I wake up. Everything hurts. I feel like I’ve only slept for an hour. The snoring from my four roommates kept me awake despite my lack of sleep. When you’re sharing a very small room – we’re talking ten square metres or so – between five people, there’s a limit to what you can accomplish with earplugs.
The bed feels as if it’s made of stone. I’ve probably got the wooden board and lack of a mattress to thank for that. I’m also desperate for the loo – have been the whole night, in fact, but I’m unwilling to risk it, as there’s no electricity and the nights here are pitch black. The toilet – by which I mean the shed with a hole in the floor where you attend to the call of nature – is outside, and not particularly inviting even in daylight. In the dark you wouldn’t see so many details, of course, but I’m not sure whether that’s really more of a disadvantage.
As I’m on the toilet, I sense that peeing while crouching down is altogether too taxing for me. My thighs hurt, and there’s nothing to hold on to. The stench, the flies and my fear of anything that might suddenly start crawling over me as I hang over the hole, my trousers around my ankles, don’t do anything to facilitate the procedure.
The others are still asleep. I don’t know what time it is. I lie back down on my wooden bench-slash-bed, which actually belongs to a mother and child; they vacated the double bed especially for us. We try to silence our guilty consciences. There’s not much we could have done about it anyway: turning down a gesture of hospitality like that would have been taken as an insult.
The bed where we slept
The clock isn’t working at the moment.
The blue wooden house.
There’s a bed on the veranda.
The house is made of simple materials: wood and corrugated iron.
These ten square metres constitute the family’s whole house: mud walls covered in corrugated iron and straw, no windows. There’s another single bed in the room. It’s probably where Bobby’s aunt usually sleeps, but it’s currently home to one of his friends. All the family’s belongings are stored under the beds. Dishes, kitchen utensils, blankets and clothes.
They cook outside on the veranda, with a gas flame. There’s a third bed out there, where Bobby and another friend are sleeping. I wonder what happens when there’s a monsoon – doesn’t the mud house just dissolve?
Johannes wakes up.
‘We live in a palace’ are the first words I say to his ‘good morning’.
At home in Berlin we share eighty square metres between two people: three main rooms, a kitchen, bathroom and guest toilet. Electricity, warm running water, heating, plumbing – everything that for us is completely normal and here would be a real luxury.
I’ve become incredibly fond of the children of the family, even though communication is absolutely impossible.
I don’t speak any Bangladeshi, and they don’t speak any English.
He simply refused to believe that I didn’t speak any Bangladeshi, however, and rattled off a stream of questions.
We stole our bed from this adorable baby.
Despite numerous attempts, I never understood the how all the children were related to each other.
The blue wooden house is somewhat larger, but accommodates at least fifteen people. There’s no concept here of personal space or the comfort of your own bed. Blankets are laid down on the floor in the evenings, providing space for as many people as need it. I wonder how anybody manages to conceive children, given that no-one has any privacy.
Water they get from their fish farm next door. The children plunge their toothbrushes into the murky water without hesitation. ‘Oh my god, no!’ I want to scream, but I suppress my intuitive reflex. It’s normal here.
Normal – what a relative term that is, though it’s supposed to mean a universal commonality.
Clearly every society and every country has its own customs, its own normality. The way Bobby’s family lives is perfectly normal here.
The only permanent private house in the area belongs to a family friend. He owns numerous fish farms, also breeding crabs and shrimp. The business is doing well. He’s got a two-storey house and a large vegetable and flower garden, with an ornamental pond and lots of coconut trees.
We’re given an extensive tour of the house, with its kitchen, toilet and bathroom. Johannes accompanies the man of the house and I the lady, so that no misunderstandings arise – the furnished bedroom on the upper floor will also be proudly presented. There’s no running water yet, but there are solitary light bulbs hanging from the ceiling on the ground floor.
Fish masala and as much fresh coconut water as we like are provided as a snack.
The family invested all their money into building the house; nothing’s been kept back for tough times, Bobby tells us. You’d never know it to look at them that they starve sometimes, when the farm doesn’t produce enough fish.
The head of the household with his son and a coconut specially fetched for me from the tree, though I tried vehemently to make it clear that it really wasn’t necessary.
Fish masala. The verdict: delicious and spicy.
Me with the lady of the house
and her mother. It’s common in Bangladesh to live with your parents.
Curious onlookers and Bobby (far right). Here people proceed quite happily on the principle that everyone photographs everyone else.
We head off towards Khulna, back into the city. Our three days in the countryside are over – somehow it all went very quickly, yet I’ve come back with more intense impressions than almost ever before.
From our comfortable armchairs in the West, we tend to condemn the Bangladeshis for wiping out the tigers in the Sundarbans, without engaging with the reality of the situation for people living here. My encounter with them has shown me once more that every topic has two sides, both of which need to be taken seriously. Only a holistic approach, like the one taken by Wildteam with their ‘Mother Sundarbans’ project, can lead to a satisfactory solution.
I’m happy. I had an exhausting but wonderful time with Bobby’s family, who even ended up inviting us back for Christmas. I was actually a little drawn to the idea, because here it’s about spending time together, with no lengthy discussions about food, gifts or decorations. Still, we wouldn’t really be able to relax and enjoy it, as we’d be getting in the family’s way over the holidays. I’m quite sure, even though they haven’t let it show, that they’re all looking forward to having their beds back.
Just as I’m looking forward to being back in a hotel, lying on a comfy bed, sitting on a toilet and taking the most wonderful shower of my life.
I’ve never valued hot running water more highly.
* * *
Translation by Caroline Waight
Readers Mail
Tell us what you think
Tantchen on 27. April 2015
Hallohallo, das war ein sehr, sehr, sehr schöner Bericht über Bangla Desch!!!!!!!!!!! Hat mir sehr gut gefallen, besonders die Eindrücke über die Otterfischerei…. Gut, daß ihr den Tiger nicht gesehen habt, denn dann wäre er ja nicht mehr so geheimnisvoll….
Liebe Grüße
Tantchen
Marianna on 27. April 2015
Hallo!
Ganz herzlichen Dank, freut mich sehr, dass dir der Bericht gefällt.
LG
Marianna
Philipp on 27. April 2015
Ein feiner Artikel. Dem Tantchen kann ich nur zustimmen: gut, dass Ihr den Tiger nicht zu Gesicht oder gar ins Gesicht bekamt. Liebste Grüße! Philipp
Marianna on 29. April 2015
Hallo Philipp,
danke dir! Mhh… vielleicht besser, mögt ihr Recht haben.
LG
Traveling Shapy on 3. Mai 2015
Das nenn ich mal Reiseberichte 2.0 einfach überragend kann man nicht anders sagen. Hat bestimmt einiges an Zeit und Arbeit gekostet das schöne Ding fertig zu stellen, aber hat sich auf jeden Fall rentiert.
Viele Grüße
Matthias
Marianna on 4. Mai 2015
Hallo Matthias,
tausend Dank für dein liebes Feedback! Ja, das kostet einiges an Zeit und Arbeit, aber es macht Spaß, vor allem wenn so nettes wertschätzende Kommentare zurück kommen. Merci!
Weiterhin viel Spaß beim Reisen wünsch ich dir.
LG
Marianna
István Jankovits on 22. Mai 2015
Reading through your lines, I felt the humid hot air and the scent of masala… Beautiful writing, unique interviews, fascinating colors.
More than nice to have visited Sundarbans through your article, felt myself in Dhaka-Sylhet-Khulna-Chittagong-Cox’s Bazaar … today … after more than 30 years
Every best wish,
istvan
Marianna on 16. Juni 2015
Hi István,
thank you very much for your great feedback!
Ewa on 7. Juni 2015
Hallo liebe Marianna,
wow…ich bin gerade so beeindruckt von deinem Reisebericht! Der Wahnsinn! Großartig! Bewegend!
Ich habe gerade Lust auch so etwas zu machen, jetzt und sofort! Am liebsten würde ich einfach nur raus und all die Eindrücke auch erleben wollen. Ich liebe solche Berichte zu lesen und ich liebe es zu reisen!
Ich würde bei Gelegenheit gerne mehr von dir und deinem Leben erfahren!
Viele liebe Grüße :-)
Marianna on 16. Juni 2015
Hallo Ewa,
tausend Dank für deinen herzlichen Kommentar, ich freu mich riesig drüber. Und was ich nur raten kann: LOS! :)
LG Marianna
Ulla on 13. August 2015
Äusserst informativ, unglaublich spannend, differenziert geschildert, Marianna! Illustriert durch wunderbare Fotos, teilweise wie Gemälde!!! Echt bereichernd!!!
Darüber, dass die Tiger-Begegnung sich nicht erfüllt hat bin ich noch im Nachhinein sehr erleichtert – du mutige Frau…!
Und – ja – wir wohnen in Palästen!!!!
Marianna on 31. August 2015
Danke dir liebe Ulla!
Marco on 18. Januar 2016
Liebe Marianna,
Deine Reisebericht ist ein Kunstwerk!
Bisher dachte ich Bangladesch, naja später mal. Aber jetzt rückt dieses Land und die Geheimnisse ganz weit nach vorne auf meine Reise-Wunsch-Liste!
Wirklich gut geschrieben und perfekt inszeniert! Ich freue mich auf mehr!
Liebe Grüße Marco
Marianna on 20. Januar 2016
Hallo Marco!
Ganz lieben Dank für dein tolles Feedback. Freut mich sehr zu lesen und viel Spaß auf der deiner baldigen Bangladeschreise!
LG
Marianna
Max von Rötel on 24. April 2017
Der Bericht, wie auch die Art der Darstellung mit den eingefügten Videos, hat mir besonders gefallen. Man hat nicht den Eindruck, dass ihr wie ein touristischer Obstkorb weitergereicht wurdet.
Samir on 6. April 2020
The complete article provides us unbiased view in the lives, of sundarban people – They are really dependent on the sundarban forest for their livelihood, and indeed when a tiger attacks and robs them of only one cow they have to support their entire family and livelihood,, there lives take big toll..
Džangir on 11. September 2020
I hope I’ll have chance to visit this great country once
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Gustavo Woltmann on 30. März 2021
I am always fascinated by the Sundarbans, especially the Royal Bengal Tiger. Thanks for sharing so much useful information about the place.