Bangladesh Day 1

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The beginning of my trip to Bangladesh went smoothly. I first flew from Boston to London, where I sat next to a medical supplies salesman who elaborated about his adventures getting sick in India and dodging the aggressive traffic. Even so, his stories only increased my excitement and I read through the entire Lonely Planet book (a convenient 150 pages). The second leg of my journey caused some anxiety. Once the plane landed, I had 75 minutes to make my connecting flight to Delhi; however, by the time I used the bathroom, walked across the terminal and re-entered security, I had only 52 minutes left. When the clerk swiped my passport, she regretfully told me I was too late and that due to my failure to show up one hour before my flight, the portal had closed. This meant I needed to spend the night in the London airport and begin the next 14 hours of the trip tomorrow. Needless to say, I was not satisfied with this alternative and somehow, through the combination of my theatrical performance and the fact that my bag was on the plane headed to India, they miraculously let me on.

The flight was completely empty, allowing me four extra seats to stretch my legs on. I couldn’t help overhearing the family in front of me. The Indian son, attending school in England, was traveling home with his parent. Their conversation was a clear representation of the generational gap facing India. The boy spoke with an exaggerated British accent, informing his parents about the “absolutely incredible applications” of the iphone and the “brilliancy” of google earth. The parents gleamed with pride at their son’s seeming intelligence and acted as though ever gesture he made was of some grave importance. To his parents, the boy represented a model of westernization and the potential of India’s youth to compete with the rest of the world. Later in the flight while I ventured to the bathroom, I chuckled when I saw a seven year old boy with an International Business board game.

Stepping into the Delhi airport, I was greeted by a sea of gas masked faces. A female employee stopped me and instructed me to follow her. She took down my flight information and led me to a transit lounge where I was asked to wait. Sitting in this transit area was a group of 20 Brazilians dressed in matching yellow jumpsuits and singing songs, while Indian guards constantly walked by with intense moustaches, black turbans, and flashy rifles. They were not smiling which, consequenly, caused me to laugh every time they passed by. Eventually, the young girl returned. To my horror, she ripped up my boarding pass to Dhaka and took my passport. Fortunately, she came back with a new boarding pass so I could finish the final part of my journey.

On the ride to the hotel, I began talking to a German named Tobias who specialized in green technology and currently worked in Delhi with Grameen. He was writing a book about social businesses and had an appointment with Muhammad Yunus the next day to discuss his ideas. We began a long conversation about the different projects of Grameen, and I grew interested in the company Veolia, who work with Grameen to bring clean water to Bangladesh. We also talked about solutions to cleaning the canals in Delhi and the problems social businesses face generating capital and handling local governments.

The drive through Dhaka was both beautiful and horrifying. The houses in the poorer areas looked like stacked up pieces of aluminum and you could see young children working in the fields or walking along the raised pipes. Yet, at the same time, each house had a personality of its own and the colors of the saris and greenery from the flooding created a tranquil atmosphere. Entering the downtown area was frightening. Imagine thousands of people and no driving laws. Supposedly, people drive on the left side of the road but this was not always apparent, and the rickshaws zigzaged between the automobiles and pedestrians.

The next morning I started my internship at Grameen. On the walk to the bank, I instantly became aware of myself as a white single woman, even though I am used to not being able to pass. However, it was disconcerting having children grab my arms, and I felt conscious of every movement I made. Arriving at the bank, I immediately met my supervisor Harum, a short, skinny Bangladeshi with a passion for his work. He showed me my file and, to my embarrassment, all one hundred of my emails had been printed out. He sat down with me for a couple of hours to teach me about the origins of the Bank. Whenever I tried to steer him to questions that interested me, he politely pulled me back to his lecture, informing me that there would be time later to discuss these things. It was interesting learning about all of Grameen’s programs, for they are involved in textiles, agriculture, health care, fisheries, energy, education, communications and much more. He told me I could explore some of these operations while I was here.

I learned that borrowers first receive the basic loan for their business but can eventually apply for a housing and higher education loan. There is even a program for beggars providing loans interest-free. I was pleased to learn that the majority of Grameen’s Board of Directors were comprised of women. It’s amazing to see the effect this company has had on elevating the status women. Yet, I still felt aware of being treated differently than my fellow male Grameen intern. During lunch, they always spoke to him first and would acknowledge me only at the end of the conversation. I realize that this is cultural but I still struggled with the urge to bud into every conversation and firmly shake hands.

Tomorrow, I get to meet Muhammad Yunus. I cannot believe that on my second day of work I will see one of the heroes of my life. So far, my trip to Bangladesh has exceeded my expectations.

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