Mutiny

The last two days have been a trip.

As you probably know by this point, there was a mutiny of the Bangladesh Rifles (BDR), the paramilitary border security force. They mutinied against their officers, who are from the army. The BDR is paid shit and can never be promoted to officership--they are under the thumb of the army who is paid more and looks down upon the BDR.

Early Wednesday morning, gunfire and then mortar fire broke out in the BDR compound in Dhanmondi early Wednesday morning. Dhanmondi is an upscale neighborhood in Dhaka-- it was as if a major firefight broke out in Beacon Hill or Scripps Ranch, wounding and killing nearby civilians. Yeah, that would NOT have been okay...

The violence continued throughout Wednesday and got worse on Thursday, spreading to other cities in the country. The BDR violated the promise of general amnesty Sheikh Hasina (PM) had given, and finally, Thursday night, things really went south when the army started rolling in with tanks, ready to attack the well-armed compound. At this point, I was pretty scared as you might imagine--after talking with a friend from the Embassy (also a Harvard grad!), I asked to stay with one of Prathama's teachers who lives in the protected diplomatic enclave.

Steve (the Canadian) and I were in a car going to the protected area when the hospital chairman called and demanded the car turn back and we return to DCH. They told Steve he couldn't go to the airport that night. They assured me the hospital was the safest place, that they would take care of me here. But I would have been completely alone at the hospital-- no one else who stayed overnight could speak English, no one was responsible to come get me from my room in the case of a serious emergency, no one would be able to update me on the news if telephones and internet were interrupted, as has happened here. Professor Zaman and Mostofa could assure me all they wanted, but the fact is that neither of them were physically at the hospital. In the case of a serious emergency, their first priority would be their families and those around them, not to rescue someone at DCH, albeit a foreign guest they felt a responsibility for.

So I told them that, especially as a young American who has never experienced this kind of situation before, I did not feel comfortable staying alone at DCH. Because they were so opposed to me going to the diplomatic enclave, I didn't go there but instead stayed with Piya just down the street in Moghbazar. Mostofa asked me to write and sign a letter absolving the hospital of all responsibility. I did. Well, I wrote something, and the lady who was responsible for me (coincidentally someone who was convinced I was seeing Steve and had a boyfriend on the side, aka Prats' parents, at Dhaka University) didn't object.

They have my best interests at heart, and did their best to keep me safe. Me staying at the hospital meant I was in a situation they could control--who knew where I was going or who I would be with if I left. I understand their rationale, but my gosh... if the BDR in other parts of the city did revolt and clash with army throughout Dhaka, the last place I wanted to be was in my room with no lock, one flimsy switchbolt and no one to tell me what was happening. And so I went to Piya's house and we actually had a wonderful time talking (and me writing funding apps and gchatting til 5 am) after the conflict outside had ended.

Anyway that is what happened, through my eyes-- it was extraordinary to note that though the BBC screamed headlines like "mutiny spreads throughout Bangladesh," most of Dhaka city just kept on living life. The streets outside the conflict area were completely normal: people were selling bananas, strolling about leisurely, rickshaws ferried well-dressed women around... Shireen Miss chuckled when I asked her about this lack of reaction-- "We've lived through '71, honey!" she said. And 2006. And the past 15 years of bombs and violent protests and unrest as opposition parties tried to make the country impossible to govern for the party in power.

It's still a fluid situation, but the direct violence is over. Thanks for all your emails and support and reading my unedited rants during this!
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In other news, Steve did leave last night. He's become a good friend and confidante-- we laugh a lot together, and always bounce frustrations and ideas and life stories off each other over dinner. I was sad to see him go, but it'll be interesting to hear about his new adventures.

And he can give me fair warning about Myanmar, where I will be traveling in April if visa issues work out. There, and INDIA with my favorite Z!