Full, Happy, and Sleepy

For the first time in a long time, I am full, happy, and sleepy.

The one hour, seriously bruising CNG ride back to the hotel in the suffocating pollution kind of took away my food buzz. But Dhaba is my new favorite place! Good Bangladeshi food DOES EXIST!

Nite peeps. Tomorrow I will post more exciting things, I promise.

My buddy Yunus and I

About 50 interns or so gathered together this morning to take photos with Muhammad Yunus. He was kind enough to let us take one on one photos. He's such a nice old man. Always looks so happy to take photos with us crazy interns.

Yes, you must be wondering what the **** I am wearing... More pattern-y than I usually wear in the States. When I am not wearing my blatant tourist outfit ( fisherman's hat, dri-fit shirt, hiking pants and sunglasses), I'm trying to blend in in Bangladesh! I got that outfit custom made. Don't worry, I won't be wearing the outfit out and about in Chicago. Maybe for this coming Halloween.

All in a Day's work: Cute kids and Green Tech

Efficient heating stove

Us with the kiddies

Kids saluting us

A few days ago, we took a day trip to visit the field operations of two of Grameen's social businesses: Grameen Shakti, which installs solar home systems, biogas plants, and efficient cooking stoves, and Grameen Shikkha, which is in charge of running pre-schools in mostly the rural areas of Bangladesh. Talk about two completely opposite businesses.

The pre-school kids attended Grameen's school every day for two hours, in a little open-air multi-purpose shack. It was basically four poles, a straw roof, and woven mats on the ground with some posters of letters and numbers on the wooden supports. They went through their daily routine of learning letters and playtime. They also introduced themselves individually. And they sang twinkle twinkle little star for us. It was hard to hear it, but it was extremely cute.

The Grameen coordinator that was with us was teaching the kids about the important things in life: wipe your little behind with your left hand (since you eat with your right hand in Bangladesh), brush your teeth AFTER you eat, and make friends with all your classmates. Now if that isn't wisdom, I don't know what is. Wish they had taught me that in pre-school.

Then we moved on to learn about how solar home systems are being installed in rural homes in Bangladesh in areas where the country's electrical grid does not reach. To be honest, I was surprised that such advanced technology would be found in the rural areas of Bangladesh. I mean, I associate solar panels with advanced technology and the developed world- ie something to be found in a Silicon Valley mansion, not on a simple tin or straw hut with cows lazing about outside in the rural villages of Bangaldesh, one of the poorest countries in South Asia. I guess it's like third world discrimation-ism? Then we also saw the efficient stoves that Grameen Shakti manufactures and sells to villagers that eliminate the smoke released, and increases the efficiency (thereby reducing the costs of wood) by 50% or more.

I think our least favorite of their green technologies was the biogas plant, for obvious reasons. I spared you all photos of the large cows releasing the "fuel" for the biogas plant. But, I was amazed that a family of seven needed 40kg of bio "fuel" to get them through the day. I guess they got used to the smell. One of the interns was unlucky enough to step in some of the "fuel" and we sure had a laugh at her expense the rest of the day.

Meeting Yunus tomorrow for the second time. I need to think of some good questions to ask him, keep up my reputation in my group as the "girl who always asks questions". You know, the one we always roll our eyes at in class. Yes, I have turned into THAT one. :)

Calling all Foreigners!

Every time we go out, we play a little game: find the foreigners (not including Grameen interns) in Bangladesh! We always come back disappointed at the absence of our fellow white/yellow/black brothers and sisters out and about in Dhaka. Today, we saw four!!! That's a four week record.


There MUST be foreigners in the country, but I suspect they all get driven around by their drivers and live in their cushy private company-or NGO-paid apartments in the ex-pat district. They definitely don't live in our shady sub-district of Mirpur. I guess the only "visible" foreigners are the foreigners who can't afford to be invisible (ie unpaid Grameen interns). Instead, the Grameen interns get to walk in the blistering heat, take shady taxi cabs and dangerous golf-cart like contraptions, and endanger our lives to cross the street every day. Talk about segregation of the rich and the poor :) Damn. Bottom-of-the-pyramid!


Today this CNG (dangerous golf-cart like contraption) driver agreed to 50 taka for a ride, and then tried to give me back only 40 in change (even though he definitely had enough change) from a 100 taka bill. Really? Come on now. I know I am a foreigner, but I ain't no sucker! I know it's only 1/7 of a US dollar, but if you agree to a price and I get in to your vehicle, that means I am assuming I am paying you that price!! It's not the money, it's the principle.


SO then feisty Jinny (yes, the one that some of you have had the pleasure to witness first hand before) appeared and demanded my 100 taka bill back since he was trying to cheat me. I don't think Bangladeshi culture allows women to yell at men in public, so I am glad I showed him that I wasn't going to let him get away with it!


Oh and this is how used I am already to Dhaka's little quirks. I got into the elevator and then five seconds later, the power went out. Rather than freaking out, Rosanna and I just kind of laughed, and we're like, oh great. But, we know it's Dhaka, so we just waited. Unlike in the U.S., if the elevator breaks down, it's probably a big problem. In Dhaka, it's just a part of life.

Blogging is hard work!

I am behind in my postings and in my pictures... Will try to catch back up over the weekend.

You wonder how that shirt you are wearing came to be?

These pictures are a little out of order, but you can piece together the process from beginning to end.



Ironing the shirts before they get packaged.

Packaging the shirts.

They use manual labor to print labels and wording on the shirts.

Yes, that is a sweat shop worker :)

Where the clothes are dyed.

Where the water is squeezed out of them.

How the spools of thread of created.

We went to Grameen Knitwear yesterday, and saw the whole process of how cotton is made into thread, thread made into cloth, and cloth made into clothing. Quite a complicated and interesting process actually. Lots of machinery in the initial phases, and then all "sweat shop" work in the latter phases. At least at Grameen Knitwear they provided above market wages, life insurance, safety and quality standards, and other benefits like education scholarships for employee's kids. And, all the profits of the company go to funding the social mission of two not for profit businesses.

Thought you all would like to see the process first hand, so shared some pictures with you. Next time you all put on that shirt (that's made in some third world country), you can appreciate all the work that goes into it.

Oh and on a positive note, I got on a project today with Grameen Trust that is best of all worlds: I will be involved with all of the Grameen replication projects around the world, I can work from anywhere (which means I have the flexibility to take long weekends to travel), and I am going to have major connections with the heads of Grameen America. Who da woman? :)

On a negative note, the electricity has gone out four times already over the course of the last four hours. And my ghetto TV's channel buttons actually regulate the volume, and the volume buttons regulate the menu, and the menu button turns off the TV. Nice. Well, it's Bangladesh. What did I expect? :)

Srimongol, Part 1

Srimongol's beauty contrasts starkly from the ugliness of Dhaka. It's a wonderfully serene, peaceful, and likeable place.

Here is the complete set of photos, I couldn't upload them all onto blogger:

http://picasaweb.google.com/jinny.lung/Srimongol?authkey=Gv1sRgCPipzr_1jcaRnQE&feat=directlink

I went with two of my fellow interns, Andrea and Rosanna. We took a super luxury bus (think first class on an airplane) from Dhaka. I didn't think Bangladesh had such nice buses, since usually the buses look like they should be in the junkyard. Because of the cost (a little less than $10 USD), there were no rif raff on the bus, so the ride was nice and peaceful and comfortable.

However, the bus did NOT go direct to Srimongol, so we had to get off on a random stop in the middle of nowhere to catch a local bus to Srimongol. Yes, one of those junkyard buses that only the locals take. I always thought those buses were like death traps. but the ride wasn't as unpleasant as I expected. It was actually pretty OK. Except for the fact that it smelled like the kid next to me had peed on the seat. And the rif raff that couldn't afford our super luxury bus, yes, they were on this local bus.

This guy sitting next to me got into a heated verbal fight with the fare collector because he charged my friends 40 taka (1 USD= 70 taka) versus the actual fare of 25 taka. He wanted to make sure that because we are "guests" in his country, that we wouldn't be cheated along the way. Nice guy, but had to decline the invite to his home for lunch. While in the US that would be a way shady move, in Bangladesh, people will invite you to their homes to eat the first day they meet you. Super welcoming people.

So, once we arrived in Srimongol, we went to visit some tea estates and had some famous five layer tea. It was quite tasty actually, one layer was white tea, one was red tea, one was black tea, and two were condensed milk. I am not quite sure how I feel about condensed milk, I definitely prefer the real stuff, straight from the momma cow. That night, we were invited to our tour guide, Rashed's house to celebrate his niece's one year birthday. It was quite an ordeal, the star of the night arrived in a frilly dress and a gold crown. Everyone took turns taking photos with her. The family had bought a cake, which was quickly melting from the heat and the candles, and put up a happy birthday sign. We all sang happy birthday to her in English. It was quite cute, and sweet, actually that we were a part of their celebration. It was a bit chaotic, but after that party was over, we had a little party of our own.

Rashed had to go to great lengths to ensure that no one in his family walked in on us, and him, imbibing some illegal substances. He had to triple lock his door, shut his windows, and blast the music. Quite hilarious actually, just give the man some booze, poor boy!!! He secured us some Bangladeshi made white whiskey (I didn't know alcohol was produced in a country where its a crime to carry around alcohol), which was supposedly 75 proof, but tasted like 20 proof. Nontheless, we had our little secret party in his room in his family's house. What a day!