This is Muhammad Ali, the house man, at my apartment in the Saudi-Bangladesh Friendship Center
Guest House. It was (and is) in Banani model village. Only very rich people and embassies could
afford to live in this area. That's Jamal in the background, Mr. Ali's assistant.
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Mr. Ali was very proud of the kitchen. There was a refrigerator, gas stove, sink with running water
but no table or chairs. We ate in the formal dining room. My housemate, Bill Roberts and I always had
Ali and Jamal eat with us. This confused them.
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Mr. Ali never used any of the fancy kitchen's amenaties. He kept an ice chest in the refrigerator since
it was never plugged in. He cooked on the floor because he didn't trust the range. He'd heard of one
blowing up. Probably a true story.
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Mr. Ali was quite the fashion plate. He was a special friend of the owner of TWX who also
owned the apartment. After being out with the boss, Ali would return with a new outfit. Ali's
mom was the owners maid.
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Our maid was NOT Ali's mom. She worked very hard even though she was very sick. She was also
very proud. This job was an excellent one and much better than she could have hoped for in the
general way of things.
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Fatima lived in the store room behind the apartment building with her husband, the guard. All of
the large houses had at least one armed guard. When he found out that I had taken her picture he
was furious, mistaking my motives. I gave him copies when they were printed and explained that I
was only taking pictures and he became very respectful.
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This young man was employed to clean the grounds. Here he poses with his baby sister and little
brother in the gate. Across the street you can see the Post Graduate Dental Surgery and Maternity
Services building. They responded first to my heart attack.
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I did most of my programming in my home office. The electrical service was more reliable and there
were fewer interruptions than at the TWX office.
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My office at TWX was quite large but there was no light. I had to work by the
window. My notes don't say what this engineer's name was but I remember that he
was very friendly and helpful.
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This tiktiki (gecko) lived in the bathroom at the apartment. We became quite good friends.
He ate lots of bugs and there were a lot of bugs to eat.
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The view from my bedroom window was quite bucolic. It was easy to forget that I was on the edge
of over ten million people.
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You can see the fence between this "development" and the apartment in the previous picture. I was
told that more than 1500 people lived on this 1 acre lot. You can see the apartment building and the
Saudi-Bangladesh Friendship Center in the background.
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This is the squaters' village looking north. The owner of our apartment was also an owner of the large
building in the background. There was a grand restaurant on the top floor with a surrounding balcony.
The elevator went to the 3rd from the top floor and you had to walk up the last 2 flights of stairs.
Except for the penthouse, the interior was unfinished concrete. Many of the floors were empty.
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At the end or our street, Road 17 in Block C, there was a terrific market. I bought vegetable naan
and various snacks and never got sick.
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I finally got around to getting my hair cut after 4 weeks. I'd planned to be home by then but the
heart attack threw off my schedule.
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It was the best haircut I have ever had. It included trimming my ear and nose hair and an upright
massage. The barber even massaged my fingers.
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Of course, after the haircut, everyone had to pose for a picture. That's me, the barber, Jamal, and
the barber's two assistants.
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