While the nation voted, I went to the beauty parlour... (29/12/08)

The 29th December 2008 was a big day for Bangladesh. The first national elections in six years were held after a state of emergency that has lasted for almost two years was lifted on 17th December. After many delays, and much last-minute wrangling, the election was held peacefully on the 29th. While outside, voters and campaigners mingled on the streets, making the most of the national holiday declared for the election, I and my oh-so-politically-aware friends made a trip to the beauty parlor…

To give you a little background to the election: a caretaker government has been in control of Bangladesh since early 2007, when the serving prime minister (of the Bangladesh National Party) resigned at the increasingly acrimonious and volatile turn in relations between the government and its opposition, which threatened to destabilize the entire country and derail its economic development. The caretaker government has, since 2007, worked to eliminate corruption in Bangladeshi politics and reform the electoral system.

Needless to say, hopes for 2008 were high. Judgments of the caretaker government have been mixed to say the least, with some applauding the significant voter registration drive it conducted, purging millions of false or duplicate names from the electoral roll, and others pointing out that, despite its best efforts, the same people remain very much in control of politics in this country.

Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina, leaders of the Bangladesh National Party and the Awami League respectively, have alternated in power since Bangladesh’s liberation in 1971. Both are related to former powerful Bengali/Bangladeshi politicians – Khaleda’s husband was General Zia********, while Hasina’s father was Bangabondhu, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, ‘the father of Bangladesh’. Despite the caretaker government’s best attempts to remove these two great women of Bangladeshi politics from the scene by imprisoning them both on corruption charges, it was unable to prevent them from leading their parties into the election.

Unsurprisingly (to anyone following the situation) the Awami League won. Hasina’s victory had been widely predicted in the days running up to the election, and greater support for the AL was certainly reflected in the allegiance of the majority of the rallies, marches and demonstrations I encountered in Dhaka and elsewhere. What was perhaps more surprising, however, was the scale of the party’s victory. The AL won by a triumphant two thirds landslide, leaving the BNP with seats in double figures. Although the majority of my friends and acquaintances here favoured the AL over the BNP because of its more liberal stance on most issues, the fact that the election was, essentially, a two-way contest between Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina does beg the question: has anything changed? And perhaps more importantly, will anything change?

Alas, only time will tell, but as I sit here writing this in mid-January, it appears that any change that may occur is not going to be rapid.

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Ever since our arrival in Bangladesh, we have been bombarded with security briefings and updates from VSOB, advising us of the changing dates of the upcoming national elections, and warning us to avoid large gatherings, rallies and marches, and to refrain from expressing support of a particular party in public. As the election drew nearer, the emails from VSOB grew in frequency and insistence: for the three day electoral period, we were to work from home and avoid busy public places; on election day itself, we were not to set foot outside, having previously stocked up on supplies.

Although it was quite possible that things would turn nasty after the election, and that VSOB needed to cover its back by advising all necessary precautions for volunteers, I decided to take all this advice with a pinch of salt. Partly this was because, in reality, avoiding rallies after the state of emergency was lifted on 17th December to allow campaigning to begin was simply not feasible. Although some campaigning was done via painfully loud megaphones hitched to rickshaws, which you could hear coming from miles away, rallies were wont to descend without warning, surround you within minutes, and disappear equally quickly. Bands of marching, chanting men (note that it was always men and boys I saw, never women) would appear around the corner and halt all other activity as they streamed past in a flurry of clapping, shouting and waving banners, then they would be gone again. Taking avoidance measures in such situations would have been completely impractical, unless of course I wanted to behave like a paranoid tourist and, shrieking, force my way out of the crowd and demand sanctuary somewhere nearby.

My glib attitude to security around the election also stemmed from slightly less logical sources. In the first place, in all the rallies I’d ever witnessed or been dragged into, no violence ensued. What’s more, the thing that I will now always associate with Bangladeshi politics is not rampaging mobs, but the white campaigning posters that were strung up like bunting in every street. I think this demonstrates quite well the peaceful nature of the pre-election period.

I know, of course, that the lack of violence I witnessed doesn’t mean that no violence would ever ensure, but in such an eventuality, I planned to rely on my trump card: my bideshi status. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not arrogant enough to think that being British and charming would win me immediate protection. But the fact is, foreigners in Bangladesh are afforded a number of special allowances and protections here, owing to the Bangladeshi sense of duty to one’s guests. I decided to trust that this would be enough get me out of any sticky situations.

And thus equipped with my blind faith in the Bangladeshi people’s hospitality, I boldly made my across Lalmatia on election day, to a beauty parlour in Dhanmondi. Part of me wishes this tale was more noble – that I flouted VSOB’s security guidelines for some worthy cause, like saving a child from a burning building. Part of me wishes it was more dramatic – I had to dodge raging mobs and gunfire to get to my destination.

Unfortunately (well, fortunately, really), no such situations presented themselves. Polling happened peacefully on the whole, and the streets were full of people milling about, enjoying the national holiday declared for the election and the surprisingly warm weather. I and my friends strolled to the beauty parlour, unmolested by angry crowds, and enjoyed our facials. While neither noble nor dramatic, this will be my abiding memory of these elections. For someone who prides herself on being interested in current affairs, it’s a little embarrassing to admit this. But as with so many things here, my expectations of both myself and the things around me are proving to be way off the mark.