Flying into Dhaka in Bangladesh from Bangkok was a nightmare. I flew in on ten different missions.

         One of the reasons I stayed at the Sheraton Hotel was they had a room at the airport set aside for visitors to shelter in from the milling mob of touts. A cold drink was provided while someone searched for your bags.

         Can you imagine a country half the size of New Zealand with a current population of over 168 million people? It’s hard to believe!

         On my tenth visit, I found out that if I had only used my New Zealand passport instead of my U.N. Laissez-Passer I wouldn’t have needed a visa and it would have saved me hours of queuing and arguing with officials. Visas were not required for Commonwealth countries.

         Flying into Bangladesh during the Monsoon rains there were some beautiful cloud effects.

         Getting out was just as bad. One day an official said; “How much money you got on you? You know you cannot take money out of Bangladesh.” I said, ” $375 US dollars. He said, “How much you give me to let you take it out?” I replied “It’s not my money it belongs to the United Nations. If you want to confiscate it I will need a letter from your controlling officer and your name. “If you are going to be difficult – get out of here!”, he said.

         Another day I nearly ended up in gaol. I was about to punch an official who assaulted me during a body search. I was near to belting him.

         One day coming in I was shocked, and a little frightened, to see two jet fighters zoom past our wing tip. I was sitting in a Thai Airbus chatting to the Asian correspondent of the Chicago Tribune.

         Then I looked out the window to see we had arrived at Dhaka airport. Down below I saw a large red carpet with a mass of girls in colourful costumes.

         We arrived on the day of the start of a Seven Nations Non-aligned Summit Conference.

         This was the second time I had arrived for one of these. I had good reason to remember the last one in Sri Lanka because my visa was cancelled and my passport was confiscated.  

         We landed at the airport, and the plane taxied up to the red carpet. There was cannon fire. The plane rocked to a seventeen-gun salute.  

         We were told to remain seated while a little man sitting in front of me was escorted off the plane and the gathering of girls sprinkled flower petals ahead of him as he walked off.

         A buzz went around the plane,  all asking the same question. “Who’s that? Who’s that? Who’s that?” But none knew.  Later we found he was  President Abdul Gayoom,  the President of the Maldives.

         When I arrived at the Sheraton Hotel I found it had been commandeered.  I was given temporary accommodation and was told if the Government need my room, day or night, I was to get out.

         I passed through a mental detector and the guard emptied my suitcase in front of a curious crowd of onlookers.

         “What’s this ?” he said as he pulled out my electric jug cord containing a unique Sheraton plug. I had removed it from a standard lamp on a previous visit. While travelling in Asia I always boiled my water. I refused to use the Indian universal plug, two matches and two naked wires And my universal plugs didn’t work at this hotel.

         For two days Dhaka was unreal. Hotels and government departments were bedecked with thousands of coloured lights.     These lights were made from normal light bulbs. They were covered with coloured cellophane paper and held in place by a rubber band and connected by two blobs of a soldier to a naked wire. What a fire risk and I had a temporary room on the seventh floor.

         In the garden and on the top floor some staff looked like Christmas trees. They had coloured lights all over them. They walked up and down dragging a cable to light up these naked bulbs.

         Every time a president, or a king went past, (and that was frequently as they paired off for consultations) they were accompanied by a truckload of heavily armed troops and their own ambulance and medical team.

         I had a job to do in Faridpur. I was to inspect an Agricultural Training Institutevg and interview staff. (Faridpur is only 48 miles from Calcutta.)

          On my return flight back to Dhaka from Jessore before we could board the plane, we were given two searches.

          My case was emptied out twice. It was inspected in the terminal, and again on the tarmac halfway between the terminal and the plane. Soldiers made each passenger identify their bags, empty them out, and repack them in front of them.

         After returning to Bangkok I had time to reflect on the events I had witnessed in Dhaka.

         The electric power from most of the country had been rechannelled into Dhaka.

         Millions of dollars had been spent to entertain six people.

         Perhaps this was the first major event for many years that millions of people had something to be proud of.  Maybe it was a sound investment –  who knows?

Geoffrey Moss(mossassociates.co.nz)