Chapter Ten: Famished

Despite being fast asleep, I wake up totally uninterrupted by someone else, as you do when a vehicle starts coming to a halt. Even at 32, it still amazes me how your body knows a vehicle is slowing down or has reached its destination and wakes you up - that weird sixth sense thing always manages to illicit a smile from me and this time is no different.

Stretching without thinking about much else save for contemplating the wonder that is the human psyche, my smirk is short-lived as my hands slam into the roof of the ambulance! I manage to hold back a scream but whimper instead as I look around sheepishly hoping no one has noticed my idiotic manoeuvre.

Auntie Poppy, who has swapped places with my sister, chats to Neema whilst my sister is slumped over the end of mum's coffin fast asleep and Tanny is snoring blissfully at my side with his headphones on. By some miracle no one has taken any notice of me, so I quickly shake the pain away out of my wrists.

I look outside and see we haven't quite reached our destination yet despite having travelled for around 6 or 7 hours with only one small stop for refuelling. From what I can tell based on discussions we had before we set off, we have only reached approximately halfway, marked by a huge river separating us from further towns and villages before reaching mum's little haven hidden away in the Bangladeshi undergrowth.

Along the river there is a lot of activity going on - the side of both the road and river front dotted with shining lights ebbing in the darkness.

From what I can see down the road outside the window, I realise that the lights are made up of some dim light bulbs but most, oil fuelled lanterns, cutting through the night as shopkeepers sit or squat in little open fronted wooden stalls hoisted up on stilts, perhaps to prevent it from being washed away during the flood season. They are furiously fanning their fresh food items to stop insects taking a bite from their products and probably themselves!

Oddly enough, I can't help but notice how very bony they all are - looking almost malnourished - and unusually dark for the everyday Bangladeshi, probably from having to work non-stop during the day as well; sweltering in the scorching heat. They are wearing what are called lungees, an Eastern version of a sarong I would say, mostly conservatively coloured in grey and brown checks with various coloured vests on and half sleeved open shirts flapping in the mild breeze blowing across the river.

I take in with amazement all the goods they are selling from drinks and crisps all the way through to clothes, multitools and makeup under one roof, "Practically a department store but with minimal overhead...Debenhams, eat your heart out, eh?" I think to myself.

Opening the window to the ambulance, I look further along the road and see men and women walking around with large thatched and weaved baskets holding fruit and fish freshly picked or caught that day balanced on top of their heads. They are shouting at the top of their voices to draw in potential customers to sell their goods to.

The sheer noise of all that combined with the sound of engines from vehicles on the road and the boats on the river should be annoying, but along with the warmth of the river air, it actually feels comforting.

Some of the fish mongers and fruit sellers see my head peeking out and as if by magic, the ambulance is surrounded by several of them pushing and shoving, trying to get me to buy some items. Despite saying no several times, they are still insisting that I buy something seeing as "you are clearly rich sir!"...how they figured that out with me travelling in an ambulance surprises me initially, but then again, I am fairer than most and probably am speaking Bengali with an English accent without even realising - both usually taken as signs of having money.

Before I say anything further though, Neema jumps in, "No thank you - can't you see my brother and we are in an ambulance! We're not tourists but on a very serious trip so please, go bother some other vehicle!" - I have no idea why her way worked rather than mine, but on finishing her sentence, they have dispersed as quickly as they appeared.

I chuckle a little and joke that Neema clearly has got mum's attitude gene going on to which Neema smirks but then becomes sombre again as she looks over to mum and rests her had on my sister's back as she still snoozes away.

"How long are we going to be stuck here?" I ask Neema and Auntie Poppy, "Well usually until the boat to transport us arrives, but if you want to step out and stretch your legs for a bit, baba, go ahead; you'll be able to see the boat over the horizon when it comes anyway."

No sooner does Auntie Poppy finish her sentence, do I open the rear door of the ambulance and jump out, up and over Tanny.

My abrupt reaction is not a case of cabin fever, although I am sure that is what Auntie Poppy and Neema are thinking, but in reality incredible sadness hitting me once again in waves by Auntie Poppy merely using the word baba when speaking to me.

It is a Bengali term of endearment used for young men or boys by family members, usually mother or father to their son, but mum was the only one who used to call me that. I know Auntie Poppy said it out of affection but the pain of hearing that overwhelmed me in an instant; she looks so similar to mum and sounds almost identical yet, realisation slapped me again with the cold hard fact that this was not mum calling me baba - mum was no more.

I had to get away from there.

I walk down the road passed the procession of vehicles parked, all eagerly revving their engines awaiting the arrival of the boat, and decide a bout of mischief may cheer me up. As such, as I pass by, I begin waving and pulling faces at not just my family in the other cars and vehicles making up our convoy but also random people as well sitting in their coach-loads. Most merely stare at me in total confusion wondering how on earth they knew anyone out here but the more pleasant response for me was when someone would pull a face back at me and then end up laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all.

As I near the river's edge passed the final shop, I suddenly hear a rustling in a darkened corner near the side of the shop and look over.

At first I cannot tell what it is as there is very little light, so I take my time to let my eyesight adjust and to my dismay, I see a lady in tattered clothes digging through an overflowing dustbin with such a sense of urgency as if her life depended on it.

I can hear the boat arriving and though there is suddenly an immense gravitation by the crowds in the road towards the river front or back to their vehicles, I decide to continue watching her for a little longer - morbid curiosity engulfing me - to see why she appeared so desperate.

The curiosity was not caused by never having seen such a depressing sight as unfortunately, in Bangladesh, a third world country after all, this kind of thing is a common occurrence, but no matter how much information you have, nothing prepares you for the reality of the situation when it confronts you. The state of mind I am in almost wants to see the suffering of others to remind myself that my life could be a fuck load harder than it is...so I linger on.

I notice that finally the lady has stopped rummaging through the waste having found what looks like food or something that is remotely edible as she eats a tiny part of it to test it. Having satisfied herself that it could be served though, she pauses and looks around almost as if she felt guilty for stealing this scrap before dashing over to the river bank where I see her sitting in a darkened corner: a little girl no more than 4 years of age, crying from sheer hunger waiting for her mother to feed her. The lady arrives with her treasure and though she is probably aching from starvation, I see her cradle her beloved child and lull her to a much needed calm before feeding her all of what she found.

A mother's love - so incredible - so beautiful - so unimaginably powerful.

Without even trying, I begin to cry both with thoughts of mum and what we shared and what I had just seen.

The world is a cruel place at times yet against all odds, here was a mother willing to wear rags and dig through rubbish forgoing her dignity and her own hunger to feed her beloved child.

As my mind wanders, the boat docks and cars and foot passengers are being allowed on board so the traffic starts flowing and the usual Bangladeshi style of honking horns for the heck of it begins once again. I am so lost in my thoughts though that none of it seems to matter until I hear a munching in my ear, "Yo gay-boy, we're off man - the ladies thought you'd been abducted or something. Lets go!".

I turn to see Tanny standing there with a massive packet of crisps, two bars of chocolate and a bag with 2 bottles of coke in it, his mouth full of so many crisps that I am surprised he can even speak.

He looks at me with one eye brow arched as I am staring at all his food, "Dude - it's for all of us. I know I'm a fat bastard but not that fat!!!"

I pull a wad of Bangladeshi notes out of my pocket and ask him how much it all is but Tanny won't take a penny and puts everything in the bag and passes it to me, "I know that look - you're gonna make like a super hero or something, right?"

I don't say a word but turn and bolt towards the lady and her child as Tanny watches on.

"Here - this is from my mum" I say to the startled mother cradling her little one and before she even has a chance to realise what's happening, I turn and start racing back up the embankment towards Tanny and where the ambulance is.

Tanny is shouting and pointing at the boat as I approach him and I notice what he is pointing at - the ambulance is already on and the gates are being lowered, "Has nobody even noticed I'm not there?" I think as sweat starts flooding my eyes as I turn once more and start heading towards the boat before we miss it.

As the boat gets ever closer, I hear a faint cry from the lady, "May Allah bless your mother for all eternity!" and I start laughing from the feeling of being able to do a little something for someone in mum's name.

Barely managing to clamber on board, the gate is shut behind us as the crew are staring at us not best pleased that we almost delayed them and I drop to the floor half panting and half laughing.

Tanny plonks himself next to me and putting an arm over my shoulders jeers me as I wipe the sweat off my brow, "You're one crazy fuck bro, but I luv ya for it!...Now, when you gonna buy me some more food - I'm famished!!"