Popagandhi

Your daughter, working the field in Bangladesh.

At Nilphamari’s Filaria Hospital — the only hospital in Bangladesh, and indeed, the world, devoted to Filaria, the cause of elephantiasis. Talking to a woman who has had elephantiasis for 30 years before she realized it’s not a curse or a supernatural event, but the result of some unfortunate mosquito bites.

My thing for strong women, young and old, clothed and not, manifests itself even in Botlagiri.

Things did get better since the last post (what transpired leading to such a grouchy post was a bout of vomitting and diarrhea, which I’m sure was caused by an unfortunate prawn masala), I became a workaholic, rockstar journalist and occasional photographer. Since yesterday was Friday, we got to stay in, but staying in in Sirajgonj is no fun at all. We declared it Bob Day, listened to a ton of Bob Dylan, watched the documentary No Direction Home, and I felt loads better. Because I’m such a twat, and food is too important to me, good, authentic, proper, spicy and real Bengali meals in hole in the wall places in Syedpur and Rangpur played a role in lifting my spirits, and I realized my angst was not towards Sirajgonj or even towards rural Bangladesh, but towards bad food in bad restaurants. A good, fresh rui or ilish done by a proper Bengali establishment, with some murgi and goru, followed by a wonderfully done doi, can go a long way in making me happy.

Bangladesh has been a treat and a challenge in equal parts. I was given unlimited access to rural Bangladesh, a world where leprosy and elephantiasis, death and destruction from flooding, are real world problems. It’s every photojournalist’s dream to be able to go to places so remote the modern world has no insight into their lives… but we often fail to consider the second part, that is, we look so alien to them we’re public spectacles, making all photographic enterprise a real challenge (especially when you’re working wide, you’re always trying to get 5 people out of the frame). While I earlier worried about how being female in this field means I have to work twice as hard, I also found out from my time in Bangladesh I should focus on my strengths: being an Asian woman with a close understanding of Bengali and Indian culture and politics, who makes an effort to speak and pick up their language, whose skin tone even resembles certain Bangladeshi tribes (near the Burma border). Being a young woman also helped; old people and young children loved me, young men were always eager to help, and everywhere in the villages my being Asian and female helped make things easier for me, as compared to white, British, and male. My time here has made me think hard about my career options and future plans.

Anyway, an in-room internet connection does mean one thing: back in Dhaka now, flying to India tomorrow, then hopefully being able to catch a night train to the northeast for the real work.