A Beast Let Loose In Dhaka

Fearlessly stalking the unsuspecting residents of the Baridhara district of Dhaka, Bangladesh, roams of creature of such terror that passersby leap from his path as he skulks through the streets looking for his next victim. Desperate to avoid his dripping fangs of death, they will throw themselves into oncoming traffic rather than face him. Clearly, never before have they seen the likes of such a demon and the sight of him makes them quake in fear.

What manner of demon is this you might ask? A chupacabra?? A werewolf?? Worse…it’s my seven pound Yorkshire Terrier, Chumleigh.

Can I just say that Bengali’s are not dog people? You wouldn’t expect a seven pound dog to strike fear and trembling into the hearts of so many, but if our daily walks are any indication this is indeed what happens.

How can this be, you might ask? Let me explain. Bangladesh is one of the poorest countries in the world. The added expense of taking care of a pet must seem just silly to most people. 

This being the case, there are many dogs around Dhaka, but they are mostly all strays with the occasional guard dog thrown in and the constant breeding amongst them has created sort of generic looking street dog. I know it sounds politically incorrect, but they all sort of look alike.

The dogs here roam the streets untended and can be quite feral. They are always hungry and tend to bite, so people are generally afraid of them and avoid them at all cost. That being said, you would not think that a froofy little pure bred terrier would be so intimidating and yet he apparently is.

We live in an apartment building with no yard, so it is necessary to take Chumleigh the Terrible on frequent walks so he can take care of business. I have had people literally dive to one side as we trot down the street. There’s Chumleigh looking all cute and cuddly; in fact, rather like an Ewok, yet when people see him they dart away in fear. The only thing greater than their fear of this unexplainable beast is their inherent curiosity.

The other day one swarthy soul who was clearly braver than the rest approached Chumleigh and I. He stopped and looked long and hard at the diminutive demon, then looked up and said “Madame, please. What animal is this”? I replied…”huh”? “Again he queried, “What animal is this please”? Confused, I said, “Ummm…a dog, a chowto kukur (little dog)”. His face registered shock and disbelief. “No madame, not kukur. What type of animal?”. I’m perplexed, thinking “Dude, I don’t care whether you believe me or not, it’s a dog”! I repeated my previous statement and added, “Really, he’s just a little dog”. He shook his head and wandered away muttering, “no m’am. Not kukur”. I shrugged and we continued our walk, just having a quick look down at Chumleigh for confirmation. Who knew, maybe I’d been wrong this whole time.

Chumleigh and I walk several times a day, so the sight of him is becoming more common. Our guards love him and want to pet him every time they open the gates for us to leave the building. Still, many people scurry out of his reach as we walk by, but occasionally some enlightened being sees him for the bundle of cute that he really is.

While the sight of him has become more common to our neighbors, there are some things that they will never understand. A gentleman watched me in utter shock and consternation yesterday, when after Chumleigh left a small pile of poop on the ground I scooped it up in one of the tiny purple poop bags nestled in the plastic container attached to his lead, neatly tied the bundle and walked on. I am not exaggerating when I say he stood there watching me with his mouth hanging open. He gaped for so long, I think I saw drool. I suspect he thought I was keeping it for my personal poop collection. I did not bother to correct him.

Yesterday evening Derek and I were out perambulating with demon dog when an attractive Bengali couple riding in a rickshaw ordered their driver to pull over and jumped out, moving quickly towards us. They fawned over Chumleigh for a moment and then asked us if they could have their picture taken with him. 

Derek asked the woman if she wanted to hold him. She looked scandalized and slightly terrified and quickly shook her no but asked if she might just put her hand on his lead, so Derek picked him up and stood next to her while she smiled nervously and touched his lead for the picture. The man eagerly accepted Derek’s offer to hold him, then proceeded to hold him out away from his body like one might hold a baby covered from head to toe in poop. They happily took their pictures, thanked us and climbed back into their rickshaw. Oh how I'd had my camera with me.

Chumleigh is a celebrity now. I suspect he will get a swelled head and be insufferable. Oh well, Since Derek’s a diplomat, I guess that makes Chumleigh a Diplo-dog, so it’s only to be expected.

And Then They Sprayed Us With Pesticide

It’s hard to know where to start. We’re here in Bangladesh now! The past three days have been a blinding assault on our senses. I think I finally realized we were in Bangladesh yesterday morning at 5:00 am when I heard the call to prayers from the mosque next door.  It’s not as melodic as you might think and sounded very much like someone had accidentally hit their toe with a hammer.

Our flight from Washington D.C. to Doha was wonderful. Flying Qatar Air was like flying Pan Am back in the 70’s when customer comfort and customer service mattered. The seats were roomy and we had two excellent meals. After dinner the lights were gently dimmed until the cabin was dark, and in the morning, before breakfast, the lights came back up just as gently. We were provided with all the movies, TV shows and games you could ever want for on our individual screens and even Derek had plenty of leg room. As icing on the cake, the custom colored Bose noise cancelling headphones Derek had given me for Christmas completely obliterated all airplane noise.

Arriving in Doha was like stepping into the future. A glistening terminal filled with giant TV screens welcomed us to Qatar with a stream of shops such as Chanel, Hermes, Bvlgari, Burberry, ad infinitum. I went into my first gift shop ever where you could find bejeweled camels and hookah pipes. The distance we had traveled started to sink in as they announced boarding for places like Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Tehran and other exotic locations too far to reach directly from the states.

One of the first things I noticed in Doha was a gleaming, glassed in room filled with sleek and inviting recliners. There were several men relaxing comfortably and I thought how nice that looked until I noticed the sign on the door proclaiming “Men’s Quiet Room”. I’m not really a feminist, but there were definite fluttering as the sight of that sign. We were definitely in the Middle East now.

As pleasant as our flight to Doha had been, was equal to how miserable our flight to Dhaka was. You will see that I have posted a picture of a train covered with scores of people riding on the roof of the train. 

This is a common practice in Bangladesh because if you ride inside the train you pay and if you ride on top, you don’t. It is free to those who manage to hang on tightly enough and don’t lose any limbs. Now picture a similar scene, if you will, of an airplane with scores of passengers riding on top. I didn’t personally check to see, but it wouldn’t have surprised me to see passengers clinging tenaciously to the top of the plane.

The spacious seats of the previous flight had been replaced by seats more suited to a slender four year old; not to me and most especially not to my 6’4” hulk of a husband! Thankfully we still had good food and continuous entertainment, but the seats were so narrow that I still have imprints embedded into my hips from where the headphones plugged into the side of the seat. The smell in the cabin was…strong. Though the plane was smaller than our first flight I’m fairly certain there were 10 or 15 times more passengers. All around me, men stood restlessly in the aisles for most of the flight. Sleep was elusive. As I made my way to the restroom at the back of the plane I noted two definitive things about myself. I was very female and I was very…pale.

The thirteen hours we were on the first flight seemed considerably shorter than the four and a half hours we endured on the second flight. For starters, the flight didn’t start out well. We sat on the runway an hour and a half waiting for several passengers whose connecting flight was late. Is it unkind that I thought it a better idea for them to just catch the next flight?

I have been flying internationally since I was 12, but the flight into Dhaka yielded the most oddly disturbing experience I have ever had. As we were preparing for landing, the flight attendant announced over the PA that due to Bengali regulations, they were required to spray the plane with pesticide….inside…while we were in it. She then stated that if anyone was concerned about health issues related to inhaling said pesticides Qatar air recommended not breathing for the next fifteen minutes or so. Okay, she may not have used those exact words, but let’s be honest; isn’t that the implication?? It’ recirculated air for heavens sake! Derek and I glanced at each other scandalized by this turn of events. Moments later a slightly sweet chemical odor flooded the cabin. I opted to breathe into my blanket rather than quit breathing entirely. If I become a mutant or drop dead unexpectedly, you’ll all know why.

I was desperate with anticipation as we prepared to land. We’ve been working towards this moment for months. I nudged Derek, who had viciously hogged the window seat, out of the way in my effort to scan the skyline for signs of civilization but detected nothing in the dark early morning hour. As our elevation continued to decrease I finally saw it. Millions of dim lights everywhere crowding the horizon like sulking ghosts, surrounding us completely. I say dim because the haze of humidity and pollution almost completely obscured the city from our view even though it was only a couple of miles away, but still, the shear density of it was daunting.

The plane descended, closing in on the ground only to begin an unexpected ascent at the last minute. The pilot’s voice crackled over the PA, apologizing for missing the approach and announced we would circle around and try again. Can I just say that this did nothing to assuage my concerns about this particular flight in general? I prayed for a quick and safe landing.

You know how generally speaking, when the plane lands everyone sits around waiting to disembark and then when given the go ahead, they wait until the passengers ahead of them disembark? Yeah…not on this flight. As the wheels touched down, before we had even come to a stop the thronging herd on board began standing and gathering their belongings. Stern flight attendants ordered everyone back to their seats. Finally the plane came to a shuddering stop and a single mass of humanity lurched forward, eager to disembark. Derek and I chose a more prudent approach and huddled close to the window until everyone had passed.

As we entered the departure lounge of Dhaka International Airport, it was clear that we had left behind the gleaming futuristic terminal of Doha and civilization. The temperature even at 5:00 am was a sultry 80 degrees or so. Mosquitoes buzzed around us looking for purchase, and yes, we were still inside the terminal.

Rickety looking shops were lined up along one side as we made our way to customs. EVERYONE stared at us. They haven’t stopped staring even now, several days later and I’m told they never will. Dhaka isn’t exactly a tourist hot spot, so the sight of pale faced Americans is a novelty.

As we came down an escalator we saw two men standing with a sign bearing our name. One was our sponsor Scott, the other was our expediter. Apparently it was his job to tell everyone to back off and explain that Derek was with the embassy. Our Visa’s were processed in record time and after flashing our diplomatic passports, we were ushered past customs. I’m not gonna lie, I really liked that part!

I’m told that it was really impressive that it only took an hour for our luggage to arrive at the baggage carousel. I would have been more patient, but we had just been reunited with a hysterical Yorkshire terrier who hadn’t peed in twenty four hours and wasn’t allowed out of his cage until we left the terminal.

As we exited the airport with our newly acquired luggage and traumatized dog, I was slapped in the face by the realization that we had just moved to a third world country. The noise and traffic and humanity swarmed around us as our expediter guided us to an armored van waiting at the curb. I begged for mercy for Chumleigh and the expediter reluctantly let me take him out of the kennel. We had speculated about whether Chumleigh would just go in his kennel since it was such a long trip. Clearly he hadn’t. Everyone in the vicinity watched in awe as he peed for what I’m certain was several minutes. He seemed very much relieved when he was finally done. Once he was finished, we were hustled into the heavily armored, windowless vehicle as a porter loaded our luggage into the back.

I have tried to block the trip to our apartment out of my mind forever. It was…stressful. For starters, it is a fallacy to say that they drive on the left side of the road in Bangladesh. In reality they all drive smack down the middle and play a wild game of chicken to see who swerves to the left, the right, or the sidewalk first. The game is played by thousands of cars, buses, rickshaw, people, motorcycles and bicycles. It is a wild dance accompanied by a cacophony of blaring horns. It is, in my humble opinion, a miracle that anyone leaves the road alive here. Ever. I will never again question whether we need to hire a driver. We are searching for one even as I type because I will NEVER drive on these roads.

Eventually we made it to our new house, but that is for another blog.

And so it begins!

Today is Monday, February 15, 2015.  After months of training, Derek is a diplomat. This Thursday, February 19, 2015 at 8:20 pm, we will be leaving Dulles International Airport to fly to Dhaka Bangladesh where we will begin a sure to be exciting new chapter in our lives. Can I just say that growing up in Bakersfield California, this is not an announcement I ever considered I would be making?

Our friends and family have been through this journey with us from the beginning and for that I thank you all. From the moment Derek received the first email inviting him to Washington D.C. for an interview until this moment, time has crept along at an agonizingly slow pace, each minute VERY slowly dissolving into the next, merging into hours, days, weeks and months as we have prepared for this move.

We have hit every possible obstacle from financial hardships ($8,000 for a new roof), to illness, to injuries. I should add a special thank you to my physical therapist, Cody, for keeping me in one piece for the past several months!

Derek’s preparation involved six months of intensive training with the State Department. Procedures, policies, programs, culminating in training for counter threat driving, hand to hand combat, weapons training, counter terrorism, hostage scenarios, operational first aid (good news, Derek can now mend your sucking chest wound and apply a special operations speed tourniquet) and he’s just in information management!

My contribution was to stay behind in Nebraska preparing our house for sale and getting our belongings ready for shipment. Climbing Mt. Everest would have been easier! I could go on…forever…it was a long arduous process and NOT exciting, so let’s skip through all that and move on to today.

Today we started the final sprint to the finish. What goes in our suitcases? What goes in our UAB (unaccompanied air baggage)? What gets left behind with our good friends the Spells. Did we forget the dog? How do you say “Where’s the bathroom” in Bangali? (I have not learned this phrase yet because apparently the word for bathroom is like 37 letters long and I can't pronounce it)!  Is Chumleigh’s health certificate in order? Sadly the answer to that one is NO! We have to get a new one tomorrow!

What can I tell you about where we’re going? It’s going to be amazing!!! I’ve already posted a lot of facts and figures. We will see and experience things we never have. I will take pictures! Lots of them! I can also tell you that political tension has escalated since we initially received our assignment. Hartal (“peaceful” strikes) are being held weekly. There have been some incidents; molotov cocktails and IED’s. The current situation is that we cannot travel through the city outside the diplomatic enclave, and within the enclave we can only travel in vehicles with the windows rolled up. No walking, bicycles, rickshaws (yes, really) or public transportation. When we arrive at the airport, we will be transported in an armored vehicle to the enclave. Will you be mad if I say I’m kind of excited?? Our hopes are that the current tensions will resolve soon.

And so it begins. From this point on, this blog will be about our lives with the State Department and all the trouble we get into (strike that…all the experiences we will have) when Derek isn’t at work! For the next two years we will be assigned to Dhaka but our travels will take us to other places as well. I could explode with the anticipation!