Bangladesh By the Numbers

I know, I know -- there are lies, there are damned lies, and then there are statistics. Still, a few basic numbers can tell you a lot about a place. Here are some numbers about Bangladesh:

* Bangladesh is home to around 147 million people.

* Bangladesh is one of the most densely populated countries in the world (behind only city-states like Singapore ). A population about half the size of the U.S. population lives in a country that’s a little smaller than Iowa.

* At current birth rates, Bangladesh’s population will exceed 220 million by 2050.

* With 700,000 people moving here every year, Dhaka is the fastest-growing megacity in the world and will be the second-largest city in the world (after Mexico City ) by 2015.

* Dhaka has close to 9,000 people per square kilometer. By comparison, Patrick’s childhood home of Prince George County, VA has 43 people per square kilometer.

* One-third of the population is 14 years old or younger. That’s 49 million children.

* Thirty-six percent of Bangladeshis live on less than $1 (67 taka) a day.

* A kilogram (2.2 pounds) of uncooked rice costs 20-40 taka, depending on quality.

* Rent for a 10-foot-by-10-foot concrete room in a communal slum neighborhood in north Dhaka costs 4,000-6,000 taka per month.

* Recently an increase in the monthly minimum wage for garment workers in Bangladesh was proposed: $25 (1675 taka).

* At the standard work schedule of 10-12 hours a day, six days a week in a garment factory, the new minimum wage equates to around 10 cents an hour.

* Ninety percent of Bangladeshi garment workers are women.

* Ninety percent of births in Bangladesh occur in the home.

* Almost ninety percent of births take place without a skilled attendant.

* About 12,000 Bangladeshi women die in childbirth every year.

* Eighty-eight of 1,000 Bangladeshi children die before the age of five, mostly from diarrhea or acute respiratory infections. Half of those deaths are newborns.

* Bangladesh has one of the highest tuberculosis rates in the world, with about 300,000 new cases reported every year.

* HIV prevalence is at less than 1% among most high-risk groups, except for intravenous drug users, where the prevalence is 9%.

* Bangladesh is 90% Muslim, with the rest being Hindu (and a scattering of Christians, Buddhists, and animists).

* Only 43% of all Bangladeshis can read and write.

* Bangladeshis working in other countries (mostly construction workers in the Middle East) send more than $1.5 billion dollars back to their families in Bangladesh every year.

* About 300,000 Bangladeshis use the Internet.

* More than three million Bangladeshis have mobile phones.

* There are 400,000 bicycle rickshaws in Dhaka.

Dengue Season Is Here

Dengue fever has hit India with a vengeance over the last month. So far, more than 4000 cases and 89 deaths have been reported. As dengue survivors, we're not looking forward to the next few months. Thanks to the post-monsoon puddles, the Aedes mosquito that carries dengue has lots of breeding opportunities. So you can be sure that we're using DEET, wearing socks (mosquitoes, like Victorian gentlemen, are attracted to ankles), and emptying any standing water we have around the house. (Too bad there's a giant lake less than half a block away....)



The Dengue
Patrick J. Wilson
(with apologies to Mr. E.A. Poe)

Once upon an Eid-ul-Fitr, while I dined with my friends so dear,
Tasting many a quaint and curious bit of Bangladeshi treat,
While I ate up foods exciting, suddenly there came, alighting,
A mosquito gently biting, biting on my naked feet.
“’Tis some mozzie,” I muttered, “biting on my naked feet –
Just because my blood’s so sweet.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bright November,
And each Mosquito Coast member cast its whining through the air.
Little did I know of dengue; – so often did the doc harangue me
To prevent bites that would pang me, pang me with despair,
Into rough and racking fevers that are, sadly, not so rare –
But, ignorant, I didn’t care.

Eight days later fever got me; I felt like someone had shot me,
Shot me full of poison to make me weep and moan;
But the fact was I’d been infected, and so gently was my foot injected,
And so faintly can it be detected, detected when the bite strikes home,
That I scarce was sure she bit me – Flavivirus was her loan –
A fever that they call “breakbone.”

Deep into that fever peering, long I lay there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the fever was unbroken, and the first test gave no token,
And the only words there spoken was the whispered cry, “There’s more?”
This I whispered, and the doc confirmed the threat for me, “There’s more!
Muscle aches, and so much more.”

Back into my bedroom turning, my brain and all my body burning,
Soon again I felt a churning somewhat rougher than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something like a migrane,
For my head has never felt such great pain and such dizziness before;
Let my brain be still a moment – I’ll just lie here on the floor,
Lie and wish to die here upon the floor.”

For two whole weeks I lay dejected, with my wife (also infected),
In solitude unelected – ‘til the fever finally left.
With our symptoms in recession, dengue brought us one more lesson:
One whole month of mild depression; fatigue made us bereft –
Drained of all our energy, our muscles had no heft –
Christmas was that fever’s final theft.

Now the shrill and sad insectile trilling of each tiny wingtip
Thrills me – fills me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I’m always DEET-ing,
Lest some small mosquito fleeting give me dengue here once more –
Some tiny violent vampire bringing fever here once more; –
‘Cause I don’t want to have it anymore.

The Rat Race ... Literally

Creatures are aplenty in Bangladesh, even (or especially?) in the urban landscape of Dhaka. We’ve become very accustomed to the throngs of geckos everywhere. And we do mean everywhere. As Jennifer was brushing her hair in our bathroom the other day, one leapt from somewhere above – they like to hide in the lights in the bathroom for some reason, others have confirmed this is the case in their homes as well – right in front of her face to the bathroom doorway and then scooted into the bedroom. They also like to wake us up in the middle of the night with their chirping. Actually, we’ve gotten so used to hearing them that they usually don’t manage to wake us up unless they’re inside the mosquito net with us. So, we’ve got no problem with the geckos. They don’t gross us out (although others disagree) and they eat mosquitoes. The more the merrier, we say.

A couple of weeks ago we celebrated the birthday of one of Patrick’s colleagues with a garden brunch in her front yard. As we munched on crepes and slurped mango juice, the front gate bell rang. Our buddy Scott jumped up – “It’s the snake charmer!” He ushered in a lungi-and-turban-clad man with two large straw baskets. Two hundred taka changed hands, and the man situated himself on the grass. Out came a flute ... and out came the cobras. He had three of them, and each of them reluctantly “danced” for us, following the sway of the snake charmer’s knee as he squatted in front of them. (Apparently they were intrigued and distracted by the grass, so they didn’t stand up as tall as they normally do.) We’ve heard stories of people seeing cobras in their yards. Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t have a yard, ourselves.

Besides the cobras, there is one other creature we’d rather not get so used to. We’ve started jogging a couple of nights a week in a nearby park and discovered that life can be a rat race. Literally. One night, we dodged several Rodents of Unusual Size which happened to cross our path. Then, during our run just a few nights ago, Jennifer heard a loud squeak, followed by Patrick’s shuddering “Aaaauuuuh!” Yep. One poor creature did not make it across our path quickly enough and found itself under Patrick’s running shoe. “It was like stepping on one of Bhago’s inflatable toys!” Patrick said. We think it survived to run again another day.