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Dhaka Streets
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     Dhaka's streets are, sometimes literaly, a sea of life. Traffic is congested. It is a mix of human powered and motor driven vehicles from the the most thrilling and entertaining experiences of my life. I'd go again just for a ride through the city.

Click on a thumb to see a larger version.

Antique Bedford Truck
This antique Bedfored truck was still in service.
View From the Back Seat
This was my usual view when driving in town. The method of preference for getting through this kind of traffic was to blow the horn and lurch forward to intimidate anyone blocking the way.
More From the Back Seat
One of the first phrases I learned in Bangla was, "slow down". At first the drivers didn't believe me but they eventually learned to relax. The trips took no longer.
School Bus
School buses always interest me. Probably because I once had such a stressfull association with them at Pinecrest Schools. In Dhaka, they were pedicabs.
Green School Bus
There was no regulation color for school buses but they all had the bars. Fortunately, there are no hills in Bangladesh and certainly not in Dhaka.
Traffic Jam
Even with fewer cars there were horrendous traffic jams.
Lone Helmet
This was the only helmet that I saw in the city.
Homework
When we would get back to the city early in the morning after a long shift on the road, the streets would be blocked with cattle - in the middle of 10 million people.
Route to Work - Early
If we got started early, this is how the last street looked, before turning right to get to TWX.
Neighbors Looking South
This is how the same street looked if we started late - which we usually did.
Fatal Accident
A moto cab slammed into the back of this bus. The policeman asked us to take an injured passenger to the hospital. We had time so I said we would. A mistake.
Injured Passenger
Passersby just grabbed the injured man and lugged him to the van. They shoved him into the back seat and I got in beside. I had clean rags to bind his head but he was bleeding so badly that they did no good. He was shocky and unresponsive. He could still mumble so I kept him talking for the 30-minute ride to the hospital. When we got there, the attendants just grabbed his arms and literally threw him onto some sort of rolling tool cart. The edge split his skull and the blood poured out. We left.
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