Preface .com
In 1999 I retired from teaching and was enjoying retirement. Then a personal event changed the direction of my life. I found myself living alone again and in a small house. I became hermitlike. At the urgings of my sister, I decided to seek work overseas.
I applied for a job teaching English in Hong Kong. I flew to Sydney for a job interview. Eventually I taught in England for almost two years. Buoyed by this overseas experience, I sought a teaching job in Bangladesh.
I spent fourteen months as Head of the Australian International School in Dhaka. During this time I met many wonderful people and learnt so much.
In writing this story, I thank the people of Bangladesh, and the urgings of Jo Casey, a teacher at AusIS in Dhaka, whose comments encouraged me to continue with the writing of this story. I especially thank Julie Fuller whose love and support carried me through.
Crash! The huge white animal thundered onto the paving and the sound echoed throughout the first floor car park. It seemed like its rib bones were smashed into a thousand pieces.
Moments earlier, the Brahman swayed with fear as ropes were thrown over its bulk and tightened around its feet. These ropes were tied to trees either side of the short drive way that lead to the apartment block. With much heaving and shouting, men, who seemed dwarfed by the beast, caused the animal to fall.
Across the road, in front of the Swedish Embassy, another cow was uttering its final, fearful bellows as it awaited the same fate. Its eyes bulged from its skull as it strained against ropes around its neck and then sadly emptied the contents of its bowels onto the ground.
The head of the fallen animal was wrenched back to reveal a red and yellow sash around its neck. The sash was cut and discarded as a quick prayer was uttered. With one slash, its neck was opened and copious red blood spurted out.
The animal kicked as life drained from its body and it gave feeble attempts to break free. One of the men began hosing the blood as it ran across the pavers and streamed towards the dusty road. Further slashes of the sharp knife ensured its demise.
Almost at once, men scrambled around and over the carcass. They began to cut into the animal with sharp knives. Methodically the body and entrails were parted. Work began to expertly strip the hide off.
Soon the hide was stretched over a stack of other hides near the heads of several slain animals. Nearby were smaller black carcasses of goats which now hung between the trees and dripped blood onto the ground.
Within minutes the Brahman had been cut up and large sections were slung onto narrow shoulders and carried across the road to a makeshift butcher shop. Here in the middle of the cane poles and Hessian bag walls sat more men hacking the flesh into smaller pieces. Even more men picked up the smaller portions and started off away into the city.
Rod watched this spectacle with amazement. He thought, ‘If only Marcus and Murph were here to see it too !’
His father, Michael , moved around the ceremony taking many photos with his new digital. He was going to catch every moment of this event.
Rod briefly thought about shielding his eyes from the gory spectacle but watched in awe. He didn’t know it but this happening was being repeated thousands of times on this Friday, throughout the country.
Three Germans, working for a UN aid agency stood with their guide and also took photos. Rod spoke with them, as he moved away, and made his way down the street to where their driver, Zoltan, who sat waiting and reading a newspaper. When Zoltan saw them coming he jumped out and opened the door. As Michael got into the front seat, he gave a small yelp of pain.
“What’s up Boss?”
“Oh, nothing.... just a pain in my hip area!”
“Right, I’ll be around tonight and give you a massage.”
Travelling back to their apartment, Rod was deep in thought. What he’d seen this morning was another piece in the jigsaw of the culture that made up his their life. ‘What a fantastic path they’d travelled since leaving home. Where would the path lead next?’ Where will it continue for him and his father?
* * * * * * * * *
The final rays of sunshine skimmed across the Indian Ocean and shadows began to form on the still warm sands of Scarborough Beach. A few clouds of deepening crimson scouted the horizon.
It had been a hot Australian summer’s day. Three boys were amongst those staying on the beach to soak up the coolness brought by the strengthening sea breeze. Fishermen were beginning to set rods and cast lines into the gentle rolling surf. It was about now tailor swam close to the shore chasing schools of white bait. Sharp baited hooks and spinning lures flashed through the ocean waiting for them.
Rod and Murph sat facing the sea as Marcus raced out of the surf and up the gentle slope to where they sat. The boys dangled their legs over the sand ridge which had been sculptured by the continuous cycle of the waves.
Marcus shook the water from his body and droplets splattered over Murph.
“I think your white skin needs cooling off, Smurph! You’re gonna look like a cooked lobster tomorrow!”
“Bloody stupid Aussie. Do that again and I’ll pick your scrawny body and throw it to the sharks!”
“Yeah, and whose army are you gonna get to help you ?”
“Leave the poor boy alone, “said Rod, the peace maker. Smurph stood up, shook the sand from his round body and pulled a T shirt over his head.
Families, close by, would have presumed the boys hated each other from the way they spoke to each other but that was far from the truth.
Marcus’s words about sharks echoed a recent event. Not far from this beach, in December, an early morning swimmer was attacked by a shark in shallow water near the ocean’s edge. He was grabbed by a fellow swimmer and dragged ashore. A Catholic priest administered the last rites.
Rod McFlynn, or to be correct Rodwell, was given the nickname Doc when the boys learnt in primary school about John Flynn who started the Flying Doctor service in Australia’s outback.
Doc looked at Marcus and said, “Don’t mention sharks when you go home! They might not let us come again.”
The boys sat on the beach and contemplated another dip. Then they decided they should go or Doc would miss the next bus.
“Carmal will kill me if I’m late !” Carmal was Doc’s stepmother. Actually she wasn’t really as his father, Michael, had never married her.
Marcus was given his nickname Marco by his friends at Seabrook High. Marco looked down at Doc and said, “Go ahead. Smurph and I will have one more swim.”
“No, Marco, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of you. Come on let’s go now!”
The trio shook the fine sand from their towels, rolled them up and stuffed them in their backpacks. Putting the straps over their shoulders and attaching their small foam surf boards, they headed up the beach towards Dorothy Street.
As they plodded, they passed girls who were lying with bikini tops off, catching the last rays of sunlight. The boys deviated from their course to get a closer look.
Doc said goodbye as he headed off towards the bus stop. Smurph and Marco didn’t have too far to go as they lived only several streets from Scarborough Beach.
It had been another great West Australian January weekend.
* * * * * * * * *
As Rod travelled home on the bus, his mind wandered back to the first time he’d met his two friends. He had been at Osborne Primary for to years when a new boy came into Year Seven.
The teacher stood in front of the class, and in a deep serious teacher-like voice announced, “Class we have a new boy….his name is Marcus Bent….and he used to live in Darwin…so I’m sure you’ll have lots of question to ask him. Make him welcome.”
Darwin had been completely destroyed by a cyclone named Tracey, one Christmas, almost every home was wrecked and over 300 people lost their lives. Several large boats were picked up like feathers in a breeze and carried out to sea. Ships and crews were never seen again.
Marcus told us he had to leave Darwin with his mother and travel south by plane to Adelaide, leaving behind his father. His dad helped with the clean up.
Marcus said he hated those months waiting for his father in a camp where they had cold showers most of the time and they had to go through dirty earth to the shower block. It smelt. “I’ll never forget that smell,” he told us.
When his father finally arrived, they decided to head west and came to Perth. His Dad took a job a salesman with Toyota.
Marcus became his best friend. Later when Smurph came, he found another great friend. He felt lucky to have such great friends.
Murph…Martin Murphy arrived in the first year of Seabrook High, on November 24, just days before Marcus’ birthday. He stood slightly shorter than both Rod and Marcus. He had a shock of red hair that contrasted with his very white skin. Freckles splattered his nose and cheeks.
When Murph arrived as a twelve year old from England, he knew no one till Rod invited to join them in the playground.
Immediately they began to talk football but found that each followed a different code. Doc like AFL and followed the Sydney Swans before he moved west. He now liked the West Coast Eagles. Marcus followed rugby and a team called the Broncos. Well Murph had no idea what these codes were…..his following was ‘real’ football…soccer…and teams were Ipswich and Man U…who ever they were.
One common sport they loved was cricket. Doc and Marcus played for a team on Saturday mornings. Marcus was a fast bowler while Doc loved to bat and bowl and had been elected captain of the team. They asked Smurph to come down as they needed someone to make up the numbers. Smurph worked on Saturday mornings at a hardware store so he was unable to come most days.
Rod’s thoughts were interrupted as the Transit Perth bus swung out into Scarborough Beach Road and trundled up and down the many hills along the road which stretched eastward towards the city. The westward terminal was the Indian Ocean.
There were not many passengers. Most of them carried towels and bags. Several young couples looked like they were heading into the city for a night out.
The bus pulled into a bay outside a small shopping centre. The lurching bus caused Rod to glance up at the building. The façade showed a chemist. Nearby a neon sign glowed in the fading light. He could see indentations in the brick work spelt out “Odeon Theatre” It looked as thought it had been painted over many times. So many years ago people had flocked to this site to watch movies or plays. Now they came to get drugs. What a shame!
Rod’s dad had told him that when he met his mother, his father had bought him a car. It was a Humber Hillman. It was the highlight of the week to attend the North Sydney drive. Often he was in the front with Susan. A mate, Joe, was usually in the back with his girlfriend.
One night, his dad said, Joe went off to find a toilet in the dark. While he was away, they put the speaker back on its cradle and moved the car several rows away. They were laughing as they could hear Joe cursing. He was stumbling trying to find them. Mistakenly he got into another car and surprised the young couple.
But that was a bygone era. Dad said no drive ins existed in Sydney and only one survived in Perth. But that was to close as real estate developers eyed the valuable land.
Rod arrived home about six o’clock. He smelt the delicious steak cooking on the barbecue near the pool. Carmal was slumped in a deck chair along with two of Dad’s friends. They were drinking cans of beer. He greeted them all.
“Want a coke, son?” his Dad called out as he turned over some sausages.
“Thanks Dad.”
“I’ve got some coldies in the outside fridge.”
As he took a bottle of Fanta he thought, “This was a good end to another day. How lucky we are!”
That night as he said his usual prayer…the one his Mum had taught him…he asked God for one thing…to have contact with his Mum again. That would have completed his life.
* * * * * * * * *
One Sunday morning Marcus and Rod were skateboarding in the grounds of Subiaco School. Murph was going to join them after he and his Dad had visited a friend from the ‘Old Country’ who was in Shenton Park hospital.
“Hi guys,” said Murph as he came around the corner of the school. “What ya doin’?”
“You’ve never seen skateboarding!” said Marcus.
“Nope! I never really seen it. I saw on The Bill once.” Marcus and Rod knew that TV programme as a UK police series.
“Well,” says Rod just you watch us and we’ll help you learn. Before the days finishes you’ll get the hang of it.”
After a couple of spills, hitting the wall of one classroom and demolishing one rubbish bin, Murph managed to stay on for a few seconds.
They were sitting near a water fountain when Murph said, “Have you guys ever had a smoke?”
“Cigarette? No!” said Marcus.
“I wouldn’t dare. If Carmal even smelt the slightest trace of smoking she’d tell Dad and I’d be grounded till I am 50!”
“First time I tried,” says Murph, was when me and brother were down near the Kennett Canal, near the Thames. I remember being horribly sick and scaring a couple of swans.”
“Isn’t it funny.” Said Marcus, “how some parents who smoke, warn you not to smoke and yet they can’t give it up! Must have stunted your growth Murph!
Murph ignored that comment.
There was a moment of silence and then Murph changed the topic. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“Nope,” said Marcus.
“Nope.”
Now Murph seemed to have something special on the other two….he’d done
two things they hadn’t. Marcus wanted to quiz Murph about his girlfriend.
He said he met this girl at Cippenham Comprehensive and used to walk home with her. They held hands and one day kissed.
“A kiss and holding hands! That was it boy you don’t overdo it!”
“Yep,” said Murph,” next day I left the school because we were getting ready to migrate to Australia.”
“Wow what a romance!” said Marcus,hope I can do better than that!”
“You know, my parents had in London before they were married, but that doesn’t bother me. At least I’m glad they had me. How about your folks, Marcus?”
“Well they met at High School in Darwin. They were sweethearts. When they left school they married and I came along one year later. You know Mum says they still act like they did when they were eighteen. Cheating death in the cyclone made them even closer. Last year they went through a second marriage ceremony on a beach near Esperance on the southern coast.
Rod was silently listening.
“What about your parents, Doc ?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Then Doc relented, a bit. “I don’t know what my Dad does but he says it is very important.”
“Oh,” said Murph,up to funny business!”
“Yep,” said Marcus, “ probably a dangerous drug runner !”
Rod looked at both the boys. He knew they were joking. Well, he hoped they were. He knew that ‘funny business’ meant someone up to no good, but his Dad had always been honest. He couldn’t be up to funny business, could he?
* * * * * * * * *
Rod never did tell the true story about his family background. His father, Michael McFlynn, met his mother and married when they were still at university. He had a good job in Sydney when Rodwell was born. His mother named him after a US soapie star. His father and he didn’t like the name.
About two years after he was born, his mother lost her unborn child when she had a car accident. She went shopping . Rod was in the car. She came around a bend and ploughed into a parked truck.
From then on, his mother began drinking a lot. Eventually she was classified as being an alcoholic. During one drunken spree she threatened to burn down the house with her and Rod inside.
The police were called and Dad rushed home from work. She was taken away. As far as Rod knows she was released years later and lives somewhere in Sydney.
His Dad met Carmal, a teacher’s assistant, when he came to pick him up from school one day. Later Carmal moved in with them. He never really got on well with her. She had never had any children.
One day they packed up and headed across the Nullabor in a station wagon with two dogs and a trailer packed with possessions.
Sometimes she and Rod had fun together and sometimes she tried hard to be his mother. Rod admired her efforts but they never seemed to work. Dad said he often felt like a footy umpire between them.
* * * * * * * *
Rod enjoyed the Christmas holidays. The six week break had allowed Smurph, Marcus and he to catch up on lots of surfing and skateboarding. Smurph was becoming good at skating. He was looking for a part time job so he could get some money and buy his own board.
Marcus said, “It better be a well paying job….a good plank costs about $250!”
“And make sure it’s not an outdoors job or we’ll have to give that nickname…Lobster Man!”
* * * * * * * * *
Monday was the first day of a new school year. It was busy….meeting new students and teachers…recounting the deeds of the holidays. Of course meeting the new guys but importantly looking over the new girls. Some of the boys circled the girls like bees around a honey pot.
“Look,” said Smurph,” roosters preening for the kill…but I wouldn’t mind being a rooster again.” The boys knew exactly what he meant. Neither of them had ever been with a hen.
“Well I like that hen.”
“Which one Marco?”
“The tall one right near the bin. Could get to like her.”
“You’d like any girl who flashed her eyes at you.”
“And so would you, Doc.”
“Well I suppose so. Haven’t been there but one day……”
Out of the corner of his eye, without trying to make it look too obvious, Doc looked towards the bin. She was very tallish and thin and had just the first inklings of womanhood showing. From the picture he had of his mother that is how he imagined his mother would have looked at that age.
Doc said, “Don’t go away guys…I’m off for a drink.”
The water fountains were several metres from the bin, and this waif-like girl. He walked slowly so he could get a longer viewing time. At close quarters he noted lots and was certainly impressed. But how was he going to get to meet this girl ?
He hovered over the tap. Pressing down the nozzle, he glanced down. Taking a slurp of water and once again not trying to make it look too obvious, he returned to Marco and Smurph.
“Well, what do you think ?’
“Think what ?”
Oh come off it…we know you wanted to look at the bird, don’t we Smurph ?”
“Aw, okay. But don’t think I even get a look in with her. Wouldn’t mind though.”
“What would you say if she walked right up here now and asked you for a date? You wouldn’t know what to say. Probably stand there like a stunned mullet !”
“Yer, like a stunned mullet….what ever that is !” added Murph.
In a reflex action, Doc looked at Murph. “A bloody fish you ignorant..”
“Okay so I don’t know, but I’m not ignorant, I just don’t know much!”
Somehow the girl had been quickly replaced by a fish.
Just then the siren went to mark the end of morning recess. In the hustle and bustle of getting books from lockers and then heading off to class, the girl and mullet were quickly forgotten.
At 2.15 p.m. Doc went to his locker and got his PE kit, T-shirt, shorts and joggers. Shoving his books and bag tightly into the locker, he raced down the corridor and steps towards the entrance which framed the oval.
Wham ! There was a crash of bodies.
* * * * * * * * *
Doc found himself rolling over and landing on a concrete slabs. Picking himself up he saw face appearing from among his shorts, shirt, socks and books.
“Oh I’m sorry, Are you hurt?”
It was a girl and she sat got up slowly and brushed herself off. She turned and faced him. It was ‘her’. Doc stood there with his jaw hanging down…any further down and he be licking gravel. He then jumped into action and grabbed her books which had slithered down a grassy slope.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know you already said so.!”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Do you make a habit of knocking over girls when you don’t even know them ?”
“Well…I…I…no! I ah..aint never knocked over a girl before.”
“Have never…”
“That’s right, I have never…”. He found his mouth failing to work. This girl was beautiful.
‘Come on mouth, work’. He thought to himself.
“Well if you were a gentleman, you’d tell me your name…and arrange to meet at the canteen to buy me a drink….just to soothe my damaged pride !”
“Oh yer…I’m Rodwell….but everyone calls me Rod or Doc.”
“Well I’ll call you Rod. And Rod when can we meet. Lunch time tomorrow?’
“Sure thing. I won’t miss being there…even if a shark took both my legs off!”
“Okay!”. She turned and began to walk away. “By the way I’m Narelle…Narelle Baker. See you tomorrow. Look out for sharks!”
* * * * * * * * *
That night rushed through his homework…not that really enjoyed homework…who does? He thought…the more I write … the more Old Bushywhiskers has to mark. That’ll fix him for giving me so much!
He settled into his bed with his head propped by two pillows and a small colour TV going on top of a small cupboard. Channel 7 had ‘Neighbours’ on so he switched to Channel 9 where ‘Sale of the Century’ was just beginning. If he stayed up a little later he could watch the cricket hi-lights of the Australia v West Indies match.
The questions on the quiz show droned on as his mind began to wander. He thought about Narelle. He said the name several times. Dad told him the worst thing about meeting a girl was to forget her name. Just after he met his Mum, he called her Rosemary so she promptly slapped his face.
Narelle..Narelle..what should I talk about with Narelle? Dad says not to stare at her too long but don’t turn your eyes away. She’ll think you are not interested. Could be your first and last date!
“Will she be interested in cricket….footy…or skateboarding? What do girls talk about? Maybe just other girls. They seem to giggle a lot when they gather. Maybe they’re talking about boys!”
He switched off the TV and grabbed his book on skateboarding. But his eyes closed after a few pages.
* * * * * * * * *
Wednesday was usually a great day. In the morning he had two free periods after algebra and sport most of the afternoon. But this Wednesday was special as he was meeting Narelle again. He couldn’t wait.
As the start of lunch was heralded by that piercing siren, he hurried to his locker and threw his books in. He headed towards the canteen.
Behind the counter was Mrs Headingly. She was a small framed lady who eyes just came above the counter top. Her blonde hair was always pulled back and tied with a ribbon. She’d been there for years and knew every one. We reckoned she’d been responsible for several student romances.
“Okay , luv what’ll you be havin’ ? “
“ Yes…I… er….two cokes and one chocolate éclair. “
“Two cokes, eh ? Right you are...coming up.”
“Thanks, Mrs Headingly.” He took off to find a free table in the undercover area. He sat down to wait. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mrs Headingly standing on tip toe and peering between the large plastic containers of chocolates that crowded the counter.
After several minutes he was about to give up and leave. He put his head down and sucked on the straw in the can of coke. He was in a dream like state when a voice woke him.
: Hi !’. She was standing there in front of him. ”Sorry I’m late. Had to stay back with, John McMahoney, my music teacher. Got some info on the operetta we’re putting on for the School’s Comp.”
“It’s okay. I just thought you might’n come.”
“Of course..I said I would. Don’t be so negative !”
No one had ever told him he was negative before. Why had this girl ?
“I bought two cans of Coke. Hope you like Coke.”
“Well I…that’s okay. But I would like some fruit juice.”
“So..Rod wasn’t it? What else do you do when not going around knocking down young girls?”
“Yes, Rod is my name. I don’t make a habit of knocking down young girls!”
“Sorry to sound so serious. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Please forgive me.”
They talked for the next 30 minutes till the siren once heralded the commencement of lessons. They had discussed families, where they wanted to go in life and even touched on sport.
Rod went to sport feeling quite pleased. Marcus was there as he entered the change room.
“Hey, you look like the cat who just swallowed the budgie….or a whole tribe of mice. You’ve been talking to that girl , eh ?”
Rod opened his mouth to reply as Mr Hutchinson came in.
“Come on guys, we want to complete that match from last week. I need to see how you go in those positions so I can choose the team to go against Mazenod.”
After school, as they walked to the bus stop, Marcus grilled him about the girl.
As they reached to group of kids waiting for the buses, Rod heard a horn blow. Looking up, he saw his Dad packed on the opposite side.
“Come on Rod, I’ve come to take you home,” he called through the wound down window. Dad rarely came to pick him up. Was it something serious that caused this ? He threw his bag onto the back seat, as he climbed in.
“What’s up Dad ?’
Dad didn’t answer but put the car in gear and headed off towards Stirling Highway. Then he said, “Wait till we get home and I’ll tell you.”
Rod sat there wondering. He noticed a brown paper bag sitting on the dash board in front of his father. On the outside was printed, ‘Angus & Robinson mega Book Store’. From the open end he saw it was a thick book. He was almost tempted to ask him about it, but he knew dad didn’t like distractions as he drove. He sat quietly for the next twenty minutes until the car turned into the drive way.
As the car drew to a halt , Rod begged, “Tell me Dad..I’m so curious.”
“Well son, I’ve been offered a promotion. We’re moving in August.”
Rod’s brain raced. Maybe we’re going back East. He could see his mother again.
“Where?”
“I’ve been offered a position in Dhaka. I’ve told them I’ll take it.”
“Dhaka ? Isn’t that in Africa where they have the car race ?”
“No, mate. This Dhaka is in Bangladesh. It’s the capital. I hope you’re pleased.”
“Well….of course I am Dad ! How long are you going for ?”
His father drew a long breath and didn’t look him in the eye. “Well it’s three years and maybe more.”
And then Rod thoughtfully asked, “When you said ‘we’ did you mean Carmal and you or all of us ? I’d like to stay here.”
“Well it does mean all of us. No, you can’t stay behind.”
“I could go back East and stay with Gran. Since Grand dad retired from the building company, she ahs plenty of room. She said I could stay. I know they’ll want me.”
“Steady, Rod. Dad has plenty to cope with…the way your Gran has become.”
Rod decided not to send down another serve just then. But as they got out of the car he asked, “Have you told Carmal yet ?”
“No! I’ll wait till after tea. Please don’t breathe a word of this yet. Okay ?”
“Sure Dad.” Then he thought, I’d like to be a fly on the wall when that happens.
Rod ate tea and smiled occasionally. Carmal asked him why he looked so happy. “Oh it’s this girl I’ve met. She’s so cool.”
“Good for you. Treat her right.”
Rod gulped down his fruit salad and ice cream. He then made some excuse about having extra homework to complete. He winked at his Dad as he left the table.
* * * * * * * * *
He sat in his room. The TV was off. He moved his chair a little closer to the door. From the kitchen he could hear murmured voices. Then he heard Carmal’s raised voice.
“Where ? Bloody hell ! Where is that ?” His father said something
Again he heard a raised voice. “No, I’m not going there….in fact I’m not going anywhere…go by yourself….I’m not going anywhere there are Arabs !”
Dad’s soft voice started to say something but he was interrupted, by Carmal’s loud voice, “ I don’t care….all bloody terrorists… they’re Arabs !” Then he heard a door slamming. He opened the door slightly. Dad got up and grabbing a cushion, slumped on the lounge. He was still there when Rod got up in the morning.
* * * * * * * * *
He couldn’t wait to leave home and get to school and see Marcus and Murph. The boys couldn’t believe their ears when he told them.
“This means we might’n see you for three years!”
“Yes, if I go.”
“So it’s not certain you’ll go ?”
“Well Dad wants to go but I sure Carmal has other ideas. If he goes, I’d like to stay of course. But where ?’
The boys looked at each other.
“Hey, I just thought, what about your girlfriend.”
“Girl friend ? Narelle’s not my girlfriend.” Silently Rod wished she was. His first real girlfriend. But it looked this friendship was going to be very short. “I must try and stay, he told himself.”
“And,” said Marcus, “you can’t go and desert our cricket team. When we make the finals how are we gonna cope without you?’
“Well if we make the Finals, I be here. Dad’s not going till August.” This made the boys happier.
Then Marcus said, “And the footy season, we’ll miss you badly!”
“Of course I’ll miss you, if I go!”
“Hope you don’t, “ added Murph.
That night, Dad and he sat the kitchen table looking at the book he’d bought. Carmal sat quietly watching TV.
“Okay Dad, let’s learn about these Arabs.”
“They’re not Arabs. These people of Bangladesh are called Bangladeshis. The area was once called East Pakistan but the Bangladeshis fought them and became an independent nation.
“Fight ? Do you mean with guns and stuff?”
“Sure. There were many tanks and many people died for their cause. The Pakistanis finally left and so was born Bangladesh….the land of the Bangla. Here is a picture of their flag.”
Rod looked at the picture of the green rectangle with a red circle. He remembered he’d seen that flag at a cricket telecast. Reading on, Rod discovered that the population of Bangladesh was now about 153 million.
“How many people in the whole of Australia, Dad ?”
“I think it is about 19 million, but could now be 20 million.”
“Wow, that means Bangladesh has….”. He grabbed a calculator from the coffee table. He tapped in some figures. “It has over eight times our population.”
“And, “ added his father, “ the area is close to that of Tasmania. Also Bangladesh is one of the poorest nations in the world. Come on time for bed son. School in the morning. We’ll read some more tomorrow.”
Rod looked at his Dad as he placed the book back inn the library. He was so lucky to have a Dad he admired for the knowledge he was always ready to give yet he was allowed to think for himself.
“Thanks Dad. See ya in the morning. Good night. Good night Carmal.”
* * * * * * * * *
Rod was happy at school because he saw Narelle a lot. They even did homework together. She came and watched him skateboarding but she would never have a go.
Narelle knew deep down that their relationship was limited….he was to leave in August. She was bravely say, “It didn’t worry her. Let’s enjoy every second now. That was her motto. She and Rod had great times together. They would hold hands and even kissed. Rod really enjoyed her closeness. There was a great warmth. Sometimes he wanted to reach out and really get close.
As the new footy season began, she even said she’d go to an Eagles match with him at Subiaco Oval. She sort of liked football and knew a little because she was a staunch supporter of the Dockers, the Eagles home town rivals.
At the footy, he once again enjoyed being close to her. They held hands and touched more and more. “You know,” he said one day, “I want to be with you all the time...maybe for ever.” Narelle looked at him and there was a tear on her cheek.
As she got to the bus stop, they kissed and she turned and left. With her he felt so whole… so alive. What would he do without her ? And that time would be soon unless he did something.
* * * * * * * * *
Rod would lie awake in his bed listening to his Dad and Carmal having quite animated talks. They hadn’t announced whether they were both going overseas or not. This was a perplexing puzzle. When was a decision to be made?
One Saturday after his team had played Forrestfield , his dad picked him up and they went to Sizzlers for a meal. Sitting down in front of their plates piled with steak, noodles and salad, Dad looked at him and said, “At last we’ve arrived at a decision about the overseas job. Carmal has decided to stay in our house because she has worked hard to get her promotion. She has much to lose by leaving now.”
Rod knew that this was most probably not the reason. It was a cop out. She had told him she had once had a boyfriend from the Philippines and it ended in a bad way. She said she never wanted to deal with Asians again. Rod had asked why. She just shrugged her shoulders and looked into space. ‘Just because…’ she said in a whispered voice.
“So what about me ? can I stay with Carmal?”
“No son, I want you with me. There is little I have in this world…little I really and truly love. I would like you to be with me.”
“But…okay Dad. I’m with you.” Secretly his heart dropped as he thought of leaving Narelle behind. “How long are we going to be in Bangladesh ?”
“Well my contract is for two years but maybe extended.” Rod’s heart sank a little further. Away from Australia so long. Away from Narelle, Marcus and Murph, footy and cricket.
“So you won’t be sorry we are leaving, son?”
“Well a little… but this is going to be one big adventure. My first overseas trip.”
Rod usually slept well after playing a hard game, but that night he tossed and turned. His mind kept jumping from person to person, from place to place and in the morning his sheets were twisted like they’d been through a tornado. He felt like he’d never slept at all. The end was but weeks away.
* * * * * * * * *
His Dad had taken him to a photo shop to get small photos for their passports. He’d written to Canberra.....the Department of Immigration for the People’s Republic of Bangladesh, for the visas. Rod wondered why his Dad had asked so many passport sized photos.
“Well son, I have to send a whole set of you and I to Bangladesh.”
“Why?”
“They are needed for security reasons.”
“Security? Is this place going to be dangerous?”
“We will be issued with badges. They will be necessary at all times to ensure we get past the security guards. Other people also need to be able to recognize us.”
Rod thought for a moment. This security thing certainly seems dangerous. Already he was realizing that Bangladesh was going to be very different from Australia. Wouldn’t the kids at school laugh if they had to wear security badges with their photos on them? He looked at his Dad waiting for the photos to be processed. Then he asked, “Can I have several photos to take to school?” I’d like to give one each to Marcus, Murph and Narelle.”
“OK son but I’ll have to order another set. Don’t forget passport photos are different from normal photos. My brother says ‘When you really look like your passport photo… you need to take a holiday’”. The guy behind the counter laughed loudly.
Fortunately there wouldn’t be the worry about looking after the house or two dogs, Hamish and Loopy, as Carmal would be there to care for them. Things were going well...would there be a hold-up? Probably not… Dad’s Government department made sure to that. Rod could but have a slim hope for reprieve.
At night he used to say a prayer. He had not prayed since he was nine and went to St Augustine’s in Manly.
* * * * * * * * *
The passports were finalized, visas returned and tickets picked up. D day was next Monday. The Thai plane would whisk them away from Perth airport at 14.00. Take them away from Rod’s friends. In one way he dreaded to think about Monday.
On the weekend he watched the Eagles play the Sydney Swans in a night match from Sydney. It was an elimination final. Rod hoped the eagles would win but he wouldn’t be there to see the next match. His team was badly beaten as the match was played under terrible conditions.
On Sunday Rod had arranged to meet on the beach for one last conversation. After their initial greetings it became like a wake. The boys had been together so long it was like the breakup of the brotherhood. Narelle felt like she’d been cheated. She had just got to know him and now he was leaving.
Then Marcus broke the silence. “You know Doc you’d better get a PC before you go and learn how to use the internet. We’re gonna have to hear from you every day!”
“Get one here? I’ll buy one there.”
“But,” said Murph, “They won’t have computers yet!”
“Oh come off it! They not that primitive!”
“And if you do get a PC you’ll have to set it up in mud hut!”
“Mud Hut! You’re bonkers! They are just as modern as we are, I think!
“Well I’ll email from Dad’s PC.” said Narelle.
”And so will I. What about you Murph?”
“I’ll try and use the Internet at school. Just have to watch Old McInnes doesn’t find out I’m using the Net.”
“Okay everyone, I’ve written my email address on these bits of paper. Don’t lose them or I’ll have to come back and kill each one of you.”
“That won’t be a bad idea, at least that way we’d get to see you again.” They all laughed.
Rod glanced at Narelle. She had tears in her eyes. Just then the wind whipped up some sand. “Bugger” said Rod, “I’ve got sand in my eyes. Let’s go for a swim.”
The quartet raced down the beach and jumped into the frothy waves together.
* * * * * * * * *
The alarm woke Rod from his deep sleep. This was followed by Hamish and Loopie jumping onto the bed. They loved frolicking with him.
“Thanks guys. What am I gunna do with out you?” Loopie was trying to get under the sheets while Hamish lay there with his big brown eyes fixed on Rod. You would have sworn they knew something was up.
From the kitchen he heard Carmal call out that brekky was ready, Carmal was a great cook and he really enjoyed her meals. What was he going to eat in Bangladesh?
When Rod came into the kitchen, with Hamish and Loopie, Dad was on the phone. He had numerous people to say goodbye to. If Rod’s friends wanted to say goodbye then they’d have trouble getting through.
About 12.30 they made final checks of the luggage and passports and then loaded the cases into the back of the station wagon. They said goodbye to the dogs.
“Come on Rod,” said his Dad,”we have to be there at least two hours before the plane takes off. Rod shut the dogs into he back yard, said a last goodbye and hurried around to the car.
As they reversed down the drive way, Dad said, “This is probably the last time I’ll drive for a while. We will have a driver six days a week.”
“Sounds like you’ll be spoilt over there. You won’t want to come home!”
“Of course not Darling. We’ll be home for Christmas. Remember I get those free flights!”
There was hardly any talk as the car pulled near the doors of the International Terminal. Rods hopped out and raced to get two trolleys. As he returned, Carmal and Dad stood next to the car. They embraced and said their last goodbye. The wind must have whipped again for they both had tissues in their hands.
As they entered the large departure hall, Rod’s Dad looked at the large departure board. “See mate. We are TF 236 leaving at 1400”
Rod was excited but it wasn’t till now the finality of the occasion hit him. H e was deep in thought when he thought he could hear someone calling him. Someone was. It was Narelle. She had arranged for her parents to bring her.
After their luggage had been weighed, tagged and disappeared along a belt, they all sat down at a table on the upper section to wait. Dad ordered coffee or tea and paid for it even though Narelle’s father, George offered.
“Would have liked a beer myself,” George. “Peg and I used to pull so many behind the bar years ago. Hardly have one now. Hey Michael do you know what sort of beer they have in…D..Dh….
“Dhaka, Dad.”
“Oh yes, Dhaka.”
Michael said the guide book said that Bangladesh is mainly a Muslim country therefore beer or wine was banned by Islamic decree.
“Oh shit,” said George, “another reason why you should have one. If you don’t have one now, it’s gonna be a long drought.” Everyone laughed.
“Don’t worry darling, I’ll send you some over for your birthday in July.”
“Don’t bother, my love, we’ll be home for seven weeks then. It is the monsoon season and they say it’s not the best time to be there. It’s also when most of the schools are closed so we can have a holiday and it won’t affect Rod’s schooling.” Narelle gave his arm an extra hug,
Just then the babble of conversation was cut short by an announcement, “Would passengers on Flight TA 236 to Bangkok, please proceed through Gate 4.”
Rod and Michael passed through Gate 4 with one last wave. They joined a line of passengers placing metal items, such as watches, pens, coins, into small trays which disappeared, along with cabin bags, into a large machine. Passing through a door way, a lady passed a wand-like device over them.
Picking up their cabin bags and all the items from the trays, they walked through a door where they showed their tickets and passports. Finally they proceeded along a narrow corridor that eventually led to the plane. Here cabin crew, dressed in traditional costumes greeted them and helped them locate their seats.
Dad was ushered to Seat 50B and he had arranged for Rod to be in seat 49 A so he could look out of the window. There was no passenger in 50 C so dad could stretch his legs out sideways.
Following a video safety film, the cabin crew made last minute checks and hurried to their take-off positions. Rod heard the engines roar loudly and the plane began to gather speed. Through the window he could see the Perth terminal building getting further away. What a thrill it was when the plane finally lifted from the run way. It was the first time Rod had ever left the earth!
As there was an empty seat next to Rod, Michael was able to sit next to him and together they looked down over the Perth suburbs and out to the Indian Ocean. They gazed in awe as the journey took them northwards along the coastline.
“Hey, Dad, what’s that large town?”
“Oh that should be Geraldton.”
“Wow! It took several hours for us to travel by car and now it took a few minutes.”
Rod marveled at being far above the earth and looking at pattern which he only ever seen when he looked in an atlas. Quickly the coastline disappeared as the plane climbed and clouds were cut by the wings. Rod turned his attention to the phone-like object next to his leg. Dad has gone back to his seat and was reading the book on Bangladesh.
Discovery was great! Rod soon worked out how to plug in the ear phones he’d been given by the hostess and how to get music, films or computer games onto a console which was located in the back of the seat in front of him.
“Did you want something, sir?” A hostess was bending towards him.
“No.”
“Well sir your service light was on, “she said pointing up towards a ceiling console.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“If you want a drink, spare pillow, blanket or anything else, press that button and I will come.”
“Thank you.”
Soon Rod was engrossed in watching a Garfield movie on the console. Every now and then he glanced out of the window. They were heading west and darkness had set in. Through cloud cover he sometimes saw lights of small towns or villages far below.
There was quite a lot of noise as the hostesses pushed a trolley along the aisle and they crouched to take out trays for passengers. A hostess asked him if he wanted pork or fish. This was certainly a new experience. Bit different from eating in front a TV set on the lounge. And different as each item in the meal was packed in plastic containers.
“Hey dad, they’ve given me a plastic knife and fork.”
“Yep, son, every one gets them. It is important…a safety factor…metal knives could be used by someone hijacking a plane…like they did with the World Trade centre hijackings.”
“Heck…I never thought about plane hijacking or crashes!”
“It’ll be okay, mate.”
After the meal, Rod found his way to the toilet. He had to wait until one of the small cubicles was empty. Returning to his seat, he hurriedly wrote some notes. He was going to tell the guys back home about his adventure and must remember so much.
On the console he discovered where he could see a world map that showed the exact position of the flight. They were flying over the Indian Ocean heading towards Indonesia. It was wonderful to see the plane speed, the temperature outside and the landing time at Bangkok. He could also see the time back in Perth. Narelle should be having tea about now.
He went back to switching through the channels on the console. Suddenly there was an announcement which cut in over the earphones. “Would all passengers return to their seats and fasten seatbelts. We appear to be heading towards a patch of unstable turbulence. Keep your seatbelts buckled until indicated.”
Rod fasten his seatbelt and was watched the Denver Nuggets playing the LA Lakers. Great basketball. Then he felt tired. His eyes closed.
Both Rod and Michael were awakened by an announcement from the pilot.
‘This is your pilot, James Hancock speaking. Ladies and gentlemen, we are now 15 minutes from landing in Bangkok. Please hand then earphones to the cabin crew as they come around. Make sure the tray in front of you is secured, fasten your seat belts and ensure your seat is upright by pressing the button on the armrest. Thank you for travelling Thai Airlines. On behalf of the crew, I hope you had a pleasant journey. Good evening.’
Dad moved next to Rod for the landing. They gazed out of the window and saw a myriad of light below. Dad said each one was probably a village. As the plane banked and began the descent, they felt their ears affected. It was great watching the earth get closer and closer until there was the crunch as the wheels touched the runway. Eventually the plane rolled to a steady speed as it headed towards an unloading bay. Cabin crew reminded passengers to remain seated till the plane stopped and the lights came on. They were also reminded to take all luggage from the lockers above their heads.
Finally the plane stopped. They had landed in another country.
* * * * * * * * *
Michael led his son up the narrow ramp from the plane towards the airport terminal. Rod was amazed by the numbers of shops.
“Follow me son. The hostess said there is an airport hotel somewhere along here. We have to stay the night and leave at 10.00 am tomorrow.”
“Dad, why does it say Transit Lounge?”
“Well, we are in transit….not getting off here but waiting for a connecting flight.”
Rod followed his Dad who stopped to ask directions. Finally they found a worker behind a desk who garbled in Thai but knew sufficient English to direct them.
Walking along a long corridor, they saw many shops and sometimes people sleeping on seats. One man was using his case and bag as a bed on the floor. Maybe they couldn’t afford a hotel room while in transit.
Paying by credit card, they entered a small room of the hotel. There were two single beds, a small fridge, television set, bedside cupboard and sink and taps. Nothing else.
Michael opened his small bag and took out some underwear. “Here are two clean pairs for us. Now let’s find a shower and toilets and get some eats.”
Michael stopped a small money change counter and changed some of his Australian dollars into Thai currency. For every dollar they were given 30 baht.
Not far from the restaurant he stopped at an internet café. There they were able to send off several emails to home. The restaurant meal was great. Rod and his dad were intrigued by the waiters. They were dressed in brilliant pink coats, almost Barbie pink.
Rod went to sleep after scribbling some more notes.
* * * * * * * * *
Rod was awakened by his dad in the morning. After a quick drink and eats at the airport restaurant they hurried to Gate 21 A where flight TA 127 to Dhaka was leaving. It was a two hour trip.
As they neared their destination, Rod looked out of the window and saw lots of buildings mostly white with flat roofs. He also noticed that there were lots of water ways running through the landscape.
A crunch of the wheels and jolt signalled the landing at Zia International Airport. Their adventure had really begun.
Three lines of arriving passengers were waiting to be checked through customs at the airport. The longest queue was for locals, the second for foreigners and the shortest for diplomats.
“Diplomats?” asked Rod.
“Certainly not us!” answered Michael.
“How will we know who is to meet us?”
“The High Commissioner, Meredith Howard, is sending a driver. He has a photo of us and will hold up a sign.”
Passing through the check point, they went to collect their cases. Rod found two trolleys. Their six cases almost toppled off the trolleys.
Several things greeted them as they awaited their driver. Firstly they felt the oppressive humidity. Then there was the large crowd of people looking through the bars of a long white fence. Behind it came the loud cacophony of horns blowing. The enormity of the massive Bangladesh population had already begun to sink in.
They waited in the steamy airport area for minutes, looking at everyone. They didn’t see a sign being held up. More time passed. What if no one came to meet them? What would they do? They had no phone number! No phone!
Finally there was a man heading towards them holding a sign. He was slightly taller than Rod. His dark skin was a great contrast to the neatly trimmed, grey –white beard. Grey hair disappeared under the white hat he wore. It was like an upturned flower pot with a decorative grey lacy pattern over the top. He wore a white top which flowed over his white pants that just covered his brown sandals. Huge soft brown eyes looked through silver rimmed glasses. He opened his mouth and clean words in excellent English flowed out.
Mr. McFlynn? I’m Zoltan, your driver. I am humbly sorry for my lateness and beg your pardon. But as usual it was the Dhaka traffic!” he said shrugging his shoulders. Michael shook his hand and as they released their grips, he placed his hand upon his chest.
“One moment sir.” He took a mobile phone from his pocket and dialled a number. As he handed the phone to Michael he said, “Madame Howard wishes to speak to you.”
Michael held the phone close to his ear trying desperately to cut out the deafening noise of the crowd.
“Mr. McFlynn, this Meredith, your big boss. Welcome to Bangladesh. I trust you had a good flight. Zoltan will take to a hotel and you will be booked in the reserved rooms. You will stay there for several days till your apartment is ready. At 10 a.m. tomorrow Zoltan will come to the Crystal Gardens and bring you to the High Commission. I look forward to meeting you.” She hung up.
While Michael was listening to the call, another man had loaded their cases into a small van. Zoltan opened the rear doors of a sedan and ushered them inside. As he began to drive, Zoltan said, “I am the driver for Master Rod. Mr. McFlynn you shall meet your driver, Saeed tomorrow.
Michael nodded. He was far too busy looking at the scene unfolding before them. A mass of rickshaws was descending on the airport and a mass of rickshaws was heading away.
“Looks like every rickshaw has come to greet us.”
“Oh no Boss, this is just some of the rickshaws here,” Zoltan answered with a laugh,” wait till you see the rest. I hope you both can count!” he said with a wicked chuckle.
Rod said nothing. He hadn’t seen rickshaws before and found them amazing. The flimsy structures being pedalled by skinny riders through masses of traffic.
“Is it a special holiday today, Zoltan? There is so much traffic about.”
“Oh no Boss, this is not much traffic. It is usually worse. Wait till you see further…where I was stuck in the traffic jam a while ago.”
The car followed the van, which contained the cases, along a dual carriage road. Apart from the numerous rickshaws, they passed buses loaded with people. Often there were people hanging outside the doors and some with people sitting on top. There were huge trucks loaded with bags or large fruits with workers sitting atop them. Amongst this hectic flow were men pushing carts loaded with bags. On either side of the road were rows of small shops with men squatting outside. The shops all like drastically needed a coat of paint. A caterpillar trail of people walked along the road, crossed the road dodging vehicles or clung to the deep concrete edging that formed the median strip. There were signs written in English and Bangla.
“Hey Dad that scribble stuff looks like a worm has been there.” Zoltan gave a little chuckle, as he concentrated weaving through the traffic.
The vehicles seemed to weave in and out of the traffic flow. At intersections there seemed no pattern. Somehow the cars got through without hitting anyone. Michael had figured out that there was a pecking order….a give way pecking order…large trucks and buses…then cars….then carts and rickshaws….and people.
There were thousands competing for the spaces on the road and the pecking order seemed to ensure no one collided.
At one intersection some vehicles wanted to turn while others wished to go straight through. It was a stalemate for some time. A traffic jam…but not the last they would see in Dhaka. Rod thought the behaviour of the drivers reminded him of a rugby scrum…everyone locked together and going nowhere slowly.
The car came to a halt. Rod jumped out of his skin as a little green vehicle came hurtling towards the side of their car. Zoltan noted his apprehension. “Hey Junior Boss, don’t worry about CNGs they’re only small motor bike cabs. They can stop quickly.”
Rod wondered where the CNGs were in the pecking order. As he was wondering the car halted at a set of traffic lights. He was shocked when the face of a wizened old lady holding a baby pushed her face to the glass and tapped with a stick.
“What does she want Zoltan?”
“She is begging….most probably for takas. Boss you have to ignore them.”
“How could one ignore a woman and child?” thought Rod.
The beggar was tapping on the window near Michael as Zoltan turned the car into a dual carriage way. They went through the lights and crossed an enormous intersection. They narrowly missed several cyclists who seemed to be colour blind. Not far down the road, Zoltan pointed out the Australian High Commission building on the left. It was one of many Embassies situated in Gulshan Avenue and the area known as Gulshan 2.
* * * * * * * * *
Soon the car drew up to the entrance of a hotel….’Crystal Gardens’.
“This will be your home for the next few days, Boss. All your bills will be paid so don’t concern yourself with these matters. You may even want to get on the internet. Please do so…they have a service here.”
As soon the car ground to a halt, men stepped out and began unloading cases from the van. The doorman, dressed in a crimson coat, saluted as he opened the door.
They were asked to show their passports. Michael and Rod were shown the lift which took them to the third floor. Both had large rooms and their bags were already inside.
Rod couldn’t believe his eyes…the size of the room….it was at least four times bigger than his bedroom at home! He sat on the large bed which looked as if you could play a cricket match on it. Lying back he grabbed the remote from the small table beside his bed and switched on the TV. He discovered there were at least twenty channels and only on few he heard English. Soon he fell asleep.
A knock on the door woke him. He opened the door, expecting to see his father, but there stood a man with a spray can in his hand. He uttered something, brushed past him, and circled the room spraying under the bed, behind curtains and into the bathroom. He then said, ‘Goodnight sir!’ and left.
It was then Rod saw a sign on the wall over his bed…’DO NOT opened outside windows. Mosquitoes.’ He thought some spelling needed correction but he’d got the message.
Rod jumped into the shower. Its strong spray was wonderful. The traces of Dhaka’s humidity were soon washed away. He opened his case and found some clean clothing.
* * * * * * *
Later Rod and his father sat in the Restaurant of Crystal Gardens having their first meal in Bangladesh. They were sure what to order so they trusted the judgement of the Head Waiter who said he had expected them and would help them in any way they required. He was Mr. Mamhouda.
The meal was enjoyable but because the cost of each item was in takas, they seemed very expensive.
After the dinner they walked a short distance to a small room which housed several computers and telex machines. Several men were sitting in large comfortable leather lounge chairs watching a TV set. They stopped watching briefly and acknowledged them. Sitting in front of the monitors, Rod and his father eagerly looked for signs of messages from home. Carmal’s message gave her love and said the dogs were okay. Narelle said she missed Rod already and her parents hoped our flight had been okay. A couple of replies were sent off.
Alone in his room, Rod made some more notes in his diary and tried to find a channel on the TV. There was a cricket! Highlights of Australia playing Pakistan but the captain was Alan Border!
Rod wondered if Narelle would have read his email yet but then he remembered she may have been in bed by now. He’d forgotten about the time difference.
* * * * * * *
It was Wednesday when he awoke. He looked for his watch. ‘Heck, nine o’clock! He’d be late for breakfast.’
But there was a knock on the door and his father’s voice saying, “Come on son, its seven o’clock!”
After a great breakfast, they sat in those large leather chairs waiting for Zoltan. At precisely nine o’clock his beaming face came through the front doors.
“Good morning Boss. I hope you had a good evening.”
“Why yes, thank you Zoltan.”
He stopped and stood near the now open doors waiting for them. The door were held open by a hotel employee while another raced down the slight slope and had opened the car door.
The car headed off along a narrow street. Several times it veered to the wrong side of the road and was heading at an oncoming car or rickshaw, or avoiding a large puddle and sometimes a large pothole. Because of the cars and pedestrians, Zoltan kept hammering on the horn. The other cars kept at their horns.
“Hey Dad, a cow in the middle of the road!” Sure enough cow was wandering along as if nothing bothered it. Some where further behind was the owner with a stick in his hand.
Michael tried to imagine the chaos if a cow wandered onto the Kwinana Freeway back in Perth. Maybe we would have to replace “Beware of kangaroos” with “Look Out for Bloody Cows”. In another side street, Rod saw a herd of goats chewing their way through a heap of garbage.
Zoltan turned onto Gulshan Avenue and then after a short distance drew up at the gates of the Australian High Commission. A guard immediately came out and demanded identity tags while another circled the rear of the vehicle with a mirror on a long pole. The guard glanced at the two in the rear seats. “Okay” he said. The large gates opened and the car went in. There was a huge clang as they quickly shut.
Zoltan ushered them into a large room where a large woman sat behind and impressive desk.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I hope you had a pleasant evening.” Cups of tea had already been poured. Rod looked at Ms Howard and now he knew why she was called the Big Boss. She was massive. Rod thought she’d make a great full back for the Eagles. As she rose to shake Michael’s hand, Rod saw she stood about several centimeters taller than him. She also had legs like karri logs.
“First, I must give you your identity tags. The guards won’t let you in without them. If you happen to lose them notify us immediately. I will give you each a mobile phone. Don’t worry about bills.... we’ll pay Graemeen Phone for you.”
Michael and Rod thanked her as they sipped their cups of tea and nibbled on spring rolls.
“Your apartment is almost ready. Here are the keys. Zoltan will take you there soon. Let no one in your apartment except those people you know well. Security is a big thing here. If anyone finds out you are connected with the Commission they will bother you.”
Rod was into his third spring roll. They were great. Michael hadn’t eaten much. He was too busy taking in the advice being given.
“All your living costs, except food and paying your houseman will be met. I will arrange for a package of food and other important items to be in your apartment. I have also arranged for an advance in your salary. It is usually US$3 000 per month. You get paid in US dollars and on the current exchange rate that is 135 000 taka. In this envelope is US$1 500. Zoltan will show you where you can exchange. Here also are your mobiles…one each. Your number had been entered.”
Rod felt a thrill go through his body. This was his first even mobile phone.
“And finally, are there any questions?”
“Well, “said Michael, “I don’t think we’ll need a houseman. We can do things ourselves.”
“That may be so,” replied Meredith,” but we are expected to provide employment and the cost is not dear. Raqib has been allocated to you and he will expect 3 000 taka a month. You’ll have to negotiate with him on which days he comes. You can arrange with him to wash, clean, iron and maybe cook. Most people do. By the way he is not available on Fridays. That is a religious holiday. In fact most shops shut that day.”
They finished their eats and drinks and then Michael was shown where the office was. A subordinate showed him around and introduced to colleagues. Michael discovered that most were Bangladeshis but here were Australians and British ex-pats working there.
* * * * * * *
Zoltan drove the car down a narrow lane which was flanked by various beautiful trees. Some had large fruit which Rod had never seen. A guard, dressed in a blue uniform opened the large metal gate and saluted as the car went into the car park and maneuvered into Bay 3 B.
Getting out, saw a white wall with opening through which could be seen a lake. Zoltan ushered them towards a doorway where a lift took them to level 3. The door to the apartment was opened by two keys. They stepped inside and found it was like coming into a plush hotel suite.
“I don’t believe this,” uttered Michael, “it’s so big and fabulous!”
There were three bedrooms and each one had an en suite bathroom and toilet. There were built in ward robes that reached to ceiling. The floor was tiled with large hexagonal shaped tiles and each bathroom was tiled to the ceiling with exquisitely designed tiles.
Two bedrooms had large queen sized bed and the third bedroom a large table on which sat a computer. An adequate kitchen contained a new fridge and stove. The apartment had two small balconies. One looked over the city of Dhaka with many green trees and tall office blocks stretching skywards. From the other they saw a lake and many blocks of apartments.
“So what do you think Boss?”
“What do I think? This is marvelous Zoltan. It’s like a superb hotel but we are going to be staying here for ages!”
Michael walked around the apartment with Zoltan following. Zoltan began writing down a list of items that Michael said were needed.
Rod walked to the metal grill that covered the inside window of the lounge. Looking out he saw a marvelous sight.
It was like the page from his social studies book he’d had a primary school student. A whole village of people lived in the block next door. Amongst beautiful palm trees, which he presumed were bananas, he could many roofs of huts. They were rudimentary. Corrugated iron sheets formed the roofs and were held down by numerous items. There were long pieces of bamboo, large and small rocks, old car tyres and even plants.
The huts must had electricity as he could see round TV aerials that looked much like the utensils used to strain vegetables in a kitchen.
Sliding a window open, he heard a cacophony of sounds. There were women chattering as they washed clothes along the lake edge. Some women slammed clothes onto piece of board. He could hear the steady beat of a machete being used by an older man cutting wood into lengths. Children ran about playing with cycle tyres. Ducks quacked as they headed for the lake. Fowls clucked as they scratched amongst grass tufts. A dog barked and several cats were sun baking on the roofs.
Smoke billowed from one hut. Women squatted over large aluminum pots.
A woman came out of one hut carrying a large aluminum pot on here hip. A man sat under a tree weighing vegetables and two women and some young girls squatted near him, examining vegetables.
Through a break in the trees, Rod noticed more huts lining the lake. He saw a woman dressed in green and carrying an orange piece of material wade into the water. She began bobbing up and down and washing her hair. Then she spun around and a piece of green material floated to the surface. Over her head she passed the orange material and she tossed the green dress towards the shoreline. Rod gathered she had changed under the water ever so discretely. Quickly his mind flashed back to those girls on Scarborough Beach and how audaciously they flaunted their bodies.
Zoltan walked up behind him. “Squatters!” he muttered.
“Okay, Zoltan read back your list and we’ll see if we’ve missed anything.”
Rod was stilled entranced by the village scene next door to hear the list.
‘Five sets of extra door keys, towels, soap, toilet paper, two mosquito canopies, DVD player,………. ‘
“That’s quite a list Boss.”
“Yes. We could put off cleaning needs for a while. Raqib will know what he wants. I want you to get the other things before Sunday…..is that possible?”
“No problems Boss. Most of them I can buy at Gulshan 2 markets. I hand the receipts into the accountant, so it won’t cost you anything.”
Michael turned to his son who was still; engrossed with looking out of the window.
“Is there anything you can think of son?”
“No, Dad.”
As they were leaving the unit to return to the Hotel, a blonde haired girl stepped from the elevator with keys in hand. She paused and said, “Hi, I’m Gisseli, your neighbour. Welcome to Dhaka.”
“Glad to meet you. I’m Michael McFlynn and this is my son, Rod.
* * * * * * *
As Friday was Zoltan’s day off, Michael and Rod spent the day lounging around the Hotel. They answered emails and sent a lot.
In the afternoon, they ventured out. It was a short walk to a park nearby.
Here they saw people walking in the cooling afternoon around a lake. There were a few begging children and a man selling peanuts from a cane basket.
The humidity quickly sapped their energy so they returned to the air conditioned rooms.
At 10.30 precisely on Saturday morning a car pulled up at the Hotel. Instead of Zoltan it was another driver. He was taller than Zoltan. He greeted them with a beaming smile.
“Hello, Boss, I’m Saeed. I’m your driver….your body guard….your shopper…..I’m your servant.”
He went out of the open front doors and ran to open the car doors.
At the markets, Saeed amazed Rod how he parked the car in such small spaces of the car park. The markets were in a three storey building which looked as though it was last painted years ago. Saeed said the top storey was a work shop for the clothing industry. The car park surface was very rough and large puddles of water lay there. It hadn’t rained for days.
The trio entered the lower section through a narrow doorway and immediately they were harangued by stall holders calling out, ‘ Hey Boss ‘, ‘Over here Boss’ or ‘Come here Boss and bless my stall’. Michael let Saeed do most of the buying. He could haggle and get a better price. Michael said that some of the items were cheap before Saeed began to haggle, but Saeed said they were too dear….”We must get a better price.”
Rod was sweating a lot and asked his dad if he could get a drink. Immediately Saeed intervened. “No Boss no drink from market shob. You not Bangladeshi. Your stomach not used to our water. I will get a bottle of sealed water from a shob over there. You must always make sure you drink bottled water or boiled and filtered water. Don’t even eat a frozen orange ice on a stick. You never know what water has been used!” Michael made a mental note of another item to get…..’water filter’.
“Saeed have you always been a driver?”
“No Boss. I worked in a small shob when I left school.”
“Did you have any brothers and sisters?”
“Yes I had 6 brothers and 4 sisters. My sisters were all married and so is one brother. One brother, Atef had a good job working in a shob selling DVD’s but my father asked him to leave.”
“Why?”
“Some of the films were haram.”
“So what is haram?”
“What is allowed and wholesome for humanity under the decree of Islam is halal. Haram is what is forbidden. Selling films that degrade the position of women is haram!”
Rod thought he seen a butcher shop back home in Perth that had a sign saying ‘halal’.
After their first shopping expedition, Saeed suggested they should go back to the hotel and get out of the humidity. He would complete the buying.
After dinner they dropped in bed very tired. Silence consumed them on the things they’d seen. They’d never seen so many people in one day….not even if they went an AFL grand Final at the MCG.
* * * * * * *
Sunday is not a rest day in Dhaka. Being a Muslim country, it hasn’t the same significance as in Australia. Eighty per cent of the population is Muslim.
Zoltan was calling about 10.20 am to take Michael and Rod out the school where he is enrolled. The trip to ISD….International School of Dhaka….took about 20 minutes. It would have been quicker but as usual the traffic was choked the roads in places.
Rod took his papers from Seabrook High. He did some small tests and was enrolled. He would start on Tuesday. The Deputy, as teacher from England, showed them around the campus. By the number of rooms, Michael thought the population of students must have been high.
There was a huge canteen, wonderful auditorium, large indoor volleyball and basketball stadium. They had a heated five-lane swimming pool. Rod felt he was really going to like it here. He couldn’t wait to email the kids back in Perth and tell them. They would be so envious.
That night they checked out of Crystal Gardens and drove to their new apartment. It was called Rhapsody and was situated behind a school in Road 50. When they opened the door and Zoltan was bringing the cases in, they saw a box of ‘goodies’ on the dining table. There was bread, margarine, salt, sugar, tea bags, a carton of milk, sausages and several cans of beer. Attached to the top of the box was a note, which read, ‘Welcome and enjoy. Your new Big Boss.’
The beds were made with new sheets and pillow slips. A rug was under the cane dining table with two large indoor plants in the lounge. In the third bedroom, the computer had been set up with broadband internet.
Michael suggested that Zoltan come with them to a good restaurant, he knew. Zoltan had never been to restaurant but had taken his former boss, Mr. Casey, to the Flambẻ which was very close to the apartment.
Before leaving the apartment, Zoltan excused himself went to pray. When he returned, Rod asked him how often he prayed. ‘A good Muslim should pray five times a day. That is our obligation. The other obligation is fasting during Ramadan. I try to pray five times a day but with my job duties, I find that hard to do.”
“What is Ramadan?”
“It is the ninth month of the Islamic year when Muslims do not eat or drink between sunrise and sunset each day. In fact we also don’t have sex during this time.”
“Wow, no sex as well! That must be hard! What a way to lose weight!”
“It might be hard for you, young Boss, but we must do it. At night we can eat and often have two large meals to take in our nourishment.”
“I bet you are really glad to get to the end of the month!”
“Not really, but at the end of the month we have a great celebration, much like your Christmas. It is called Eid-ul-Fitr….’the end of the fast’. Then, as part of the celebration, families meet and have a great feast. New clothes are usually given and worn. Many people give cards saying ‘Eid Mubarak’ (Happy Eid). The rich people are expected to provide a set amount of zakah.”
“What is zakah?”
“Zakah is a religious duty. The fortunate must hand over a set amount of their tax on income to those less fortunate. These more fortunate people also provide some meals for the less fortunate in our world.”
Zoltan then asked to be excused from the table before the meal began. He went off to talk to the waiter. They spoke briefly and he returned.
Rod was about to ask a question when Zoltan offered this explanation. “Boss,” he said quietly, “I was asking the waiter whether there was any pork product on the menu. As a Muslim, I am not allowed to eat pork products or any thing touched by pork. I also asked whether vegetable or animal oil was used to cooking.”
Zoltan hesitated, like he was saying a short prayer as he cupped his hands. He closed his eyes. Then he began to eat.
After a while, Rod asked, “Zoltan, may I ask you just one more question?”
“Yes, Boss, I am your servant to answer.”
“When you pray what do you ask for?”
“Nothing. Praying is not asking for things. We have all we want on earth. We pray to thank Allah for what we have and what we given at birth.”
Rod thought for a moment then he asked, “Do you thank him for accidents?”
“Ah….we don’t have to thank him. Accidents are usually man invented….and other things...such as earthquakes, floods, storms, are natural tests that will make us stronger.”
“That sounds good.”
“Well, young Boss, a piece of fencing fell from the entrance to my house and landed on my foot. It broke my little toe. Allah was telling me I should have mended the fence. I am lucky it only broke my toe. I could have had a serious head injury and been unable to drive. I thanked Allah for his wisdom.”
Michael was eating his barbecued chicken and vegetables while he listened. “Thank you Zoltan. Now Rod let the man eat.”
“It’s okay Boss….if he needs to know, he should be told.”
Rod was in awe of Zoltan’s knowledge. It felt like he was the most knowledgeable he’d ever known. He was going to be great fun.
As they ate, several waiters hovered around, coming to the table every now and then to refill glasses from bottled water or take a plate ready for more of the food.
On the menu Michael noticed, ‘Definitely No Alcohol’. “Have you ever had alcohol, Zoltan?”
“No, Boss! Allah forbids. It changes the mind, causes trouble in families and one is not in control of the self. We even check our medicines for alcohol. Some mouth washes have it.”
The meal was enjoyable….small portions but high quality. The cost of the meal for the three was almost equal to two month’s salary for Zoltan!
That night as Michael lay propped in bed reading some more of the ‘Guide to Bangladesh’. Rod came in and sat on the bed.
“Dad did you ever pray?”
“Yes, I did as a kid, when I was in Maurist Brothers.”
“Why not now? Like Zoltan?
“I don’t really know. I suppose study and other things. There wasn’t time.”
“And I bet you never prayed five times every day!”
“No. I think I was lucky to pray once a day. Certainly I prayed when I was eighteen and went to church on Sunday. I asked for help in my exams and to meet a nice lady.”
“Did you get those things?”
“I suppose so. But I had to learn that I only got good marks through hard study. As for a lady…..I did meet your mother when I was at Uni. She was a sister of Mark, my best mate. We met on a blind date.”
“So God didn’t find a lady for you. Mark did!”
“I suppose you right. I never thought of it like that! Now off to bed with you, I’m going to turn off my light.”
Rod lay in bed thinking about when was very young and his mother would lie in bed with. She had taught him a prayer. He said sometimes….asking for thing for Christmas or to help Mum with her problems.
Now he began….’Thank you God for giving me Dad…..giving me the days here…..giving me Narelle…..Marcus……and of course, Murph. I wish that……no…..thanks for giving me Mum…..where ever she is…..’ Rod drifted off into sleep.
* * * * * * *
They were awaken by the sounds coming from a mosque on the other side of the lake. Then another mosque started up. The chant boomed out from a public address system. They were to learn that this occurred in a regular pattern, both morning and evening.
Michael was glad that the sounds from the mosque had woken him. This was the first day at his new job. He wanted to make a good impression. Saeed would be calling at about 8.30 am to pick him up. He had called Saeed from the restaurant the previous night.
“Son, go to the kitchen and put the kettle on. I’d like a cuppa after I’ve had a shower.”
Rod searched all the cupboards but he couldn’t find the kettle. As his dad emerged from the shower, Rod called out, “There is no kettle!”
“Heat some water on the stove.”
“I have already thought of that….we have no matches or a gas lighter. You can either have a glass of milk or….a can of Foster’s.”
After he dressed, Michael gave Rod a US 100 note. “Here take this and I’ll ask Zoltan to come and pick you up. No you can do that. His number is on your mobile. Today you and Zoltan can go and get a kettle, alarm clock, lighter for stove and some containers for the microwave. Make a list and don’t forget.”
“Dad we also need some biros and a pad.”
Zoltan arrived on time and they headed off to find a money changer. Zoltan said there were several around the Gulshan 2 Circle but he would find the one that gave the best exchange rate. As they drove, Rod asked Zoltan some more questions.
“I’m a Christian…therefore I follow Christ. What did you say last your God is called?”
“Yes….Christians….Christ….Buddhists….Buddha…..but we Muslims…Allah. My god is Allah. There is but one God what ever his name. They are all pointers to our journey. In Islam we call it Shari’ah, the way…the road of life. Too many wars over religion…stupid!”
Zoltan drove the car around the roundabout of Gulshan 2. Immediately some beggars came towards the car. One old lady held a baby and motioned to her mouth. A young boy with one leg and moving on a crutch, called to Rod, “Problems, boss, taka, taka…..”
Zoltan motioned them away with gentle hand gesture. And then he quietly said something. They stood back. “Boss, the beggars are a challenge that Allah puts before us, but if you give to one, others will see and bother you. Be strong in your choice!”
The money changer was the last shop in a circular shopping center. It was a very narrow shop…in fact they were all small shops. There was just enough room for two people to stand behind a barred area. A man sat on a bench along one wall. Rod handed the man behind the bars a US note. He glanced at it then held to the light. Satisfied, opened a drawer and counted out 6 200 taka.
A pile of taka was pushed under the bars and Rod grabbed it to put in his pocket. Zoltan touched his arm and said, “Count them….always check the amount…they can be wrong!”
Walking back to the car, they saw a young boy pulling an old man in a crude wooden cart. He had no legs. The boy looked in their direction and called, ‘Boxish! Boxish!’
“What is he saying?”
“He is asking you for a present. It is usually money but at Eid it can be food or clothing.”
Leaving the markets, they headed down Kemel Attaturk Avenue. Zoltan swung the car in front of some CNGs and just missed them. The car mounted the curb and entered the underground parking under the Nandan Mega Store.
“We could get some things at the markets but it is best to get the remaining items at Nandan. Rod thought the store very much like a Coles or Woolworths supermarket back in Perth, except is wasn’t as large, there was a limited range of items and many of the vegetables and fruit were unlike any seen in Australia.
Rod noted the jars, cans and items on the shelves were extremely neatly arranged. Rod took a packet of chocolate and as he moved away, an employee in a green shirt, immediately stepped in to move another item forward and fill the vacated space. The shop assistants were numerous and they wouldn’t let you take the items out of the trolley for price checking…..they did that….packed the items in white cotton bags and helped carry them to your transport. They found some kettles in Nandan but Zoltan said they were too expensive. They would go back to markets and haggle over a price.
In a small shop they saw stacked kettles. The starting price of the dearest was 1 500 taka. Zoltan haggled and eventually paid 750 taka. Then they haggled for a toaster. The owner was very pleased to have a sale. He bowed and gestured to his chest with an open hand. ‘Pleased you shop at humble store. Come again, Boss. We will give you good service.’
Rod noticed that there were three stores within several steps of each other. No wonder they implored him to buy their goods. Zoltan ushered Rod by gently placing his hand on Rod’s arm.
“Young Boss, while we are here, I wish to show the fruit and fish markets. Make sure your money is tucked away. There will be many bodies close to you. You should be able to trust them, but don’t!”
They began pushing there way through the crowd which flowed through the narrow door way that led to the fruit and fish markets.
Zoltan led the way. “Now if they say something you don’t understand….just answer with….’ami jani na….ami jani na’…which means ‘I don’t understand’.”
Rod repeated the phrase several times in his mind. It felt good to know something in Bangla.
Narrow passage ways took past many small stalls. In most stalls the seller sat amongst goods packed tightly around him. Rod wondered how he got in and out of the small space and then sat crossed legged. He asked Zoltan to find out. Interpreting, Zoltan pointed to the beam above their heads. “He grabs it and swings….like a monkey….and swings out the same way.”
There were large bags open on top with the contents spilling out. There was a wonderful array of herbs, beans, rice and other things throwing their aromas into the air. Above their heads were hung bananas and pineapples tied with string. Pears and apples and mangoes with stacked precisely with every centimeter of space taken up. In a central passageway were large slice of pumpkin with insects buzzing around them. And one seller sat nearby hawking only one product….sweet potato.
There was the constant calling of owners imploring ‘Boss’ to come their way. Beggars were waiting for donations of change while boys carrying large baskets hopefully scrambled for buyers to pay them to carry their purchases.
The two walked past a line of men sitting at old Singer sewing machines. They were ones like Gran had on her back verandah.
Through the dimly lit space could be seen lots of tables stacked with prawns, large fish in water and squirming on table tops. Large cat fish were neatly stacked with their whiskers pointing towards a huge drum in which swam small turtles.
Between the tables were narrow aisles with flooring that ran with water. On the way out, they passed a boy with hundreds of eggs stacked around him. He looked at Rod and said, “Hey what country you from?”
“Australia….Australia,” he proudly answered.
“Ah Australia…I like Australia…good cricket team…number one…you want eggs?...you buy here….good quality…fresh….good eggs just like in Australia. We do you good deal here!”
Rod was happy in a way to get out of the fish market. The crowd noise and smell became overpowering after a short while. Near their car, a small herd of goats wandered freely foraging on a pile of rubbish. Beyond their car noisy buses …many overloaded…where pulling up or taking off. They dodged shaky rickshaws that wobbled across the uneven ground.
It was a short trip for Zoltan to take Rod to the apartment. He lay in the long cane lounge flipping through the TV channels on Cable waiting for his dad to get home.
* * * * * * *
During their first few weeks in Dhaka, Michael and Rod for used to the humidity was difficult. Michael has already experienced something like this in his short trip to Singapore.
Then it began to rain. And it rained. Rod had never seen such heavy rain before. In a short space of an hour there must have been more rain than Perth would have had in a whole year.
Now there was one more thing they had to buy….two umbrellas.
Rod looked out of the window onto the village next door. There was a river raging through the block into the lake. It ran from Road 50 and followed an S shape between the huts. This was the path trampled by the people each day. The growing river swept under the clothes line and was beginning to bank up against the walls of the huts. The stilts huts that lined the lake were already half under water.
He could see the villagers starting to take clothes and other items from the huts in cardboard boxes carried on their heads. There were two dog-like boxes on the side of the huts where the poultry sheltered at night. These boxes were now floating in whirl pools.
It rained for five days. The water of the lake rose three metres. It would at least a week before the villagers could get back into their huts, if it stopped raining.
Zoltan came into the apartment with two umbrellas. Michael paid him for his trouble. Zoltan said the rainfall was quite unseasonal. During June, during the monsoon season, such heavy rain was common.
Michael suggested to Zoltan that if he could work how to get a fraction of this rain to Australia, he’d become famous. “Ok”, said Zoltan, I’ll work on that problem, Boss.”
Following the school break because of the flood, the school was again shut because of a hartal. The hartal was when the Opposition in Government called a strike because I disagreed with some action of the current Government.
A former government minister had been murdered and the Opposition said the Government had not done enough to bring his murderer to justice. The shut down of transport was greatest bug bear of the hartal. Sometimes buses were stoned as drivers broke the strike. Some buses had been set on fire. Parents kept their children home from school during the hartal.
Michael had a day off work so he and Rod went to Cooper’s where they went almost every Friday or Saturday morning. Rod liked Cooper’s. They had a great range of snacks….sausage rolls, spring rolls, chicken sandwiches and cans of drink. They had fantastic coffee and the music was great.
Rod was eating a spring roll while drinking his can of Virgin Blue lemon, when he noticed a small face peering at him through the plants that grew in a garden along the front of the shop. Her brown eyes and smiling face were captivating. She motioned to her mouth. One could have easily understood she was saying…”Ifta….taka…I’m hungry.”
“Look dad! That makes you feel guilty, doesn’t it?”
“Yep son. It’s not nice but we can’t go on for ever feeling guilty!”
Rod turned his body slightly away from the gaze of the child. But it was then the security guard who opened the door for them or ushered cars into parking places spotted the beggar. He shouted and the child disappeared.
In a brief time the small face appeared between the plants and this time she had a silver necklace in her hand… a cheap toy necklace. The security guard came up behind the child and gave her a clip behind the ears. Again she disappeared and they didn’t see her until they left the shop.
The beggar, joined by another girl, followed them for several blocks constantly saying, “Boxish! Taka! Ifta!”
* * * * * * *
Dad came home from work some days after the flood and said we would have to have more passport photos taken. We were going to join a club….The Australian Club.
Night life in Dhaka was very restrictive. There were many clubs where ex-pats and locals could go to have a meal, drinks, use leisure facilities and socialize.
These clubs provided bars where alcoholic drinks could be bought; tennis courts; swimming pools; gyms; pool tables and child play areas.
The Australian Club was situated on a b lock of land which had the Australian High Commission building on one side. The Commission was surrounded by a high brick wall which had spiked railings on top and was constantly surveyed by CCTV cameras. Security was always top priority. The Australian Embassy building in Malaysia had been bombed recently.
Rod couldn’t wait for their application to be processed. This would mean he could get out the apartment and maybe meet other boys of his own age, rather than just at school. He had already sent the pool and tennis court and these interested him most of all.
Michael looked forward to socializing but also a drink of beer. Joining meant that part of the contract meant each member had to contribute the alcohol pool by buying cases of beer every six months.
Michael asked Zoltan where he could buy alcohol. You could get alcohol when you passed through Zia airport’s duty free shop and there one place in Dhaka where you could buy alcohol.
“As I have said,” added Zoltan,” alcohol is forbidden in the Qur’an because it damages the individual by harming the mind and taking control of them. Drugs are also banned for the same reason.”
‘I wished someone had told my mother that,’ Rod thought to himself.
“Hey, dad, I was just thinking...imagine what would happen in Australia if they bought these laws in!”
Three weeks later a phone call told them their application had been accepted and their entry cards would be available at the gate.
* * * * * * *
As well as playing tennis and swimming in the pool, Michael and Rod had a daily walk. Mostly they walked in the morning but sometimes in the evening when it cooled or the humidity was far less.
The area the lived in, Gulshan 2 had many embassies of many countries. They walked passed and saw there name plates, flags and the usual two or three security guards.
The American Ambassador lived in a street that had traffic barriers ate each end, and a plethora of guards near where the large concrete devices were placed. Rod noticed they had uniforms of three different colours. Zoltan told him that the ones dressed in total black were the RAB …. Special police who seemed to have some instant aura of fear.
Everyday they walked past the Italian Embassy and no matter what time it was, the security guard called out ‘Good Morning’.
Not far from the Italian guard gate was a house with a very impressive gate. They could see a blue roof near the entrance and the sounds of animals often came from there.
One day, while passing, a security guard sat with two others while a fourth man used a long pole to get mangoes from a tree. Between the men was a monkey tied with a metal chain. The monkey tried to grab the mangoes that tumbled forth onto the roadway or into the drain which ran along side it. When Rod made a fuss of the monkey, a man hauled the little creature up by its neck so Rod could touch it. It screeched loudly. Michael called out, ‘Beware Rod….if it bites you…you never know what diseases you can get!’ Rod with drew his hand and moved away. He was also disgusted in the way the man had treated the animal.
The House of the Saudi Arabian Consulate had very tight security. Before the large iron gate, with its ornate design and name plate, was a large red contraption….a bit like a huge kebab holder. You wouldn’t want to crash into those spikes! There were at least four guards there. One operated a counterbalance to raise the kebab holder before the gate would be automatically slid open or closed.
They were walking one evening when Michael asked Rod, “So what do you hear, apart from the incessant horns and rickshaws?”
Rod stopped and listened, “What Dad?”
“Can you hear the myriad sounds of tapping?”
Near the entrance to their apartment block, an old man sat every day with a small rounded hammer breaking bricks into small pieces. He would sit next to a large pile of whole bricks and incessantly hammered till he almost disappeared under a pile of small pieces. Sometimes his wife was there. Both were tall, for Bangladeshis, but like many excessively thin. It seemed the small pieces of brick were used to bolster the concrete used in building.
Sometimes a tremendous noise greeted as they walked. This was the mechanical breaker. From a pile of bricks, one man tossed them three at a time into a chute. They fed into the brick eating monster. It devoured bricks in a huge cloud of dust and tremendous noise and spat out eh small pieces onto a pile. Here a constant line of men, and sometimes women, had filled baskets hoisted onto their heads.
Balancing with one hand, basket carriers snaked off upwards on a crude cane ladder as they proceeded towards another level being constructed on a building.
The pieces were dumped and the carrier started downwards for another load.
Rod saw one man carrier whole bricks on his head. He carefully placed up to twelve bricks on his head. They were placed on a cardboard ring which he’d fashioned and covered with cloth.
“Hey, Dad, grand dad would love to see these labourers!”
During the week Rod had looked out of the window onto the ‘village’ and saw a small girl, Ilo, practicing carrying two bricks on head. She was only four years old!
Around Dhaka towered blocks of uncompleted apartments and office blocks. Zoltan said all this feverish building had only started in the last five years. A huge monster had suddenly awoken.
Thousands of pieces of cane could be seen crisscrossed as they supported the
mould into which concrete would be poured for another piece of flooring. Another storey was beginning.
When they mould was ready, a caterpillar-like line of men worked for hours till the pour was completed. Each man had hoisted a basket filled with concrete onto his head. They walked upwards and dumped the concrete in a fan like motion so it spread evenly onto the framework of steel re-inforcement. Often this process continued all night under huge lights placed at each corner of the level.
More piles of re-inforcement steel were dumped near the entrance. Using their bare hands and a crude tool with a hook in one end, men straightened the steel pieces before they were cut into appropriate lengths. The re-inforcement steel piece arrived tied up like a huge bow of ribbon. As the wires holding the ribbon were cut, the steel lashed out like an uncoiled snake as the ends sliced through the air just missing passing rickshaws, cars and pedestrians.
The straightening of the steel was done by the skilled eyesight and the crude tool. The steel was sometimes into lengths by an electric grinder but more often than not pure man power was used. One man would sit on the road way holding a chisel on the spot where the steel was to be cut. The steel was supported by a couple of bricks. Another man used mighty swings of a huge hammer to drive the chisel through the steel. Any slight misjudgement and the hammer would have smashed both hand, feet or head of the man holding the chisel.
Many buildings had reached upwards into the sky and were left uncompleted. Concrete columns and reinforced steel rods stuck up waiting for someone to come and complete the task. Rod wondered how long some of these buildings had been waiting.
* * * * * * *
One Saturday morning Michael asked Rod how school was going.
“How are you coping with the differences?”
“O.K. Dad but I do miss the footy. They have a good cricket team and I have become part of that. Next week we play a game against AusIS, the Australian School.”.
“Have you any problems?”
“Not really. But it is interesting in our cricket team we have some Muslims who will not shower when we do. If they do they wear their undies in the shower. I understand it their way. They’d get lots of laughs back in Oz.”
“Well Rod this is not Oz. I hope you always respect the cultural differences. I know they will give you respect.”
“Sure, Dad, sure.”
“But what about the subjects? How about them?”
The way of learning a little different….lots of information and learning by heart …. And weekly tests….but that’s okay.”
Rod found the journeys to school best of all. It was a time when he could have with Zoltan and find out lots of things. Rod marveled at how Zoltan maneuvered through Dhaka traffic. Every day they saw hundreds of young women walking towards Gulshan 2 Circle. There were so many they spilled out onto the road. Rod learnt that they worked in shops making clothing. A lot of the money and employment in Dhaka came from such activity.
Rod asked his dad if he and several of the boys from school could go to a park and play cricket.
“Sure son. Would you mind if I came along and had a look. Wouldn’t a bowl myself….used to be a handy spinner in my day…not as good as Shane Warne….. of course!”
“No worries Dad. I’m sure Ishaque will take to you.” Ishaque’s driver was coming about 11.20 to pick them up.
Space was the most wanted thing in Dhaka. Rod missed being able to go to the nearby park in Perth and have a game of cricket or kick of the footy. Here things were very different.
The park in Baridah was a short drive away. When the driver pulled up the car near the brick and ornate iron fence that surrounded the park, they saw a group of boys already playing in the park. They were dressed in shorts and most didn’t have tops. They were using a white plastic container, piece of can and a tennis ball to play on a concrete pitch. They were quite eager when they saw boys arrive….probably to challenge them and show their skills….but also because they boys had a real bat, stumps and cricket ball.
As play commenced, Michael wound his way across the busy road to get bottled water from a small shop which vegetables piled outside. In the corner of the park, he noticed a man with some cattle tethered to the railings. He was busy propping the leg of one animal up onto a cross beam of cane. Through gestures, he learnt the calf had escaped the park and been hit by a vehicle on the road. It leg was most probably broken but he owner could not afford to have it put down.
The boys enjoyed the match. Rod said he’d never played in a park where you had to be so careful fielding. It was most probable you’d step in a large newly laid cow pat. Ricky Ponting would have protested at the state of the outfield,
After the game the boys were very happy to drink the bottled water take back what had been sweated out.
* * * * * * *
Michael decided he needed a new pair of shoes. Saeed said he would take him to Elephant Road. Be cause it was such a crowded area, Saeed suggested it best they catch a taxi.
The yellow taxi snail paced through the Saturday morning traffic. Rod made a comment about many people being out Saturday shopping. Saeed told him that this traffic was like this all the time….even worse at night. They drove along a wide avenue with a median strip down the middle which had trees interlaced with barbed wire.
Saeed pointed to the left when they reached the Elephant Road area. All Rod and Michael could see were shoe shops. There were hundreds it seemed. There were shoe shops beside other, shoe shops above shoe shops and Rod said he wouldn’t be surprised to find a shoe shop inside another.
Getting out of the taxi, the trio was confronted by a mass of rickshaws jammed tightly in a road. Hundreds of other rickshaws were coming from another road and they had caused a traffic jam. Not a traffic policeman was to been seen. Not one rickshaw seemed to be going anywhere quickly. Passengers patiently sat in the rickshaws like it was a normal occurrence. All the time, the noise of horns, bells and the dust of the hung over them like the ever present veil.
Saeed ushered them towards a shoe shop. It was the smallest shoe shop Rod had ever seen. It was triangular and was about 3 metres deep. There was room for two customers at a time and the staff of three found some space. Saeed and Rod had to stand out on the narrow footpath as Michael looked for a brown pair of shoes. Soon, several Bangladeshis were also standing next to them gawking into the shop. Because the shop had a limited stock, one employee had to rush off to another shop and get some more shoes.
Eventually a pair was chosen, paid for, wrapped and the box whisked off in another yellow taxi. To celebrate their ‘picnic’ Michael took Saeed to a Thai restaurant to lunch. He had never been to one. Over the meal, Saeed said to Michael that he paid too much….too many taka….he should have bartered….price was too high. Michael thanked Saeed for his help.
At work next day, several colleagues complimented Michael on his shoes. But at the end of the day, he had a surprise as he hopped into the car. The whole sole on one shoe peeled off like an over ripe banana!
Next weekend Saeed took Michael back to find the same shoe shop. The man who served them was not there. Because Michael hadn’t learnt much Bangla yet, Saeed took up the demands. Michael joined in every now and then.
“Cheap, kharap shoes!” Michael shouted.
“No taka back, “answered the salesman. “ No taka back!”
“Well, he understands some English!”
Michael persuaded him to take back the damaged pair, and set about getting a good deal on another pair. Several more pairs of a ‘better’ make were tried on. A pair was finally selected but the salesman demanded an extra 5000 taka. Michael got up to leave and said they would go to another store. The salesman touched his arm and said, “No, Boss, wait. Maybe 3 000 taka extra.”
“You cheat!” said Michael raising his voice slightly, “get your boss on the phone.”
A mobile phone suddenly appeared. The salesman gabbled on the phone in Bangla and then turned to Michael, “Shoes no free, 2 500 taka extra!”
By this time Michael was getting quite hot, not only from the thrust of combat, but the humidity of Elephant Road, with its extreme traffic. He looked at Saeed. “Give this bloody idiot 2 000 taka and let’s go!” In actual fact the same shoes in Australia would have cost four times as much, it was the principle of bartering that was important. The salesman, took the money, was about to say something else but thought better and plonked the shoes into a box and plastic bag.
Michael never did go back to Elephant Road, and certainly not that shop.
* * * * * * *
“Hey son do you know what next weekend is?”
“No just another weekend here in Dhaka. Nothing really changes.”
“No, not just another weekend! It is the Grand Final in Melbourne!”
“Heck! I fancy forgetting that! Shows how we have forgotten so much. Who’s playing?”
“Brisbane and Port Power.”
“But where can we watch it Dad?”
“I’m sure it won’t be on the cable Channels but if I can time off work, we’ll go down to the Club.”
“Oh that’ll be great. Thanks Dad.”
They watched the match on Saturday having a meal at the Club. The favoured team. Brisbane Lions, were soundly beaten by the Adelaide team, Port Power. But Rod thought it would be no good talking at school about the match to the other students……it was if he played some strange game from Mars. Football as they knew was only Murph’s version….soccer.
* * * * * * *
While traveling to school on Sunday, Zoltan asked Rod where his mother, Michael’s wife was. He briefly explained the situation.
He then asked Zoltan if he ever married.
“Yes, of course Boss….I am married….” He then chuckled. “married to Allah. But truly Boss I have a wife. My stree is Shammin.”
“Well, where is she?”
“Oh, she is back in my village, with the four children. I get to see now and then.”
“So how did you get to know her?”
“When I was about twenty – five my mother arranged the marriage. Shammin was sixteen at the time.”
“So did you know her a long time, before you married?”
“Long….Oh no Boss! I had never met her until just before we married. Today some marriages still arranged like that but things are changing.”
There was a sudden crunch of metal! Zoltan had to break suddenly. The five lanes of traffic, which tried to fit into four lanes of roadway, converged and caused a car to clip a rickshaw. The rickshaw cannoned into a CNG. The driver of the car quickly left his vehicle and took a flying lunge. He clipped the back of the head of the rickshaw wallah who had been unceremoniously dumped from his vehicle. The stunned rickshaw driver shook head and raced after his bike which was rolling backwards into a line of oncoming traffic.
Zoltan squeezed past the conflict. Rod was sitting intrigued by what he’d just seen and what he’d just found out. He tried to imagine Narelle and him being married by arrangement.
“In my country,” Zoltan continued, “We don’t divorce. Marriage is for life.
But unfortunately some Muslims now opt for divorce. They are not true to the words of the Qur’an. Divorce, I gather, is easy in your country.”
This got Rod thinking g even further how different things were here.
“Many women here feel they must marry before they are twenty-five. If not it may bring shame on their family.”
Rod was still deep in thought. If there was no divorce, then there’d be fewer problems. How different it would be if Mum and Dad were still together.
“You see, Boss, Allah decreed that women do three things. They should not flaunt their wealth. They should not show off their bodies, particularly their bosoms and brazenly act sexually towards men.”
Zoltan began to swing the car off the main road towards the school. They would have, as usual, a long wait trying to get a break in the traffic, coming from the direction of the airport.
“My first wife, Sushmita, was most modest. She dressed so that only her eyes were seen in public. She never undressed in front of me. This may seem strange to you Boss….but remember….if two buns are for sale…..the one with cream and jam on top will be desired by many…but it will be more exciting to bite into the other with its hidden treasure….only you will discover this inner treasure….only you will know what it is….she will be truly only yours.”
‘This is unreal,’ thought Rod.
“Now my second wife, showed her face but wore a veil to show her submission to Allah, and always had long sleeves down to her wrists. She said covering up was freedom. She didn’t have to worry about the lustful looks of males. She had freedom to be intellectually, socially and otherwise. This is what she wanted.
“Did you ever want more than two wives?”
“You mean like a harem of story books?” he chuckled, “and I would be like the man with many wives and have them numbered for each night.”
Rod loved his sense of humour.
“No, my two sisters were enough. Any more would be very expensive as I would have to provide sleeping quarters for my new sister and any children that may result!”
“Did something happen to your first wife?”
“Alas, Sushmita died during childbirth three years after we were married. The village didn’t have good medical facilities.”
“That must have been a sad thing.”
“Well, a little. But I knew she had no sins to clear when she went before Allah. Death is not the end of life. It is a passage into another.”
Rod never spoke to Zoltan about his wives again. He had a lot to think about.
* * * * * * *
Rod had not yet had a ride on a rickshaw. This would be a big adventure. One to tell the kids back home about. But would it be safe? It looked so dangerous!
They’d been pestered by so many rickshaw wallahs as they walked along the streets. They had to ignore the pleas….’Use my bike Boss because….’, ‘I have money probs Boss…’ Michael liked to walk as was ferried around all day with by Saeed.
“Okay let’s take the plunge and have a ride! Are you up to it my son?”
“Sure Dad.”
A huge storm had blown over Dhaka. There was lots of lightning and thunder. Huge rain drops started to fall as they left the markets. They had bought some nashi pears, tomatoes, apples, cabbage and some Australian oranges. Well at least the seller they were from Australia!
Michael gave a gesture with his hand and quickly a rickshaw lurched towards them. They hopped up into the flimsy contraption and yelled a direction. Fortunately the driver knew some English and seemed understand where they wanted to go. At this moment heavy rain began to pelt down.
The rider, dressed in a thin shirt and lungi, was soon drenched but he covered their legs with a sheet of yellow plastic and with one hand pulled the ‘hood’ over their heads. From under the hood, Rod saw cars flying at them and spraying huge waves of water. It was more like water skiing.
At Lavender Corner the rickshaw made a right turn into Road 50 and Rod saw a huge bus coming straight at them. He closed his eyes and waited for the crunch. On opening his eyes, he wondered how they had been missed.
Saeed had already told him about the Dhaka buses. He had said that most had bad brakes. And most were very old. They were usually packed with passengers that tightly one wondered how passengers got in or out when the bus stopped. There were few designated bus stops so buses often stopped in mid traffic to set down or pick up fares. Also there were often many passengers hanging off the doorways. Rod had seen one bus with passengers sitting atop the roof.
Almost every bus looked like it need a paint job and they had the words Rang Motors painted in fading lettering on the front. Michael jokingly reckoned from the number of dents and lines of different colours streaked along their sides, the buses should have been called Prang Motors.
The traffic trying to negotiate the intersection safely was supposed to be controlled by two policemen dressed with light green shirts and navy trousers. These men seemed to do a lot of waving of batons and blowing whistles. Pandemonium seemed to reign supreme.
The rickshaw continued on down the ‘wrong’ side of the street and almost tipped them out as it hit a speed hump outside the Dhaka Club. It turned very sharply into the narrow laneway that led to the Rhapsody Apartment block. A bag of vegetables fell from the rickshaw onto the wet concrete. The rider stopped pedaling and jumped down. He gathered the pears and oranges and apologized for the accident.
The apartment guard had heard the noise and opened the gate. He came out and helped Rod and Michael off the rickshaw. Michael offered 100 taka as payment but the guard shouted something in Bangla. The guard took a ten taka note from Michael, gave it to the rider and told him to leave quickly.
Michael and Rod spoke about rickshaws….fancy having to ride a flimsy contraption….three bike wheels…in all sorts of weather….and competing against so many other rickshaws.
Through a colleague at his work, Michael discovered there were many rickshaws in Bangladesh….in fact 770 000 thousand of them. How the devil these men eked out a living riding a rickshaw with no lights….just a bell…in Dhaka traffic. Most of them didn’t own the rickshaw…..they had to pay a percentage of their earnings to the owners of thousands of rickshaws.
There were many types of rickshaws. Most carried passengers but some were seen by Rod carrying huge loads. Loads of vegetables, bricks, garbage, building supplies, gas canisters, furniture were just some of things seen to be carried.
Rod saw a rickshaw carrying a large wardrobe and two passengers…a third passenger was standing on the rear axle and his head poking through the hood. Many rickshaws carried huge loads of piece of cane used in building houses and office blocks.
There was a small rickshaw that was parked near their apartment block each day. Rod would see at it while he was waiting for Zoltan each morning. It was a small shop. The man pedaled to his position and then sat cross legged on the cube at the back; from here he dispensed small cups of tea, cigarettes of biscuits from small plastic bags that hung from the railing above his head.
Also, while waiting in the mornings, Rod would see a ‘school bus’ pass. It was a rickshaw in which six to eight children sat crouching in the rear cubicle while the rickshaw wallah pedaled them to school. The children were always dressed in blue and white shorts or long skirts with white shirts on which was seen the school emblem.
Michael and Rod had many rickshaw rides while in Dhaka. They were a convenient and cheap mode of transport. They also could have used black or yellow taxis or CNGs if their driver was not available.
Michael suggested they could start up a rickshaw business back in Australia but who would pedal such flimsy vehicles with such loads and how would they get up hills? Any way they bought two rickshaws to take back to Australia. Rod noticed a small one in the markets made from silver wire twisted. He bought it for Narelle. Michael bought an even larger ornament for Carmal. It was heavy rickshaw made from brass. These two items were packed away ready to be taken home for next Christmas.
* * * * * * *
Ramadan came. Rod said many children did not come to school because they fasted from sun up to sun down and were lacking in energy.
Fasting in Ramadan, as Zoltan had said, was one of the requirements of any devout Muslim.
Many of the staff of the High Commission was given leave from work at the end of day. This early dismissal gave them time to battle through the traffic and be home before sun down.
Many of the children, at school, were very tired each day as they had large meals at which the family gathered, and they went well into the night.
At the end of Ramadan was Eid-ul-fitr….a celebration of the end of the period. Many buildings were lit with strands of spaghetti lighting….long strings of lights that hung from roof top to the ground many floors below. Some houses were lit this way when a wedding was taking place in the family home.
Zoltan took them to several restaurants where trestles were set and huge banner proclaiming ‘fitr’. They managed to select from these tables a beaut range of foods at reduced prices. Chicken wings, spring rolls, samasos, large pieces of chicken in a curry and rice sauce was packed into special cardboard boxes. At the end of the line of food, near the cash register, Rod found a dessert which they came to love….gilabi. It was a tasty lace-like shape that had been dropped into a large cauldron of hot fat and scooped off to drain. The result was a golden, delicious treat.
As Rod’s teeth bit into each piece, a golden honey like liquid flowed over Rod’s tongue and filled his mouth. Michael bought a kilo of gilabi.
Later they were to learn another side of Eid. Servants expected them to give them an Eid bonus. This was usually at the discretion of the employer but it was often twice the money paid each month. Saeed was extremely pleased with Eid bonus as his wife had just given birth to their first child. Many Bangladeshis travelled long distances to be with their families at Eid, so any extra money was handy for buying food and presents. People usually were given new clothes, especially shirts at Eid.
Later in the year, there would be another religious celebration, Eid-ul-Adha, which celebrates the pilgrimage to Mecca.
* * * * *
Rod came home late from cricket practice to find his father sitting sadly in front of the computer. He was crying.
“What’s up Dad?”
“Read this email!” he said grabbing a tissue from a box.
Rod read. It was from Carmal. She said….’.She was sorry Mike….she was going back East…to Melbourne……she put both the dogs in Happy Paws and arranged for the neighbour, Mr. Ciacci to look after the gardens….hope you are both well…bye.’
Rod couldn’t believe what he had just read. Dad had sent off a reply email to Carmal. Back had come….”Please don’t contact me!”
What could he say? His dad got up and went into the bedroom. He did not come out till next morning. For days Dad was so sad and talked little.
Then one day he asked Rod, “Would you mind if I went out to a staff party on Saturday night?”
“No….of course not, you deserve to have a good time.”
On Saturday Michael went off and left Rod alone in the apartment. He must have returned late as Rod didn’t hear him come in. Next morning, when Rod awoke, he could hear voices coming from his Dad’s bedroom.
Later his Dad came out and said that he had a guest last night. He introduced his lady friend. She was Prinsha, a Bangladeshi. She was very pretty. After breakfast she left.
Michael told Rod he’d met her at the party and they talked a lot. Prinsha was born near Dhaka but married at an early age. She was at secondary school when her teacher’s brother visited from Germany and said he wanted a wife. Prinsha married him when she was fifteen years old but two days after the wedding, her husband went back to Germany.
A year later, Prinsha left school and went to Germany. She bore him two children but the marriage lasted seven more years. Somehow Prinsha ended up in the USA following a marriage to a soldier. She went with him to Hawaii and had another child. Her soldier husband disappeared at the time of the World Trade Centre destruction.
She was working towards getting enough money together and going to Canada and re-uniting with her eldest daughter and young son. Prinsha told Michael she got money through her art work.
Michael had several dinner dates with Prinsha and then one day he asked Rod if he minded that Prinsha come and live with them. Rod consented. When Zoltan first knew of Michael’s friend moving in, he was a little disturbed. He told Rod that he had bad feelings about this Bangladeshi. Rod never told his father about this.
A week or two went by and the trio lived happily together. Raqib also told Rod that he was very suspicious about Prinsha. He felt that Prinsha was using Michael’s kind nature.
Michael liked Prinsha and showered her with gifts….clothes and money. He paid for her to have her hair done and cosmetic treatment. Raqib told Rod he didn’t think she’d had these things done. Rod’s Dad was the happiest he’d been since he before he left Perth.
But there were some things about Prinsha that puzzled and concerned Michael. She said her ex-husband, a Dhaka businessman, gave her money, yet she never seemed to have any. Prinsha sometimes wore traditional dress but more often than not dressed in jeans and a T shirt. She carried a carved wooden stick which she said was necessary because her leg had been broken in an accident in India. This stick she waved in huge circles when she became angry. She was angry with Indians and one night she attacked the hood of a CNG when the driver refused to pick them up and take them to Barida. Michael wondered if she might attack him with that stick, if he upset her or didn’t give her the money she needed.
Sometimes late at night her mobile phone would ring. She took it from under her pillow and walked to another room to take the call. She spoke softly in English but more often than not, Bangla. If Michael asked her called, she would say her Eldest son. Alexander.
Then one day Michael came home and Raqib asked if they could speak before Prinsha came. Raqib said that the guards had told him that while Michael and Rod were away, Prinsha had come back to the apartment with two men. Raqib also said Prinsha had started to talk to him in a way that made him feel like he was a slave to her wishes. Michael was sort of angry at first but then realised that Raqib would have no reason to make up such stories. Then Raqib said that while Michael was having a shower, he saw Prinsha go to the bedside table and look through his wallet.
Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she stealing money? Was she just using him? Immediately he sprang to action and went to the locked cupboard in the bedroom where he kept his money. He found an envelope in which should have been about three thousand American dollars….it was empty!
When Prinsha came into the apartment, Michael asked her about other men and the missing money. She denied both stories. Michael asked Zoltan to take her home. Prinsha became very angry. She yelled that the money had been taken by Raqib or Zoltan or Rod. She was an honourable person who would get revenge for any bad treatment. Michael shouted at her and asked her to leave with Zoltan.
After Prinsha was taken away by Zoltan, Michael received a call from his boss. She said she was worried because she had learnt that a Bangladeshi lady, of dubious repute, was living in his apartment. Michael told her about what had transpired. It was suggested he have the locks changed immediately and in case Prinsha should return with some of her Bangladeshi friends, Michael and Rod get some clothes and spend several nights away from the apartment in a hotel.
While Michael was having some lunch, cold stew cooked by Prinsha, his mobile phone rang. It was Zoltan. He had taken Prinsha to Barada but she refused to get out of the car. She waved her stick and smashed the interior rear vision mirror. She had also shouted and called Michael a whole lot of obscene names.
Over the next few days while Michael and Rod stayed at the Golden Deer, he received several calls on his mobile from Prinsha. Each one was a tirade of abuse. How dare he throw her out…..she had done nothing…. Her honour had been tarnished and she would seek redress….she even threatened to go to the police.
Zoltan sat several nights in his car outside the apartment block. He said on one night a car carrying several people pulled up outside the Rhapsody block…..waited a while and then took off. Zoltan suggested to both Michael and Rod that they not walk about the city. They should use him always...maybe a CNG or taxi…but not walk alone. Some foreigners had disappeared under similar circumstances.
Dad went to visit the manager of The Golden. It was this man, Edon, and his friend, Lucious, who bought Prinsha to the party. He wondered whether the two men had been part of a conspiracy in which Prinsha would start up a relationship just to get money.
Edon was most upset when Michael outlined what had happened with him. He was even more upset because he’d found out that Prinsha had done the same thing with several other Dhaka men. Edon asked Michael why he hadn’t called him before. He could have had some people he knows go and get the money. He also said it was no good going to the police... they want bribes and do little. Anyway Prinsha is probably half way to Canada by now.
Michael sat on his bed and to talk with Rod.
“We liked each other. I gave her all I could. Why did she take our money? Was she dealing in drugs? Was she a prostitute?”
“Ami jani na ! Ami jani na !” said Rod.
“Yes, I don’t either. I don’t either ! Let’s go to bed and not sleep on it !”.
* * * * *
Rod enjoyed watching the village life next door with its daily rhythm. In early morning, he could see men wandering around under the trees with tooth brushes in hand, cleaning their teeth thoroughly.
The incessant gathering of burnable items continued unabated. Women
and children scrounged streets, competing with many others. Boys carrying long poles went up and down the street and now and then stopped to push the poles upwards amongst power lines to shake trees and bring down branches or fruit. Women could be seen coming back to the block with a single palm leaf on their head. Women, children and older men hacked at items with machetes cutting them into smaller pieces which were neatly stacked against the banana plants on the block or stuffed into the holes under the large aluminum cooking utensils.
Cooking was done on earthen ware containers which had been set into the ground or floor of the huts. The top end was where the cooking pot or container was placed, while the smaller offshoot spout was the chute into fuel was fed to keep the fire going.
As the women cooked they sat around on small seats ….no more than several centimetres off the ground. The preparation of small fish to throw into a large cauldron seemed a daily chore. A small blade was held under one foot while the grasped fish was pulled in two hands downwards. The fish seemed very small. Sometimes fish from the lake were prepared.
Children were readied for school and they went off wearing immaculate white shirts and blue skirts or shorts. Many teenage girls and younger children stayed all day in the village. They played happily with small stones, pieces of paper or cycle tyres. These tyres were rolled down the tracks between the huts and controlled by a small stick.
Every day washing was done on the lake shore. Clothes were slammed onto a board, put into large bowls, and then carried to be hung on the lines that were connected from the eaves of the huts to a tall thin tree in the middle of the huts. It reminded Rod of a beautiful coloured octopus.
Sweeping was another daily event that was a ritual. Women used short brooms of twigs to sweep away items and dust from the entrance to the doorsteps to the huts. You could hear the sweeping sound starting very early in the morning.
The gathering of water was also carried out ritually and very important. Large aluminum containers were transported on the hips of women, who more often than not were dressed in orange, green and black. They walked to the entrance of the block where a tap filled the container through a narrow neck.
The cooking of food was another important chore. The children ate a mixture of rice, fish and vegetables with hands by scooping into a large bowl. Every now and then a peddler would come to the block and sell vegetables which were measured by two panes which hung on a pole of cane which carried all the goods across his shoulders.
The scrupulous cleaning of the large aluminum eating and cleaning bowls was another daily chore. Rod was watching one morning and saw a woman with a large bowl of liquid. In the liquid was a mouse trying to get out. She had a stick and tried to get the mouse to grasp it to she could lift it out. After several attempts, She simply pushed the mouse under the liquid and drowned it.
The lake was not only used for washing but men and women bathed, as he first saw when the lady who changed from her green dress into her orange. He saw boys paddling in the lake and swimming. There were fishing from boats and the shore. And as well as floating dead fish and other items, water from the street and huts went into the lake. Of course effluent also entered. From the things Michael and Rod saw in and around the lake, there was no way they would ever go into it.
While Rod was looking out of the window, some of the village children saw him and waved. He found a piece of paper and made a paper aeroplane which he launched. It landed on the roof of a hut. Several others were made. One floated in the breeze and landed in the lake. Finally one landed near the huts and the children scampered to get it. The children were so excited. They motioned to him to come down.
“Would it be okay to go and meet them,” he asked his Dad.
“Sure son. I tell you what take my camera and maybe some dried apricots from the fridge.”
Rod felt like a celebrity as he came through the gate and wandered down the path through the green banana plants. The dried apricots had never been seen by the children but they were quickly shared amongst the children. But they were quickly forgotten when they saw the camera. After numerous photos he had to make an excuse about having to leave….but they wanted more shots and they wanted the photos bought back tomorrow.
“I’m sorry but it is digital and they must be printed off. Our printer is not working.” He wondered just how much they understood.
One woman, near the door of hut motioned for him to come and look in their house. Rod walked over, followed by the kids. He felt like the pied piper. He looked in through the very low doorway and saw a small room. Most of the space was taken up by a crudely made bed. It was about the size of a queen sized bed. There were no chairs or tables. The house was occupied by the family of four and their uncle.
Cane poles had been dug into the thick concrete base to make the hut. These poles supported thatched cane section of wall. The ceiling was unlined and he could see the corrugated iron sheets of the roof. There was only one electric light.
When he got back to the apartment he said to his Dad, “They are so happy yet they have so little. We have so much and I don’t many of us are as happy.”
“That is a great statement, son.”
That night he couldn’t wait to get on the internet to tell Narelle about the village, the kids and what he’d seen inside their huts. He also told Narelle about Zoltan and his wives.
* * * * *
It was about a week later Michael said they had been invited to a Bangladeshi wedding. Once of his office staff was marrying.
Coming home from work on Monday, he disappeared into his bedroom with a large paper package. After a while he called for Rod to come in and have a look.
There stood his father dressed as he had never seen him. His shirt was long and had splits up the sides. It was long sleeved and collarless. The shirt was blue with a very ornate pattern coming from both shoulders and forming a V shaped pattern on his chest. He wore white trousers and sandals.
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! Dad, I thought I’d never see you dressed like that. I like it.”
“Because we are going to such a special event, I thought I’d get dressed in a Punjabi. It does feel light and great. Maybe I’ll get some more for work.”
The white van , driven by Saeed, picked up them about 5.30 pm and then toured around the narrow streets of Dhaka, picking up the remainder of the party of twelve.
The invitation said, ‘7.30’ so they set off earlier to beat the Friday night traffic. But they were to find out that the traffic was much the same whatever night. At one stage they travelled one kilometre in forty minutes. As well as numerous buses using the narrow road, hundreds of rickshaws crawled wheel to wheel and at times hit each other. The domino effect caused irate drivers.
Michael said, “If I owned a tyre repair or replacement business in Dhaka, I’d be the richest man going.”
Someone in the back of the bus called out, “At this rate you may have to ride one of those contraptions just to get to Mushma’s wedding on time !” Everyone had a great laugh and it helped the time taken to pass quicker. A lot of laughter occurred when a large bus kept level with them for some time. It was loaded with young people out for a good night. Some commented, “And they’ve bought their own band along….look there they are sitting on the roof !”
The bus continued to crawl along the road as eight o’clock ticked past. They saw the wedding reception hall on the far side of the median strip which looked the Berlin Wall with its high concrete kerbing and barbed wire. But finally the bus was able to make a U turn into the ever flowing traffic and reach the hall.
The hall was covered with kilometres of spaghetti lighting as seven weddings were celebrated there that night. The Embassy group was dropped off under a covered entrance while Saeed went off to find a parking spot.
They climbed a huge curved stairway and were ushered into one of the series of reception rooms. There the bride, Mushma, and her new husband, were seated under a wooden canopy festooned with pink flowers. The couple was sitting on chairs with high ornate backs. They sat there hardly blinking.
The newly married couple was dressed in the finest traditional costumes. The groom looked tall with distinguished turban and immaculate beige coat and trousers. The bride wore a red and gold outfit which was extremely ornate. Her hair had gold ornaments in it and there were numerous gold bracelets on her arms. A piece of gold jewelry linked her nose to one ear. The couple sat stiffly, hardly moving.
Under a powerful light arriving guests posed for photographs with the couple. Then awareness of many people sitting in chairs staring at the couple became apparent. There was a barricade just outside the lit up area on which white sheeting had been draped. Behind it sat many guests, mostly women, looking at the couple who still sat hardly moving.
Most of the guests had already eaten, so after photos were taken, the Embassy party was ushered to a hastily cleared table and waiters started plying them with plates of food. The newly weds sat motionless.
Plates of mutton and rice, yellow rice and vegetables, and a runny liquid which looked like yoghurt were placed in front of each guest. Rod took one sip of the yoghurt like drink and decided the ‘Mum’ bottled water in the centre of the table was the best bet.
Michael asked one his colleagues about her wedding. She said this part of the ceremony was an arduous trial. In her case, the washing, dressing and preparation of the married couple before they sat on the two chairs, took five hours. And she and her husband, sat another three hours under the canopy.
Michael noticed several gold bracelets on her wrists. ‘Are those from your wedding? They look very much like those on Mushma.”
Taking one off , she handed it to Michael. “Yes I wore ten of these at my wedding.”
“Crikey! They’re heavy ! They must be solid gold! It must have cost your father a fortune to marry you off!”
“We had 2 000 guests at our wedding and it was a small one. The cost of our wedding was shared by both families.”
As the Embassy party group was leaving, the bride and groom were still sitting. Michael said he enjoyed it but had sworn to keep away from wedding ceremonies. As they headed home, someone called out that he’d heard of some weddings in Australia not even lasting as long the bride and groom had posed.
* * * *
It quite unusual this Friday as Michael was at work catching up on some paperwork and while Rod slept in. Suddenly Rod was awaken by a tremendous noise. It seemed to be coming from the block next door.
Looking out of the window, he saw many people standing about staring and others were crowding around the door of one hut. There was lots of people talking and some wailing. Then a woman came out of the hut, screamed and flung herself onto the ground. She was quickly approached by a man who had two children almost wrapped around his legs. He seemed to be in a daze as he turned and gave two men something. They raced off along Road 50.
Rod thought something serious had happened. The whole village seemed mesmerized by what was or had happened. Soon the two men who had gone off, returned with a flat top rickshaw. On the rear was a large box with two metal frames painted red. The box was taken off the rickshaw as a large cloth was spread out on the ground.
Several women picked up the cloth and made it into a walled section surrounding the door of the hut. There was an eerie silence as the walled cloth was moved by the women and taken to a section of bare ground behind the hut. For some time, villagers walked in twos and threes and disappeared behind the cloth.
Rod must have been watching this event for two hours wondering what had happened. Then the large box was loaded onto the rickshaw and it was pedaled off the block and away along Road 50. Many people followed the rickshaw.
Rod went downstairs and into Road 50. He was told by a man getting a cup of tea from the drink seller that a pregnant woman was rushed to hospital on Thursday night but returned home hours later. In the morning the birth started but extreme bleeding occurred and the woman died. The baby was born alive. The mother would be buried before sundown.
Returning to the apartment, Rod felt very sad. He had got to know many people on the block and had developed empathy with them.
When his father came home he told him what had happened and how he felt. Michael said it was wonderful he felt the way he did but he should not let it burden his mind. Death during childbirth was very common here. It was a fact of life. Remember Zoltan had lost his first wife that way.
* * * *
The next morning Michael and Rod were awaken early by an even louder commotion from the block. The first thing they thought was another person had died.
Going to the window they saw many people dressed in shirts, ties and trousers entering the block. There were also several men in khaki uniforms, something like soldiers. Amongst them was one well dressed woman who sat on a deck chair bought into the clearing by a man in a khaki uniform.
The uniformed men began pull sheets corrugated iron and cane from the walls of the hut where the woman had died. The group of huts was empty as the walls crashed noisily. At the same time other men went through the block cutting down banana plants and trees with sharp machetes. The tree holding all the clothes lines was cut down and the washing floundered in the dirt. Women rushed to pick up the clothes.
In a short time most of the smaller trees were flattened and work began on felling the large trees. The noise was deafening as sheets of iron were flung onto piles. The animals ran about confused. Ducks quacked, chickens scampered for cover and the dog barked.
Two men began to dig near the entrance where the water supply tap was located. Before long the tap was removed. The people in shirts and trousers began to leave and were transported away in their shiny cars. Most of the khaki clad men remained.
Within hours they had erected a shelter with some of the corrugated sheets. They were security guards who remained on the block for months. The villagers now found their handy water supply was gone and had to trapse along Road 50 to another tap.
On Sunday , when he went to school, Rod found it hard to concentrate because what he had witnessed. Zoltan told him that the people were squatters and the owner had decided to build. The trees had been cut to force people to move. The security guards would ensure more people moved away and no one else moved onto the block.
Soon work was started in erecting a wall along Road 50 and an iron gate replaced the opening. Also workmen laid bricks to build another wall which would cut off access of the block to the lake. Some of the villagers, who had stilt huts along the lake, were forced to move. They carefully pulled down their huts ensuring every small piece was stacked for use in a new house. Other villagers who had huts along a wall of the house next door found their access to Road 50 being blocked. They also were to lose easy contact with the remaining villagers.
Michael and Rod were to head home for the Christmas break soon and it was sad because they knew on return most or all of the remaining villagers would be gone. The village which had bought Rod so much pleasure was to disappear.
After school, Rod went down to the block to meet the children who would probably go soon. His special friend was Kahedja, a bright tall girl. She usually walked about with her niece on the hip and clad in her one red dress. Kahedja had never had formal schooling but Rod discovered she had quite an aptitude for numbers. Kahedja make sign language and used the few English words she knew to ask Rod to take her to Australia. Rod tried to tell her that was impossible He hoped she understood. There were tears in his eyes when he came back to the apartment. He looked down on the pathetic scene on the block. Kahedja was standing there in her red dress, surrounded by the other children. She waved to him. “Goodbye” he whispered.
* * * *
Because of his schooling and his job, Michael had always been a stickler for correct spelling. Therefore he was often bemused by the signs he saw around Dhaka.
Not far from Road 50, in Gulshan-2, there was a shop which worked with paper products. On a sign, across the front of the building, it advertised ‘Photocopying, spiral binding and lemonating’ The problem would have been finding lemons in Dhaka!
At a very expensive restaurant they looked at the menu and Michael , in the fish section, spotted ‘cuttlefish’…..but I was printed ‘cattlefish’ ! Rod remarked you would have to have a very large plate and he hoped they skin it first !
The biggest smiles were often reserved for the DVD’s they could purchase. These were the very latest releases of films, and some very old releases, but they were cheap copies. They could be bought for about 100 taka which converted to Australian currency would have been two dollars ! The subtitles often contained many glaring spelling mistakes, and sometimes, in translation, whole new words were substituted ! Therefore an actor might be saying he ‘liked’ a person, but he subtitle inferred something completely different.
Not far from Cooper’s, tucked away in a side street, Michael noticed a shop with a large sign which was almost widen than the shop. It read ‘Mans and Laddys Haredreassing’.
Music CD’s were also copied in droves and a wide range of latest, or early releases, could be bought for about eighty Australian cents each.
* * * *
It was getting closer to Rod’s first Christmas trip home, and he was very excited. Oh to meet Narelle again, and his buddies, Marcus and Murph. It would certainly be better than emails!
Rod wondered whether his friends had changed. Lately he had had very few emails from Narelle. Maybe she had a new boyfriend ! How would he cope, if she had ‘ditched’ him ? Zoltan’s words rang in his mind….’maybe it was Allah’s way to say it wasn’t mean to be’ ! Maybe he was jumping the gun! He couldn’t wait to be with Narelle !
Michael and Rod went out to buy some presents. Rod finally looked in umpteen shops of the Bashundra Shopping Complex before he found some trinkets he though Narelle would like. The shopping complex had over 2 000 shops stacked on top of each other in eight storeys. The uppermost storey contained a food hall and cinema complex. Michael took Rod into a theatre and they watched Shrek 2. They enjoyed it.
On the way down in the elevator Michael spotted a floor on which there were several stores trading in pearls. If he was still with Carmal he’d be in there looking. ‘What the heck!’ he thought, ‘ let’s have a look anyway!’
They saw a shop with a huge sign outside which said, ‘Fabulous Southern Pearls’. The window display contained an array of coloured pearls.
As they entered the shop, the almost dozing staff was galvanized into action. There were three shop assistants in an area in which you’d have trouble swinging a cat. One shop assistant immediately vacated a small wooden chair and disappeared. The owner ushered Michael to the chair. He was short and balding and spoke with clear English. He wiped his brow with a white handkerchief and then rubbed his hands together as if anticipation of a sale. His eyes flashed and he reached for trays of pearls to push across the counter.
“Welcome to Southern Pearls….we have the finest stock of pearls in Dhaka. How can I be of help ?” The shop assistant appeared from a small door at the rear of the shop carrying a tray with two glasses and small cans of coke. The owner motioned with his hand for them to accept the offering.
“Thank you,” said Michael, “I was just looking for pearls in necklaces.”
“ But Dad……” began Rod who realized Dad didn’t have anyone to buy for.
Michael rose and began to look along the numerous display cases with their clear glass windows. He’d never seen green, purple or yellow pearls before. Surely the oysters didn’t produce these. The owner sprang forth and unlocked one of the glass cabinets. His eyes now glistened with the real possibility of sale.
”Good price at Southern Pearls. The best of all in Dhaka.”
“Well that shop over there has better prices !” said Michael enjoying the game of bartering, especially when he no real urge to buy.
“Oh no…these prices better than them….I can do you good bargains …2200 taka each string.”
“Oh it is 2000 taka a string over there.”
The owner picked up several strings of green pearls and pushed closer to Michael. “These are best quality sir. I can give to you at 1800 taka a string !”
“Better good quality….no hanky panky. I’ll give you 1 700 per string.”
“Sir I cannot go, lower than that. I have two wives and some children to support. I will sell for 1 800 taka each string and will give you a set of earrings and small velvet purse to keep them in.”
They were offered more cans of coke. Michael got up as though he was to leave. The shop owner moved towards him and almost blocked the door.
“Okay sir….I will sell the pearls for 1 700 per string.”
As they were leaving, The owner once again proffered the quality of his pearls and asked if they wanted more earrings. He clicked his heels together and in a low voice said, “Thank you for coming into my humble shop. Next time I will arrange hank panky as well, but you’ll have to come at night !”
As they travelled down in the elevator, Rod asked, “Why did you buy them Dad?”
“Well I thought I don’t need to buy them for Carmal now but Narelle’s Mum might appreciate a gift”
“Thanks Dad. You know I heard of such coloured pearls before…do you think they are fakes?”
“Maybe son, but they are so lovely….so cheap….and they’re going to make great Christmas gifts!”
They went down in the elevator which travelled in the huge central open space of the complex. Looking down, they could see people as small as ants walking over the beautiful white, black and brown tiles of the foyer on the ground floor. Looking upwards, they saw the domed roof on floor seven that had the sun shining through hundreds of coloured pieces of glass.
Michael noticed that many of the small shops were not completed. They had to walk over, past and under the ladders of workmen. Some were finishing the elevators and others working on wires hanging from the gaps in the uncompleted ceiling. There was still a lot of concreting going on. There was no way, from the safety point of view, a shopping centre in Australia would open to the public with this amount of work still going on.
The coloured lights and modernity of Bashundra Shopping Complex was in stark contrast to the dusty unpainted shops in most of Dhaka. But coming here in the taxi, they had passed many large spectacular hotels and office buildings. Maybe the general shabby look of most shops made these places look like palaces. But, by the amount of building going on, Dhaka was doing its best to catch up with many other cities. Michael had a thought….the city, ‘the bun’, was getting a wonderful coating of glitz and modernization.
* * * *
Michael and Rod had to finalize their packing. Zoltan would take them to the airport the next day. They were travelling by Singapore Airlines and therefore would be traveling through Singapore. The last time Michael had been there was on his trip with Carmal.
The plane left at 3.48 a.m. and arrived in Singapore two hours later. There was a seven hour wait for the transit flight. At that hour the airport was quieter than normal but some shops were still open.
They found a small coffee shop and ordered something to eat and a drink. There was a group of Japanese women and some were chatting quite animatedly. Several were slumped in nearby lounge chairs doing there best to catch up with some sleep. A few people were sitting in a comatose state, watching one of the large TV screens which catered for a variety of languages.
Rod was parked in a free film theatre while Michael said he wanted to do some shopping. Soon Michael returned and sat next to Rod who was drifting in and out of sleep.
“Look what I have son.” Michael opened a box and took out a digital camera. With it were a stand, extra memory chip, extra battery and a small remote which could be used when the photographer wished to set up a group and shot and be included.
“Look, it also takes movie films. I can zoom in on a subject with this button. It is the latest model.” Michael spent the next hour or so reading the manual and fiddling with the buttons. Rod had a look but drifted back into sleep.
The Perth flight seemed much shorter than the time they first came to Dhaka. They were so eager to get home. The landing was smooth and the trip through the customs was handled swiftly. There was great excitement as passengers pushed trolleys of baggage through the swinging doors to be greeted by waiting relatives and friends.
They were pushing their trolleys out to where they could hail a taxi, when Rod heard someone calling his name. There stood Narelle and her father.
“Welcome back guys. My daughter just couldn’t wait to see you so she persuaded me to come and pick you up.”
On the trip homewards, George and Michael sat in the front talking about weather and traffic. Rod sat in the rear with Narelle eagerly holding his hand. They said little. It was just good to be close to each other again.
Opening the door of the house, they found it in darkness with sheets covering the lounge chairs. Rod immediately said he missed the dogs bounding out to greet them. Rod and Narelle opened the curtains to let in light while Michael opened a letter he’d found propped against a vase on top of the TV. George had offered to make a cuppa but he couldn’t find any milk.
When they all sat on the lounge, Michael read the letter aloud.
“Dear Mike,
I’m sorry I wasn’t there to meet you. You must be wondering what has happened here. It’s something that I could not control. I’m sorry.
We had great times together. I hope Rod is okay. I’ll miss him. My love to you both,
Goodbye Carmal.”
Michael sat quietly on the lounge. Rod took Narelle away to his bedroom and showed her the presents he’d bought for her and her Mother. George went off to get some milk.
While Narelle eagerly opened her presents, Rod looked longingly at her. She was beautiful. He wanted to take in his arms but that might lead to other things. He reminded himself of the story about the buns. Inside was the jam…a worthy reward…a reward that will better with waiting. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
He looked at her and said, “I love you….you are beautiful….I want you forever…I want you….but it would be better if we wait.”
“Of course Rod. I understand. I want to be with you, forever.”
“Lets’ go and talk with Dad, he shouldn’t be left alone.”
George came in and made the cups of tea and coffee. “Well folks we must go but my wife has invited you for tea tonight. Will you come?”
The next day Rod had arranged to meet with his friends at the beach, while his Dad went to meet some of his ex-colleagues.
“Bloody hell!” said Michael over a beer in the pub. We had a future together now it’s all gone.”
“Well, you can’t change anything. You have to get on with life. There are plenty more fish in the sea.”
“Yep, that may be so, but I never catch a fish like Carmal!”
“ You’ll have to forget about her, mate. Maybe you’ll find someone in Bangladesh!’
“You know they approach relationships differently there. Marry and you marry for life!”
“Wow! That means, if I was in Bangladesh, that’d mean I’d have to put up with Mary forever! Still I suppose that’s not a bad idea!” The others laughed. Bill and Mary loved each other and were inseparable.
The three continued their dissection of marriage over a few more beers. It was of course a hot day. They had to toast their relationships and partners. What other excuses could they think of?”
Rod sat on the concrete bench with his friends near the car park at Scarborough Beach. It was as if a hundred years had passed since they last met. He wanted to know things about school where as they more interested in finding out his new life.
“What do you reckon are the most exciting things that have happened to you?”
Rod thought for a moment and then said, “Meeting Zoltan, seeing the traffic and learning about Islamic ideas of praying!”
Marcus’ mouth dropped, “Pray ! Didn’t you pray before you went?”
“Yep, I used to ask for Mum and Dad to get back together, do well in sport and stuff like that. But now I realize that I should be thanking someone for all I have. I’m thankful for Mum did for me….and Dad…and of course you guys. I do it now and I relax better before I go to sleep.”
“Wow ! That’s unreal !” uttered Murph.
“Yep, that’s great!” added Marcus.
The three chattered for a while before going down for a surf. Rod was determined to be thankful for this chance to surf. He and dad would head back early in the New Year.
“Did ya…did ya…every get into any of the girls over there?”
“I didn’t really want any girl friends. I wanted to be true to Narelle.”
“Oh you must have seen some good chicks at the school?”
“Oh, well there were nice ones. There was one Bangladeshi girl that I liked a bit.”
“Well did you date her?”
“No! But dating them is very different. Their parents won’t let them out alone. A group must go to a park…the parents are very protective….they won’t let a girl go out with a boy or man alone until they are sure that is the one they are to marry.”
“Wow ! That’s some way of doing things!”
Rod sat listening to them and he knew he loved them like he loved Western Australia and Australia, but it was strange that he couldn’t wait to get back. How had things changed this way?
When Rod came home that from the beach, he found a letter addressed to him waiting on the table. Opening it, he found a piece of paper with a telephone number and the words, ‘Contact me, love Mum.’. Immediately he rang the number. After several rings, a voice answering machine cut. He heard his mother’s voice for the first time in all those years. It was a short message asking him to leave a message and phone number. He said he was glad to hear of her….he was going back to Bangladesh soon….contact him through the Australian High Commission….and he loved her.
That night, when Michael arrived home, Rod told him of the message. “That’s great son, great!” Michael had been out making more arrangements with an estate agency about the house and also arrangements about the dogs. He said to Rod the dogs were in good health and happy to see him. They would go and see them before they left.
* * * *
Christmas Day weather was unusual. Inn the morning it was very hot as they had come to expect. At midday the temperature reached 38 C but an hour later a storm hit Perth. There was thunder, lightning and lots of heavy rain. The gardens must have been very happy.
On Boxing Day they went to a pool barbecue arranged by Narelle’s parents. It was up in the hills in a suburb called Kalamunda. It was wonderful eating in decks chairs overlooking the city from the Darling Scarp and seeing the city in the distance with aeroplanes taking off and landing at Perth airport. There was no way , with the flatness of Bangladesh they’d see such a scene, for a while.
The beautiful evening was almost dampened by the news that had come through concerning an earthquake near Indonesia which had triggered tsunamis which raced across the Indian Ocean causing catastrophic damage and death. Rod and Michael wondered whether damage or death had reached Bangladesh. It would seem unreal that an act of nature could easily wipe out a whole nation
It was a few days after the tragic news of the tsunami tragedy that Michael and Rod bid farewell to their friends and colleagues and headed back.
* * * *
The flight back was uneventful. Maybe there wasn’t the same excitement as there was with their first trip to Dhaka.
After landing at Zia Airport and passing through customs they were greeted by Saeed driving the white van. He was so happy to see his ‘Boss’ that he bounced across the road and gave him a gigantic hug. Later Michael found his glasses which swung around his neck were broken.
The sounds and smells of Dhaka once again pervaded their very being. They were home. After the heat of an Australian Christmas, the two found the it wonderful to experience a sunny day without the extreme heat and glare. But there was the humidity.
When they settled back into their routine of work and school emanating from the apartment, Rod found his Dad spending more time sitting in front of the computer rather watching TV or videos. He wondered what his Dad was up to. Was he looking at porn sites or maybe seeking contact through dating agencies which found the internet a godsend ?
Finally Michael told him that he had found a site where he could play Scrabble with people all around the world. As well as play, he’d discovered that he could chat away with them. He’d discovered many people who were lonely in many countries and enjoyed this outlet as a contact.
It was a week or two after discovering his Dad’s addiction with Scrabble on the net that Michael told him he’d made contact with a lady back in Australia and they were communicating via email as well.
She was a single lady who lived in Melbourne and she had asked Michael to come and visit next time he was back in Australia. Rod was pleased as Dad showed more spark and smiles since he had learnt Carmal was not part of his life, Rod said it was a good idea that he visit this lady. It couldn’t do any harm.
It was about this time Michael received an email from Carmal. Once again she said how sorry it was that they had split but she had to go east. She’d been to see a doctor in Perth and it was diagnosed she had breast cancer. She had treatment but was told that the invasive disease had a stranglehold on her body and there was nothing little more that could be done. She had a few months to live, if that. This naturally saddened Michael. He was sorry that he’d misjudged her.
* * * *
Rod was getting ready for of their Saturday walks when he heard his Dad make as sound of pain.
“What’s up Dad?”
“Nothing really, just a slight twinge .”
“That didn’t sound like a nothing. What happened?” he said as he came into Michael’s bedroom.
“I had a slight pain in my hip area. It has happened a lot lately. I should get it checked. But that’ll wait.”
“But why Dad? You should get it checked here!”
It’s nothing let’s go for our walk.”
As they walked along , dodging the usual rickshaws, cars and pedestrians, Michael told Rod how his mother had these twinges of pain over many years. Eventually she had to have a hip replacement.
Walking past a building site they gave their usual gestures to the builders who were carrying bags of cement on their shoulders up into the block of flats. One man shovelled cement onto a frame which sieved it. Another shovelled the fine result into bags which where lifted by two men onto the shoulders of others who casually walked of to begin the journey up the cane stairs. Several others were gathered near a rickshaw shop having cups of tea or smoking. Noticing the camera slung around Michael’s neck, they gestured to have their photo taken. Michael had taken their photo on another day.
Ahead of them they heard quite a commotion. Michael asked a man with a cup of tea in his hand, what was the noise for. As he turned to look down the road, Michael saw a man coming towards them carrying a slab of meat on his shoulders.
“Why this is a special time…Eid-ul-Adha. We kill cattle and goats a special way. The man coming is bringing us some meat.” The man arrived and dumping the slab from onto an empty cement bag turned and went off back towards the direction he had come.
“It is a special time….we celebrate when the pilgrims went off on the had. If you walk around the next corner, near the Swedish Embassy you will see.” Michael took a photo of the cement bag carrier and one of all the men before moving towards Road 63.
In front of them they could see several black carcasses hanging on a rope slung between two trees. The roar of an animal filled the air.
* * * *
When Zoltan dropped them off , he said he’d come back and give him a massage.
Dead on six o’clock Zoltan came. First he asked if he could mix up his the special potion in the kitchen. It was a recipe given to him by his Grand Father. Soon there was much activity in the kitchen while Michael lay on his bed. Rod noticed flames and a large cloud of smoke coming from the kitchen. Zoltan had to open the door onto the balcony to allow smoke to escape.
“Don’t worry, Junior Boss, it is just smoke !”
Zoltan applied the black substance onto Michael’s legs and began to rub. At first it was a warm feeling but next Michael almost raised himself off the bed. Zoltan had found a sore spot.
“Ah the medicine will do its work, Boss.”
“If I live long enough, Zoltan.”
“You’ll be okay Boss.”
Zoltan massaged for about an hour and half. Michael felt really great and he slept well that night with little disturbance from pain. He hadn’t realized how much pain he’d been having and how much sleep he lost.
Zoltan came for the next five nights, at six o’clock and repeated the process. He said he wanted then Boss to get well and then he wouldn’t have to go home and get surgery. Michael had intimated that this may his next course of action.
Michael was having trouble bending down to do up the laces on his shoes. He also noticed that in a short time he was having more and more trouble getting in and out of chairs. His job was being affected.
A week or two later Michael came home and said to Rod he had decided they must go home and he would get some treatment. While Rod was pleased about this decision, he also had lots of misgivings about leaving. He would miss the special relationship he’d developed with Zoltan and Saeed. He would miss Dhaka.
On the plane home, they had lots of time to sit and reminisce about their wonderful adventure and to talk about the future. Rod was looking forward to spending more time with Narelle. Michael was not looking forward to a possible operation but there was a glint in his eyes when Rod reminded him about seeing the lady in Melbourne.
They pinched themselves that the past fourteen months had happened. They had seen and learnt so much. They agreed that the story about the two buns would remain forever in their minds. Would their lives be changed forever?
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