Has your favorite TV show been cancelled? The grocery store quit carrying your favorite brand of green tea? And that damned bridge work on the way to work is forcing you to leave 5 minutes early…?
Come to Dhaka…
Your pet groomer can’t get Sparky in for 2 weeks… You got a recall notice about your BMW….?
Come to Dhaka….
All of life’s little annoying frustrations…. all of your insurmountable challenges will disappear when you…
Come to Dhaka…
In Dhaka, you will witness;
Thousands of buses filled with 10’s of thousands of skinny, sullen faced people… going somewhere. They cram into the beat up buses, they ride on top, hang onto the sides. They are everywhere… in front of you, behind you… the buses, the people.
You will travel the 40 miles to the factory at 5 mph… 15 mph…. stopping, starting, horns honking. The hours pass, the ruts in the roads… the buses, the people.
I was accompanied to one factory by a young, bright lad of perhaps 20 years old. Surray was proud of his position as quality control manager, a position he has held for a little less than a year.
I asked him “So, do you live near the factory?” expecting to hear “yes, I’d be crazy to do this commute every day.”
He responded: “I live in Dhaka with my family”
Me: “How long does it take to go to the factory every day?”
Surray: “It takes me 1 and a half hours each way”
Me: “How do you get there?”
Surray: “I take the buses”
I immediately get a mental image of Surray in a long line awaiting to board on of the thousands of buses, most so full, you must wait for the next bus.
Me: “How much does it cost per day to take the bus?”
Surray: “It costs 30 Takas”
My mental math computes about 26 cents a day or so… 13 cents to… 13 cents home…
“That not a lot” I said without thinking. It may be a lot, how would I possibly know?
I continue: “So what time do you start work each day?”
Surray, always polite, responds “I start at 6 am and I work until about 7 pm”
“That’s a long day” I say. I think… 1 ½ hours each way so he leaves at 4:30 am and gets home at 8:30 pm…. Every day.
I ask: “How many days do you work? I mean each week?”
Surrey smiles: “We work 6 days, we get Friday off.”
I turn to look out the window. I see buses, and people…. And people and buses….
Count your blessings…. Or come to Dhaka.
J. Lewis Richards – Bangladesh
Untamed Traveler 