From ran to random

Dhaka—people love it, people hate it, but we all agree on one thing: you will never get bored here.  You can count on being surprised, usually several times a day.

As winter season sets in, the days have cooled.  I wear long sleeves all year, but now I can feel like it’s the weather vs. the social conventions that motivate me.  People have pulled out their camo earmuffs already (I’m not quite at that stage yet).  It’s also dried out, which makes it very pleasant for running, minus the dust and smoke from “camp” fires that sometimes results in BB (black boogers).

I walked out the door this morning for my run around 7AM.   I head up to Gulshan Lake Park (where the lake has been dry all year during a series of improvement initiatives) and do a few laps.  There are a lot of people out but traffic is really light on Friday mornings.  No sign of Mr. Khalid, the elderly gentleman who lived in my old building, who does several laps with his cane and loves to hear me say that I went to Harvard, or Andrew, a British colleague of mine who, like Richard Cash, first began working here when it was part of Pakistan!  Beauty before age, at least today!

I cross Gulshan Ave and head over towards the long body of water separating Gulshan and Baridhara.  As it gets dusty, I realize that staying off the road results in much cleaner air.  Women sweep the roads and all the dust gets kicked up to about the height were my mouth and nose are.  The walkway along the water is quite nice too, there are a lot of folks out walking, to work or for pleasure. The walkway is a little hilarious because instead of looping all the way around the lake, it’s just a U-shape.  Then you have to go up and around, through a gate, down the main road, over the bridge, and then you could start again.  Just as I’m reaching the end of the U and heading towards the gate, I see a familiar smile.  It’s Monir, my friend who works at North End and often lets me ride with him on his sweet motorcycle.  He’s out for a walk, but I manage to convince him to run with me for a little bit.  We reach the spot in the road where I usually turn right to head to yet another lake (this one does have water in it), and he said,  “Have you ever been left?”  I thought that led into the Army Cantonment, where foreigners are not allowed, so no.  We decide to head that way.  It’s a nice, wide road that at the moment is fairly quiet.  It winds around the outside of the cantonment, and cuts up to the back side of the Radisson hotel, on airport road (one of the main arteries running North-South).  We turn to head south towards Banani, where I live, and pass two baboons!   Evidently my fear of geese extends to exotic animals, so I hide behind Monir as we pass the baboons, who are hissing at each other in some sort of dispute.  We turn back into Banani at the graveyard (the roads have numbers but are not numbered in any discernable system,  so we use landmarks instead usually), and walk for a few minutes before parting ways.  I offer him homemade pancakes if he runs with me next Friday.  I historically have been very picky about who I run with, and that continues here.  When I run alone, there is a lot of staring, but rarely anything more than a "hello" or the occasional picture taking.  So it was nice to be shielded, particularly when it comes with such good company.  I've considered hiring a rickshaw to just ride along and shield me, but I have my doubts about whether this would be effective.  Maybe if I find a rickshaw driver that I think is up for this type of experiment, I'll give it a shot.

My food supply is totally depleted, so I head to the corner store to get some breakfast items.  Contrary to what I usually found in the U.S., here the corner stores are cheaper than chains.  The smaller the cheaper.   I have started buying most staples here, so we have a bit of a rapport.  There are usually 2-3 guys there, always the owner, who is mid-40s, then two younger guys (maybe early 20s), one of whom is a compete jokester.  I walk in today and he starts yelling “Pepsi diet?  Pepsi diet?” My most popular purchase.  So I say, “Amake chinen?” (Do you recognize me?) and he laughs and says yes.  I also buy some low-fat milk.  Last week, when I bought diet pepsi after my run, the older man asked me if I had a health problem—perhaps I had difficulties with sugar.  That pretty much sums up the state of public health in Bangladesh—if you exercise and/or drink diet soda, you must have a problem.  So this week, he asks me if I take medicine for my diabetes.  I try to clarify.  “Prevention kori.  Amar paribar er diabetes acche.”  (“I do prevention.  Diabetes is in my family”…..yes, I know that’s not really true, but in translation sometimes you have to be flexible with the true).  Ohhhhhhh, he said, bangle bangla bangla,   Age (before) bangle bangla bangla.  “Tai” (right), I say, deciding that the inclusion of the word “before” in whatever he says signifies prevention.  He tells me his wife has diabetes and will have to start taking medicine soon.   Meanwhile I’m talking to the young guy to see if they have oatmeal.  He stares at me uncomprehendingly.  I ask about cornflakes (he first thinks I said, “toilet,” so it takes a while to get there).  They do have cornflakes up on the very top shelf.  He tries to get me to take the big box.  “Kenno?  Ami borro na!” (Why?!  I am not big!).  This is a running theme, he always wants to give me more than I ask for, but given that I live alone and this shop is literally 30 seconds away, there’s little incentive to stock up.  Turns out they do have oatmeal.  When I ask what they call it in Bangla, they scratch their heads for a minute and can’t come up with a word.  I suggest, “oatmeal.”

If you want to know the state of privacy in Bangladesh, I think the use of the fairly transparent mesh bags here pretty much sums it up.  Everyone sees your purchase, so my diet pepsi, oatmeal, and low-fat milk were on full display today.  And as I was in sweaty workout clothes, they could clearly conclude that I have a health problem.

So that was the story of my 75-minute run.  Good times!  I only go once a week these days, so the fun has to last a full seven days….