(A very special friend asked me to make an english translation of this article….here it is! Thanks to Mike for his help)
I always stay at the same guest house in Gaibandha district. I like it very much here – not just for the excellent food, the clean rooms that even have a shower or the wi-fi connection. No, above all, I love the view from the small balconies. This view, especially at dusk – and immediately the last bit of tension melted away from me. Here I just feel incredibly well.
Especially in winter there is a beautiful light in the evening. But enough talk, enjoy the pictures and I will try to deliver a little less text.
Okay, I this isn’t working … do you notice anything on the rice fields? Normally, soft, fresh green sprouts come out at this time of the year. But this time, many stalks have a rather reddish glow. This is due to the cold fog, which lies persistently for a long time over the fields. The reddish stalks are probably not usable, the rice would be virtually frozen. That, too, is an effect of climate change, people tell me. But I still get stuck on to the word ‚frozen‘ – is that even possible at temperatures of six degrees plus? Although, admittedly, for Bangladesh it is already veeeery cold.
When the tractor driver sees me, he immediately changes his driving behavior: he takes his mobile phone from his ear, puts his foot on the pedal and then the vehicle takes off. Chugging loudly, the tractor races towards an embankment, which has a height of about one and a half meters. Without braking, the tractor climbs the slope until it is almost vertical. Shortly before tipping, the harrow pulls up on the rear end and supports the tractor. The young man in the driver’s seat turns around briefly, waves triumphantly and then chugs off in the evening light.
I almost overlook the railway sleeper, which is embedded in the ground in front of me. Fiat 1959 is written on it. Have Italians laid this railway line here? At least the track is shut down now, I hope. Because at the moment it is diverted from its intentional use, which one can see quite clearly.
A few steps further there the tracks continue. And suddenly they start to vibrate and there is a strange rumbling sound.
The train is not fast. The passengers have enough time to wave at the inquisitive European and even to call Valo theko – take care.
As soon as the train has passed, I hear shouts again. This time, it’s from children playing in the fields next to Nissen huts. I wave, take snapshots and smile – posing guys seem to be a pretty international phenomenon.
It is different with the faces of older people. Especially in Bangladesh, I often find these ones incredibly interesting …