It was my birthday on Sunday and I feel obliged to share the randomness of that celebration.
A birthday in Bangladesh is capable of doing strange things to the mind and so, for this reason, I decided to breach by self-imposed ban on going to Dhaka, in order to have a celebratory night out with a few friends. In fact, there were three of us, Paddy Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman, whose birthdays fell within four or five days of eachother. And in true British Isles’ style, a gang of us celebrated by drinking into the early hours of the morning, annoying neighbours and sleeping on sofas.
The next evening I set off for Satkhira and was back on the morning of the 29th. Bloody 10hours bus journey plus the predictable chaos when I forgot my wallet on the bus, left me wrecked as we spent the day observing an ‘open-budget programme’ within a kilometre of the tiger’s paradise.
On the morning of the 30th, I awoke to a text message from a Bengali admirer (less said about this the better) and a seriously grumpy self. Yet as the mails came in from friends home and abroad, I began to feel much better – for this I say thanks!
On the other hand, I certainly do not thank Sheikh Hasina and the Bangladesh Government who decided to block access to facebook because of some cartoons ridiculing senior political figures in this country. And the block is still imposed!
By evening, my work was complete but, for some reason, I was not allowed to enter my room upstairs. Bemused, I went for a cup of tea and on return found all the staff waiting at the bottom of the stairs. As I followed the now very excited Project Coordinator Diponcur around the corner, I noticed that candles had been lit either side of the staircase. As I entered the room, I was greeted by balloons, a cake with 16candles, decorations and lots of food (mango, banana, mishti, jackfruit and the obligatory veggie pastries). Obliged to blow out the candles very slowly for the camera, it was then time for ‘family’ photos.
First up were the ladies: all the female staff, my director’s two daughters, two neighbours and a survivor from acid violence who just happened to call by to discuss her situation.
Then the men, each more excited than the next and of course, finally they had to get one of Michael on his own sporting a very awkward pose. After cutting the cake a few times, it was my turn to sing a song and for some reason I resorted to one we learned in the Gaeltacht called ‘Bí ann’ from Kila….anyway despite adding some non-gaelic words to make up for my amnesia, they were all chuffed.
Fifteen minutes for food was followed by a very abrupt end to proceeedings. That was it, a party which reminded me most of one I had as a 9 or 10 year old and which despite its incredibly tight and structured schedule, was an amazing gesture from people who never celebrate birthdays beyond the age of 16or so.
A random but extremely enjoyable hour and a pretty good birthday on the whole.
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