Rain Walking and After

I discovered this past week the best times to take a walk. I decided that I needed to take a thought-walk at least every other day if I was going to keep my head on straight. After a day or two of feeling the beginnings of a cough, I sloshed through the rain and mud puddles towards the nearest pharmacy. The mud impeded rickshaw drivers from testing their wheels, people stood under storefronts or whatever shelter they could find, and people driving cars scrambled to find their way home. The road was left for me and a few pedestrians to walk on. I had to keep myself from doing a Gene Kelly number on the sidewalk (the slight fever might have had something to do with the experience). I would probably take a rainy thought-walk again as long as the rainwater doesn’t pass my ankles. The second best time to take a walk is immediately after a rain, such as this morning. People have the same idea, but the streets are not overcrowded…yet. I grabbed my camera to see what I could capture. Across the hospital, a man who was selling mangoes caught my eye. I snapped a photo and hopped away, delighted because I love taking pictures of fruit sellers. Then my courtesy light bulb went off and I hurried back to him and asked to buy a few mangoes. I got SIX MANGOES for a little over 1 USD!

Let me eat cake

Last night Fatima’s mom arrived at our place for a visit, and it was her birthday yesterday! I was quite amused a few weeks ago when Fatima celebrated her birthday and fed bite-sized portions of cake to her students. I found the gesture intimate and sweet. In the states, we commonly witness feeding cake with one’s hands during a wedding. However, it is a custom to eat with one's hands in Bangladesh (and still in some parts of my parents' home country, the Philippines). At the time, I was set on sticking to my habit of using forks to eat and declined to let Fatima essentially stuff cake, icing and all, into my mouth. In this picture, I am meeting an “elder” for the first time, and what do you know? Five weeks have flown by and I feel comfortable enough to obey Fatima’s mother’s wishes and eat cake from her hand.

The Red Thread

My students write one journal entry per week. Little do they know that I love reading their journals. Two weeks ago I gave my students the topic "objects." One of my Cambodian students wrote the following: "Buddhist people in Cambodia consider the red thread that is from the elder people, priests, monks or their parents is the holy thing. They believe that the red thread could protect them from evil spirits, disease or bad things that are about to occur to their lives. Also, it could give them good luck and bring success. Therefore, people often asked each to these people, monks, priests or parents giving sermon and tie for them around their wrists. Mostly, people often tie the thread in many different circumstances. For instance, when students are about to take their final exam, they often go to pagodas and ask monks the thread to reduce their fears and to bring good luck during the exam. Sometimes they could ask their parents to do for them because in Buddhism people consider their parents as Gods. Also, the Cambodia traditional wedding ceremony, a groom and a bride are tied the read thread by the elder relative or their parents for love and happiness. Furthermore, when a child who is just born, parents often ask grand-parents or holy people to tie the red thread on their wrists to prevent the evil spirits and disease. And, they keep doing this on the next birthday. In brief, it has become to a custom in Cambodia, and nobody knows how long it has been existed."
I've taken a course on Buddhism, visited museums with Buddha statues, traveled across China and saw several Buddhist temples, and still I had no idea what red thread signifies. Thanks to my student, now I know!

Pineapple Rice

I guess my blog has become a foodie blog. Pineapples are expensive in the U.S. but not in Bangladesh, so I tried cooking pineapple rice Dai-style. As a study abroad student in Beijing in 2004, there was a Dai ethnic minority restaurant in the lane behind our university, Beijing Foreign Language Studies University. We had the opportunity to visit Yunnan (yun- "cloud" nan- "south") later that year where the Dai people live. Basically the recipe calls for cooking the rice, stuffing it into the pineapple, and then steaming it. I’ll never forget my 6-ft Caucasian, Californian classmate who went to the Dai restaurant to learn how to cook the dish himself. Perhaps I can try to learn how to cook a Bangladeshi dish from a restaurant owner if I become daring enough!

Chittagong (Jiadagang in Chinese)

It’s raining, I’m finished with classes, and yet I continue to nerd out. Here it is you history buffs: Chittagong’s population is just over 2.5 million and its area is 71.4 square miles. A port city on the Bay of Bengal, Chittagong is home to diverse ethnicities. Bangladeshi and Tibeto-Burman populations are the main ethnicities, and persons of Arab, Mughal, and Afghan backgrounds as well as descendants of Portuguese settlers live in Chittagong. The Chittagong Hill Tracts (13,180 square km) is the main hill-intensive region of Bangladesh (a Chinese Buddhist monk traversed these hills during the Tang dynasty and the practice of Buddhism remains today). Abu-Lughod would probably depict Chittagong as an important trading location that facilitated the increase and spread of human, economic, and social capital in the region and beyond during the 13th century. The city has been occupied by Portuguese and Magh pirates and the Mughals in the 16th and 17th centuries, and the British during their rule in SE Asia (1858-1947). A teacher by the name Surya Sen led the anti-British movement in Chittagong during the 1920’s and was subsequently silenced in 1933. Chittagong was a military base for the Allied Powers during WWII. The Japanese attacked Patenga in 1942 (I’m standing with my roommate on Patenga beach in the photo). Australian and American forces joined the British in Chittagong, and some claim that the British are to blame for the famine of 1943. The British forced locals to join the army, and I’m guessing this resulted in the famine-- hunger, sickness, and death. Chittagong became a part of East Pakistan after the partition of India in August 1947. The Bangladesh Liberation War from March 26, 1971 to December 16, 1971 was the war between East Pakistan and India against West Pakistan. West Pakistan launched an operation in East Pakistan against the Bengali military and civilians who wanted independence from West Pakistan. Civilians, armed groups, and the Bengali military formed the Mukti Bahini "Liberation Army” and used tactics of guerilla warfare against West Pakistan. India sided with the Mukti Bahini and military conflict ensued on the western border of India (hence, the start of the Indo-Pakistani War of 1971); the Mukti Bahini and the Indian army defeated West Pakistani forces in December 1971 and Bangladesh was established. Chittagong is famous because it was where Major Ziaur Rahman declared independence on March 27, 1971. Under rehabilitation and reconstruction programs, Chittagong recovered and became operational within a few years. And, nerd time has run out. No, I'm not going to cite properly (I'm teaching citations next week). Got my info online, Wikipedia, http://www.muhammadyunus.org/About/chittagong-professor-yunus-hometown/, and for the Buddhist monk, Xuan Zang, http://www.zeenews.com/news269722.html. Yes, please notify me if I have inaccurate information.