Saturday, November 29, 2008

Love means never having to say you're sari

I have relocated. I am now staying in Uttara, a town north of the Dhaka airport, with a Bengali family (one of my professor's American friends is married to a Bengali woman, and they plus their 6-month-old son live with her mother, her brother, his wife, and some housestaff, and a lot of the sisters, aunts, cousins, and nieces and nephews live within a few houses). The house is nice--lots of light and open space, and is always bustling.
Thursday night I went to an American couple's house for Thanksgiving. It was fun--most of the guests were Bengali but had spent significant time in the US or UK. They served turkey, carrots, mashed potatoes, rolls, and even veggie spring roll-esque things. It was a really interesting group of people--many of the guests had lived in Dhaka decades ago, and it was interesting hearing their stories about how the city had changed. Several had lived through and been very actively involved in the War for Liberation (1972), which also was incredible to hear about firsthand.
Yesterday (Friday) was not black, here. I started off the day with a breakfast of curried chicken, kitera (not sure of the spelling, it's a rice and lentil dish), tortilla-like bread (roti?), and a green onion omelet, all followed by some tea. My hosts' baby turned 6 months yesterday and was going to eat his first solid food. All nearby relatives descended on the house to celebrate the occasion. They took lots of pictures, everyone fed him a spoonful of food, and stayed to eat sweets and drink tea. There were many young children in attendance, and I of course played with them as much as possible. I think that it's easier to communicate with a two year old with no common language than an adult, sometimes! It was fun, and really nice to observe/participate (I even fed the baby!) in an event so filled with love and happiness. The baby is adorable, loves being held, and warms to new people quickly. Whenever he passes by anyone in the house, their face lights up. It's impossible not to smile when you see him. That's the life, man--he gets oil massages everyday and constantly has someone petting him. I could understand him not wanting to get older!
I spent the afternoon in a very different context--I went with my hostess and her child to the American club to watch her husband play in the inter-club tennis tournament. There are several clubs here for ex-pats (proving citizenship is usually part of the process), and evidently they have competitions from time to time. The American club won the "B" level tournament, so we were happy about that. So happy, in fact, that we went to the Nordic club for the awards banquet that night. I did not think to bring any evening clothes--not that I really ever need them in the US so don't have much--but my hostess lent me a pretty black sari and even some earrings. She had to help me get dressed, saris involve lots of wrapping and folding--I'm still not sure I can recreate it and don't really understand how it stays put. It looked nice though, and until I really started rocking out on the dance floor, it was comfortable and sensible.
I had chocolate cake last night! After not having chocolate the whole time that I was here last time, I felt like this was a big accomplishment! Also an accomplishment was keeping myself to just one serving. I took a picture, lest someone be skeptical later, and I will upload soon.
Today it's back to the grind, trying to churn out some writing for early deadlines next week. The conference starts on Wednesday, so it will probably be pretty hectic until then. Amazing how fast time flies here!

1 comment:

Melih Onvural said...

Is "rock the dance floor" a relative term, or does one become delusional after some point?