoverished) getting beaten up for protesting their company withholding their pay. This combination of rabid nationalism and an inability to treat the constituents of this nation with humanity is one that I have difficulty reconciling given my cultural background. Yet there it is, and Bangladeshis are genuine.


In 1971, Bangladesh gained independence from Pakistan in an intense and gruesome war. Fearing rebellion (rightly) from the newly elected Awami party in East Pakistan (which was led by the current Prime Minister's father), what was then West Pakistan launched a preemptive strike on their darker, eastern allies. In the 1950's WP attempted to make Urdu the official language of East Pakistan. When East Pakistan gained independence, it became Bangladesh, which means "country of Bangla," the national language. Despite both ends of Pakistan sharing a faith, there seemed to be an irreconcilable cultural difference.

It was anything but a fair fight, and the WP army slaughtered over thirty thousand Bangladeshi intellectuals in Dhaka alone. With no army or militia of its own, Bangladesh was literally defenseless. Many in Bangladesh remember this as a genocide. The Indian Army came to their aid and helped defeat West Pakistan, and Bangladesh became an independent state.

Presently, there are still efforts in Bangladesh to have Pakistani leaders tried in a war crimes court, though that is looking pretty unlikely.


So why bring this up now? Well in class today we ended up discussing capital punishments and its motivations, of which one of the more obvious is revenge. While most students seemed to agree that revenge was not a suitable motivation for killing, one Bangladeshi student was not convinced. After more discussion, she was forced to come up with a scenario in which more people would be convinced of her view point. Suddenly, tears started in her eyes and emotion flooded her voice as she argued that the Pakistani soldiers who had raped and murdered in the streets and left the bodies to "die like dogs" should be made to pay. They should be killed. She and her family are from the artist and intellectual class that was singled out for annihilation in 1971.


Needless to say everyone in class was caught off guard. She spoke about the atrocities as if they had occurred only last year. As if there was time to strike back, to make things right. While it inspired me to do more research online (just type in 1971 Bangladesh Independence in Google and browse away) and spread the old, old news a bit in this blog, it also got me thinking about the nature of pain, war and memory.

The immediacy of the pain is what I could not have predicted. September 11th is about as close as I can come to some sort of understanding, but even then the attacks were, on a relative scale, brief and isolated for those on the West Coast. This student was born over twenty years after the War of Independence, how will New Yorkers born in another ten years remember September 11th? My guess is that it will depend on the events between now and this imagined day. If the United States is able to help the world end Islamic terrorism, then 9/11 will almost certainly be remembered differently than if the U.S. is unable to track down the ringleaders and destroy the networks that brought tragedy to U.S. soil. Pearl Harbor is remembered the way it is today because we eventually crushed Japan and other Axis forces. The future defines the past.

For Bangladeshis, what restitution can take place? What can be done to ease the tortured collective memories of an internationally powerless nation born from such violent deeds? There is still plenty of anger in Bangladesh, where will it be directed? There is fear that Bangladesh could supplement Afghanistan as a training ground and operational base for Islamic terrorists. This is unlikely because there are just far too many people here, and no isolated nooks. Also, the U.S. and other western countries do so much aid work (with no oil or other natural resources to secure), it's hard to imagine the country turning on its benefactors.

The truth, that likely nothing will happen, is almost as hard to bear.

A Rickshaw Ride through Baridhara

This is a compilation of clips from my ride to the American Club from home today. It takes place almost exclusively in the very nicest areas of Dhaka, so I wouldn't call it representative of the city. However, it is representative of this wealthy enclave, and it gives a decent idea of what a rickshaw ride is like. There is a good mix of quite poor people and extravagant houses. Many of the workers are women, and for the most part it is all unskilled construction labor.

The ride takes me from a few blocks from my apartment in Baridhara out the back gate (catch the rebar cutting safety precautions) to a small shopping area, over to the rickshaw bridge (there are a few seconds of the "lake"), past the Baridhara DOHS gates (which is on the bridge), into Gulshan 2, onto and across Gulshan avenue and finally to the American Club. All in all probably around a mile and a half. This was taken on a Friday which is the off day for most of this Muslim country so things are comparatively empty in the streets. Still, you can get the general idea, and people are doing basically the same things, there are just less of them. Watching this it was funny to note how many people are almost literally doing nothing. There is plenty of hanging out time around here.

The video is about four and a half minutes long, edited down from the full 10 minute ride. For his services I gave the rickshaw-walla 32tk, or about 45 cents.

Sorry in advance for the bumpiness of the camera, but these rickshaws are pretty rickety. I've got a lot to say about this but I am planning a long post about rickshaws, why I think they are a terrible mode of transportation and why I would be sad if I never got to ride in one. Also, the song, "Bury Me with It" by Modest Mouse, has a couple moments of foul language, though I liked it for its appropriate energy and lyrics.

On Leaving

One of the things about a place like Dhaka is that it takes a while to learn how to take advantage of what's available. In the states when you move to a new city, you can go to that Whole Foods and get high quality food, though it may take you a couple months to learn about the farmer's markets. When you come to Dhaka, you only know what people tell you. Sure you can go on adventures and find new restaurants and stores, but after a certain amount of digestive disasters and running colors, you tend to stick to places you can trust. So word of mouth is important, because when someone recommends a place, it matters a lot more than in a city where you can generally trust what's around.

As a result, the longer you stay, the more you learn. Well that seems pretty self-evident, but there is a strange learning curve here. The city is so alien, that for the first couple months you are just learning non-stop like an infant, almost literally everything is new. I don't know anyone who failed to take about 75 pictures of rickshaws in the first couple months, before replacing wonder with being annoyed. After this initial period, you find a routine, you have joined the clubs, the commissary, made some connections outside of school. In short, you have carved out a place.

For the next six months its hard to make big gains in understanding. After the first three months of living here, you know what's up, and it's just a matter of optimizing your use of this information. Things feel a little repetitive and you get bored with the social circle you are in not by any fault of your friends, but when you work with your friends, you need a fresh perspective every once in a while, or at least a new activity.

For me, I joined a play and tried to spend time at clubs besides the American Club. This latter part didn't really pan out, but I did start to finally feel less like a visitor and more like a resident of this city. When I drive by a westerner I stare just like all the Bangladeshi's, wondering to myself "hey! what do you think you're doing here?!" I got possessive of Dhaka. I was repulsed by hippies in Kathmandu not because they smelled funny, but because they seemed to believe that by approximating native dress (unbutton that vest, go on!) and not combing their hair they were being "real." Well, when you are hanging out in the tourist district the whole time you aren't really getting an authentic experience, if you want to look like that, go farm and look dirty for a reason.

This is how I felt anyways. It's not that I felt I understood native culture and customs better, but I knew that I was different. I know that no matter how much tea I drink and how crazy I drive, I am still a westerner in a foreign land. I had gotten my third world baptism in a land where it is basically impossible to be friends with most native people because of the vast cultural divide they see. It's silly to think that you can ever truly understand them simply because you wear the same clothes. I'd rather be an aid worker in khakis. I suppose that a large part of it is that I see myself as having accomplished something by living here. My insecurity read on their faces "Oh I get South Asia! Look at my poofy pants!" and it just aggravates me to no end....

Well that was a little bit of a tangent. The point is, back to some form of coherent thought, over the last couple months I've lived here. There is a freaking French Bakery a half dozen blocks from WHERE I SLEEP EVERY NIGHT. I hadn't had a baguette in five months. It's only open from 10am to 12pm Saturday mornings, and it's run out of someone's house. Why didn't anyone tell me about this?! People want to keep good things theirs here, because there aren't enough rolls to go around. Well I am finally getting into this inner level, and now it's getting time to go (18 days!). It seems that 8-9 months is about the amount of time it takes to become really close to a friend. Perfect timing.

As with all impending departures, the closer you get to the finish, the faster the time seems to have passed. I do not feel like I've been here as long as I did 3 months ago. Explain that. Wait, don't. What matters is that it has the odd effect of cheapening the intervening time, giving me the impression that I should have met more people, bought more shirts, played cricket, done MORE. Maybe this last few weeks of writing will help me to recollect all the things that I will miss and will be happy to see from an airplane window, help me remember who I was 9 months ago.

Cyclone Aila aftermath

What a disaster! I didn't even get to experience the cyclone!... get it, disaster? Anyways, I shouldn't make fun because it destroyed much of the southwest of this country. So far the Daily Star is confirming 121 deaths, though there are probably many more that are unreported. However the real damage from the cyclone will affect thousands of people and probably lead to hundreds of deaths in the next few months. Water quality, crops, fisheries, livestock and homes were all wiped off the loose silt floor of the Bengal delta.

The flood is bringing in salt water that can permanently ruin land and in the short term overtakes the potable ground water that most people depend on. According to one statistic, over 58 THOUSAND livestock have been killed... I had to read that again to be sure. It's hard to imagine a more unprepared people in a more vulnerable land. If you want to read more you can go here.

I talked to my Dad today and he told me that he heard a report saying Dhaka got drenched. This is not true, after the first night, there really has been no irregular weather. Even the "storm" paled in comparison to some of the ones I've experienced already. A little lightning, some wind, some rain, but no eye-widening, biblical weather. Only a few locusts.

It's very hard to justify the feeling of disappointment I've had regarding this cyclone. When abroad the hope is that you have the opportunity to experience all you can, whether it's a sunny day that gives you a famed mountain view or a cataclysmic cyclone. Well, that's how I feel about it anyways. On the quite obviously throbbing other hand, you just can't root for people to die. This cyclone is a very, very terrible thing, but I can't help wishing I got to see it.

Cyclone Aila Makes Landfall

The wind was blowing all afternoon, but I didn't hear that a cyclone was bearing down on West Bengal until about 4PM. By that time it had already struck the Indian Sundarbans and was making its way into Bangladesh. At the moment only 7 have died, as the country seems relatively prepared for the weather. However, as Bangladesh is essentially a massive flood plain with very little solid ground, no amount of preparation will spare the thousands of coastal dwellings sure to be uprooted.

So far it sounds like what I can expect in Dhaka is a lot of wind and rain for the next 48 hours. Dhaka is far enough inland that nothing serious will happen, especially not to me in my big concrete building, but the shanty towns and slums will most likely be devastated.

Imagine 80mph hitting THIS

When I originally heard that a cyclone was going to come through here, I was excited. I wanted to experience a monsoon but I just missed it in July and the thought of a massive force of nature on my doorstep made me almost happy. How many times am I going to witness first hand such a viscous impact? However I quickly reminded myself of the 150 million people who would have paltry defense against the impending wind and rain and now I look forward apprehensively to the mess that Dhaka will no doubt become if the storm passes close enough.

On the other hand, I've already been up to my ankles in slaughtered livestock, so a little water and mud will probably be fine.

This is my 100th post on the Dhakamentary, and how appropriate that it document this once and a lifetime experience. Apart from the storm, on which I will update tomorrow, I am caught up in the fact that I leave Dhaka in just 20 days.

Over the next three weeks I will try to pick up the pace on my postings, reflecting on things I will miss and things I will hope to never see again. I may also catch up on postings about my vacations, my involvement in a community play, and some other stuff I've been up to recently (one can hope, anyways).