Unfortunately, when I answered “tourism,” the customs lady didn’t quite believe me.  “Ten weeks is quite a long time for tourism, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.  Not really, though.”

So, she used her ball point pen to carve a big “2 MO” across the top of my passport. This means that I am authorized to stay for two months.  Eight weeks.  Not ten.

Now what?

Yesterday, I went to the passport office here in Jinja.  I told the secretary my problem, and she kindly explained that they would help me.  All I had to do was come back later.  I asked, “Is tomorrow ok?” She said yes.

Today, I went again.  Trudging through the rain and mud, I arrived at 1:30.  The door was locked, I knocked.  A man came and shouted through the glass “It’s lunch time!” I asked when lunch was over. “Two o’clock!” I waited.

Two rolled around and the secretary unlocked the door.  I walked in, she said he’d be right with me.  He was just finishing up his lunch.  Half an hour passed.  Forty five minutes.  I opened my book.  At three, he walked out of his office and stood over me, silently staring into my head.

“I, um, need to get my visa extended,” I told him.

He kept staring.

I fumbled in my backpack to find my passport, pulled it out and showed him. “You see?  It says 2 months, but it’s a three month visa.  It says valid until August 25th.”

A few more seconds passed, then he asked, “Do you know what a visa is?”

“Yes.”

“Define it.”

Ok, this is ridiculous.  I didn’t say that.  I said, “Well, I can’t define it, but I know what it is.”

Looking at my chest, he said, “Do you know what a shirt is?  Can you define a shirt?”

Ugh.  Somebody shoot me. “A shirt is something that you wear on the upper half of your body.”

“Can a man or a woman wear it?  Can anybody wear it?”

“Yes.”

Apparently I passed.  Or I failed.  I don’t know what the test was for, but he goes on:  ”A visa is a form that allows you to apply for entry into a country.  You can be considered for entry while your visa is valid.  Your visitor’s pass says how long you are allowed to stay.  Yours says you are allowed to stay until the 24th of July.”

Slight panic hits.  “But my flight leaves on the 31st of July.”

“Well, the immigration officer can extend a visitor’s pass at his discretion.”

Great!  Let’s get this done with. “OK, so can we do that?”

“Well your visitor’s pass isn’t expired until the 24th of July.  It is only the 3rd.  There is no reason to extend it now.”

A waterfall of reasons roared in my mind.  I’ve already come here twice, let’s do it now.  You’ve got nothing better to do.  If I wait until it is expired, I am here illegally.  Usually one does things before the absolute last minute.

Any of these I thought would suffice.  I tried to explain them politely.

“No, you should come back later.  Sometime after the 20th, when it is almost expired.  If we do it now, we’d just be wasting resources.”

“What resources?  I’m here already.  We’re already halfway through the meeting.”

“Not your resources.  My resources.  Come back later.”

The secretary and other worker just laughed.  I must have been staring, because I was just stunned.  He walked back into his office and closed the door.

I was informed by my family when I arrived that government officials like to flaunt their power over anyone they can.  It is a result of so few government jobs being available, they say.  “You just have to deal with the big man.”

“Umm…. what is this?” he asked as he picked up and examined what I had just put on the counter. Now, I was the one with a confused look. Even across the counter, I could still see the object – clearly labeled: ‘SONY DV Tape’.

“It’s a tape” I answered.

“A tape of what?” the DHL guy asked. Taken somewhat aback by the question, I answered, “an interview”.

“An interview of what?” the DHL guy asked. This exchange continued back and forth in ever increasing personal questions (what’s it for? why are you sending this? what’s it going to be used for?) until finally the DHL guy said “Sorry, we can’t ship this”. In hindsight, I probably would have got hassled less if I had been asking to ship a pound of cocaine and a loaded gun. Because, in this small South Asian country, one of the most controlled and restricted items for export is video footage.

For the average visitor to this country, Bangladesh seems like a fairly open country. Most people can come off a plane, go through customs, and vacation in places like Cox’s Bazar (the world’s longest unbroken beach) with relatively little hassle (and take their tourist videos back home with them). But, for those trying to make a difference here – whether it be helping the poor or raising awareness about poverty – the government of Bangladesh makes it as hard as possible. The only reason I’ve been able to do what I’m doing without interference – for the most part – is because I’ve been able to be small scale enough to stay under the radar.

But this was one of those times I had bumped into some hurdles. It all started with my recent trip to Jalchatra, Bangladesh where I encountered a Catholic priest who got infected by malaria. He got infected not once, not twice… but nearly forty times during an eleven year period. Two of those infections were cerebral malaria – a disease so dangerous it can cause death in just under a week. I interviewed him on camera (which I’ll put on YouTube in the future) but I also thought this might be footage worth sharing on a global scale for World Malaria Day this coming April. A contact of mine in Switzerland, was more than willing to take a copy of the raw footage and use it as part of their global awareness campaign.

Unfortunately, getting this footage to him is proving to be next to impossible. Unless I can pass this tape onto someone who is flying out of the country (so they can put it in their carry-on as tourist footage) than this tape will never reach Switzerland. I’d like to say that this problem is just an unintended consequence of a draconian law. But, in reality, it’s footage like this that the Bangladesh government wishes to stop. Journalists and aid workers are among the most scrutinized people in the country. While poverty in Bangladesh is no secret, some of the regions with the most suffering (such as the Chittagong Hill-Tracts, where this priest was repeatedly infected by malaria) are closed off to foreigners without express written permission.

This also isn’t the first time I’ve run into trouble with customs while trying to do my independent aid work. In one of my YouTube videos, I briefly touch upon the fact that some of my aid items were being held in customs despite being legal items of shipment. I eventually was able to retrieve these items after giving over $100 USD in bribes (aka “commissions” as the bureaucrats call them). The more time I spend on the ground in Bangladesh, the more I am convinced that ending poverty not only requires mobilizing governments abroad into action – but also ending the intentional immobilization caused by the local governments right here in the developing world.

The reason I’m posting this is because this is a side of Bangladesh that most people abroad don’t know about. I’m not talking about the allegations of corruption. I’m talking about how politically active students and university professors are in this country. Back in Toronto and at Notre Dame, I’ve known tons of students (and a few professors) that have signed petitions, endorsed politicians, and even participated in protests and marches. But their political activity pales in comparison to most of the students and professors in Bangladesh. In fact, those curfews that were imposed a few months back, were instigated when students and professors took to the street and started rioting in protest of the government. It’s kind of weird and surreal to see this kind of passion.

I’ve talked about the problem of corruption in this country previously, but even I feel this professor’s letter is a bit over the top. Maybe I don’t know the political situation in Bangladesh well enough, but I’m simply not one of those bloggers that has to analyze and critique Bangladesh’s political system. There isn’t anything wrong with voicing dissent, of course. But, as someone who has come to this country as a foreigner, there is more to praise than criticize about Bangladesh’s political system. Bangladesh is one of the few Muslim-majority countries which is a constitutional democracy. Bangladesh also has had more years under female leadership than Western Nations like the UK and Canada. They are also at peace with all of its neighbors (albeit, Bangladesh is surrounded on all sides by India).

Unlike Professor Hawlader, in my books, Bangladesh is far from “hapless”.

I was at Notre Dame College the other day. Notre Dame College is a middle school and high school for Bangladesh children that provides education to middle class and extremely poor Bangladeshi children. It’s founded by the same Catholic organization that founded my alma mater in South Bend, Indiana. Some of the staff there used to be Rectors at some of the Halls at the American Notre Dame too. I’ve spent a lot of time there during this trip – makes me less homesick. My last visit there I was surprised to find the phone lines were cut – and it had nothing to do with forgetting to pay the bill.

In fact, the bills were paid on time and in full. It turns out that, in Bangladesh, paying your bills doesn’t get your service. I’ve talked about the corruption at the local water authority. The sad news is that this type of corruption isn’t limited to water. This corruption exists at the phone company and the electricity company too. If your water stops flowing – you need to ask for the water company to send a water tanker to your building. If the phone lines stop working – you need to have a technician come to your place. And, rest assured, every phone technician, water truck driver, and the middleman you need to deal with will be asking for a “commission” (which is just a nice term to legitimize bribery).

Fact #2: People suffer when this happens.

Believe it or not – there are honest people in this country trying to make an honest living here. But, rest assured, they are given a hard time by those a bit more corrupt. This is the Muslim month of Ramadan. For those not versed in Islam, it’s basically as important as Christmas is to Christians. A lot of people are buying and shopping at this time of year. It’s a time when those shopkeepers – who want to be able to survive for the rest of the year – need to be able to do business. This was made impossible for shopkeepers at the Bongo Bazaar in Dhaka (I found this great video of some foreigners shopping in the Bongo Bazaar if you want to see what it looks like). Despite paying their bills, the shop keepers didn’t have access to electricity. This wasn’t like a rolling blackout – that’s quite common here. This was a complete shutdown of electricity. Most of these shopkeepers could not afford backup generators. In much an enclosed and non-ventilated space – even local Bangladeshis couldn’t tolerate the heat there for more than two minutes.

No electricity means no fans. No fans means no shoppers. No shoppers means no business. No business means no income. No income means that it’s impossible to bribe the electricity company so that the power gets put back on. Sometimes I feel Bangladesh does a good job of keeping itself trapped in the poverty cycle.

Fact #3: People get sick when this happens.

In medieval Europe, people would put the contents of their toilet into a bucket (or just use a bucket as their toilet). When it needed to be emptied – they’d go near the window and dump it all out. This is how people lived when indoor plumbing didn’t exist. It’s good to know that corruption helps to keep the medieval spirit alive and well. Because, when there is no water, my neighbors in the adjacent apartments sometimes scoop out their toilets with a bucket and dump the contents out the window. This would be less disgusting if the entrance to the place I’m staying didn’t happen to be where they dump their stuff. Disgust aside – with medieval practices come medieval diseases. It’s no surprise that everyone who lives here has had pink eye, typhoid, and stomach related illnesses.

And like the bazaar that had no electricity, Notre Dame college which had no phone lines, or my residential block which (once again) has no water – this all is happening during the month of Ramadan. A time when people need extra cash to shop and spend on their family. And it just so happens that the electricity, phone line, and water all magically come back when you give the right person the right amount of bribes. Corrupt people need to shop for their families too – but it’s innocent victims that line their pockets.

Fact #4: Corruption disproportionately hurts the poor.

I was visiting someone who had an apartment in a region of the city called Baridhara. Baridhara is a diplomatic zone – it has the US Embassy (along with other embassies from other countries) and is the home to many foreigners and rich locals. Many of the apartments there would put most homes in North America to shame. LCD TVs in every room, each room with its own independent A/C, marble flooring and countertops, and all the fancy fixtures and accessories to go along with it. If the power goes out – there is a generator that can power everything for up to a day. If the water goes out – houses and apartments there come with massive reserve tanks. And when bribing is necessary, the apartment building manager pays off the right people and adds the cost to the apartment fees. Bribing for a flat rate – how convenient is that?

The same is true for the stores that cater to the rich. At a local supermarket called Lavender, one of the few places where white customers out number Bangladeshis, a small bag of cookies costs about 8 US Dollars. In local terms thats over 500 of the local currency – or about 4 times the daily income of over 80% of the population. But, unlike the Bongo Bazaar, the shoppers there never need to worry about a lack of electricity for the A/C. The high price of goods helps pay for the bribes. Not every store can be like Lavender and add the cost of bribes to the price of the products.

Fact #5: Corruption is so bad, even aid agencies don’t trust the locals.

One of the United Nation’s Millennium Development Goals is to stop the spread of HIV, tuberculous, and malaria. To help in this cause there is a Global Fund – literally called the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculous and Malaria. The Global Fund helps many countries – but when they decided to try and help Bangladesh, they decided not to work with the government or most local NGOs. When it comes to purchasing things like mosquito nets, the government and or an NGO needs to place a request to a foreign agency like the World Health Organization. The UN then acts as the honest broker and makes the purchase ensuring that money meant for poor people doesn’t get pocketed by corrupt officials.

I don’t think anyone really understands what kind of corruption this country has until you come and live here. Where is Don Corleone when you need him? The man would be a saint in this country.

Take this recent water crisis in Dhaka. I wanted to wait a couple of days to be sure, but it seems that – for those living around me – the water shortages are over. Both my house and the neighboring apartments have had continuous access – without interruption – to city water for over 48 hours. But here’s the thing: no pipes needed to be replaced, no pumps needed to be repaired, and no city capacity had to be increased in order for this to happen.

In fact, the only thing that happened was that I showed up at the Water Authority with a camera and started asking some questions.

Click the jump for more of on this including a picture of one of the city’s tube well stations…..

Bangladesh. like many third world countries, faces a giant problem of providing access to clean water and sanitation. In fact, the problem of access to water is such a pressing concern that it was the cover topic for the latest United Nations Human Development Report.

There are tons of legitimate reasons why outages like this occur. I’ve talked about a few before and they include:

1. Money: It costs money to build wells, sanitation stations, pipes and infrastructure to provide clean water and sanitation to people. Even when there is money for infrastructure, water isn’t always a top priority for investment. And, once infrastructure is in place, it takes more money to keep the whole thing maintained.
2. Rapid Development: The place I’m staying at has pipes that are older than Bangladesh itself. Some houses in the city have piping that was laid back when this place was a colony of the British Empire. Now you have these ultra-high rises with modern piping and high capacity pumps. Getting water is a competition – where the losers are left high and dry.
3. Sources of Water and Capacity: Bangladesh gets its water from two sources: the water underneath the city and water from the rivers. Sometimes the water from the rivers are so polluted it cannot be treated. Even when it is treatable, it takes a lot of resources and electricity to be able to do so. Part of the problem, as I have read, is that the sanitation stations in the city don’t have the electrical capacity to purify the water fast enough. The other problem is that less and less water can be pulled from underground. In fact, the more water that is pulled from underground – the greater the risk the city will eventually sink into the ground.

From the locals I’ve talked to though, it seems like they blame corruption for the problem. You see, when water doesn’t come over the regular city pipes, people have to either buy water bottles, go to the Water Authority and fill up a barrel, or pay for a city water truck to come and pump some water into a holding tank. All of these other options cost a premium and usually involve a “commission” – which is a nice euphemism for a bribe. For example, when I volunteered to cover the cost for a city water truck to deliver water to the house I was staying at – I had to pay 500 in the local currency (called taka). 400 taka was the cost of the delivery of water, and 100 taka was for bribes to the truck driver and various middle men. Without a water crisis – all these employees would have to rely on is their salary.

Call me the optimist – but I kind of dismissed all the claims of corruption and had gone to the Water Authority to film and take photos about the technical problems they were facing. I talked to some engineers, talked about city water levels, and and inspected one of their tube well stations. When they showed me the tube well – I thought they were joking:

Apparently this tube well station is about as old as I am. This old, rusty, off in the corner series of pipes is what many residents in Dhaka have to rely on to get their water. There are hundreds of stations like this around the city all of them in more or less in the same condition. Not only are they poorly maintained – they aren’t even secured. Anyone from off the streets can just walk up to the (unattended and unsupervised) tube well. Oh – and I’m not quite sure if that bamboo stick had a load bearing or functional purpose resting up against the well

I had left my tour of the Water Authority with the impression that this water crisis was very much a technical problem – and nothing more. After I wrapped up my interview, I made a few casual inquires about the trouble I and my neighbors were getting. They casually gave the usual explanations (poor pipes, low capacity, nearby construction, etc) and I readily accepted them and thanked them for their time. Before I left they, in turn, asked me why I had filmed all of this. I told them about my project and my desire to make some videos about these issues so people around the world could see whats going on in Bangladesh.

Less than 12 hours after my interview and tour of the station – water miraclously started coming through the pipes once again and has provided interrupted water ever since. From reading the papers and asking around, I know that no new repairs had been done during that time. Most of the people in my neighborhood are thanking me for the water coming back. They believe that by a foreigner coming with a video camera had scared some of the middle men into stopping their corrupt practices in the neighborhood.

Was this problem caused by corruption or legitimate technical difficulties? After today, I don’t know what to believe anymore.