DOLLY’S DREAMS

Winding our way through the tree lined avenues of Gulshan, we got out into the main thoroughfares of Dhaka the teaming mega-city capital of Bangladesh with a population of about 12 million people. We soon realized the bubble that Gulshan was – though not entirely unaware of it, it still is an overwhelming sense when you step out to other parts of Dhaka. To say that there was traffic congestion would be a huge understatement. You could shake hands quite easily with those in a vehicle alongside you – you could even feed that person, hug him or her, adjust his neck tie….just about anything. Inches separated vehicles from each other and for what seemed to be a very long time, one was just stuck on some of those roads. You could actually have full conversations with your co-travellers on that road even if you are in different vehicles. But it was also an indication of the sense of enterprise and dynamism of this amazing city – just about anybody was busy doing something in myriad chores, activities and enterprises. And we were soon to witness one such initiative. Though it was January (2010), there wasn’t any nippiness in the air – it was warm and humid.

We were dropped off the main road, opposite the imposing head quarters of BRAC, Bangladesh’s pride and one of the pioneers of micro finance, which had since then diversified into several other businesses including telecommunications. The plush buildings of upmarket Gulshan were still visible. But right across was a turbid water body, a lake, the stench from which soon filled our nostrils. And across the lake was a teeming slum, or an ‘informal settlement’, to use an euphemism. Small boats ferried visitors and dwellers to Korail, home to about 1 million inhabitants of this informal settlement. We got into one of the boats, rather gingerly, wondering about the safety of these and our sanity in agreeing to be ferried across this short distance. We looked down at the water – it was thick and dark in colour. It needed no imagination or explanation for us to realize that this was pretty much an open sewer that brought in the waste from this entire settlement. No wonder the stench was so overpowering. Soon enough, we could feel it at the bottom of our tongues, deep in our lungs – fumes, yes, it was more like fumes. Undaunted though, the chaps ferrying us went about with their business, turning around for yet one of the several hundreds of trips they must be doing, each day, for all days in a year, oblivious to that stench. In the evening, they would retire to their little hovels in this very settlement. This was the main source of their livelihood and they could not possibly be bothered with trivialities such as an assault to their olfactory sensitivities !!!

We started walking around the narrow lanes of settlement, so narrow that only one person could walk through at most times. It was easy to peep into the huts as we walked past. Most of them were temporary constructions of wood, tiles, tin sheets, gunny bags, cardboard – just about anything that could pass as potential building material. The huts were clean though, just about 100 square feet each at most, which probably was home to 4 – 8 people. That space served as living room by day and bed room by night, with the kitchen being one of the corners. Many houses had brightly decorated walls – cuttings from bill boards, advertisements, local cricketing heroes, film stars, including some Bollywood celebrities. Everyone appeared busy – cooking, cleaning, selling, making toys, handicrafts. No one was idle – no one could afford to be idle. The city was merciless and would not tolerate anyone idling away their time – every penny was precious, every taka had to be earned the hard way. It was survival of the fittest !

Soon, we came to what looked like a small shop. A group of teenage girls greeted us. Dressed very neatly in colourful clothes with their hair neatly tied with bright ribbons, there was an air of business about them. “Good afternoon and welcome to our neighbourhood”, a smart looking girl, probably not more than 14 or 15 said chirpily. “I am Dolly and I am the leader of our association”.

As we made enough space for us to stand and listen to her, she narrated their story. WaterAid had been supporting a local organization, DSK, to work with the community on addressing water and sanitation issues. This involved working with the Dhaka utility to supply water for which the local community would pay a charge. This was a huge victory in itself as an informal settlement was now getting legal water connections after almost a decade of DSK and the local community lobbying for it. They had also constructed community latrines so that people had no longer to use their ‘hanging latrines’ (which basically was a platform made with bamboo and covered with gunny bags for privacy which people used as latrines, the waste from which was disposed directly into the lake water below – and that explained the stench) – and this was catering to a section of the 1 million population. But hygiene was equally important. Hand washing with soap before eating and after going to the latrine was key.

However, the girls raised the issue of menstrual hygiene, they said. They had no facilities to keep themselves clean when they had their monthly periods. They lacked privacy, they didn’t have access to sanitary pads – and that meant that unhygienic practices were very prevalent among the girls and women and they suffered the constant indignity of having to live with this biological phenomenon. The women had lived with this for long, but the girls wanted things to be different.

This had led to discussion on menstrual hygiene practices and facilities. The silence had to be broken – and who else to take the lead but the adolescent girls themselves, who, uninhibited and assertive, wanted this to be addressed. Dolly was one of their spokespersons who led the process of change. Over a period of time, they set up these facilities but also ensured that the girls and women had access to sanitary pads, for which they set up their own sanitary pad making unit. Sold at an affordable price, it also meant a small source of income for the group of girls making them. And that is what they were so proudly showing us – their little shop, selling sanitary pads, but also other items – soaps, detergents, books, pens and pencils.

“We feel very confident now and we feel that we have the power to change if we can articulate our needs and assert them” said Dolly, very proudly. That look of confidence and dignity radiated on the faces of the other girls, who had come to meet us and talk about their initiative.

As we were leaving, I asked Dolly what her dream was. She aspired to be a doctor, she said. She had seen enough illnesses in her community and enough suffering. She hoped she could so something to alleviate that !

As we took the ferry back to get into our cars, the stench was still overpowering. But it was replaced by a deep sense of optimism that change is happening, and the leadership is in the right hands. Dolly was truly inspiring in advocating for something that was a matter of deep taboo. No more ! Will she realize here dream ? Am pretty sure she will !