This is the electrical transformer just down the street from our office.  Note the scary connections down on the bamboo pole.

It’s always something. The most recent something started with my involvement in a motorcycle accident in Bogra. It started out as mechanical failure and ended with user error. I ended up with a few minor brush burns and a sprained hand. I thought I was fine and went about my week. However, about 5 days later I was persuaded by Daniel, my roommate, and his appeal to authority (his mother, Karin, who is a doctor) to actually visit a doctor. After a $3.01 x-ray I realized my 3rd metacarpal was broken. The doctor taped up my hand, charged me $4.41 and sent me on my way with a list of meds and instructions to be back in 2 weeks. Karin actually lives in Bogra, but she’s back in the states right now on the receiving end of a double hip replacement. Her surgeon was gracious enough to take a look at my x-ray and surprised me by recommending surgery to prevent foreshortening. Karin recommended either Bangkok or going south to Malumghat.

Two emails later I was on a night bus with Daniel down toward Cox’s Bazaar. The actual hospital name is Memorial Christian and has been located for many years just north of Cox’s Bazaar, but 10-13 hours by bus from Dhaka. Last year I went with Daniel up to LAMB hospital when he had a concussion and broken right wrist so it seemed very apropos that he would come with me. Upon arrival I was very quickly run through a consultation before gowning up and getting moved into surgery. I remember being wheeled into surgery. I remember being placed on an operating table. I remember a conversation with one of the surgeons. But I don’t remember anything else until waking up in my hospital bed about 3 hours later, hand in a half cast and slung up in the air.

There’s something odd about post injury. Life slows down very quickly. I spent the next 20 hours mostly sleeping, then resting in the guest house for a few days. We got to have some interesting conversations with hospital staff and even observe some surgeries. Now I’m back in Dhaka, healing, and struggling to type one handed. There’s a project I think I can work on here that doesn’t need too much right hand movement. Aro kerup hote parto – It could have been worse

I’ve been spoiled by good bread.  When I was growing up my mother would bake bread almost every week.  Everybody who visited for dinner or something would compliment my mom on the good bread but it was something I took forgranted. One year my Uncle Dan’s Christmas story was about his quest to find good bread in Washington D.C.  It was interesting, but at the time I couldn’t really relate.

I went off to college and didn’t eat much bread.

After graduating in 2004 I went to visit some friends in Europe.  The first day I ended up eating in a bakery/cafe just outside Brussels that had these huge loafs of artisan bread.  It wasn’t something I had seen before, and the bread was wonderful.  Since then I’ve found several places that a little closer which are similar, but they fascinate me.

A few years ago the Independent weekly put out their food issue with the title, “The rise and fall and rise of good bread”.   An interesting issue which sat on my desk for a long time, it had different peoples stories and their experience with bread.  My favorite article was by David Auerbach who ended up making several bread ovens in this quest.  That sounded really interesting to me, so I started thinking about making a bread oven.  I didn’t really have really have the space or felt like I would use it enough, but I filled it away in the back of my mind.

In Bangladesh there isn’t much in the way of wheat.  It’s one long term goal of MCC has never been very successful with.  The best bread that is available is tandori rutti or nan and that’s just considered a snack.  While designing the workshop and house I started thinking about a wood fired oven.  Austin and Daniel started also started thinking about it independently.  So a few weeks ago we had everybody out to the house and had a oven making party after another saturday and a few mornings this week we wrapped it up.  I put some pictures of it up on flickr.  Asha kori ektu pore khub bhalo ruti hobe –  I hope there will be good bread soon.