Drishtipat Blog

I was in Manila recently attending a conference. I spent a week in the city, though part of it was spent cooped up in the hotel room. One can never know much about a country from the little one sees in a few day, so none of what I say should be viewed as an expert analysis of the Philippines economy or society. But what I write is based on what I saw - after all, where else but in a blog post can I ramble on? Take all of it with a pinch of salt, sure. But I do hope this provokes some thoughts.

(More at Mukti)

I represented Drishtipat in a conference titled ‘Changing Asia: forging partnerships, building sustainability’ held in Manila on 29-30 Aug. The Conference was held by the Asia Forum to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Magsaysay Award, and more details are available here. Other representatives from Bangladesh were: the Prothom Alo editor Matiur Rahman; Father Richard Timm of Human Rights Hotline; and Sharif Kafi of another NGO.

In what follows, I summarise the Conference proceedings, and where appropriate, my take on things.
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Jyoti bhai has been pushing me to write a piece on generational changes in Bangladesh, and thus end my long exile away from my favourite Bangladeshi blog. So here I am, with some Dhaka-centric observations about generational changes. I cannot over-emphasize the Dhaka-centric, middle-class-centric (and perhaps, male-centric) nature of these observations. I worry that when we talk about “generational change”, we only mean a small portion of the population privileged to lead a life free of want, with enough leisure to indulge in art, politics, opinion-making and, of course, adda. Meanwhile, our farmers’ sons and daughters look at another generation on the farm with ever-shrinking land and ever-more complex global linkages, our domestic help bring their children to the city to serve our children, and the garment workers’ daughters line the streets of Tejgaon as our children go to school in BMWs and Volvos. Generations going by, no change at all.

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In a city where women in general are constantly victimised because of their gender and living alone is considered strange and often looked down upon even for men; there are a few individuals — women in particular — who due to often practical reasons, have opted to break tradition and are unafraid to live their own lives, in their own space. These independent women have chosen to live on their own, without the immediate support system of their families or a male figure — those who decided to set their own rules and redefine their roles in society.

Have you had similar experience that you would like to share?

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Homosexual men in Dhaka who openly identify themselves as such are mostly from the middle and upper income groups. In large part, they have come to understand their identity mainly from information obtained from the Internet, which those who know English are able to access from a computer at home or a cyber café. Men in Dhaka have had access to information and images related to gay issues since as early as 1996, but over the past decade there has been a mushrooming of cyber cafes all over the city, with the competition leading to affordable rates.

It was in late 2002 that the first online gay group for Bangladeshis – a Yahoo group called BOB, for Boys Only Bangladesh – was started by a handful of educated men. Tired of looking for other gay men in public places such as the Ramna Park hangout, they were hoping to build friendship ties online so as to begin talking about their sexuality comfortably. Since BOB is the biggest congregation of gay-identified men in Bangladesh, it has since come to be seen as something of a barometer of the gay community in the country. As such, BOB helps to gauge the political aspirations of this group

More here

International women’s day has been historically the day when people specially in our countries talk about how women are discreminated in their everyday lives, how they are being the victims of violence and all. but I have been thinking about women like us who never fall in that categories. we are independent young women, who control their own lives, i.e, have good careers and earn good money. we learnt at a very early stage of our lives that we were no less than the men.our parents invested the same amount of money they invested for their sons.but on this special day i have been just reflecting on what we are giving up in return (more…)

Mahmud Farooque, from the drishtipat writers’ collective, has chimed in this month’s forum on the reality of political dynasty. Almost a year ago, another blogger in this blog raised a lot of hue and cry with his “Say no to Dynastic Politics” piece. This time Mahmud goes into deep to unearth the cause and the reality of the situation. This study is quite pertinent as we are about to revisit “Minus 2 — the Sequel” in the coming days.

In late December, our progressive, chattering classes — in political addas, opinion pages and the blogosphere — recoiled almost instantaneously in disgust and disbelief upon learning that 19-year-old Bilawal Bhutto was designated to succeed his assassinated mother at the helm of the Pakistan People’s Party, leaving the leadership of the party in the hands of the third successive generation of its founding family.

However, a comparable outrage by the same group was remarkably absent in considering the implications of a Hillary Clinton candidacy, which, if successful, would mean a Bush or a Clinton has been on the US presidential ballot for 28 years and counting. There is an internet site called Bush-Clinton Forever that charts a possible roadmap of keeping either a Bush or a Clinton in the White House till as far as 2057!

So why does the prospect of a Hillary Clinton presidency not raise as many eyebrows among our progressive opinion-makers as does the prospect of a Bilawal Bhutto prime ministership?

When asked, a vast majority of them point to the process, and argue that in the US case the outcome was merely the product of chance and not something determined through an autocratic decree or institutional design. Notwithstanding the disputed results in Florida, there would have been a first Gore rather than a second Bush in the White House in 2001 had the four electoral votes in the state of New Hampshire gone into the Democratic column.

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I found myself at the Boi Mela on a temperate February Friday with a line that stretched all the way to the Shahbagh intersection on one side and Doyel Chattar on the other, dividing itself at TSC.

“Oh my God! Let’s come back some other day!”

“Kirey? Tui ki Bangladeshey notun ashchish naki? Chol shamney!”

We made our way towards the entrance of Bangla Academy.

“Can you imagine cutting into a line like this? That would be the fight of the year!”

“Let’s wait. This is Dhaka, not some bloody Western city where we queue up! We have true freedom here!”

The words were not altogether devoid of irony.

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Tired of speculating about the regime’s next move, or feeling disgusted about the blatant human rights violation, or worrying about the skyrocketing prices? Here is something completely different to discuss over. Is the Bangla we speak ‘mangled’? Should we be worried about the demise of ‘impeccable’ Bangla? Who decides the standard of impeccability anyhow? These questions were raised in a series of articles in Prothom Alo some time ago, and have been revived by a recent Daily Star piece (hat tip: Udayan). I’ll summarise these articles first before ending with some thoughts. Looking forward to the comments.

(More at Mukti)

Ever since 1/11 there has been endless debate as to the parameters of the role of the caretaker government. Under the constitution, the caretaker government is tasked with assisting the Election Commission in “holding the general election of members of parliament peacefully, fairly, and impartially.”

However, what this means in practice is subject to different interpretations. The minimalist view was that put forth by the Iajuddin-led caretaker government prior to 1/11 — the holding of elections, whether participated in or not, whether free and fair or not, full stop.

Prior to 1/11 there were plenty of supporters for this self-evidently preposterous position. Glaring inaccuracies in the electoral roll, partisanship of the Election Commission, the endemic use of money and muscle to influence voters — none of these were deemed problematic.

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Last time I was in Bangladesh during Roza, it was 1995. A decade has passed; I’ve regularly visited Bangladesh, but never during Roza.
Over the last twelve years, in this bidesh bivui, ‘roza’ has been replaced by ‘ramadan’. Typical conversations like “roza dhora” is now “Ramadan Mobarak”. Back in Desh never heard anyone wishing Ramadan Mubarak (Mubarak was reserved for eid only). Jommin deshe jodachar.

Although on a religious point of view the month of Ramadan/ Roza is meant to be a month of austerity, prayer, meditation and sacrifice, Roza comes to Bangladesh carrying a big bag of festivity in its back. The funfair begins with pre-roza food shopping spree. The preparation for a month long improved diets as well a daily variety of Iftar!

My early childhood memory of Roza is in fact memory of waking up at shesh rat ( late night) and eat vat with sagor kola with dudh. Then oaw! The pride, the self proclamation of being able to or being allowed to fast. Also those horrible mornings, when you wake up to see the day light through the window. What a heart break, unconsolable anger and sadness! The Goddamn parents didn’t call you at shesh rat to eat sehri. Immense depression engulfs the whole morning.
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How many DP readers have tried to walk into Sheraton/Sonargaon* fresh off a ricksha, wearing a plain lungi and a white cotton t-shirt (unless it’s for a performance)? Probably none. How many of us have gone to work in Dhaka that way? Probably the same number. How many of us have seen such a thing? I await the comments with much interest, and anticipate a few stories of 5-star hotel guards swearing at ricksha-pullers and beggars!

I apologise for raising these disturbing (and tasteless to some, I’m sure) questions because nothing highlights the differences between the formal and informal sectors of the economy more than the respective dress codes: trousers and whatever for the former, lungis and whatever for the latter. Why, even Dr. Yunus with all his Grameen checked clothing does not dare to wear a lungi for fear of offending some unspoken agreement made long ago on the fields of Polashi…. but I digress.

Asif Bhai’s post below raises concern that the self-proclaimed “bhodrolokes” are disconnected from the little people below. This does not necessarily mean - as is often repeated with much emotional bluster by critics of all governments - that they don’t know what it’s like to live among the “ordinary” people with ordinary incomes. They probably do: few in their generation were born with silver spoons in their mouth. Some probably even know poverty better than some of their critics do.

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Please download the Rickshaw Development Proposal

The challenge was to propose an idea which would have the greatest impact on poverty alleviation in
Bangladesh. After nine months of living and working in the country as volunteers, my colleague Thomas Wipperman and I realised that the answer was all around us. There are many marginalised groups in
Bangladesh; indigenous people, farmers afflicted by the Monga famines, HIV sufferers – but they compromise a tiny minority in a country of over 145 million. When the purpose of intervention is to reach as many people as possible at the lowest end of the social scale, the stand-out constituency is the rickshaw pullers. Rickshaw pullers are the essential cogs in
Bangladesh’s machine. And they deserve better.

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An inspiring success story of a girl named Doly Akter, born and raised in a Dhaka slum tells how change is always more effective when it comes from within. Doly was born and lived against all odds amid the poorest of the world in one of many slums in Dhaka. Though she was more likely to fall victim to early marriage, abuse, health hazards and many other possible risks, she managed to rise above it towards getting education to secure a brighter future that many fortunate ones take for granted. Doly didn’t forget the community that harbored her and gave back through service to improve of health and education of her fellow residents. Perhaps, we need to turn our focus on ‘Dolys’ that are out there in hopeless communities all over Bangladesh and empower them to help their own communities to get out of the cycle of agony.

Click here to read Doly’s success story in BBC News website.

If there is one thing that has become painfully apparent to the nation over the past six months, it is that there is no such thing as a quick fix. At least not for this country, not in the situation we were in on January 10 and the situation we find ourselves in today.

It was always tempting to think that we were tantalisingly close to the promised land (of course, no consensus definition for what would constitute arrival): if only we could tweak things a little here, and change the wiring a touch there, that all of a sudden the engine of state would begin to purr smoothly and the country would roll confidently towards its shining destiny.

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