Dhaka to Barisal on the night ferry

Race across Dhaka

It was time to leave our office for an adventure around Barisal back waters and the Sundarban, but first we had

to make our way across the bustling city of Dhaka, our office is based in the Banani district of Dhaka; our plan was simple, to catch the public transport across the city, down to Old Dhaka in time for the ferry to depart Sandarghat River Port for Barisal.

But not all was as simple as it seems, after catching a rickety rickshaw over to the main road, we found ourselves stuck, none of the CNG’s wanted to take us all the way to Sandarghat, as the traffic raced past us we just all looked at each other and stared, “well what do we do now” Arifur says with a sigh, luckily a public bus was just about to pass us, “Baihya” we shouted with our hands high in the air waving the bus down, the bus didn’t stop for us, it just slowed down, we would have to run along the side of the bus before pulling ourselves up the steps just to get inside, as I did I felt the bag on my back pull

backwards causing me to nearly loose grip of the pole and unidoubtly falling back into the main road.

Inside the bus was cramped, there was no suspension which meant that every bump and hole in the road would cause the bus to rock violently, the smell of sweat was strong and the heat was rising, it was a pleasurable moment to feel the slight breeze now and again from the one open window that was next to me, as the bus raced its way through the Dhaka traffic, I would find myself swaying left to right trying to hang onto the hand rail above my head, the local Bangladeshi people were staring at me now and smiling, most probably because they weren’t expecting a foreigner such as myself to be standing

on that bus, the conductor came through the crowded bus asking for the fares off everyone, you would have to be fairly skinny for that job as it looked impossible to squeeze your way through the people down the aisle, but yet he managed it smoothly, ducking under peoples arms and sqeezing through the tightest of spaces.

As we were coming into Old Dhaka the traffic was becoming more dense, I was looking out the window at the old British styled buildings that were once the main icons on this area of the city, some of these buildings were over 200 years old and you can really notice the architecture design of the English.

At Old Dhaka, we walked across the road, you can hear the many sounds of people shouting, bells ringing and the echoing car horns, as we zig zaged through the people that dominate the road we managed to get hold of a horse and cart, the cart looked fantastic, with its silver design it had a seating area on the inside with a shaded roof, I sat in front with the rider to get the full view of the streets I am passing through, once again people were staring. I don’t think many foreigners would travel through Dhaka this way, the horses would make their way through the traffic and the people, occasionally getting in the way of the buses and cars which many times I closed my eyes thinking the horses would be knocked down, but no the horse rider knew what he was doing, he had most probably been doing this since his childhood as you would see now and again a father and son operating the carts.

After getting off the sturdy cart by lowering myself

down onto the large wooden wheel, we made our way to Sandarghat which is one of the largest river ports in the world, just like the rest of Dhaka it was chaotic, beggars would come up to me pulling on my arm; after squeezing my way through the crowd and down the wooden bridge, you would see the local children jumping into the black water below, the joy on the children faces brought back happy memories of my childhood; I don’t understand how Sandarghat works, once you get down to the dock side there are boats everywhere, and the majority of the ships looked the same, I don’t think I would be able to find the ship I needed if I was there on my own, we marched past everyone, my bag seemed heavier, when I went to look at my bag I found a child holding on, not to nick anything, but using me as a guide to get through the crowd; we found our ship which was called the Shaorobi 8 (not sure if it is the correct spelling), this apparently is one of the biggest and most luxuries ships in Bangladesh.

I finally settled down in my room for the evening, the room consisted of two beds which I would be sharing with my colleague, a small fan above our heads, an old fashioned TV and just enough room for one person to stand, but still the room was perfect for the evening; I decided to put my bag down and jump onto the bed to relax, the bed wasn’t that soft, it felt like my back had landed on a surface as solid as a rock, so with that incident I decided maybe it wasn’t the best of time to lay on the bed.

I wondered to the front of the boat, I stood there with the feeling of amazement watching all the hustle and bustle unfold below me, whilst the ship was docked at Dhaka beggars and sellers are free to wonder the ship, it was hard to enjoy the view when many of the beggar children would come up to me asking for money; the sun was now starting to set over Dhaka, the glow of the sun bounced off the surrounding buildings turning them orange, glaring in the direction of the sun was blinding and it was hard to see what was in front of you. The ship shock violently which caused me to lose balance, the ship that was leaving next to us had bumped into the side of ours causing a screeching sound as the two ships rubbed closely together, the whole ship shuttering to the point where all the doors had swung open down the side of the boat, I was watching the two ships collide thinking there was no way this is normal, but a Bangladeshi man looked at me with both hands in the air shouting “ah normal, always happens”, this is why many ships on the Bangladeshi rivers happen to sink, this happened a few times whilst we were waiting to depart from Dhaka.

Shaorobi 8 – A night cruise to Barisal

We started leaving Dhaka around 20:00, watching the city lights disappear into the darkness was so relaxing, it felt like a wave of relief came over me to be finally

leaving after 9 months of being in Bangladesh, I stood there and thought of everyone who I know who were still currently in Dhaka, wishing that some of them would come and join me on this adventure, the stars twinkled in the night sky with the moon light blaring down on the black river, there was a slight breeze in the air which felt bewildering, all the people on Shaorobi 8 were laying down on the front of the boat taking in the view.

One of the problems about traveling around Bangladesh with a bunch of Bangladeshi guys is the fact that the only option of food is Bengali, which is not one of my priorities, but luckily this evening we were having chicken biryani which was simply made up of white rice, small green peas and chunks of chicken on the bone, and best of all, hardly any spice.

I joined the rest of the travelers by laying down on deck at the front of the boat and watched the shooting stars of the dark sky, the moon was blaring

down onto me causing my skin to let off a white glow, my mind emptied for the first time in months causing me to feel chilled, I enjoy moon bathing more than sun bathing, at least you don’t turn as red as a lobster under the light of the moon.

The river started opening up causing the waves to get bigger, I stood at the side of the ship and watched as other ships similar to our one was racing down to the same destination, I was told that there is no time structure like we have in the UK, the space that is available in Barisal Port was going to be on a first come first serve basis, there were five other ships around our one which only got me thinking about what will happen when we reach the finish line; small little lights would flicker out in the darkness, these little lights were tiny fishing boats letting the larger ships know they were there, at one point 7 little lights lit up the river like little fireflies dancing on the water surface, each of the ships would shine their search light onto the fishing boats just to be able to see them, the ship would change its course to avoid hitting the fishermen, I watched one ship only just miss one fisherman boat which made my heart go to my throat, but luckily he was ok, the fisherman was just left with his boat violently rocking to the waves caused by the ship.

I wondered around the lower decks of the ship; the highest deck is the better rooms whilst the lower decks are for the poorest of the poor. I made my way down to the bottom deck to find a large room full of hundred of Bangladeshi families, all laying down on carpets and using each other’s knees and bags as pillows, children would curl up into their mothers arms for comfort, whilst the older men would sit on the edge of the boat for a cigarette, I had many stares whilst I was down on that floor, I felt unwelcomed and didn’t fancy staying there much longer, so I made my way back up to my small tiny cupboard room and put my head down for the night, the room was hot with the slight coldness of the fan above my head but after the day I had it felt heavenly.

Waking up in Barisal

We arrived in Barisal at around 4:30, I was awoken by the loud shuttering of a shaking ship once again scraping its way next to another ship which caused my whole room to vibrate, I guess I didn’t need an alarm as I was rattling away in my bed. The sky was purple and already you could feel the heat starting to raise ready for the day ahead, the dock was quieter than Sandarghat, the skippers from each of the ships would tie ropes around solid structures to firmly hold the ships in place, I started to quickly pack my pocessions away and went to wait by one of the outdoor wash basins, the queue was slightly long because everyone had decided to get washed at the same time, when I finally had the chance I quickly brushed my teeth and splash cold water over my face and hair, then I was ready to depart.

Making my way through the passages of the ship and then out into the open, I have finally stepped back onto the land. There was a long wooden ramp to get out of the port, this is where we met our guide for the back waters, but first we made our way across the road to a small compact café; the room was full of Bengalis who have just recently made their way off the ship, the breakfast was basic but nice, a bit of runny egg along with some sort of omelet and wrap, there was a bowl of spicy meat but I avoided that at all cost, even though the spice would of surely woken me up.