Jeni as a Bangladeshi

The internet connection all over the country was cut for the past 24 hours, and apparently has just been repaired. Here’s an entry I wrote while offline yesterday:

I went downstairs and waited for the car that usually comes to pick me up for work, which did not show up. Someone who spoke a little bit of English told me the curfew, which should have ended this morning, is ongoing and may extend for a "long time". I called my local sponsor, my most dependable contact here who’s fluent in English - couldn’t get through. I called my other ADP colleague living a few blocks down the street - no connection. I called everyone on my contact list. What the heck is wrong with my phone? I asked to borrow the phone at the guest house, and was told that the phone networks in the city have been shut off. I logged onto my computer, and the connection was deathly slow, borderline nonexistent. It took me almost 30 minutes to log onto my company network to let my contacts know of my situation. Shortly afterwards, the connection died - and is still dead. I came decently close to having a panic attack.

So I admit. I’m not as mature, stable, and brave as I’d like to be in a situation like this. The English speaking guest house staff hinted to me that I’m overreacting. But since these are the same type of people who can watch fatal accidents in front of them without much more than shrug (as i wrote about in the previous entry), their words do not bring me too much consolation. No, I’m not exactly afraid that the rioting will directly put my life in danger. The terror that welled up inside came from the realization that I am right in the middle of a major national crisis, and yet at the same time am completely detached from it because of the language barrier. With all that’s going on a few blocks away, with all the talk on the news and amongst the neighbors, I alone am clueless to their words. It’s a workday, and yet there’s not a sound outside my door - imagine midtown Manhattan completely empty at 8 in the morning. I turn on the TV, and flip through intense Bangladeshi news channels I can’t understand to pause on the English speaking ones - Discovery Channel is showing a special on monkeys. Another channel’s airing an old Seinfeld episode. BBC was giving the sports update. It’s the calm right before a huge storm. It feels almost surreal.

The panic is also brought on by seeing that both access to communication and transportation I’ve come to rely on can all of a sudden, and all at once, become nonexistent. If something were to happen, I can’t physically get anywhere - streets are closed, no cars, no rickshaws. I can’t reach an agent to book a ticket, I can’t make a call to let anyone know of my situation, I can’t use the internet to send a note out. In such a situation, I am flat out of options. It’s claustrophobic. The realization is debilitating.

Yes, I’m long overdue an update. Here’s a quick one - I’ll write more in the evening.

This is a note to say that I am safe. After hearing from some of you from back home, I’m surprised to see that news of the violence here has made it back so quickly. Here’s a quick recap of the situation from my end. Over the past few months there had been several riots and protests over the political situations here, but all of them were put under control quickly. All of a sudden, on Tuesday, there was an extremely violent riot at the downtown University here (extremely close by). I was told that student protests here are quite different from those in the States. Instead of symbolizing the exercise of public opinion, student demonstrations are almost always promoted/instigated/backed up by political influence from either side of the two opposing parties (and that’s all I’ll say about that here). Apparently the violence continued until yesterday evening, and led to several shootings. Most of us were largely unaware of the relative seriousness of it (since this wasn’t the first public protest) until early afternoon when the military declared an 8 PM curfew for the entire city. Office buildings were shut down early and we all go off work around 4.

It was extremely quiet at night - almost eerily so. I did hear a few loud whistles now and then, but beyond that I was more or less safe and oblivious in my room with my dal, naan, and old episodes of the Sopranos.

The concept of life and death is a bit different here. Maybe it’s because death is seen as a natural part of the cycle, or perhaps it happens so often here that the shock of individual deaths is absorbed by acceptance that it’s just one more death. But for me, this is still largely frightening. Once, we were driving on the highway and witnessed a traffic accident, where a taxi car was almost completely buried under a truck. To my complete bewilderment, traffic went on as normal, and those who stopped did so briefly before moving on. I was told that although ambulances and emergency rescue teams "exist", the chance that they would show up within 2 hours, or at all, is slim. That is if they could be reached in the first place.

Another time, a few of us were on a train to visit some nearby tea plantations.  Halfway on our journey, the train made a sudden stop, and we were temporarily stationed in the middle of nowhere amongst farms and rice fields. Curiously enough, no one bothered to get out of their seats or stray from their conversations. Likewise, we oblivious foreigners followed suit and continued with our card games. After more than an hour, we (ok, I) got a bit cranky, so a friend who knew some Bangla went to investigate. From what he understood, there was either something wrong with the train or we had hit something on the tracks, but the train’s sudden stop caused the operator to fall out of the car. The last hour was spent clearing the fatal accident and looking for someone else to operate the train. Just like that. I was sick to my stomach the entire rest of the ride. And what’s most disturbing to me is that I doubt either of these incidents made it in the local newspaper, which dedicates half its space to political news and the other to describing the ‘latest’ news on reducing calories in meals while advertising "American-flavored potato chips."

And on that note, I should now go get ready for work. The curfew will likely last for a few days, so I’ll use the extra time tonight to give some other, less morbid updates.