¨Where are you going?¨
¨What is your father´s name?¨
¨What is your occupation?¨
¨Tina Louise Jensen. Born 13 June 1971.¨ (read out very loudly)
¨Are you married?¨
¨Would you like to be?¨ (glistening smile bigger than all of Bangla´s waterways in the rainy season)
Bangladesh is not the only country obsessed with asking the tough questions. I´d heard the same query from pretty much everyone I met during my stay, along with the subsequent dismay when they finally learned I was a 37 year old single white female, travelling alone, with no children. Shock crossed their faces, along with the lines of speculation as to what was wrong with me.
But at 1.00am in the morning (no wonder the tourists don´t come with the flight times in and out of the country), I wasn´t particularly in the search for an immigration officer as my potential new beau, especially given it would be a long time between visits.
In a society where having a child is as much an obsession as world politics, the Banglas just can´t understand why I wouldn´t be married, or at least have a boyfriend. Now I realise I´m no Jennifer Hawkins or Miranda Kerr, and apart from the fact that I wouldn´t have to look up to everyone I spoke with, I can only imagine what life would be like with Elle´s legs. However, there is the small fact of singledom that I look over daily.
Even the boys in the airport cafe who upgraded me to the Hawkins´ ¨first class¨ league didn´t even get a look in, and I´m still feeling a little guilty about their request for my phone number to which I declined their request.
This is a pretty incredible journey I am embarking upon, and there would be nothing greater to share the experiences with someone special. After incredible days out in the field, there is no one to share the emotions, the experiences, the laughter and the raw honesty about what one has heard, seen and felt. Besides, I intend to keep travelling this incredible planet of ours, and really don´t want every person on the planet thinking I´m odd.
So my friends, I´ve had a day of chaotic imagery and I have no one to share it with. So I ask you to imagine yourself in a rickshaw in the middle of Dhaka town as I, your rickshaw wallah, take you on a ride. It´s not safe to take a camera around, so on our journey I ask you to observe and listen – it´s the only way you will have any record. Like me, the journey may not be first class, it won´t all be postcard perfect, but you´ll let your hair down, observe, try new things, learn, be challenged and learn a little about yourself on the way.
Step up, and as you do, don´t forget to check out the paintings adorning the rickshaw – the beauty of water lillies and cinema celebrities – I chose the design myself.
Which way do you want to go?
