Discovering Bangladesh

My host mother, Safina, and her teenage daughter Ariba get two newspapers delivered every morning -- one in English, one in Bangla. It's been a little slice of home that I have cherished.

A week ago, I got the royal tour of the newsroom of one of Dhaka's largest and newest daily newspapers, The Kaler Kantho, courtesy of Editor Abed Kahn, a veteran newsman who shuffled his schedule so we could lunch together. I also visited two television stations and, as a team, we were interviewed on Bangladesh's most popular radio station.

The highlight of my visits, however, was our sit-down with the Executive Editor Syed Fahim Munaim (on left, above) and News Editor Reaz Ahmad of The Daily Star, Bangladesh's largest English daily. The paper, nearly two decades old, is based in Dhaka.

I'm happy to report that the mainstream media in Bangladesh is producing earnest, reliable journalism mostly free of retaliation and overreaching government influence.

Newspaper ownership and content are not subject to government restriction, and -- based on the volume of daily and weekly publications, television news programs, radio stations, Internet sites, and printing houses -- the sharing and flow of information in Bangladesh is alive and well.

"The government and major political parties have matured to the point of recognizing and respecting the freedom of the press," though political parties still seeks to influence newspapers through purchased advertising, News Editor Ahman said.

In rural towns, however, retaliation still occurs. Pressed for an example, Mr. Ahman said reporters who have written articles critical of local decisions or inaction have had to face police interrogations after local politicians or their supporters, angry over coverage, filed false police reports.

For a newspaper junky like myself, this place is a cornucopia of pleasures. The big dailies remind me of American newspapers in their heyday, printing colorful weekly sections dedicated to health, science, entertainment, art, literature, campus life, even women's issues.

And get this: Dhaka welcomed its newest daily paper two weeks ago -- this at a time American newspapers are reeling, if not closing, under declining revenues and fragmented audiences.

Most American papers have sharply reduced their physical size -- fewer and smaller pages, with fewer articles -- and the newsroom staffs that produce them. The Ventura County Star is no exception.

Why is Bangladesh different?

The biggest contributing reason, as far as I can tell, is that Bangladesh lags far behind the U.S. when it comes to technology infrastructure and high-speed Internet connections, which in the states have eroded home delivery numbers and newspaper classified sales as more readers turn to the Web to access those services for free.

Rural towns in Bangladesh barely have consistent electricity, much less a T-1 line.

Even in Dhaka, where Internet providers are available, home delivery numbers and sidewalk sales remain robust, according to one publisher I spoke with, because most of the literate residents still prefer a printed product as a primary source of their information.

Religion also plays a role. Few homes, particularly those of more conservative Muslim families, allow household computers. As one self-described conservative father put it, his children didn't need to be corrupted by the endless reaches of the World Wide Web.

Another reason newspapers here are surviving is cost. A newspaper sells on the street for 10 taka, mere pennies. Newsprint -- a huge expense in America -- is produced locally and relatively inexpensive, by comparison.

The Daily Star's Executive Editor didn't dispute any of my reasonings. However, he didn't see the paper's economic state quite as rosy, lamenting that advertising revenues are down more than he would like. But he conceded Bangladesh's reputation as a developing country has prevented some of the far more dramatic declines being felt at American newspapers.

"There are multinational companies coming and investing here, and want to get their product or service into consumers hands," he said. "That's definitely helped us."

"Everything in Bangladesh is politicized," he added. "People are hungry to know what their government is up to. That helps us, too."

Below is a two-minute video from a recent tour of the NTV studios during its nightly newscast. NTV is one of a handful of stations based in Dhaka that employ part-time news correspondents in towns across the country.

Satellite TV is relatively new in this country -- arriving in the late 1990s -- and has dramatically helped get information to communities outside the capital, local station officials said.

Satellite channel ATN Bangla is the largest privately owned news station and broadcasts news and features programming 24 hours a day, including news broadcasts in English that are announced by bilingual newscasters.

Got up early this morning (5:30 a.m. Monday!), so I could try to talk my way into the gated American Club to watch Super Bowl XLIV. (Bangladesh cable, after all, has limited English channels and no CBS.)

Lucky for me, an expatriate named Duane took pity on me and signed me in as a guest just as the second quarter was beginning.

The upstairs clubhouse was small, but cozy with a wooden bar and a pool table. It's not usually open this early, I was told, but an exception was made for the big game. The televisions were old and the signal a little choppy, but it was a welcome respite. There was even Starbucks coffee!

About 25 people showed up, men and women, mostly young soldiers and white-haired diplomats. I sat next to a friendly, bearded Catholic priest named Tom McDermott.

After years spent in Africa, he was placed in Dhaka about 18 months ago. He teaches at a seminary nearby, and on Saturdays, performs Mass in English for the local English crowd and visitors.

After the broadcast (which, in all-too-typical Bangladesh style, unexpectedly and inexplicably went out in the fourth quarter for several minutes to the crowd's noisy displeasure), I asked him if he had had much luck converting Muslims to Catholicism. He laughed. "Muslims don't convert," he said.

He said he even doesn't try, though Muslims are more than welcome at the parish. His work, along with other faith leaders in country, primarily is focused on the rural tribes far outside the capital city where Christianity has a small, but growing foothold.

This week, he's leaving for the rural community of Mymensing to celebrate the 100th anniversary of a diocese there. He estimated the first Catholic colonists arrived here around the 1850s. 

Today, most efforts are focused on building schools, promoting education, cooperatives and youth immunization in the tribal areas, which often have no formalized religion. Many of the tribes are "halfish-Hindus," he said, but have never had a formal house of worship or temple.

As for converting Muslims, there's no need. Catholicism and Islam share central themes, after all, both obedient to one God, daily prayer, giving alms and assisting those who are deprived.

That got us talking about how Muslims are viewed since 9/11 and the enduring Middle East wars. Too often, perhaps, with skepticism, we both agreed.

The priest was among the chorus of people since I arrived here who have described Muslims as a peace-loving people.

The Islamic fanatics, he felt, like the Taliban and al-Qaeda, who cite the Koran, Muslims' holy text, to incite and encourage violence are an "an isolated fringe group," just like the Ku Klux Klan, which uses the Bible as a crutch for its racist behavior, should not be considered the norm for Christianity.

"Muslims are good, trustworthy people," he said.

(PHOTO CREDIT: I pulled this photo from the New York Times Web site. The American Club staff politely asked me not to take any photos inside the clubhouse.)

Cricket and soccer may be all the rage in Bangladesh when it comes to packed stadiums and sports headlines, but badminton, I have found, is a favored activity among adult men -- particularly at night.

All day, it seems, barefooted kids can be found playing soccer or cricket at parks and vacant fields in cities and rural lands alike. But most men take to lighted, dirt courts at night -- usually after 10 p.m. -- when their work days are over.

My host in Srimongal, Jewel, 28, told me he plays badminton at least four times a week with friends. The action and games are quick (first one to 15 to wins), unlike soccer and especially cricket, where matches can last for hours.

"It's a short guy's sport," Jewel said, who stands about 5-foot, 8. "Bangladeshis are a short people. We'll never be good at basketball. But badminton is about all quickness and smarts."

Bangladesh's love of badminton and its unconventional feathered shuttlecock shouldn't come as a surprise. The beginnings of the sport can be traced more than 200 years to British-controlled India, where it was created by British military officers stationed there.

Bangladesh is famous for its tea. 

And in Srimongal, the tea capital of this tea-loving nation, you can experience it up close and personnel.

We found this hilly area, with its vast tea estates, citrus and rubber tree orchards, to be one of the most picturesque and enjoyable parts of the country. It's one of the few areas (outside the Sundarbans) where you can take a walk and not see another person.

One of the area's proud creations is seven-layer tea, invented by Romash Ram Gour. We visited a roadside "tea cabin," and sipped a cup of this Willy Wonka-esque concoction.

According to one of the cashiers, it took Gour almost two years to come up with his special formula. The tea (held here by my teammate Jim Bailey) has at least five different blends poured on top of each other, and his trick is to boil the teas at different temperatures. 

The cashier openly discussed the ingredients (they use green and ginger and white teas, among others), but he refused to allow me to see the process of making layers. 

Indeed, all the tea was made off site and out of sight. While the tea brewed, we relaxed, talking in a small courtyard while watching children play cricket in a dirt field across the road.

For such a grand creation, the tea glasses were quite ordinary. The glasses also arrived inside another glass full of warm water so the layered tea stayed warm.

The tea cabin only served tea, nothing else. Why bother, I guess,  when people travel for miles for this unique concoction. A glass of seven-layer tea, the most expensive item on the menu, was a whopping 70 taka ($1 US).

It sat abandoned for nearly 100 years before the government decided to turn it into a national museum in 1985 and invest in its restoration. Today, it annually attracts thousands of local and foreign tourists.

Health care in Bangladesh, as with most amenities, is readily available for people with money. Those with it can afford private doctors, hospital stays and specialized care. Those without go to underfunded and understaffed clinics constantly challenged to serve an overwhelming need. 

The locals described the staff at these inundated clinics as "saints" because they are paid little and often work in neglected conditions.

With millions of residents earning little to no money (and consequently paying no taxes), the  health needs cannot be addressed by the government alone.

To help fill the gap, particularly in rural areas, are privately funded facilities provided by, among others, the Hope Foundation for Women and Children of Bangladesh, a U.S. based charitable organization.

We visited one of Hope's projects, the Cox's Bazar Maa -O- Shishu Hospital, a 24-hour, 7-day-a-week hospital for women and children.

Though spare, the 40-bed facility had well-lit, spacious rooms for patients, and the equipment to offer X-rays, ultrasounds and blood work. A resident medical officer is available at almost any hour. A minivan emblazoned with "Ambulance" sat in the driveway.

Bangladesh has an extremely high infant and child mortality rate, many victims of diarrhea and bacterial dysentery. 

The root cause, almost universally, is contaminated water, said the director of the facility, a gregarious former soil scientist named Jalal Uddin Mohammad Shoaib. Wells and ponds that have been dug into relatively shallow aquifers produce drinking water with levels of arsenic far above those considered safe, he said.

Most of the deaths, he said, could be prevented with better education of preventive health and early intervention to manage infectious conditions.

"We desperately need to focus on education and outreach," he said. "All the women who come here, we need to teach them proper hygiene, better ways to protect water supplies, and in turn they can teach their communities."

We were allowed into the hospital's recovery area, a large open room where about 25 women, many with small children, were resting on cots. Some sat up. Others seemingly too fatigued to even turn over.

No one is turned away at the hospital, Shoaib explained, but to help cover costs, those with an income are charged a nominal visit, consultation and bed fee, depending on the level of care.

Each hospital, under the Hope Foundation model, is sponsored by a resident or expatriate of the village, who provides land and funds (about $5,000 US) to build the center or hospital. The sponsor also must agree to fund running costs for two to three years until it becomes self-sustaining (Average cost to run a clinic three days a week is about $300 to $400 US a month, Shaoib estimated.)

Obtaining additional funding is a constant challenge. "We have to beg for every dollar," he said.

He showed us a small card written in Bengali. He explained it's a family coverage plan, and for 50 taka (about 80 cents) a family, no matter its size, can receive free basic health examinations for a year. Subsequent medical attention, like X-rays or anti-bacterial medicine, would have an additional cost.

But as Shoaib said, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

"If we can keep these children from getting sick in the first place, they have a greater chance for survival," he said. "And when the families know they can receive free examinations, they are more willing to seek care early on when we have the best chance to help them and educate them."

Part of this program has us attend the meetings of local Rotary clubs and visit their club projects. Among them, we've visited rural schools, hospitals for women and children, and newly installed clean water wells. All are valuable contributions.

But I was struck at this morning's meeting when Dr. Munir Ahmed told us that his club was partnering with UNAIDS, a joint United Nations program, to hold a seminar to highlight tolerance and awareness of HIV and AIDS prevention.

More than that, the doctor said he wanted to change things up by inviting those "marginalized," including HIV-infected gays and lesbians, street prostitutes and transgender residents to share their stories and put a human face on those affected.

"We must end the stigma these people live with," he said, adding that due to the social stigma attached to being transgender and the lack of employment opportunities, many feel forced to engage in commercial sex work.

I was impressed that a Rotary Club would put its name and efforts behind such a cause, particularly so in a religiously conservative country where many women won't step in public without being enshroud in cloth. Bangladesh and America may be a world apart, but it was another reminder of our similarities and shared struggles.

Early on, I visited Bangladesh's national museum

and an exhibit dedicated to the country's founder, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who was assassinated almost 35 years ago in a military coup.

The exhibit covered nearly an entire wing of the building, featuring dozens of black-and-white photographs, many depicting violent scenes from Bangladesh's independence war against Pakistan in 1971.

Rahman led the independence effort, and is considered the father of the nation. He 

headed the Awami League, served as the first President of Bangladesh and later became Prime Minister.

His picture is still posted all over town, including on massive billboards.

So I was a bit taken this morning to learn that five former soldiers were executed just past midnight Thursday for his murder some three decades later.

The men were hanged inside Dhaka Central Jail, hours after the Supreme Court rejected their review plea, according to local papers.

The entire execution process took just 40 minutes to be completed, the reports said, after a trial that dragged on for 13 years.

Six other men sentenced to death remain at large, and a seventh man connected to the killings is believed to have died overseas, reports said.

"A dark cloud that has been looming over the nation since that day was partially removed early this morning with the executions of five of the 12 condemned," read a front-page opinion piece in The Daily Star, Bangladesh's largest English language newspaper. "The incidents of August 15, 1975 constitute the darkest part in the history of Bangladesh's politics, as the episode introduced bloodbath as a means of regime change in the country."

Along with Rahman, his wife and three sons, including 10-year-old Russel, were repeatedly shot and killed. His daughters -- including current Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina and her younger sister Sheikh Rehana -- were abroad at the time of 

the incident and survived.

By noon Thursday, mourners prayed in the streets and wreaths were laid at the portrait of Rahman at the museum. Later, the bodies of the killers were taken by ambulance from the jail and buried at their ancestral village homes.

"The nation is now stigma free," Deputy Leader of the Parliament Syeda Sajeda Chowdhury told reporters, pointing to the long wait for justice. "The nation was waiting for the day."

According to one report, the soldiers did not deny their role in Rahman's killing, but argued they should be tried in a military court rather than civilian.

John, the team leader, and I visited a one-room school house about 25 kilometers south of Cox's Bazar. The rural classroom was built for children of impoverished area fishermen, many of whom are illiterate.

The school, including all materials, the instructor, even the building, is funded by the Rotary Club of Cox's Bazar Shaikat.

It's just one of dozens of schools various Rotary clubs have constructed in rural areas across Bangladesh, especially in remote tribal areas where the government cannot afford to do it.

Our visit was unexpected, and the children's faces lit up when we walked in. Some 60 students were seated on a hardened dirt floor -- no desks -- in organized rows split by a walkway down the middle of the room. In front of them lay simple workbooks and a pencil.

A couple of students were selected to come before us and count to 10, first in Bengali, then in English. The children, ages 4 to 6, get two years of school, free of charge, our Rotarian guides tell us.

For some of the children, this may be the only formal teaching they receive.

By age 6 or 7, they're old enough to assist on the boat, which is the family's only means of income. 

An education is often their best chance for a different life.

It's particularly important for the girls to continue on to primary school, because they often are kept at home to care for younger children and can pass on their knowledge. Before we leave, a girl sings for us.

* I feel compelled to note that, as I am typing this hours later, I can see from the balcony I am sitting on a dairy cow nosing at a pile of days-old trash in the alleyway below me. The air is filled with the pungent smell of burning plastic. Even though Cox's Bazar is a beach town and considered a tourist destination, the squalor that lines many of the roads and alleys in the bigger cities remains ever-present.

After a week on the road and a bout with a testy stomach virus, I am back in Dhaka, the capital city, and should be able to add updates to the blog all week. So look for those, particularly a long-overdue post on the local cuisine.

While the telephone system shines, Internet connections here, in general, are slow and finicky, particularly in rural areas. It's been a real challenge to upload videos.

Ironically, while a dearth of a high-speed wireless system has been strain for the blog, it's been a boon for Bangladesh's newspaper industry.

I shared a meal with the publisher of one of Chittagong's largest daily newspapers and he told me few homes, particularly those of more conservative Muslim families, have household computers. Even wealthier business people usually complete work at their offices, not at home at night -- when they prefer to read a newspaper, sometimes even two.

Advertising revenues have dipped over the last two years, following a global trend, he conceded. But nothing on the double-digit scale being felt at most American newspapers, which have seen steep loses from the battered automobile and real estate sectors. Meanwhile, home delivery numbers and sidewalk sales remain robust because Chittagongians still frequently turn to a printed product as a primary source of their information.

We have just returned from a four-day river cruise to the largest mangrove swamp in the world and home to the Royal Bengal Tiger. Though mostly a sight-seeing tour, we did come across a small village of river fishermen and got to swim in the salty waters of the Bay of Bengal.

A taste of the traffic and street scene in Old Dhaka.

Travel half way across the world and everyone's favorite complaint is the traffic. It's terrible, the locals say. And getting worse, they insist, as more people, often refugees from flood-battered rural areas, flood the city without any additional roadways.

On my first night, I was taken by car to a "private club," which featured a noisy bingo hall on the first floor and a series smoke-choked card rooms upstairs. It took us 50 minutes to cover about 6 miles, if that.

As Rezi, a gentleman dressed in a full suit at the club, told me, "When you travel across Dhaka, you don't measure it in kilometers. You measure by what time of day and by how many minutes it will take you, or, at worst, hours." Sound familiar?

There is no way you could convince me to drive here.

First, the steering wheel is on the right side and you must drive on the left (perhaps a result of early British colonization). The street lights are purely for decoration. The streets are near-constantly jammed. Rickshaws and "baby taxis" (small motorized carts) flood the road, as well as crowded buses (passengers even sit on top). People dart across the street. Beggars, many often carding infants in their arms, pound on your windows at blocked intersections. And it's loud, too, with a chorus of horns.

It's also strangely beautiful. I have yet to see anyone get hurt, nor anyone flash a nasty stare or hand gesture. As chaotic as it is, there's a rhythm to it, cars and rickshaws weaving and everyone slowly laboring forward. So I sit back and soak it all in. The road conditions? Mostly chunked pavement and compacted dirt, with no sidewalks. If there is any construction, the materials -- bricks, sand -- are stacked and dumped in head-high piles just off the road, next to roadside food carts and small piles of trash, which are often burned.

My video introduction days before my arrival in Bangladesh.

In a couple of days, I will leave the sleepy coastal community of Ventura for Dhaka, Bangladesh, one of the most densely populated capital cities in the world, and one of the most impoverished.

The transatlantic trip will take multiple planes and more than 30 hours. I won't be alone.

I'm one of four "young professionals" selected for a monthlong tour of Bangladesh as part of Rotary Foundation's annual Group Study Exchange program.

We'll tour the low-lying country, shadow and interact with professionals working in similar fields as our own (in my case, newsrooms in Dhaka and Chittagong), immerse ourselves in Bangladeshi culture and institutions, and tour Rotary projects.

I plan to chronicle my observations and adventures here on this blog -- Discovering Bangladesh. So check back for updates, pictures and, if all goes well, even video clips.

The others on the "team" are Jim Bailey, a science teacher from Ojai, Andrea Barkan, a grant writer from Ventura, and Marjorie Wass, a public relations professional from Santa Barbara. Our team leader is Rotarian John Kenyon of Ojai, a veteran traveler who has visited Nigeria and India in promotion of Rotary¹s worldwide efforts to eradicate polio.

Why Bangladesh, a fractious, poor, flood-prone country once described as a "basket case" by Henry Kissinger? A Muslim-majority nation of more than 150 million where upwards of 30 percent live on less than a $1 a day?

Because despite its trials, it's a dynamic country filled with "proud, family- and peace-loving residents" committed to a secular democracy and a readiness to participate in an increasingly global community, said Syed Rabius Shams, a banker and Rotarian from Dhaka who visited Ventura County in October.

Because it's the home of the Bengal tiger, mangrove swamps, centuries-old mosques and Buddhist kingdoms, lush tea plantations and Cox's Bazar -- the longest continuous natural sandy beach in the world.

Because they might just be able to teach us something: Bangladesh has banned all petroleum and diesel-fueled vehicles from some urban areas, with visions of expanding the ban to the entire country, and is in the process of banning plastic bags.

Because of its people, like Nobel Peace Prize recipient and economist Muhammad Yunus who developed the concept of microcredit.

And because, mostly, as "Shams" insisted during his visit, adventure is not just a possibility, but a certainty.