News from Grameen
Here is what I had meant to send before going to the village last Tuesday. Unfortunately, the Internet wasn't working that morning. Here goes:
The day after visiting Kamal's apartment, Topu, the Bangladeshi intern at Grameen, invites me to go to Bashundhara City, South Asia's largest shopping mall. We meet at the Grand Prince Hotel at 11 a.m. and travel by CNG (a Compressed Natural Gas-propelled rickshaw) to Bashundhara.
There are many perks to exploring Dhaka with a native Bangladeshi. In addition to being able to translate, he can obtain reasonable fares for transit services. A CNG ride to Bashundhara would have cost me 150 taka. Topu arranges one for 80. In the grand scheme of things, I don't mind paying the equivalent of $2.25 for a 10-kilometer ride that takes 45 minutes of the driver's time in addition to the fuel costs. After a while, though, I have begun to feel a little bit cheated.
Traveling through the Bashundhara neighborhood, it doesn't look much different from the rest of Dhaka. The buildings are a bit taller and most appear newer. Arriving at the mall, however, the Bangladeshis on the street are dressed lavishly in more Western-style clothes and arrive by means of taxis, not rickshaws or CNGs. Entering the mall, I am immediately transported elsewhere. This is not Bangladesh anymore. The mall is enormous; the clientele certainly do not live on less than two dollars a day.
Topu asks, "It is hard to believe that this is Bangladesh, isn't it?"
I reply, "Yes. It feels like I have entered another world."
He says, "Most Bangladeshis cannot shop here. My family cannot shop here, and we are well off compared to most."
In the center of the mall is a gigantic open area, from which I can see the nine stories above me. The ceiling at the center is an elaborate stained-glass ceiling. Topu suggests that we go to the top floor and look down. I agree, and we begin our ascent.
Looking at the shops on the way up, I notice that the shops are no more posh than those at a typical American mall. The architecture of the place is much more sophisticated, but the wares in the shops are typical of any mall USA. After climbing nine escalators, we arrive at the top.
Looking down over the railing, my small fear of heights kicks in. Topu laughs and asks, "Are you scared?"
"Yeah, just a little bit."
I have my camera out to take a picture. Topu asks, "Would you like me to take a picture for you?"
"Yes. Thank you."
After he takes the picture, I examine the food court that surrounds us. I see stores with strangely familiar names and logos: Dominous Pizza, TFC (Tasty Fried Chicken), Pasta Hut, GFC (Good Fried Chicken), BFC (Best Fried Chicken), and Taco Bell (the real thing--Yum Brands has penetrated the Bangladeshi market). I laugh. Topu asks me what is so funny. I point out the strange similarities between these restaurants and those in America. He says that it common in Bangladesh.
He asks me, "Would you like to do some shopping?"
"Yeah, that sounds great."
Several floors below, he asks me if I would like to buy some CDs, pointing to a store called Besty Buy Music. I say yes, walking into the store. Seeing the color of my skin, the clerks swarm me and ask if they can help. Topu asks me, "What are you looking for?'
I say, "Bally Sagoo," at the recommendation of a professor at MTSU. Topu translates my request to Bengali for the clerks. The clerks go to work, sifting through stacks and stacks of CDs in no apparent order in search of Bally Sagoo.
Within a minute, they have put four different CDs in my hands and ask, "DVDs?"
I say, "Na," (one of the few Bengali words that I know). I choose two CDs that look like more recent releases and ask, "How much?"
Topu translates for the clerks and gets back to me. "120 taka." After a quick conversion, less than $2 sounds like more than a fair price. I pay for them, and we exit the store.
I tell Topu that I would like to buy some clothes. He asks me what I want. I tell him that I want to browse the panjabis, traditional Bengali men's wear. On Eid Day, the day that marks the end of Ramadan, Bengali people wear brand new clothes, so the panjabi shops are packed. To further complicate my shopping, there are few broad-shouldered Bengalis who stand as tall as I.
When we find something that I like that looks like it fits, the salesperson talks to Topu in Bengali for a minute. Topu tells me, "You need to wear it to make sure it is the right size."
I ask him where there is a dressing room. Topu responds, "They have no dressing room. Try it right here." Hesitantly, I begin to shed my shirt in the middle of the store, surrounded by men. Outside the store, people have begun to gather to watch this spectacle. Thankfully, my panjabi of choice fits. More than just a little self-consciously, I remove the panjabi and put my other shirt back on. I don't think that so many people have ever watched me change clothes.
"Do you want to shop more?" asks Topu.
"No, thank you." Aware that Topu is fasting, I say, "I am sorry to ask this of you, but I am hungry and want to go to the food court."
"It is no problem."
We climb the escalators back to the top floor. As I am starving, Dominous Pizza sounds like a great idea. I order a "California" pizza (pineapple and chicken) and a soda, and the cashier hands me a number, number 62. After sitting down, I notice that their red LED sign says, "Now Serving: 4." Starving, I think this could take a while. The number on the sign changes. "Now Serving: 78." Relieved that my hunger will soon be satiated, I am amazed at how little makes sense in this country.
While Topu watches me eat my pizza, I ask Topu what he thinks about this mall and the wealthy people it serves. He tells me there is a great disparity between the rich and the poor in Bangladesh. Topu reminds me that the construction of this mall provided jobs for many of the less fortunate Bangladeshi citizens and that the shopkeepers are employed as a result of the abundance of the wealthy upper class.
Here in Bangladesh, I am witnessing trickle-down economics in action. From what I have seen, however, it is only a trickle. If only the trickle could be turned up a bit; Bangladesh needs deluge-down economics in order to alleviate the poverty of the lowest classes.
The bottom-up development suggested by Dr. Yunus and Grameen Bank seems to be a bit more effective, at least from what I have seen. However, much of the success of the Grameen borrowers seems to depend upon the increased wages that have resulted from the growing garment industry in Bangladesh. As laborers have earned more money in the garment factories, there is more income with which to purchase the products of those who have taken loans from Grameen Bank. Poverty alleviation and economic development seem to require both top-down and bottom-up investment to be truly effective.
