My first weekend back in Bangladesh and I'm out and about in Gulshan running errands. I leave my apartment and make the usual 30 yard stroll to Gulshan Avenue and make a right toward the circle when a Bangladeshi man walks past me, stops right in front of me, turns around, and holds up his mobile phone to take a photo. Normal. But for some reason without even thinking I say "no sir' (like he could understand me) and extend my arm out to put my hand up and block the camera's view of me. Within the next few seconds, I somehow push my palm against the front of his phone, twist my wrist, and snatch it from him only to stand there wide-eyed surprised at my actions and not sure what to do next. He says something in Bangla "I just wanted to take your photo madame" is what I tell myself he is saying in my head though I of course do not understand. Not sure what to do next, I shove the phone at his chest and scurry into the retail store we are in front of to seek refuge.
What did I just d!o? What possessed me to tear someones possession from their hand? A small portion of me was thinking he deserved it (humph) while a majority was worried I was quickly turning into an expat snob.
The rest of the morning I kept going over the event in my head. I have had my photo taken via mobile phone many times in several countries. . .and I think I am generally a peaceful person, right? A tree-hugging, peace and love, kind of hippie who practices yoga (ommmm) for crying out loud so WHY and HOW did I hulk out of myself and turn all angry on this instance? Was it because I just came back from the US and wasn't quite used to being back in Dhaka? And exactly how did I get my hand on his mobile phone? I told myself that with my arm extended walking down the street and him standing still I just walked into it. But was I walking down the street or marching toward him? It all happened so quickly. But why did he want my photo anyway? I was in full greasy-weekend mode, un-showered, having just rolled out of bed, thrown on jeans and a t-shirt and wrapped my hair in a knot. Not my shining moment in looks or actions clearly.
A few hours pass and I decide to head to the ARA for a late lunch and do some work. Again, I stroll outside of my apartment and get about 20 yards down the road when I hear a group of three boys, probably 8 to 12 years old laughing and yelling who-knows-what to me. This happens about once a week. I ignore them. The 3 boys grow to about 10, now 12 and they are surrounding me, walking with me, some in front and others behind. I keep walking (hey, at least they haven't started poking me yet). A couple from across the street (in my head they are Dutch) yells to ask if I am okay. Humm, okay, this is getting a bit out of hand if it is attracting the attention of passersby. Sigh. I head straight for the nail salon only 10 yards away to hide out and let them pass. As I gaze at the group of youngsters rounding the corner and out of sight from the comforts of the nail salon window I realize this is the universe answering my morning actions. . .what goes around comes around. I wonder if he was able to get a good picture . . .
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