|rice field, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
i am going with tajul, a friend of a friend's girlfriend. was in bangladesh for 7 weeks, the first time after 12 years. he left because of different reasons, because of frustration, he says. actually he wanted to be in england, ended up in germany, ended up as a bavarian cook from franken. now he is back in his family village, since 3 weeks. and now with me.
the woman in the house they are amazing. the perfect housewife. even so amazing that i almost get ino the habit of not doing anything else. just being served. need to stop it.
|barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
and he was right. every single time we got off, walked around, people gathered around us, walked with us. that's ok, if they would not stand in the frame. and i understand. i would be curious. it is gossip. for them. so i do understand.
a while ago a friend of me said to me that he does not wanna live anymore in other countries. he would feel foreign and this foreigness would not wash up with the time. you could not disappear, treated equal, just as you. this is what i am saying. i think i could even wear a bin bag and it would not really matter. and actually i have to say i feel with my primark trousers and h and grey jumper ( i do not wanna even start to talk about this. i leave it for later) like in a bin bag.
he also says why don't you stay in your country. tere are issues to talk about as well. the kurds, the poverty... i know. i am here out of curiousity, that's it and to see, to learn, abut them, about me, and the gossip.
|wall, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
|jars, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
the village is big. but when i mean big that it is so big that you cannot simple walk through all of them. the village stretched in between and along the rice, banana fields, on a bit of a uprising part. not sure if that helps from preventing flodding. tajul says no.
every village has a mosque, a school and thousands of shops. a carpent, hairdresser, food, vegetable, sewing, dressmaker, a tea store. then again a hairdresser, a food shop, vegetable, maybe a carpenter, smebody who is fixing cars. and in between a lot of people. walking around, chatting, a few cows, chicken, a dog sleeping on the floor, not bothered by on and off coming motorbikes.
very slow life. i suppose this is one thig western getting fascinated about, desire it, romanticize it. some aspects. i am from a village and i guess it was like that 30 or 50 years ago. nothing special. its not anymore since television and big supermarkets arrrived. and that's not nostalgic.
|cloth drying in a banana field, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
the woman touched me, on my face. over my eyes. on my body. tajul and me went into a home. because i saw something. the colors, whatever.
the woman was in her room. her daughter and her garndchildren outside. she was blind, talked, got really confused and at the end concerned. not sure what would happen with the images. she sayid. i was just smilling, did not know what else to do. i left, needed to leave, time was flying, and time was limited.
photographers are coming into a for them strange place, have something in their mind, maybe something very important, usefull and productive, for their story, can't speak the local language, smile a bit and then leave again and what is leave behind?
i don't think i am so important, don't misunderstand me, but just the pure idea. coming into a space with a woman in a very well age, who maybe never seen anybody foreign, not lets say somebody out of her village and then me coming for literal 5, 10 minutes and then leaving again.
did i know what i wanted their, except from documenting the space, showing the beautiness of it, communicating it.
was the same when i went to the old school of tajul, where there was just a celebration going and i ended up on the stage in front of all the kids because in that way they would focuss on the stage not on something else. i felt horrible. i never do that again.
|barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
at the end we came into a wedding, passing it by. it was in a bigger part of the village, asked if we could stay. people were happy, actually less bothered by us, then the groom, who came in a shinny car, wit roses stuck with clear tape to the entrance on the wedding party,
he had to play a game, standing in fornt of a red string, drinking orange liquid, eating sweets. one of them was good, teh other make you sick. he has to guess and his friends are helping him. tajul said this to me, i think.
not sure how many guest were there. first the guest from the bride were eating, then the others from the man. lack of space, tajul says.
one little side gossip: the bride actually loved somebody else. this is at least what tajul's cousin said later when we told him about the wedding. he knows the bride. his cousin fell in love with her. and the friend of his cousin, but we ignor that part. anyway she was in love with him but had to marry somebody else. why? tajul's cousins says because the cousin lives in dhaka. i am not sure.
|banners, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
|briks, barishabo, kapasia, gazipur, 20th jan 2012|
they are building a school. the old one is too old. so the village people decided to build a new one. out of bricks, cause clay is too soft, breaks to quickly. the more or less rich villagers were paying for it. tajul's family was one if them.
education is imprtant. even so being aware that it can cause the other effect and causes opinions like hitler is a strong leader and he did good things for germany as a lot of bangaldeshi told me. not important here. here it is important to learn read, write, math and english. that's important. really important, even just to get them time off work.