Ex-pats Cry Twice: The Dhaka Club Scene

Apparently the saying goes: Expats cry twice - once when they are told they have to go to Bangladesh and once when they have to leave. Why? Because Bangladesh is considered the bottom rung of locations to do development work in the world. Africa is at the top, BD at the bottom. This is what I've learned from all the yearning to go to Africa I've heard from the Aid workers here.

Now why do they hate to leave? Because of the clubbing, of course. These aren't clubs in the sense that you may be thinking, like say discotec. No, these are Clubs in the most neo-colonial sense of the word: Country Clubs. And you have to be a citizen of the aforementioned country working with purpose in Bangladesh to become a member. Some only allow membership from the diplomatic community, some based on language but all have restrictions on the number of Bangladeshi's that are allowed in at any given time. Heaven's no, they can't become members, they can only be signed in as guests and only a few at a time because one wouldn't want to sully one's reputation. Once you are a member of one club you have access to all the rest. Except, some clubs (read the American Club) think other clubs (read the BAGHA Club - British Aid Workers Guest House Association Club) are too lenient with the locals and have placed extra restrictions on other club's members.

What's so great about these clubs anyway that everyone is vying for a spot at the membership roster? Well the alcohol and the scantily clad women, of course. These are some of the few places that serve alcohol and where foreign women can wear whatever clothes they want. They hold parties with both of the above present as well as music and dancing. Essentially they are an oasis of the west in Bangladesh. This wouldn't be so bad . . . if it weren't for the racist restrictions. I'm told that everyone tries not to think about that part and just get on with life instead of actually doing something to change it.

On the other hand, maybe it is more representative of the West than I am comfortable to admit.

I am your mother's father

Apparently "nana" in Bangla refers to your maternal grandfather hence my new role in life as your mother's father. Maybe now I'll get a little more respect. Maybe I'll benefit from a little cultural gerentocracy. But for now I'll have to make due with the fact that I was almost denied entry to a virtually uninhabited hill in Southeast Bangladesh because the army officer thought I had a fake passport. Why did he think I had a fake passport? Well, because the extreme age on my current passport is apparently not congruent with my childlike appearance. Little do they know that je viens de treinte ans shortly.

But that's beside the point. I was eventually allowed to enter this nether region of Bangladesh . . . with three police escorts. Apparently the natives, read Bangladesh's indigenous people, are not to be trusted. A few years back a few Danish tourists, perhaps a diplomat, and a fruity tour guide named Bablu, were kidnapped in the hills. This was an act to draw attention to the systematic marginalisation of indigenous people in Bangladesh. Since then, foreign tourists need government, read military, permission to enter the area. And, in the last couple of years, foreign tourists also must have a police escort for any foray outside of their hotel.


I managed to subvert the police by making forays into the hills at the crack of dawn. I should mention that the police are a bit lazy, well actually very lazy. It was a hiking trip and the police made it clear that they abhored walking, they found the heat unbearable, and they tired after half an hour. God help me if there was any serious threat to my safety because these oafs wouldn't be able to do a thing. In fact the only thing they were capable of is intimidating the tribes people.

Back to my forays into the hills . . . The locals were lovely: peaceful, warm and welcoming. I befriended a Tripura family who own a shop and tea house at the top of the hill close to my hotel. Then I befriended the extended family when they made a visit to the tea house and then the entire village of 15 families when I climbed down into the valley where they live. My point man for the Tripura was Thomas Tripura, a young guy with a young family. He invited me down to the village and talked to me about the Tripura people.


That's me donning a traditional Tripura cloth that was handwoven by one of the village women, whom I met. Sorry, no pics of the locals. I don't post recognizable faces without permission!

My tour guide, Lal Baum, is from, you guessed it, the Baum tribe. I visited several Baum villages, including Lal's village and Lal's home where I met mama Lal and Lal's little sister. The Baum people are known for their handwoven blankets of which I indulged. My favourite is the one made by mama Lal.



One of the points of contention between the Bangladeshi establishment and the tribal people is religion: Bangladeshi's are muslim and the tribal people are predominantly Christian or Buddhist. Another is land: the Chittagong Hill Tracts are sparsely populated with tribal people while the rest of Bangladesh is bursting at the seams. Let's not forget culture as a universally contentious issue: the tribal people have cultural ties to Myanmar, India and even Korea and the customs, dress and food are considerably different then Bengali culture.


A view from a Chakma Buddhist temple. Sadly I couldn't visit the Chakma people because I couldn't get permission to enter the area where they live. I was able to visit a Murong village where I was given a gift of fruit, the texture of papaya, the smell of guava and the taste somewhere in between. How amazing for people with so little to be so generous and for a people who are so marginalised and intimidated to be so welcoming to visitors.

Good Juma-day Holi Krishna

On Friday, 21 March, the planets aligned (well actually it was the moon) and six major religions shared a holy day:

• Good Friday commemorating the crucification of Jesus Christ


• Eid al-Mawlid an-Nabawī commemorating the birth of the prophet Mohammed


• Guru Purnima commemorating the birth of Krishna

• Nowruz the new year celebrated by Zoroastrians, Sufis and the Baha'i


• Holi the Hindu festival of colour welcoming the arrival of spring


• Purim commemorating the deliverance of the Jewish people from annhilation in Persia

March 21 also happens to be a secular day of special importance to me. It is the international day for the elimination of racial discrimination.

What better way to celebrate the holy day than by visiting the religious landmarks of Bangladesh and what better way to engender harmony amongst the races than by answering, with embelishment, the favourite Bangladeshi question: "Desh kotai?" (Which country are you from?)

Celebrating Krishna's birthday with some new friends.

Buddhist ruins at Moynamati. Now I realise that no Buddhist holy days were mentioned but it is the closest I could get to a Zoroastrian or Baha'i landmark in Bangladesh. Even so, I think it's also in keeping with the anti-discrimination theme. Why should I deny Buddhists a spot on my blog just because 21 March doesn't figure highly for them?

The Sitara (Star) mosque in old Dhaka.

The Armenian church in old Dhaka. Perhaps one of the most peaceful spots in the city (mostly because it is surrounded by a huge wall and you can only be let in if the Hindu caretaker - he is very proud of the fact that a Hindu is the guardian of a Christian church in the centre of a muslim city - thinks you are worthy.)

A mother bestowing a blessing on her daughter at Dhaka's oldest Hindu temple, Deshwana.