After a day in Old Dhaka I find only one word to accurately describe it. “Race”, as in “competition” or “tidal race” both.
I say “Old Dhaka” as that’s the part of town I’ve decided to explore. There are of course other parts that are better off, with BMWs and KFCs, where the middle class leads a life of upward mobility. Fifteen million people and counting leaves lots of room for diversity.
But in Old Dhaka many people are stuck, caught in a race for mere survival. The lucky ones own a small store or a fruit stand, maybe an old bus where you can pack’em in. The not so lucky ones rent a rickshaw or rowboat from someone else, and then paddle for life.
And then there’s the rest, the ones who have nothing but their hands to feed themselves: the woman squatting in a pile of stinking food scraps collecting sour rice into a bowl; the child using a stick to pick recyclable plastic out of the sewer; stunted teenage boys carrying bags of cement at a construction site; a girl trying to sell five dusty oranges arranged in a perfect pyramid on the filthy sidewalk.
Many of them are literally running up and down the crowded streets, with loads on their heads or pushing heavy carts. Every minute counts as every extra transaction means a little less hunger. Jaws are clinched to bare the pain of aching joints and life.
This is a world with no sick time, no vacation, no healthcare. Herniated discs, diarrhea, inflamed teeth… Unless you’re dead, you go to work. Unless you work, you die.
I look at the people and make mental notes; taking photos would be too intrusive. Is this the future of the planet as mega-cities grow bigger? Climate change is already real in low-lying Bangladesh, with millions leaving fields ruined by seawater or washed away villages to come to Dhaka.
When shit really hits the fan and billions of people are losing their livelihood due to drought and floods, will Stockholm and San Francisco look like this too? I hope I don’t have to find out.
The sun rises as I have breakfast. The race starts again and it will continue well into the night. Losers starve. If you win, you get to do it all over again tomorrow.
