The Mail-Journal, Volume 15, Number 6, Milford, Kosciusko County, 1 March 1978 — Page 10

THE MAIL-JOURNAL — Wed., March 1,1978

10

INDIA — Fifth in a series Journalists receive royal treatment

“If we reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and ovoid the people, you might better stay home: you are like a pebble thrown into water; you might become wet on the surface but you are never a part of the water. — James A. Michener By ARCH AND DELLA BAUMGARTNER DACCA, Bangladesh, Friday, Feb. 10 — “What’s it like to wake up in the morning and have an early edition of The Bangladesh Times slid under your door, only to find your picture on the front page?” you ask. We can tell you it really didn’t make that much of an impression. The picture of our group of touring American journalists, taken last night following our press conference with Bangladesh President Ziaur Rahman, occupied five columns of the front page of the four-year-old offset daily which boasts a circulation of 10,000 — and this isn’t bad in a country where only 20 per cent of the people can read and write. Along this line, early in this decade Bangladesh had 25 daily newspapers, 16 in Dacca alone, of which five are in English. The largest paper, Ittefaq (published in Bengali), has a circulation of nearly 100,000. Figures for early in this decade indicate this country produced about 47,000 tons of newsprint per year. Press Censorship Press censorship has been strict. In late 1976, Ittefaq publisher Manul Hossain was arrested for urging free parliamentary elections. Arrested and expelled was Larry Lifschultz, Far Eastern Economic Review, while covering a trial, and in 1977, police arrested and detained A.B.M. Mahmud, editor of the weekly Wave, and a Mr. Aftab, former editor of Gonokontho. The government has adopted a strict approval and licensing program, denying newsprint and advertising to non-approved papers. Our State Department literature says Freedom House has rated Bangladesh “partly free,” but notes it has improved from a year ago. There’s little doubt that the country is not completely free. As noted in article four of this series, the 10th floor of the InterContinental Hotel where our group has been ensconced during our stay in Dacca has had the übiquitous armed “guard” at the end of the hall or in front of one or the other person’s door “for our protection.” An American is not used to this sort of treatment, yet there was no attempt to censor what we write. On the contrary, such an obvious effort was made to show us around and to win a favorable American press that we could have nothing but compassionate feelings toward this small, overcrowded country that has been on the brink of ruin during the past decade. Given Royal Treatment We had an idea we were in for royal treatment when we arrived at the Dacca airport on the night of February 8, when each of us (men and women alike) was presented with a richly colored bouquet as we came down the airplane’s gangplank. Television cameramen began grinding away as co-mingling between members of our party and press representatives took place. The local press also covered our arrival well, and personal interviews were given concerning such things as our mission to this land. The government had plans to fly us to the hinterland to inspect a government project for water reclamation — at a cost of nearly SI,OOO to us! Only one member of our tired party even considered the trip, so it was called off. However, we were given a printed program of the two days of activities to take place while we were to be in Bangladesh. We were impressed. Visit Experimental Farm Yesterday, the 9th, we were boarded on a bus and taken some

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27 miles to a government experimental farm where experts are attempting to raise a variety of food stuffs for public consumption. One had to admire the spirit and pride local officials and workers took in these efforts. Located on the farm and near the site we visited was an elementary school, and a large group of well scrubbed, orderly and polite youngsters'gifthered around us like we wdre from Mars. little girl, about eight, looking at her painted toenails out of the front of open-toed shoes. Several of us had gum we gave to some of the wide-eyed children, and found it most appreciated. Even the wrappers were saved. Margaret Lesher, the pretty cme in our group and wife of California multi-paper publisher Dean Lesher, obviously didn’t care much for farming, and spent her time skipping the rope with some youngsters. Soon she had a large audience, and the television cameramen zeroed in on this human interest story. “You folks mind your own business,” Margaret demurred, adding, “I’m having fun with these children.” We should tell you, however, that the bus ride to the farm left a lot to be desired. The road was blacktop, but corrugated, and the ride was a thrill of a lifetime. First, they drive on the left side, English-style, and the old rattletrap buses on the highway appeared to be playing “chicken” as they headed for one another. It took a final swing to the left that allowed them to pass with something like 18 inches between buses. And to make matters worse, the thousands of manpowerdriven rickshaws took up a lot of the room along the roadside. Rice is the chief crop, as we soon leanred, and noted that many “farmers” put their harvested rice on the blacktop road to dry. “Doesn’t it blow away with the passing of cars?” we asked, and were told it does not and that truck drivers and rickshaw operators are respectful of these growers. Along this line — that of farming — the system used where people farm such small tracts (from three to 10 acres) on a crop-sharing basis, with the landowner taking 50 per cent of the crop with no investment other than the land, there is no chance for the farmer to get ahead. To feed his family is a job well done. Lots Os Building What seemed encouraging to us was the amount of apartment and commercial building going on. Scaffolding on the outside of these new structures is all of bamboo, odd-looking, to say the least, but apparently sufficiently substantial. The outskirts of Dacca is expanding via these new buildings. “Oh, look!” someone yelled, pointing to a diesel locomotive pulling six cars along a track about 200 yards away. The passenger cars were jammed and several hundred passengers were sitting on top of the cars. Loaded, to be sure, and so were the old vintage public transportation buses, to the point of people hanging on the sides. There are so few private cars, they are not worth mentioning. En route back to the city in late morning, we stopped at the Bangladesh Rice Research Institute (BRRI) and heard a talk by the head of this large research center whose aim it is to increase rice production for this emerging country. Then we were taken to the fields, small patches to be sure, where men and women worked in shin-deep water planting rice. Oxen were used to pull flat boards to level the under water ground. “Wow!” we couldn’t help but think; this is real for sure manual, backbreaking labor. From here we went to the country’s largest machine tool manufacturer — the Bangladesh Machine Tool Company where some 1,200 people are employed in buildings covering 69 acres, doing precision tool manufacturing. We were surrounded by

people eager to explain the operation of this plant with obvious pride. We were told employees here are honored to have the opportunity for this type of employment, but we were also told that many employees, when trained, go to such places as Israel where wages are better and opportunity for advancement is greater. The plant’s assistant manager, we later learned, was 45 years of age and had studied on a scholarship in England for four years and four years in the Philippine Islands. He said he

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considered himself very fortunate and was dedicated to advancing his country’s interests more than he was going elsewhere to work. We were guests for lunch at the tool factory, enjoying such dishes as fried cauliflower, fish and chips, rice with peas, potatoes, chicken, a salad dish with tomatoes, lettuce and peas, topped with banana custard with papaya, cokes, an un-cola drink and coffee. Largest, Poorest Bangladesh has been called the poorest country in the world, with problems almost unbelievable,

with 80 per cent illiteracy. People stream on the high roads, high because of the sudden, torrential rains. The vast amount of rickshaw drivers clog the city streets, with these hearty souls renting their vehicles and paying a landlord, netting something like $1 per day. In front of the Inter-Continental Hotel the two of us decided to take a rickshaw ride — an experience, indeed. At the end of it, we were not sure what to pay the fellow, and ended up giving him all the Rupees we had, something like $3.50, a real good 30-minute fee when one equates this to his

usual $1 per day. Someone asked, “Where are all the women?” And indeed there were not many women to be seen. We were told the women stayed at home and raised their children. We were also told that the infant mortality is so great that a large family of five or more is the only way to insure a man of a living descendant. An afternoon city tour took us to such places as the Suhrawardy Uddyan, formerly known as the Race Course. It was from here that Mujibur Rahman gave the call for freedom on March 1971.

Also visited was the Sahid Miner, Gono Bhaven, Banga Bhavan, Lalbagh Fort, the museum and toe tomb of Pari Bibi, each of which would lend itself to a descriptive narrative. There’s something about an emerging nation like Bangladesh that tugs at the heartstrings of a benevolent American; you want so badly to help but the best you can do is to wish them well. The problems of this country that is barely six years old are so monumental that one would be hard pressed to come up with a definitive starting point for a

solution. We were happy to be leaving for a brief flight back to Calcutta where we were to stay overnight at the Airport Hotel before going on to Nepal. Lamb named member of academy Dr. Bruce L. Lamb, Milford veterinarian, is among additional members named to the Indiana Academy of Veterinary Medicine for 1978. Annual membership in the academy, sponsored by the Indiana Veterinary Medical Association, is based on attendance at and participation in continuing education activities during the preceding year.