Day Seven: The (Non) Photo (19 June)
on From Banglatown to Bangladesh (Bangladesh), 19/Jun/2010 13:43, 34 days ago
Today’s positive is a bit of a bittersweet one.As some of you know, I get stared at here, a lot. And even though it’s less in Khagrachari than other parts of the country, and even after twenty or so months, it’s not something I’ve ever got completely used to. Often it’s a case of curiosity and fascination with the foreign, but too often, from men, it’s got that ‘how you doin’ slant to it as well.And even without that, there’s something about getting that level of attention, all the time, that keeps me a little on edge.It bothers me less than it used to though, and I do have coping strategies: I know that if you smile at women and children, they will giggle nervously, or smile back. I know not to meet men’s glances. And I am quite accustomed to keeping my eyes modestly downcast when walking through the streets, just to avoid seeing where others’ eyes are looking.Much more difficult however, is the photo-taking. Not the obligatory wedding photographs with the bride and groom: those I am happy to smile sweetly for, though it does feel strange when the wedding is a friend-of-a-friend’s-brother, and I have never spoken to either of the happy couple before. For the photos of me eating at wedding feasts, I just try to show off how comfortable I am eating with my hand (while really trying to ensure I’m not spilling rice into my lap). I have even smiled (through gritted teeth)during an eight-hour bus journey, so my fellow passengers have ‘something to remember me by’.The photos that bother me are those taken on the streets, by random strangers. Generally male, and generally wielding camera phones. Some are discreet, some are blatant, and it’s not something that happens daily. But it happens enough, and has me shuddering (as I think about what exactly they are going to do with those photos) every time.So, today, as I walked back from the market, and I saw the familiar raise of the arm, phone in hand, I turned my head. But then I saw a light. The flash had gone off. And I was happy. Given that I was on the other side of the street, I knew that there was no way the light would have reached me. Instead of the photo of the bideshi woman that he wanted, it is likely the man ended up with a blur, or possibly the corner of a nearby rickshaw.Giving me a moment of pure satisfaction. I am not normally one to revel in another’s failure, but this time, the situation deserved it. The moment was broken soon after by some unwanted attention from teenage boys, in a frenzy over hormones and the sight of a foreign female, but – fleetingly – the moment was there. Pure satisfaction.