The contrasts of 36 hours

So yes I know it has been too many days since my last confession - opps I mean blog entry :-) I have had a very busy week which included today the witnessing of the death of a cow by knife at 7.45am this moring right on my street corner! But the 36 hours I actually want to focus on are last Saturday and Sunday.
Last year I lived on the 'right' side of the bridge and had a fabulous christmas brunch; this year I live on the 'wrong' side or what we Bananiates like to call the Soho of Dhaka and had an even better brunch chez Siobhán and Victoria. With preparations taking place several days in advance Vic and I had the place glowing with christmas decorations and even some 'great' christmas music compliments of Fahim. There were pancakes, scrambled eggs, baked beans, pasta salad, mince pies, nan bread, choclate cake, choclate cookies and the list goes on and on. People came from all over Dhaka for the occasion and we even had a surprise return visitor from Scotland - it is great to have you back Fiona.
The exciting part of the afternoon came in the form of mulled wine preparation which was closely supervised by many volunteers. Then came the serving and I have never seen a line form so fast...... Even with the warm winds blowing through we all felt the warmth of christmas feeling with the consumption of the mulled wine. Lots of hours later, when everyone was a little fuller and a little tired, but a lot more in the christmas spirit the brunch sadly came to an end. Well, here's to the next one which ever corner of the earth that may be and who knows maybe one of you who was here in Dhaka will be there with me again.
Sunday brought more political unrest, the army were deployed and no one knew what was going on, and so once again I was back in my 'favourite' place - my desk overlooking Banani lake. When it became clear by afternoon that all was well, I set out on my way to Shymolli which is an area in the North-West of Dhaka city. There are many garment factories in the area and the reason for my travels - to talk to the female garment workers. Stephen and I met Hassan at 7 and set out to the house of the leader of one of the workers' associations fighting for minimum wage. We turned into a side street which was ptch black apart from the light coming from the house windows, and made out way into a house which looked like a commune. There was a gate with a long corridor past it which had different room leading off of it. In each of these small rooms lived large families each preparing the evening meal. We were lead into our contacts rooms were we conducted our interviews sitting on the double bed in which the entire family slept. We listened as they told us of their fight for minimum wage, proper working conditions and the security of being able to feed their families.
It is hard to comprehend the contrasts which exist in the world today, but this for me was extreme; within 36 hours I had being a part of a group celebrating because we have the ability to do so and another group who celebrated the fact that in the last few years they have raised the minmum wage from 1500 taka ($21 per month) to 1700 taka ($24 per month).
They shared with us a plate of Bangladeshi biscuits and RC cola and warmly embraced us to learn more about their lives. I came home feeling blessed to have had the oppurtuntiy to spend an evening with them, but more determined then ever that inequlity in all forms, must be fought - now I am just trying to determine how.