Back to England... and Back to the Desh
on From Banglatown to Bangladesh (Bangladesh), 12/Feb/2010 07:54, 34 days ago
I remember very clearly the morning I first arrived in Bangladesh. Flying over Dhaka, peering through the small, clouded windows of the plane, I looked down over vast expanses of water and wondered where the city was, and where the plane could land. Suddenly, there was the appearance of thousands of small, rectangular tower blocks in amongst the lakes, looking like a combination of model toys from a children's board game and a tribute to aesthetically-poor 1970s architecture. There was Dhaka, there was Bangladesh, and there was the beginning of my time as a bideshi.Back to EnglandIn December, I arrived back in London. After 14 months away, this once oh-so-familiar skyline had taken on new elements of strangeness. My face pressed up against the plane's window, my eyes did actually widen as I gazed at the dazzle of what seemed like a sci-fi city of the future. The street-lights snaked in smooth lines through spots of darkness, as steady and ordered streams of cars travelled home on the evening commute.Dancing with impatience in Heathrow's passport queue, I was also nervous: would I be able to handle life in this lap of luxury? Did the Tube still work the same way? Would I be able to negotiate the realms of choice in even the smallest of supermarkets? Would my friends understand when I kept asking them if they had eaten rice? A year is not long in the scheme of things, but after being firmly encased in my Bangladeshi bubble, it felt like I was stepping into the unknown once again.Being 'Home'But it's a funny thing, having multiple 'homes'. My fears were unfounded: of course, I could manage the Tube, and became an impatient London commuter again a little too quickly for my liking. Supermarkets weren't really that scary, and the pub banter of the festive season was familiar after all. My month in England was both incredibly normal, and very special: four weeks of laughter, laze, overindulgence in luxury, and– most importantly – falling back into much-loved friendships and family life.There were a few moments of confusion. There was a moment of moral uncertainty in a Brighton shopping centre, when I looked at a pair of£4 leggings labelled 'Made in Bangladesh'. To my shame, I got a little lost in an old London neighbourhood. But despite feeling in general like life was just a little bit too good to be true, it was England that felt real now, and Bangladesh that became the blurry haze in the distance.Back to the DeshAnd then– four weeks ago – I travelled again, and came back to the Desh. When I first came to Bangladesh, the plan was to be here for a year or so. Enough time for a taste of this country, but I thought then my itchy feet and desire for discovery would quickly take me on somewhere else. Now, my timehas been extended, and Bangladesh is still a 'home', for 2010 at least.And, just like in England, it's amazing how quickly it all became normal again. I saw a rickshaw on the runway, spoke Bangla in Immigration, and the fights with Dhaka CNG drivers began as soon as I left the airport. I was back.And 'Home' Again?But, again, it's a funny thing, having multiple 'homes'. Despite its appearance of normality, my second settling into Bangladeshi life for the long-term has been more of a challenge. After spending weeks highlighting the positives of Deshi life to friends and family in England, and explaining why I wanted to come back for another year, I had forgotten– or at least put to the back of my mind – the ups and downs and semi-permanent state of mild confusion that is so often part of life here.I was genuinely excited to be back in Khagrachari: to see friends and catch up on the news of wedding season (a story for another time), to see what was in the markets, to wander the dusty streets. And it has been lovely: this little town in the hills really does feel like a home. But, beneath the surface, beyond the rice paddies and colourful dress and banyan trees, the social conflicts continue to run deep. In my few weeks back, rumblings of years of unresolved divisions and disputes between indigenous and Bengali populations have been resurfacing once again.Still More QuestionsAnd I am reminded that I still have so many questions about this place. How can 'development', or positive change, or whatever you want to call it, ever happen when the traumas of the past are still so current? As conflicts continue, what hope is there for overcoming inequalities and injustices, and making differences that are real and lasting? In light of these big questions, for which there are no easy answers, I wonder about my own time: my struggles with websites, Annual Reports, jargon-filled project proposals and small-scale organisational change often feel inconsequential in comparison.So, I'm back in the Desh, and I'm still working things out. But that's one of the things I've learned in my time in Bangladesh. It requires constant readjustment and revaluation: of patience levels, of expectations, of understandings of progress. And sometimes I love it, and sometimes I'm exhausted by it, and sometimes I want to leave it all behind. But, for now at least, it's where I am. And I do call it 'home'.