অিম িকছু জািননা

Rubbish dump at the entrance of the Zigatola residential area. They do have a system, I just can't figure out what it is yet. The other is the shoreline of the Buriganga River that just happens to look like a dump.

Uploaded more stuff, two of which are shown here as a not-so-subtle and completely indulgent reflection of current inner turmoil.

Inner turmoil. Very Mill on the Floss, my friends. There was a storm, and there was a flood. I suppose all I need now is a boat.






I went down to the Buddhist temple in Bashabo a few days ago. On a whim, and on a bad leg, so that makes it a strong whim. An irrational gesture since I am not religious, but religion and culture cross paths all the time, and what I was looking for was the comfort of familiarity, the going-through-of-the-motions, and that sweet smell of incense.

Picking up Bangla script - and hence the title - which makes me feel thankful for being Chinese because if Bangla is this difficult - I can't imagine having to learn Mandarin now. Probably shows up as gibberish unless you've the unicode installed or change the language settings.

Shall refrain from translation, because my god I've been enough of a drama queen already. Australian Club having a BBQ which I have been kindly invited along - what, is the word Beer etched all over my face? I guess so, even though I don't really feel like drinking - and I shall go now.

Kushtia

Probably a bad idea to upload so many photos at a time. Overload! but the recent Kushtia and Durga Puja - Faces photos are up.




Should've written about shooting Durga Puja because I was on a mind-numbing adrenaline high most of the time, hanging off the side of a lorry by hooking my arm onto a rope next to huge speakers blasting dance tunes till my ear drums hurt and trying very hard not to fall off as I shot the mad dancing crowd following the vehicle a la Pied Piper and his rats.




Plenty more daily life stuff to come. Edited but slightly strained on the time factor so will upload another day.

The only meat I have eaten in the past one week is a single dish of fried fish three days ago. Oh, and eggs. Still an accomplishment for someone who was addicted to KFC. But then again, I now only need one meal (the rice/noodle kind of meal) a day, not counting eggs in the morning if I've the time or a shingara in the afternoon if I start to feel hungry. So its partially because I have less opportunities to be a meat consumer.

Moving On

Haven't felt like this since I was 17.

This Must Be What Happy Drugs Feel Like

First of all, this is all thanks to Rajiv who ignored my whines about lousy photos and submitted them on my behalf anyway.



Of course, the feeling is best experienced in full screen, an emotion which unfortunately only I can appreciate, but would like to share nonetheless, and you can happy along with me by clicking on this link.

OH WAIT. I've a better idea. Why don't we just head over to World Pictures Network and type in my name in the search box.


I know. Many many nasty things will be said about this unabashed display of self-indulgence. It's no big deal. Photos are bad. Probably won't get any money from it (though god knows I need it man). My friends have long had their work out on the international scene in way more prestigious settings. I'm not even a staff photographer. And worse of all? I'm in joy at seeing a photo of a woman in pain.

Just please, I just want five minutes to stare at my name on that page. It's small but it's there, and its my name.

Ami Ki Chu Nai (I Have Nothing)

I debated writing this in a three-parter series, but seeing the amount of work I have, it might be better to finish it off in one shot.

"Don't try to be a hero." My father is particularly fond of saying this to me. He was quite wrong though. I wasn't trying to be a hero when I rushed off to Purang Dhaka, zipping through the roads on the back of Antu's bike, trying to make it in time to grab us a seat on the last launch leaving for Patuakhali in Barisal.

I wasn't trying to be a hero when I made the decision to go, I was trying to do something differently for once - which basically includes the act of doing something rather than sit and whine about how I wish I could.

And I certainly wasn't trying to be a hero when I got on the motorbike. It was our only option to reach the villages. The roads was busted, and we had a time constraint - plus everyone used these taxi motorbikes to get around.

So the three of us hopped on, and I certainly had no heroic intentions when I ended up sitting at the back. Perhaps just didn't want to be squashed in the middle.

Maybe, just maybe, I was wearing a secret red cape without me realising it, burrowed deep in my consciousness along with my domesticated, submissive self.

But whatever the heroics I may have had, I can assure you that there was none when I screamed in pain as my right foot got caught in the back wheel of the motorbike as we sped down the country road.

I don't really know how it happened, and I am thankful I did not break anything and that I am now back on my feet and capable of walking (slowly) unassisted. I am thankful I had the good sense to cling on and resist all urges to fling myself off the bike and onto the ground. I am thankful that only skin came off, although I really don't like looking at my flesh too much.

Well it all sounds worse than it really is.

I could post a photo of my swollen and blue-black foot that looks like something out of a drowning incident, but what I really want to express is how much I wanted to hit myself for my sheer stupidity. I've run out of things to blame.

But anyway, this post is not about me.

This post is about them, which I cannot do justice to because I was utterly useless. At one point one of them tried to find me a walking stick, and the irony of everything was too much and I sat down in the middle of the destroyed and muddied marketplace and just cried.

My injury made a mockery of their loss. And for that, I want to apologise. But to who? I don't know.

The photo set is up. I have no time right now to do the captions again. I am aware there are spelling errors.








They came to me, since I couldn't really move away and was walking too slowly or sitting down for most of the time. "Ami ki chu nai," they all said. They wrung their hands to express their nothingness.

Some had it worse than others. Some drowned, others survived. Some have half a house left, others have nothing.

I still can't quite reconcile that a cyclone did this. It looked too much like an earthquake, the way the ground had been wrought open.

So I am sorry, I wasted a lot of people's time and caused a lot of worry all because I didn't know where and how to put my foot on a 100cc Honda motorbike. I don't know why, I really just want to apologise to someone for all this.

Eye of the Storm

The cyclone came and left, and I could spin a whole story but I am right now on an extreme caffeine high made worse by the fact that I've been trying since last night to get my ass down to the coastal areas and all my competitive and ambitious drives are kicking in full kiasu-overtime so I am having a bit of difficulty just breathing at the moment.

Living with no water supply and electricity for over 24 hour is not really an ordeal but the mobile networks were down and the information blackout was really too much to bear.

The death toll so far is 1,100 but as we all know, the first day figures are never the right ones.

Slightly mad rush in the market area yesterday as candles were snapped up and sold out everywhere (at a ridiculously inflated price) and bottles of water taken off the shelf. Personally almost sprained my back carrying up buckets and bottles of water to my fourth floor apartment from the reserve water tank below.

I ran through all the worse case scenarios. The candles we had would last us for one or two more days, but the water would not.

I had half expected the situation to last for a few more days, and had heard reports confirming this, but early this morning at around 2am there was a flicker in the bulb of the ceiling and my roommates gasped. The lights came on and the fan starting whirring and the whole of Zigatola was treated to the very very loud shrieks of a Singaporean girl who never thought she would be so fucking happy just to be able to say "Yes, we had light last night."

Not so hollow

Who would've thought that the secret to tolerating, no, enjoying, the whiny refrains of James Blunt would simply be a cold, rainy Thursday morning with a steaming cup of tea and a warm jacket wrapped all around.

Apparently I'm in a confessional mood today.

Sigh.

I shall write off a quick note about life and its mistress Irony because I am desperately trying to avoid sinking into my usual zombified post-afternoon slumber, which in my defence, is completely biological (proving the ingenuity of the Mexicans and their siestas) and thus not a result of my unwise choice to talk about music genres with my roommate till unprofessional hours of the morning.

As you may be well aware, I have a rather ridiculous obsession with the feline variety and its offspring, or for that matter, an innate affection for almost any sort of wildlife lucky enough not to be called by the names of mosquito, caterpillar, cockroach and flea - because these are not animals, they are spawns of the Devil and put on this earth to make my life miserable and hence I am justified in my hate.

And yes, I have reflected upon my feline obsession and have concluded that it is likely an evolutionary consequence and a self-defence mechanism since we are all intelligent human beings (some more than others) and if we figure out (consciously or subconsciously) that some creatures (like other human beings) are generally not worth the effort, time and obsession - we naturally find other more intelligent creatures (like cats) to divert our obsession towards.

We thus come to the point of my post which I promised would include the slut-child called Irony. I have been trying very hard not to indulge myself in my feline obsession because the last time that happened I ended up breaking the law which is sacrosanct in Singapore and most other countries (I think). And I also ended up with not one but three cats.

So, I think I deserve an award for having dutifully stayed away from cats in the last one month and not feeding them or showing them any form of affection which is about as easy as me turning vegetarian, and that says a lot.

But, (there's always a 'but') one night I came back to the apartment to see a very nice calico cat sitting quite daintily and right smack by the gate I had to pass in order to get home. I figured, I have been so good for so long, and I have no food on me anyway, there's no harm in just smiling and looking, right?

Wrong. Because just as I knelt down to get a closer look something else tumbled out of the darkness behind Calico, which I thought was a large rat at first, but with my kind of luck, it turned out to be a goddamn fluffy black kitten with the bushiest tail in the world, and it proceeded to display insane levels of cuteness. Its sibling, Kitten Number 2, tumbled out right after it and all three cats went on to merrily destroy the carefully constructed feline-proof walls I had built around me.

How did I end up living in an apartment block that was also home to two fluffy kittens and one calico cat? I'm not too sure, but I think that slut-child has something to do with it.

This email made my day.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "a Ugandan photographer" <xxx@yahoo.com>
Date: Nov 4, 2007 5:06 PM
Subject: Re: Yes I would like to know more.

Dear Jessica

This is more of a miracle than a reality. It is hard to believe, but hear it is before me. Last week I was searching the internet for a possible promoter abroad - in where in the world but had not found any yet. But within the 7 days, you come in with an offer.

I'm just so happy.

Man and Beast

The guys hired a boat and we cruised down the Gorai River, one of the many tributaries of the mighty Ganges, which carried the melt and monsoon waters from southwest Bangladesh down to the Gulf of Bengal.

I wondered where my sandals were.

Two years ago, my sandals broke as I walked along the riverbed. The Gorai River was almost completely dried up then. Many rivers in Bangladesh are seasonal according to the monsoon, and man also have a serious sedimentation problem.

So I gamely left my sandals on the fine, fine sand in the middle of the water-less valley. So much for responsible tourism.

Now, the river is full and almost threatening to burst it banks in some areas. The river cliffs showed heavy signs of erosion - clearly, the Gorai River was back in business.

We stopped at an embankment before turning back, and I wandered off towards the sunset. As I approached a steep and muddied slope leading down to a stream which connected to the main river, I saw a man bathing his two magnificent water buffalos.

I think this is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.

I used to say that I would cry if I ever had a chance to see a whale up close, but I suppose my tear ducts are cheap that way because I was utterly moved at the sight of these two creatures.

I knelt at the edge of the slope till my legs went numb and their bath was over. The old, wizened man coaxed his beasts up the slope and towards me, and I stood up and fought all my better instincts to run. And so I stood, quite literally face-to-face and shoulder-to-shoulder to a creature of such beauty and raw strength, and there are really no words to describe how I felt at that moment.

A funny thing happened last night when I discovered my iBook's Voice-Over feature and I had a fine time humiliating my laptop and making him say all kinds of nasty things that would make my roommate blush if she heard me.

So this is what it has come down to. Having fake and self-constructed conversations with my iBook array of voices (My favourite's Bruce, because he sounds like he means it).

But I swear it's horribly fun.

Heartbreak

The beautiful thing about my jobs now is that I spend my time helping people. I teach, I reach out to people that no one has reached out to, I make my little contribution to making the world a fairer place.

Is that cotton-fluffy enough for you yet?

But it is a beautiful thing, and it is frustrating as you slowly discover just how damn difficult things can be. My worries and problems have always been about me. Not enough time, not smart enough, not enough discipline etc.

I will never understand what it is like to have problems that I can't do anything about.

The only female student in my class revealed today that she had been out of sorts all day and uncharacteristically gloomy because her parents are trying to force her into marriage. At the age of 21, she's not about to give in without a fight. "What can I do?" she said rhetorically.

But she held back her tears and she tried to contain her anguish under a sweet smile and tried to reassure me, another female just barely older than her and a girl will never understand what it is like to be a girl in this country, that "I will manage. No problem, I will manage." And I can just barely begin to fathom what she has had to manage in her life.

And I have been corresponding painfully with a photographer in Africa, and I can't imagine how he translates my English but Google Translate is taking care of his letters in French.

I will never understand what it is like to be in his shoes, but I have to try my best to anyway. Lost images taken by European agencies with no way of getting it back, no fucking internet unless at a cafe and really I don't want to know how much they charge for it there. And yet, a talented photographer that has exhibited at Noordelicht, no less, but still in this same shitty condition.

This is a heartbreaking business, but I'm quite glad and willing to have my heart broken this way.

I Miss Her.

Rinse and Repeat

Go here and then click on the Majority World link to see what I've been up to.

Am rather exhausted.




But probably not as exhausted as him.

And probably not as exhausted as those behind the petition to repeal 377A. Feeling very empty after reading the news reports on it.

Illustrations.

I have to go because now that I am eating regularly again I actually get hungry. I kinda miss my days of non-food reliance. The diet didn't last long.

So, Trond and Rajiv decked out in their "finest" for Eid while I plainly forgot that women are supposed to be adorned and appeared at the house in my grubby clothes. This is akin to showing up at Chinese New Year visiting in your pajamas.





But truth be told, I had nothing to wear even if I wanted to dress up. All I brought are grubby things and I'm feeling too miserly to go buy nice clothes.

As a result, one of Rajiv's relatives stopped in her tracks when she saw me. She pointed at me and said to Eli (Trond's fiance), "Girl?" With raised eyebrows and shocked/bemused chuckle.

Quite the compliment, I must say. And I am not being sarcastic.

And then these are some Kushtia photos. Have better onces (in my opinion) but... am hungry.





The town breaks out in merriment and a festive glow especially in the areas near the Lalon Mazar. Whole lot of sitting around and doing nothing and listening to people sing Lalon songs all days long. Oh and eating, of course.





And then, there was the River.







Will get around to editing the rest at some point in my life, I'm sure.

And my father sent me a bunch of photos of cats as per my request, and as the thumbnails in Gmail started to load slowly I smiled and laughed at the antics I saw and they were mostly of the third and second cat.

Some thumbnails didn't load though and I had to download the whole batch to view them. And I was just smiling stupidly to myself, scrolling through the pics and I reached the ones that didn't load properly in thumbnail before and they were of her and I swear someone must have cast a spell on me because this cat has a ridiculous hold over me and when I saw her face I just burst into tears. And I still do. So I can't look at this photo.




I want to be her paw.

Manyhow, Anywhen

Trond and Eli left this morning. I feel quite sorry that they live so far away and have to put up with an insane amount of air travel and plane switching, and very sorry that they had such a spate of bad luck here that both were admitted into the hospital (not at the same time, thank goodness) and even though they're alright now it must SUCK to have to go back earlier than you expected.

I hope I do not have to see the inside of the hospital here. Fingers crossed.

As it is I can barely breathe at night because of my rabid obsession with ridding the room of mosquitos and I think I should do some research on the long term effects of breathing in the smoke from mosquito coils.

My hatred of mosquitos is at an all-time high. Little fuckers.

Other than that, we finally got a stove which made me do a celebratory dance around the empty apartment because I want my EGGS and I want them NOW. Awesome.

Kushtia was fun in a way that doesn't make you go COOL AND AWESOME. It was fun because it was different and I had to discard my traditional standards of cleanliness.There is no Dirt. Really there isn't.

Plus I'm always bullshitting about how I like roughing it out.

Also, I can now boast that I slept in a small room with eight guys and nothing happened.

Off to Kushtia. Again.

Haven't had the proper chance to write a proper entry because of all the ruckus what with the moving in and the looming project deadlines.

But I leave tonight for Kushtia, Khulna to attend the Lalon Shah festival which I did two years ago but without my digital camera. I'm not too sure if there will even be a difference, but we'll see.

Moving house was a nightmare. It was the third day of continuous rain, always threatening to pour and drizzling constantly. I had already moved the smaller suitcase (filled with food) a couple of days back, and it took me about 2 to 3 days to make sure the lights and fan were properly installed.

So when it came to the big day, I had to lug a hug suitcase in the rain across town. There was a lot of waiting involved, mainly for the rain to subside.

I must admit, that while I was finally squeezed into the CNG with my suitcase, that I felt downright miserable. But in a good way, I suppose. Life is way too easy in Singapore and my pampered ass is getting whooped real good.

I was wondering how in the hell I would get the suitcase across the alley way (too narrow for vehicles to stop and there's no sheltered concourse) and then up to my room (I live a couple of storeys up, sans elevator) since it was so heavy I could barely walk a couple of steps with it.

Then the nice night watchman promptly came to my rescue in the rain, heaving the suitcase up onto his head and brought it all the way to my room. Easy-peasy. I was laughing because sometimes the Bangladeshis really do have all the best solutions.

I used to live in a more suburban part of the city, where things are slightly more orderly (as orderly as Dhaka could get), and next to a main road.

My new place is located in the heart of a not-so-suburban area, but still relatively better compared to the older parts of the city.

This is akin to moving from Sengkang to Geylang, I suppose.

And because of Eid and work, I have been fasting for the last three days. Ok, semi-fasting. I had my first meal of the day at roughly 9 pm every night, and I think its amazing-fabulous because I did not feel hungry the whole day (I drank water, which is why it was semi-). I just did not realise that I could survive on so little food.

Although I did end up behaving like an energy-deprived zombie, so there's no fun in that.

Nothing else much to say, only that I have proven myself right in believing that there is just no logic or rationality behind the chemistry between two people. Language schmanguage.

Bedside Picnic.

Haven't had time to post. Moved into new place. No internet in the house. Work is piling up in mountains. Eid is almost over. Rained for three days. Back to hot now.

House is ok, empty. Roommate is nice, but language barrier poses problems. No stove yet so no cooking yet.

Having a hangover because I had too much of my own bottle of tequila yesterday. Feeling shitty, hence the shitty post. Rather inappropriate considering the muslim festivities going on.

But it was a nice picnic by the bed.

Ami amar biral ti kay miss korei.

So the lights are working (finally), and the fan is fixed (finally) and the bed is there - which mean I'm all ready to move in.

This would be my first bona fide apartment, since hall doesn't really count. I didn't expect to have to fix up an entire room from scratch, learn about where the hell to get ceiling fans from, how many locks it takes for a house to be considered safe, and why a 10TK starter is a world of difference from a 5TK starter.

Really, having lights and a fan made me squeal like crazy.

Plus I'm making a trip to stock up on alcohol tomorrow, so things are looking up. So even if the power gets cut again tomorrow (like the previous two nights), I'll be christening the dark and hot room with a good strong drink.

Although I kinda wish I had one right now to say goodbye to this guestroom and its lovely aircon in the corner.

And if you're going to visit, let me just say first that furniture and electrical appliances such as a fridge or television WAY overrated. At least I've figured out that basic living means having lights, fan, bed, working toilet.

I'll probably be able to wriggle out a table and chair from some place, I think.

Oh, and the sentence above means "I miss my cat very much." Which I do. I could be an actress here, really, because all I have to do is conjure up her face and I can cry on demand. It is stupid, but it's true! I've been testing myself at various times and various locations and it really works!

--------------------------------------------------

I told him that he stressed me out because he had accomplished so much in life.

And I really was jealous. In a healthy way, but still jealous, nonetheless. The places he has gone, the things he had done. I explained to him that I have high expectations of myself this trip because everything I've done so far seem to have ended in a failure of some sort. And I know I shouldn't have such expectations so at least then there'd be nothing to fail. But I can't really help it.

And then he held up his wrist to show it to me, and told me that high expectations can be a dangerous thing.

UPDATE: Just had the first lesson at the university. This is just so fucking difficult.

Ok Jess is in whiny mode for the next couple of days while she does some serious character-building exercises. Pardon all the angst please, people.

I had the internet, water supply and electricity die on me in the span of one hour.

Fuck.

Anyway, great article below from the Sydney Morning Herald:

Singapore, a friend indeed to Burma

The island-state may have much to lose if Burma's generals don't retain control, writes Eric Ellis.

SINGAPORE is not just skilled at mandatory executions of drug traffickers, running an excellent airport and selling cameras on Orchard Road. It also does a very useful trade keeping Burma's military rulers and their cronies afloat.

Fishball.

So everyone says that I'm fat now. They don't mince their words here.

"Jessica! You are fat!"

I am not only fat, I'm also a mess of perspiration. I can feel it under my scalp, tiny waterfalls, all freakin day long. Its not particularly hotter than Singapore, and I really don't know why its so bad.

The locals say they don't sweat because it's fasting month and they don't drink water.

I want fasting month to be over. I can't be politically correct about consuming my water for much longer. Feeling embarassed because I'm thirsty and then disappearing off for a few minutes to drink in isolation. I just don't want to offend anyone or make their fasting even more difficult than it already is.




Before I left one of my (many) mentors (self-proclaimed, they've no idea) told me to "shoot my ass off".

Seeing how my job is more or less desk/classroom-bound, I think I'm going to have to.

By the way, I am loving my job more and more. I've always thought I'd only be fulfilled in a job that requires me to shoot all day. Well that's true, but I think other things could fulfil me as well, and this would be one of them.

Doing something I believe in. Who'd have thought.

So I spied the four thrashing around in water as I sought shelter (both literally and metaphorically, I do miss my capitalist comforts) at a restaurant. I ran across in the rain as soon as I found a plastic bag (not so easy in this country) but they saw me and stopped.

So I gave in, happily, to their camera-whoring. My feet were soaked in mud and the rainwater seeped into my hair and my camera was about to drown and still the euphoria of getting back in the game was worth it.



Goodnight. I'm exhausted.

Not Bringing Him Home, Don't Worry

Dhaka Calling.

I am exhausted.

I don't know what to say because I'm so tired.

The city comes to me differently the second time around. No wide-eyed wonder, no naive elation at the days to come. If I must be honest, I had dread in my stomach. I had it all through the journey, sulking to myself as if I hadn't done this out of my own free will.

But then we hit the highway, and the hot sticky air enveloped me and the fumes hit my face and all around me was life, bustling and as raw as I remembered it. I couldn't help but smile.

I'm all geared up.

The feeling of buying your own gear? Fantastalistic.

The feeling of buying your own gear with your own hard earned money? Priceless.

I swear I've had enough beer over the past few days to drown a small elephant.

And also, I'm running on a delightful 160GB 1GB ram thanks to a delightful bloke named Simon who operates out of a pub. Which may explain the beer intake. Which would change to sake if I were not leaving in a matter of days.

And without even meaning to, I've realised that there's just no changing the way I'm wired. Its not a case of old habits die hard, its a case of a leopard not changing its spots. Or a cat and her whiskers. Or some other animal-related analogy.

The point is there is just not enough concrete in all the world to block up my soft spots.