My colleagues continue to amuse (and bemuse) me on a daily basis. (I'll save discussing their work ethic - or lack thereof - for another day.) They are almost bipolar in their variations between giving me over-the-top compliments about anything and everything (e.g. my "beautiful" drink bottle), then being scathingly critical about other things (e.g. my "ugly boy cut"). Some days my outfit choice meets with resounding approval, with the amount of bling being directly proportional to the amount of compliments received. So today I'm feeling pretty spunky in my new fatua (like a kameez but shorter in length) I bought on the weekend at my favourite shop in Chittagong, which I'd paired with a salwar and orna from another 3-piece set. As I'm walking out the door, two of my colleagues say, "Monica! This outfit... No good." Why, I ask. "Fatua with pant, kameez with salwar. Not fatua with salwar." Evidently, this is a major fashion faux pas in Bangladesh. Along with not wearing make-up or jewellery - so I'm just a big fat dag really. (Meanwhile, the crazy lady across the lane has her breasts on show again but nobody seems to give a shit about that.)
Nobody told me I look like such a dick head when I'm working! (And in the offending outfit, too - note how the fatua only just covers my bum. Also my orna, worn apron-style so it doesn't fall off or generally get in the bloody way.)
I went with another colleague, Aleya, to visit a village called Bansbaria which is about 10km from Sitakunda. As we walked along the main street towards the highway to get a CNG, we passed a parked car. As far as I could see, no conversation had taken place between Aleya and the owner of this car. Nevertheless, she says to me, "Monica - get in!" I know mum always said never to accept lifts from strangers, but it didn't feel like the right time to kick up a fuss. As we start driving off, Aleya murmurs to me, with raised eyebrows and a tilt of the head towards the car's owner, "Corruption member." This threw me somewhat, as corruption is a very hot topic in Bangladesh at the moment. The previous government was sacked cos everyone was corrupt (both the former President and the leader of the opposition are in prison on corruption charges) and there are big moves at the moment to eradicate corruption from all levels of government. Good luck. But anyway... I'm sitting there having my second misgiving about accepting a lift from this guy. Not only is he a stranger, but he's a bloody corrupt one at that. I must have looked sufficiently alarmed, as Aleya then went on to explain that he is a member of the local anti-corruption committee, of which I had the pleasure of attending their inaugural meeting a few weeks ago. Phew! No need to report back to Baz Dog (our Bangladeshi in-country manager) or the Australian government that I've been getting mixed up in the wrong crowd.
PS - Saw this in the village I visited today (and on many other days). These are sticks, with cow shit caked on them, drying in the sun to be used as fuel in a fire. Maybe this is how one of my sister's favourite expressions, "Shit sticks!", originated?
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