Onek onek bump



Lalbagh Fort, Old Dhaka - can you feel the sweaty heat???

Onek Onek Bump - translates as 'many many bumps'.  Now I could be referring to the bumps along the way whilst out and about with the kids in the rickshaw ( there are indeed, onek onek bumps) or I could be referring to the bumps on Arty's head.  Playing with his sister whilst waiting for the school bus - fall over, massive bump to head and cut lip.  Playing with mummy inside - pretending to in fact be a rickshaw wallah.  Fall off bike - onek onek bump.




So I promised an update on Eid and it's been a little slow coming.  Eid.  Seems like a lifetime ago already - now we are into hartels, burning buses and molotov cocktails!  Even in the diplomatic zone - imagine that!  The kids are oblivious to it all, as are most of us in reality as it's not something you see every day out on the streets in this area of Dhaka.  There are a lot more policy about now and there were reports of a burnt out bus on the road on my way to work, but it was gone this morning.  Otherwise, life for the lucky ones in Dhaka continues as normal - we go to work (the streets are empty - a plus side of a hartal) and come home and continue reading 'Room on the Broom' with the kids.  For those who are less lucky, they can't get to work (due to the hartel) and therefore lose a day of income, and if they do come to work they are at risk from demonstrations on the street and attack in certain areas of the country.

Why?  Well, because of the elections.  I won't go into it all here but it's quite an interesting time here.  You can read all about it on Wikipedia if you want to!




Afternoon tea - as a distraction from the dead cows!

Anyway, back to Eid.  So, this was the bloody Eid.  The Eid where the cattle are lowing....until they are killed - and then distributed - 1/3 for family and friends, 1/3 for the household and 1/3 for the poor.  The cows are fattened up apparently before Eid - and an interesting side effect of this is that cows are sometimes given pain killers to reduce the fever which might be associated with it.  The pain killer of use has been, until recent times, Diclofenac.  This is also given to humans but the cattle version has been widely used in South Asia - not only for fattening up cows but also as a general pain killer.  This drug has now been banned for use in cattle because it has been found to be responsible causing the death of vultures - 99% of the vultures in South Asia have died out in the past 10 years!  That is a remarkable rate. Vultures - not the most attractive birds it has to be said, but so vital for the food chain and ecosystem to help with the removal of dead and decaying animals from the landscape. You can read more about it here - http://www.rspb.org.uk/supporting/campaigns/vultures/

So Eid (I am easily distracted).  We took it in turns to venture out onto the streets to see what was happening.  The kids (well, Isobel) displayed what some may think is a slightly odd interest in dead cows - on looking through Peter's pictures (which were erm, well, quite graffic is one to describe them!) she wanted to see more of the 'blood cows'.  So much for us trying to protect her.  The actual process was quite interesting - it was very orderly and over relatively quickly.  There wasn't a lot of noise.  There were a lot of men wandering around with large knives which was slightly scary, but no one seemed to mind the strange westerners standing looking at them.  Some pictures (from a distance!) are below (right at the bottom) - be warned.

Egg stacking - at SandaGhat

We then took the kids down to Old Dhaka the next day - we took advantage of the empty streets to go off on our adventure.  Half an hour it took.  Half an hour - for Dhaka this is remarkable as normally it would take 2 on a good day!  So, we went first to the Lalbagh Fort - built about 300 years ago.  An oasis amongst the madness.  On the way there were dead cow remnants - a few horns, heads, skins and the like piled at the side of the road (I say a few, I really mean A LOT).  The kids though were mainly oblivious.


Taking pictures of the picture takers

The fort, an oasis of calm.  Unless of course you are aged between 2.5 and 4.5 and have crazy blonde hair, in which case you are mobbed by amateur photographers who all want a snap of you - ideally cuddling them (not ideal for a small child who is slightly overcome by it all).  I took some photos of the photo takers.  Then it was on to SandaGhat - the main passenger port in Dhaka. 



And that was even more crazy.  People, people, people.  Everywhere.  And then there were two little blonde ones.   There were probably about 20 ships, massive things - some in a far better state of repair than others.  Then behind these ships you could see another row of boats trying to get in to pick people up.  There were little wooden boats manoevering themsevles between them - jostling for space with these giant hulks.  On the boats were fruits of different kinds, though mainly pineapples.  It was smelly, it was hot, we had helpers (well, men following us), the water was filthy, the people all starred.  It was brilliant.  The kids were put up high on our shoulders to rescue them somewhat from the chaos and photo taking people all around but it really was Asia - crowded, chaotic, full of colour and noise, smelly but also full of people with smiling faces and an interest in where we were from, why we were there and whether we liked it in their country.



So, in summary, a brief equation for our day out in Old Dhaka: we have people, people people + small blonde children = onek onek photographs and onek onek tired children! At the end of the day, Isobel said 'mummy, I don't want anyone else to take a picture'.  I really can't blame her.

And so I end this little update not only with some pictures from our recent adventures but also with a link to a blog I was reading about.  I'm loving it - it really brings a smile to my face.  Isobel used to cry for (a) having sandwiches cut as squares not triangles; (b) having weetabix for breaksfast 2 seconds after saying she wanted weetabix; (c) and my favourite - having a tantrum when the cake miz which she had made had to be put in the oven to cook.  'NOOoooooo, mummy, I want the cake NOooooWWWW'. Ah, the joy.  Check it out if you have kids and maybe even if you don't (it would explain what's going on perhaps with a screaming child in a supermarket trolley - nothing that makes any sense to an adult that's what!). 

http://www.reasonsmysoniscrying.com/

A few dead cows below! Warning (not that graphic as from a distance)...