I'm having a good time at work these days, so this week I'll have a chat about local gatherings. We're about 1-2 days away from finishing the strategic plan (fingers crossed) and I'm on top of all the other key documents I need to produce before implementing changes (i.e. staff manual, web site manual, quarterly report for CARE etc.).

The gathering theme to my week started Wednesday night though I didn't realise it then. There had been a 4-day training course on total water sanitation and on their last I'd assumed they were having one of those cultural evenings they love so much. So when, on Wednesday as I was talking on the phone, I started hearing the unmistakeable strains of 4 cats being tortured with spoons that passes for classical music around here, I assumed it was the trainees celebrating their newly built latrines. Mercifully they stopped around midnight so I could get a normal night's sleep.

The problem with singing and noise in general around here is that it carries really really well. We're in a small village with no major buildings or ambient noise to dampen it down, and of course the thickness of the walls and the windows doesn't help matters either. You would hence think that people would talk softly or only start heavy machinery at reasonable hours of the day. If only. Shouting seems to be the average conversational level, and when they're on the phone I can't help thinking that they'd be better off saving their money by using 2 yoghurt pots joined by a length of string rather than a cellular phone such is the volume they talk at. The point about heavy machinery is a tad unfair as a) there is so little of it, and b) they start it up when they go off to the fields etc. which is probably about the same as farmers the world over. I am after all a city boy living in the country so have to get over it.

And so I came to Thursday. Not a bad day's work that I decided had come to an end around 4.30pm so I could retire to my room for some peace while I read my paper. How old do I sound there?! All that's lacking is the slippers and a pipe. Anyway, I'm quite happily relaxing on what is the last evening of the working week before my 1 day weekend, and I hear a group of people outside my door. They go away, and later another group comes along. I can't see them as I have curtains across my front window (a recent addition from Habib to my furnishings) so they can't see me which is much more important. Eventually their curiosity gets the better of them as it always does, and they try opening my door. I got caught out like that when I first arrived so the door is always locked when I'm at home. However, the very fact they try really winds me up so I yank the door open really quickly scaring the shit out of the group of young women standing there and give them a very hard and menacing stare. They got the message a shuffle off.

Over the next 30 minutes 2 more groups came to my door, and when the last one tried my door I again yanked it open, again scared the shit at the groups of boys this time, and demanded "What the fuck are you doing?" One lad, in surprisingly good English, replied that they were "just looking" which is the standard Bangladeshi response. I shouted back that they "will not just look as this is my home! Now go away!" They left, but I'd just about had enough so went out to find out what the hell was going on that forced so many people to come to my door when usually the locals leave me well alone. It didn't take long to find the answer - a wedding ceremony in the main training room 3 doors down from my room. I went looking for Habib in his office but the building was locked up (I later learnt this was a security measure to ensure nothing went mysteriously missing during the festivities) so I headed for his house. As I neared the front door I could see it was open and there were a lot of women standing around looking in. When I got to the door way I couldn't believe my eyes - the entire living room was a sea of women sitting and watching the TV, and in some areas it was standing room only. I caught a glimpse of Habib's mum and she told me he was in the office.

He wasn't, so I texted him to find out where he was (I didn't have enough credit for a call). As I headed back to my room I walked into the man himself, and explained what had been going on and asked why he hadn't warned me there was going to be a wedding next door. He'd forgotten to tell me of course, though said that he too had been ambushed by a wedding party that had grown from 100 to 170 guests and had taken over his own home! Can you imagine putting up with over 50 people just roaming around your house because they're attending a wedding down the road? The man is a saint and I don't know how he puts up with certain things.

Having established that we were both victims of someone else's wedding we decided to get some food, from the wedding food tent of course. This is where I come to my more positive view of weddings here, as I was welcomed just like any other guest (even though I wasn't actually a guest) and fed like a king. Ironically, the food area was the most peaceful place to be during the ceremonies so it was quite nice to eat a great beef curry just chatting to Habib with no one else to bother us. There is also an aura of protection that Habib confers as he's really the village's head man and can tell the staring locals when they're being rude in their own language. I was hence under his wing, and while I usually don't like having to be in that situation it was just what I needed there and then.

Friday was a much better wedding though. First of all it involved someone I actual know and like i.e. our very own Monitoring and Evaluation Coordinator, Shahid. I hadn't really followed what had happened but he seemed to go from single to engaged in a remarkable short space of time i.e. weeks, so I guess when those matchmakers get going they really move things along! It was a nice day though, as a few other colleagues (see Shakil and Jobar in their Sunday best in the photo!) piled into a microbus with Habib and I to go to the party at his parent's house in Dinajpur, basically for lunch after prayers. According to the custom, the bride's family had received guests the day before when the actual ceremonies had taken place, so now was the turn of the groom. We turned up, met the parents and the bride, ate a lot of very good food, then left! They're a simple people really, as once you've eaten you bugger off and spare them any after-meal chitchat.

Just a final word about the bride. The poor girl has to sit on a stand in all her finery and basically have everyone else look at her for several hours, something I could readily identify with (the staring, not the stand and finery). I thought she looked genuinely uncomfortable, and Habib seemed to agree, but it's the custom so sit she must. Let me say this - I promise I'll never have my bride go through anything remotely similar, and I'm sure she wouldn't allow that to happen anyway! And I also really wish people would stop trying to get into my bedroom.