I should quickly add that this is my second post related to both Bangladesh and prostitutes – that’s a tad harsh on Bangladesh to be honest, but it’s just the way my travels panned out.
I had been in Bangladesh a week or so, we (my 2 friends and I) had taken a rocket steamer boat down to the Bay of Bengal, we disembarked in Kulna in southern Bangladesh. We were still getting the crazy stares from the bemused Bangladeshi general public when a very cheery guy came springing over with his hand extended “Welcome to Bangladesh my friends, we are so happy to have you” – with a grin the size of a Cheshire cat.
In countries like Bangladesh you’re just delighted that someone can speak English and help you out of any tight spots you find yourself in. This guy helped us out with some accommodation, invited us to dinner at his house, introduced us to his extended family. Then tea round at his place with his wife . Great guy – but a great guy with a different take on how to build on new friendships….
A couple of days later we were due to leave Kulna and our cheery friend insisted that we go and meet his special friend. It was a strange way to structure a sentence, but he was a strange dude so I let it slide. We hopped onto two rickshaws and made our way through the backstreets of Kulna for a good 30 minutes or so.
“We have arrived gentlemen, now come and see my special friend” HeHeHeHe – he was giggling like a little school girl, seriously. We entered this dodgy house, up two flights of dilapidated stairs and then into an apartment. A huge fat Bangladeshi woman was waiting to greet us, our friend marched into the room, gave her a hug and kiss, turned to us and giggled again.
“This is my special friend, go into the room Johnny, you’re first”.
“First? First? Errrrrr, First for what exactly?!” Queue somemore incessant giggling and an awkward atmosphere just got a lot more awkward.
“First with my friend, she is so fat, so beautiful – we love the fat woman, this one is the post popular in all of Kulna”
What the hell is going on here?! I shared some disgustingly strange looks with my mates and looked over at our Bangladeshi friend.
“Don’t worry, you’re my esteemed guests – I will go fourth of course, you gentlemen can go first, second and third”
WTF?! Yep, our new friend is trying to make me do the deed with a grotesquely fat Bangladeshi woman, complete with full Hijab head-scarf, then 2 of my best friends are expected to follow up and finally our Bangladeshi man will complete this wonderful mixing pot with the fourth installment, and he would foot the bill. Marvelous. Needless to say, we thanked him profusely for this generous offer but our (imaginary) wives would be so upset that we couldn’t possibly accept his ‘gift’, but were it not for them – we’d be delighted. We made our excuses, asked to be shown out, arranged to meet at the train station the following day and he quickly turned right back around and straight back up the stairs to the Bangladeshi hippo waiting on the second floor. I don’t even want to imagine what happened next. And that was that.
We met the next day at the train station and not a thing was mentioned, and I certainly wasn’t keen to dredge it back up. On to India we went…