I’m absolutely thrilled about coming out here to Bangladesh as an intern for Panigram Resort. My mission here is to develop and propose a comprehensive and sustainable solution for all of the resort’s power needs. To do this I’ll be assessing the expected electrical power demands of the resort and researching local as well as foreign suppliers of renewable energy technologies. In addition to this, my job will require me to physically survey the resort site in Jessore to determine what types of renewable power systems are most appropriate for that environment.

Cornell Intern Ranjeev Mahtani

The change from the college environment in Ithaca to a developing nation like Bangladesh is something I’ve been told will be hard to get used to. Personally, I look forward to the change as it takes me closer to my roots. I’m a Sri Lankan citizen, with an Indian heritage, but who’s never experienced either country for longer than a month’s vacation. Those vacations were always wonderful, and I’ve long looked forward to an opportunity to reside within the culture of a developing nation for an extended period. So here I am in Bangladesh with seven months ahead of me to experience and enjoy a culture that is closer to my own than what I experience on a daily basis, and to work on a great project that I am whole-heartedly enthusiastic about.

I’m currently a student at Cornell University, studying mechanical engineering with a focus on energy engineering and a minor in applied economics and management. My main academic and career interest is in sustainable energy and how to implement it as the primary means of power provision worldwide. That said, interning at the Panigram as an energy engineering intern should be a great real world learning application for me. The best part is that at the same time I’ll be able to replace a harsh Ithaca winter and a semester’s worth of classes with tropical goodness, subcontinental culture, and maybe even the chance to play some cricket!

View from the Panigram Pavilion

Molly relaxing in the hammock

I took Molly on a boat tour of the area...

I showed her the project site from the water. (The sky really was this blue!)

They are still harvesting jute along the river.

A picture of tranquility in the gorgeous Bangladeshi countryside...

More jute stacks across from the pavilion.

Panigram is located at the intersection of two rivers - the Kapotoko and a smaller canal. This is a glimpse of the canal...

We plan to put the spa on the other side of this canal.

I think I have the most beautiful office in the world!

The phones were ringing off the hook on August 18th. My summer interns were due to go back to the United States that day and everyone from the village in Jessore called to say goodbye. It was a tearful departure; I think that most of the interns would have stayed in Bangladesh if they didn’t have to go back to school. Chi Chi’s boy group, Jonathon’s gang, and even our construction manager called multiple times - always asking when the interns were coming back to Bangladesh. As we said our watery farewells, the interns promised to come back for a reunion after the resort is open.

Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to mourn their departure as I had another Cornell intern scheduled to arrive early the next morning. Like my other interns, Molly had seen the summer internship advertisement. She decided that a summer was not enough for her, however, so she worked with the Engineering School to set up a co-operative semester at Panigram Resort. Cornell has a program called the Co-operative Extension where Engineering students take a semester’s worth of classes in the summer and then they spend the fall semester their junior year and the following summer working at a company as an engineer. Not only did Molly take the required 17 (!) credits of engineering coursework in a summer session that is half as long as the normal semesters, but she also worked part-time at a local restaurant!

I was very impressed with Molly’s initiative to set up this program and was excited to have a student engineer working on my project. One of the (many!) lessons that we learned working on the pavilion this summer is that waste disposal in the village is an issue; there is no formal municipal waste management. Consequently, I have Molly (who is studying to be a civil engineer) looking at various options for the resort including creating a “luxury” composting toilet, and figuring out how we can reduce, reuse, and recycle at our eco resort. She is an intrepid young woman who is eager to be immersed in Bangladeshi culture. Here is Molly’s introduction in her own words:

Molly

Molly Johnson

As I exited the airport after a long flight from the U.S., I saw Kristin waiting in the reception area. She welcomed me to Bangladesh and then informed me about a little hitch with the transportation back to her house – she had taken her scooter to the airport because she couldn’t find any taxis that early in the morning (my flight was due in at 6am). We both agreed that my luggage would not fit on her scooter, so she asked me if I would be okay in a taxi by myself if she was following right behind me. I had no objections, so we searched for a reasonably priced taxi.

When we finally found one and I settled in, I started to feel a bit apprehensive; I didn’t speak a single word of Bangla and the chaos of the airport was a bit overwhelming. My apprehension quickly subsided, however, as I sat in the taxi and absorbed the strange, “organized chaos” that is the Bangladeshi traffic system.

As we drove to her apartment, I discovered the advantages of owning a scooter - Bangladeshi drivers do not drive in the marked lanes, or follow any traffic rules for that matter. If you have a scooter or motorcycle, you essentially have free reign over the road and can drive around the cars. Since then I have continued to reap the benefits of having a scooter as Kristin and I have traveled around Dhaka.

A bit of background on me: I was born in New Hampshire and grew up in North Carolina. One of my favorite things to do is curl up anywhere comfortable, drink tea or coffee, and read a book. I have been a competitive swimmer for almost my entire life, and I love to dance and play golf. I am a junior Civil Engineering student at Cornell University, with an interest in structures. I was also a member of Cornell’s Formula Society of Automotive Engineers (FSAE) racing team my freshman year.

I am in Bangladesh for the semester and will return the following summer to complete the required 28 weeks of the Cornell Engineering Co-op Program. I found out about this opportunity when I received an email from the Engineering Department mentioning the Panigram summer internship.  After reading about the resort and what Kristin was doing, I was ecstatic because it was exactly what I want to do: work with alternative materials to create beautiful structures.  I set up my co-op position with her so that I could be part of this project for a longer period and would be able to be more deeply involved.

My two main projects for Panigram this semester are to design a luxury composting toilet for the resort and to design the waste management system. The composting toilet and waste management system tie in with the goal of the resort to use alternative energy and leave as small of a carbon footprint as possible. I am excited to see what the coming months will bring; I know my activities here will beat doing problem sets and taking exams, hands down!

Mint Cucumber Salad

Here is the menu for the day’s event:

APPETIZERS

Mint Cucumber Salad
Roasted Peanuts, Fresh Coconut, Toasted Mustard-Cumin Vinaigrette
Based off the fresh, light cucumber salads, this dish combines the delicious savory spices of Bangladeshi cuisine with the earthy flavor of roasted peanuts and coconut.

Warm Spiced Chickpeas
Chopped Cilantro, Garlic Infused Yogurt, Crushed Puchka Shells, Tamarind Sauce
An upscale interpretation of the puchka - a staple of  Bangladeshi street food. The crunch of the shell, the tang of the yogurt, and the sweet of the tamarind sauce is played with in a healthy way in this course.

ENTRÈE

Grilled Rui Packet
Coconut Cilantro Chutney
This dish exemplifies the core values of Panigram Resort and Spa. Made from fresh ingredients that can be found at the site, the course is both light and sustainable.

Spiced Pumpkin Shobji
Cinnamon Clove-Infused Pumpkin
Shobji is a staple of  Bangladeshi cuisine, consumed at most meals. This classic dish was reinterpreted for a luxury audience, playing with the spices to add complexity and bring out the core flavors of pumpkin.

DESSERTS

Banana Cake
Warm Ghur, Diced Banana
Bananas are ubiquitous in Bangladesh and are used in both savory and sweet dishes.  The banana cake is a modern take on banana donuts, a common household snack. The dough is transformed into a fluffy cake, topped with ghur (date molasses), a preferred sweetener in Bangladesh.

Mishti Doi
Toasted Coconut
The earthy, nutty flavor of cocunuts is used to compliment the sweet creaminess of the traditional sweet yogurt.

Mango Slices
Red Chili Powder, Lime Juice, Rock Salt
Inspired by the mango trees on the site, this dish combines lime, chili, and salt to bring out other layers of flavor in the sweet fruit.

DRINKS

Mint Iced Tea
Mango Lemonade
Spiced Tea

Warm, Spiced Chickpeas with Yogurt Sauce

Grilled Rui Packet with Spiced Pumpkin Shobji

Banana Cake, Mishti Doi, Mango Slices

The Panigram Pavilion on the river at Panigram Resort.

Koli and I sped down the road on his motorcycle in a torrential downpour. He had left our motorcycle helmets at the project site, so I held my hand over his eyes like a visor to block out as much of the monsoon rains as I could so that he could see well enough to keep us on the road. The van, holding three of my interns, two large blocks of ice, all of the cooking utensils from my kitchen, two gas stoves, and several pounds of food followed us. We got to the edge of town and saw that the road was completely blocked for repairs. While the motorcycle might have been able to squeak around the barricade, the van would never make it; fortunately Koli knew an alternate route out of the city. We were already an hour late: the van was delayed, our landlord had padlocked us in the building (it took us 20 minutes to find him and have him come open the door), and we had to stop at the bazaar to get ice.

There comes a point in every entrepreneur’s life when they think to themselves, “What the #$%@ am I doing?!” and Friday August 14th was definitely one of those days for me. The investor meeting had already been rescheduled twice; I inadvertently scheduled the initial meeting the day after a large Muslim holiday and coincidentally all of the airlines had cancelled their flights for that day. After realizing the dilemma, I pushed the meeting back a day, but there was not enough advance notice for anyone to come. Praying that the last six weeks of preparation had not just been in vain, I sent out one more invitation, hoping for the best. Several investors RSVPed only to cancel at the last minute. I had invited the District Commissioner, but he wasn’t sure if he could show up. As I was speeding down the road, the rain pelting my body with watery spikes, I prayed that the few potential investors who were coming would not cancel because of the rain. At the same time, however, I felt strangely exhilarated, extremely alive. I was pursuing my dream and would do whatever it took to make it succeed.

As we approached the site, I realized that because of the rain the mud road which leads to the Panigram Pavilion would not be able to support the van, so I had Koli call in some of our friends, the local boatmen. Several members of the community were there when we arrived at the bridge. Sensing our distress and urgency, and knowing that this was an important day to raise money for the project that would support their community, they immediately stepped in and helped us transfer our cargo onto small, wooden boats. I was in a rush to get back to Jessore so I could shower, change into a sari, and pick our investors up from the airport; I barked a few last commands at my team as they paddled down the river, and I jumped into the van yelling “JAN!” (“GO!)

Ten minutes out of town I heard a “Pop!” The driver pulled over to the side of the road. We had a flat tire. I looked up at the sky and yelled, “Are you kidding?!!” The driver went to get his spare; it was also flat. Now fully into what my mother calls “the red zone”, like a general in wartime, I grabbed one tire, commanded the driver to grab the other, and hailed a passing vangari (like a truck version of a rickshaw). Twenty minutes later we made it to the nearest town and went to the tire repair store.

I called my interns: nobody answered the phone. Finally, on the fifth attempt, I was able to reach Brian. I asked him to send Koli so that he could drive me back to Jessore so I could get my investors – I would rent an autorickshaw to bring them back if I had to. According to Brian, Koli had run into town to pick up a few things and his phone was damaged by the rain so he couldn’t be reached. Brian also told me that their white punjabis had been dyed red because my boua tied them in a red gamcha and the rain had soaked through. Also the lungis, uniforms for our boatmen and rickshawalas, had not been sewn yet. Gratefully, he left out telling me that several important food items had been left at home…

Forty-five minutes passed and our tires still were not ready. Finally Koli gave me a call and I asked him to come take me back to Jessore. I also asked him to call all of our friends in Jessore to see if somebody could pick up our investors from the airport, as their flight was landing in just forty minutes. He made several calls – all of our friends were out of town and our normal autorickshaw driver could not be reached. I texted my architect, Marina, who was also on the flight, to let her know that I might be a bit delayed picking them up at the airport.

As Koli pulled up to the repair shop on his motorcycle, the driver told us the tires were fixed. I got into the van, sent Koli back to the site, and we headed on our way. We pulled up to my apartment in Jessore and I made a mad dash upstairs. Chi Chi, who had fallen sick the day before, was feeling a bit better and decided that she wanted to come with me to the site after all. In ten minutes I tied two saris and shuttled us into the van. (I counted the rainstorm as my shower for the day!) We pulled up to the airport and I ran to the United counter to see if our flight had arrived yet. He said it was coming in for a landing now. Unbelievably I was not late!

My architect, my potential investor, and I taking the boat to the Panigram Pavilion.

I picked up an umbrella, put on a smile, and jovially met my potential investor and Marina at the airport as if I had not a care in the world. The sun started to peak out around the clouds. We picked up Koli’s brother in Jessore and headed on to the project site. I told them that we had to pick up the Chief of Police, so I wouldn’t be able to take them the “pretty” way to the site, but that it should be a short forty minute drive. They looked out the window, admiring the pastoral scenery, and said, “this ISN’T the pretty way?”

As we pulled up at the bridge, I remembered that I forgot to give my interns the fifteen minute warning call! I quickly called Jonathon and he had all of the interns change into their uniforms on the pavilion before we pulled up in the boats.

Our boatmen waiting for us at the bottom of the bridge next to the jute rafts.

Everyone was impressed by the beauty of the river and the site. They loved the idea of taking the boats to get to the resort and suggested that I make that the permanent way to get to Panigram. As our boat docked at the pavilion, Jonathon was standing guard in his white(!) punjabi holding a tray of cool, scented towels for our guests. We served them mango lemonade and mint iced tea and then I took them for a tour of the project site. The sun was finally shining (the weather always seems to be better at Panigram!) and our guests fell in love with our trees and the river views.

Jonathon, Janine, a member of the upazila, and the Upazila Chairman waiting for us as we pull up to the pavilion.

We headed back to the pavilion and several of our guests wanted to take namaj (go for Friday prayers), so we had the boats take them to a little mosque near the bridge. When they returned, we served them a fabulous Bangladeshi fusion meal designed by my culinary intern Janine. The food was an enormous success! As we finished dessert, the District Commissioner (DC) arrived! He brought several of his deputies with him including the Thana and Upazila Chairmen. My investors insisted that the DC taste some of the food, even though he had already eaten lunch. Fortunately, we had planned ahead and I had Janine prepare the extra food that we brought. Everyone agreed – the food was fantastic!

The District Commissioner, Thana Chairman, Upazila Chairman, Chief of Police, Marina Tabassum, Salahdin Imam, Mahabub Alam, me, and several representatives of the local government.

I told the government officials a bit more about my project – how I am hoping to build an environmentally responsible resort that improves the lives of the people in our host community. I explained how I intended to create new jobs and support local artists and craftsmen by reviving some of the arts that are now being lost in Bangladesh – like jute products, pottery, and pakha goods. I gave everyone a gift basket that included examples of things that I talked about – a beautiful, decorated pakha (palm leaf) fan that was custom made for us, a jute water bottle holder (also custom made), a small clay vase, etc. When I finished, the DC told his deputies and the Chief of Police to give me any assistance that I would need to make my resort successful. Having government support in Bangladesh is extremely important, so this was a big win for us!

Kristin Boekhoff talking to investor Salahdin Imam as members of the community eagerly look on.

When the DC and his entourage left, just my potential investor, Salahdin Imam, and Marina were left at the site. Though Jonathon had spent weeks planning a lovely boat tour and rickshaw ride through the surrounding countryside, because of the namaj and the DC’s visit we were very behind schedule and only had time for a small boat ride to the end of the property before we had to head back to the airport. Both of my guests were eager to explore the river, however, so I hailed our brightly colored boatmen and set off. A light rain enhanced the experience; we were prepared with large umbrellas and enjoyed being on the water in the monsoon.

At the end of the day, I felt confident that I had delivered what I promised – a luxurious taste of Bangladeshi village life in a beautiful, relaxing environment supported by first class customer service. As we stepped from the boats back onto the pavilion, Salahdin held out his hand and said, “You’ve convinced me. I’m in!”

My architecture intern, Chi Chi Lin, sitting on the Panigram Pavilion that she designed and built in just four weeks!

Lighting up the pavilion at night.

“Can we stay TONIGHT?” Chi Chi kept nagging me. For the past week she and the interns have been begging me to allow them to spend a night at the Pavilion. I was inclined to capitulate since they have worked really hard for the past several weeks to build it. It still amazes me how much they were able to accomplish in just three weeks!

Koli had some doubts. He insisted that we get permission from the local police before spending the night. We went down to the police station together. The Chief of Police was very friendly, but tried to convince me not to spend the night.  My interns worked hard, however, and I wanted to reward them, so I stuck to my guns and told the police officer that we really want to stay and that the interns were going back to America in a few days and would not have another chance. He agreed on the condition that he be allowed to send us four police escorts.

Chi Chi was ecstatic when I told her the news. We packed up hammocks, mosharis (mosquito nets), and bed rolls and took them to the site. The pavilion and bathroom were complete and Panigram was ready to receive her first guests.

We were a bit worried that all of the villagers would stay all night watching us as they do in the day, so we devised a plan to distract them. Musjid, one of the village leaders who has been very instrumental in garnering local support, invited us all to his house for dinner. We hoped the villagers would see us leave the project site and assume that we had gone home, as we did every day around that time. I came up with an elaborate plan to drive down to the next town, transfer to a boat, and come back to the pavilion on the river. I thought it was a brilliant idea, but Koli said that he didn’t know the pathway to the river and that it was too dark to find it. We compromised by taking our autorickshaw to the bridge that crosses over our river and taking a boat from there. At least this way we would avoid the ten minute walk to the project site in the dark; our headlamps are easily identifiable and I was sure they would attract curious onlookers.

Secret nighttime boat ride to the pavilion.

It was fantastic to take the boats to the site at night! The river was beautiful and quiet and we were completely surrounded by fireflies.

When we got to the pavilion, Chi Chi set up oil lamps which bathed the site in a beautiful, warm, orange glow. We set up our hammocks and settled in for the evening. A few locals tried to approach our pavilion in a boat, but the police chased them away.

We slept in hammocks on the pavilion that we built.

Somewhere, a villager was playing a flute and we drifted off to sleep to the sound of gentle music, surrounded by the glitter of fireflies…

My intern, Brian, sleeping in...

Brian and Jon explore the local river

The river is central to village life near the Panigram site. Its waters flood rice paddies, provide fish to eat, and assist in the important jute harvest. This year, however, the river reached it lowest point in decades. Normally 90 feet wide, the longer than usual hot season reduced the river to a meager 15 feet across. Now, the monsoon started, but the extra six weeks of dry season caused a floating aquatic plant locally known as port to flourish. Port is always part of the river ecosystem, but this year port stretches the width of the river preventing nearly all boat traffic. This floating plant strains the local economy and could ruin Jon’s hard work as Panigram’s tour program intern.

This summer, Jon explored the area around the site, researched the origins of local ruins, and compiled a database of the local plants and their uses. For our upcoming investor meeting, Jon has planned an hour-long boat and rickshaw tour through the local area. The tour will start at the pavilion where boatmen will take our guests two kilometers up the river to a nearby village; there our guests will take rickshaws along a scenic route back to the pavilion. The tour will end with a striking view of the pavilion at the bridge overlooking the proposed Panigram site.

The only thing floating between our wonderfully planned tour and us are thousands of  port, the ubiquitous aquatic plant. All along the river, these small plants float on the top of the water, hundreds bunched together like tiny islands. Our task: navigate through the seemingly impenetrable mass with an uncooperative boatman.

The impassable mass of Port

At first, Jon and I paddled down river to see if moving the port out of the way was possible. We bunched up our lungis (traditional Bangladeshi male skirt) in the local fashion and tried to push the plants out of the way. Both of us were ecstatic at how easily the two of us could push hundreds of these plants out of the way. Within minutes, however, the plants floated back to their original position, rendering our pushing strategy useless.

Although our attempt at moving the port out of the way failed, we did notice the neighboring villager take bundles of jute and bind them into a raft. After he launched the raft in the river, our farmer then piled the harvested water plants on top of the jute raft. At the time we didn’t know why the farmers were piling port on top of their jute, but we did notice that as the farmer removed the plants, he created a channel wide enough for us to maneuver our boat through.

Jon wades through the river wearing the traditional lungi

Later on, we learned that Bangladeshi jute farmers in the area submerge their jute in the slowly flowing river to soften the fibers. The process, called redding, softens the jute enough for the women and children of the village to remove the fibers to make cloth, rope, and other jute-based products. The farmer stacks the port on top of his jute bundles to keep the intense tropical sun from drying out the top layers of jute.

Encouraged by the farmers removing the jute, Jon and I ventured upstream to see if the river portion of the tour was possible. After we passed the bridge, our boatman refused to paddle any further, claiming that too much port blocked the river. Jon and I, however, armed with our knowledge of the jute harvest persuaded him to let us continue while he sat in the back of the boat, grudgingly steering the boat.

Jon makes friends with our boatman, Uttom

Keeping close the to jute fields, Jon and I managed to navigate through the dense port. At first progress was really slow, we traveled two or three boat lengths every minute, but eventually, we cleared the first patch and skimmed along open water. Thrilled by our progress, Jon and I continued to force our way through the port alongside the jute rafts as our village neighbors greeted us from either side of the river.

As we navigated through more port, we passed the local tamarind tree. Local villagers claim that a spirit haunts the tree. During the day, the spirit resides inside the trunk. At night the spirit torments those who dare trespass under the tamarind tree’s branches. The leaves of the tamarind tree close at night; villagers say it is a sign that the spirit is haunting the area underneath the tree.

The haunted Tamarind Tree on Jonathon's route

Upstream from the tamarind tree, Jonathon and I paddled past an ancient Hindu mondir (temple). Although stripped of its original terra cotta ornaments, the mondir is an excellent example of the unique Bengali-Hindu architecture of the Jessore region. Jonathon informed me that he didn’t know much about that particular temple, other than it still serves as a place of worship for many of the Hindus living in the area.

The mondir along Jon's river route

Unfortunately, Jonathon and I couldn’t continue past the mondir. The port was too dense and the farmers hadn’t started to harvest the jute. Jonathon and I are hopeful that by the end of this week, the farmers will have harvested enough jute for us to continue on to the village were Jonathon intends for our guests to transfer from the boat portion of the tour to the rickshaw portion.

Chi Chi stands with her carpentry team

No construction project every progresses according to plan; Bangladesh is no exception. Workers show up hours late, materials arrive of the wrong specifications, and the weather doesn’t always cooperate. As the architecture intern for Panigram, Chi Chi knows first hand the difficulties that arise during construction projects in Bangladesh.

Rising every morning at six A.M., Chi Chi faced the challenge of working with unfamiliar building materials, supervising her first construction project, and leading a construction team as a female in a male-dominated culture. Last night, I had the opportunity to sit down with Chi Chi and discuss the details of her pavilion project. We talked about her design, her team, and how she managed to overcome the many difficulties that arose while building the pavilion.

BRIAN: This is your first project, Chi Chi. Can you describe the challenges that you faced as a young architect working with an international crew?

CHI CHI: First of all, I really like my team. I even know how to say that in Bangla.

BRIAN: Say it.

CHI CHI: Okay, “amar team khub bhalo lage!”

As a team we have done a lot of bonding. We have taken tea, gone swimming, ridden bicycles, and even played soccer. I’ve tried to lead as a member of the team. I’ve carried mud on my head, hauled bamboo, and done heavy labor alongside my team.

Chi Chi carries mud on her head

Take the mud wall, for instance. I could never know what the consistency should be until I actually stepped in the mixing pit. I had to step into the muck and keri (rice straw), to know when the mud is ready.

I think that because I am willing to get dirty and lead as a team member I’ve earned the respect of the Bangladeshis working with me. My team has accepted me, a girl, into their “man circle”. Which is really cool since I’m the only girl on the site and also because I really need their help constructing the pavilion.

I have very limited experience with building actual structures. I’ve drafted mock construction documents in school, but accurate calculations and blueprints aren’t very useful here. My Bangladeshi team doesn’t use traditional blueprints and my materials are not uniform, so exact calculations would be useless anyway. I’ve been challenged by the fact that bamboo is never going to be straight, that rain tree timber is never going to be completely flat, and that mud won’t dry as fast as I want. All these little things added up and proved to be quite a challenge.

Chi Chi discusses her design with her bamboo team

The difficulties associated with building materials were overcome because I have great people working for me. They know exactly what I want and they know shortcuts to do things certain ways. They know how to save time. They know the secret ways of how to attach this to that. My local builders, they know what’s up.

The roof team connects a bamboo girder to a cross beam

BRIAN: I know you’ve been waking up at six A.M. for the last two weeks for an hour long commute. Can you tell me a little more about your daily routine?

CHI CHI: Six AM! Auto rickshaw! Every morning!

My daily routine is funny. To me its normal now, but if I told anyone else back home at the beginning of the summer that I would be doing an internship where I wake up every morning at six am to commute an hour in a tiny 100cc motorcycle rickshaw to a little town in Bangladesh where I would walk around a construction site barefoot with no safety helmet, they’d think I was crazy.

Not only is my commute ridiculous, but also I have to do all my work wearing long pants and long sleeved shirts - and a scarf, because I’m a girl and need to be conservative - in 34 degrees Celsius weather.

Our first aid is Purell. When I cut my foot, one my roof team bandaged the cut with a cigarette wrapper and netting. Our running water is the nearby river, which is also our shower. It’s my normal day; I don’t think it is weird anymore.

BRIAN: Quite a change of pace from daily life as a student at Cornell. Do you have any funny stories from the site?

CHI CHI: Today, my team made me eat with my hands on the floor. They cut a banana leaf down, put it on the floor, made me wash it with with water using my dirty hands. Then they dumped my rice and shobji on the leaf and giggled as they watched me struggle to eat with my hands. Seeing me uncomfortable, Muku, the foreman of the roof team, said that he would be willing to make me some bamboo chopsticks.

BRIAN: Whenever I’ve had the chance to visit the construction site, it always seems like we draw a large crowd. How have you managed to work with so many curious Bangladeshis watching you?

CHI CHI: It took me a few days to get used to it, but now the crowds are just part of the scenery. The people are very hospitable and really want to make friends with you, so they give you fruit. I’ve tried every single type of guava there is to try around the area, from the little rock hard kind, to the big ripe ones. Some people gave me some huge pomello fruits. People really like to give you fruit.

Curious Bangladeshis watch us work

BRIAN: Bangladeshis are notorious for their disregard for punctuality. How have you managed work around this cultural difference with your team?

CHI CHI: So, in Bangladesh there are two different times: Bangladesh time and digital time. Digital time is what the rest of the world runs on and Bangladesh time is about two hours slower. I’m not joking when I say that I’ve had people ask, “Wait, Bangla time or digital time?” to confirm a deadline.

To make sure that my team arrives on time, I asked them to meet me at the ‘Union Bar’ before we start work. The ‘Union Bar’ is my nickname for local tea stall where most of my laborers hang out. After I asked them to meet me at the ‘Union Bar’ they started to show up to work on time, because, you know, everyone in Bangladesh likes to “take tea.”

BRIAN: You aren’t fluent in Bangla, so how you communicate on the site with your team?

CHI CHI: I try to speak Bangla and my team tries to speak English. Usually, we try to meet in the middle: the middle being 20% of either end. I know the important Bangla words like: eta (”this”), ota (”that”), agamikal (”tomorrow”), kaj koro (”work!”), bash (”bamboo”), shundor (”beautiful”), shundor na (”not beautiful”), and kato (”cut”). Since verbal communication is difficult, I’ve found that pictures, photographs, and models work best.

BRIAN: Why did you pick the site? And, why did you pick this site over the two other you had in mind?

CHI CHI: I had two other sites in mind. Both were located in different Mahogany groves and had a constant cool breeze. The shade and breeze were positive elements; however, the trees and the surrounding crops obstructed the view of the river. Panigram means ‘water village’ so I felt that it was very important to have a beautiful view of the water. Kristin and I chose our current site at the junction of the river and the canal because of the scenic view.

The stunning view from the pavilion deck

BRIAN: Describe the view from the pavilion.

CHI CHI: As you look out across the river from the pavilion, in the distance you see the bridge that connects two villages. There are many villages surrounding the site; along the riverbank you see villagers cultivating jute, fishing from rafts made of hollow tree trunks, and harvesting water lilies. It is peaceful, bucolic, and refreshing, especially after visiting the noise and commotion of Dhaka.

BRIAN: Describe the layout of the pavilion.

CHI CHI: The layout of the pavilion follows our needs for the upcoming investor meeting. We built a dining room, a foyer for our guests to mingle, and a kitchen for Janine’s team to prepare the meal. The structure follows the curvature of the land in order to maximize the view of the river and mask the noise from the kitchen.

The roof, modeled after the banana leaf, changes the direction of the slope as it curves over the foyer area.

Chi Chi's roof model she used to show the team the 'twist' she wanted

BRIAN: Following the curvature of the peninsula definitely frames the view well. I am curious as to why you designed the roof with the twist?

CHI CHI: The twist in the roofline evokes the shape of the banana leaf. The first time I visited the site, looking for locations for the pavilion, all of us were caught in a very heavy downpour. The villagers gave us large banana leaves to keep us dry, I observed how the veins on the leaf point downwards, so the when three breeze blows and twists the leaf it still kept me dry. I wanted to convey the organic nature of the banana leaf to my roof design.

BRIAN: How did you arrive at the final design?

CHI CHI: With the time constraints, my first idea was the simplest idea: A thatch roof and plain gazebo style house. I’d seen it done around the area and it was simple enough to do very quickly. But of course, the design had to develop into something more original.

I had two things I wanted to accomplish with the final design. First, I wanted to incorporate important elements from the village life: water and local, sustainable building materials.

Water is very important in Bangladeshi village life. In order to convey this importance through the pavilion, the main entrance is accessible by land during the dry season and by boat during the monsoon.

Everything I used to build the pavilion is local and sustainable. These are materials that our village neighbors see, use, and experience in daily life: bamboo, golpata thatch, and mud.

We definitely used a lot of bamboo. It is cheaper and stronger than timber. Bamboo is also locally available. I saw it cut from the bamboo forest, carried by men, and cut at the construction site. Bamboo as a building material is definitely sustainable for the community because we are buying it locally, supporting the local economy. Plus, bamboo is fast growing, so the wood that we harvested will be quickly replaced.

The golpata thatch roof is made from dried palm fronds, split into two, and then woven between the crossbeams and girders. It is waterproof without any added chemicals. I am still surprised that the thin leaves are waterproof.

A member of the roof team weaves golpata thatch for the roof

Mud is really easy to work with too, because it can be any shape. And it’s locally available and it’s free! We literally got it from underneath our platform - straight from the source. To make the soft mud into a building material, we mixed locally available rice hay, called “keri”, into the mud using cows.

Bamboo, golpata thatched roofs, keri mud, and rain tree timber are all local materials. Everything that we have is straight from the source, a sustainable practice for the local area.

Chi Chi stomping in the mud

The mud pit was empty, the rice straw hadn’t arrived, and the cows were nowhere to be found. When we arrived, we found our workers taking a prolonged smoke break, burning daylight with their tobacco with nothing to show for the hours they were supposed to have already worked.

Our project for the day was to mix 120 cubic feet of straw-reinforced mud. Making mud is a long, labor-intensive process. Each batch requires three and a half hours to complete and we barely had enough daylight left to finish the two batches required. After assessing the situation, Kristin concluded that seven hours might be just enough if all of us interns helped the workers. Doubtful that we could actually finish, we looked at the workers on the opposite side of the canal; their faces mirrored our skepticism.

Jon fills baskets of mud

With Kristin counting the minutes, our workers on break, and noon quickly approaching, Jonathon and I sprung into action. Grabbing shovels and baskets, we jumped into the mud pit in the middle of the canal that Chi Chi prepared the day before. We started filling the workers’ baskets with sticky mud from the riverbed as dozens of local Bangladeshis gathered around us. Not wanting to be outdone by the bideshis, the workers picked up their pace and within twenty minutes, the mixing pit was filled with mud and ready for the straw.

Chi Chi selected this mud pit because it was right next to the pavilion site and Kristin and Koli tested the mud and confirmed that it was the right type for building. At the time, we thought that the mollusk shells in the riverbed might make a nice wall texture; only the workers foresaw our imminent discomfort.
While we watched the workers wet the mud, Kristin explained that it should have the consistency of fresh play-doh or modeling clay; she informed us that the only way to really tell when the mud is ready is by walking in it. So Chi Chi, Jonathon, and I shrugged our shoulders, kicked off our flip-flops, and joined the workers in the mixing pit.

Brian takes a turn driving the cows

At first we revelled in the cool sensation of mud between our toes. Childlike, we threw straw into the pit, working it in with our feet. But after a couple of minutes, as our workers predicted, we felt the biting sting of the sharp shells. As the shells gouged our feet, relations with the workers started to improve; Bilal grimaced and I yelled out, then Sukropar and Chi Chi both swore in Bangla. Soon, the three of us interns were laughing and joking with the four local workers: Sham, Bilal, Shukropar, and Napal. When the cows finally arrived, our new friends even showed us how to drive the cows around the mixing pit.

Brian transports finished mud atop his head

By lunchtime, we finished the first batch of mud. Eager to try the local techniques, I asked Napal to help me make a gamcha hat so that I could carry the baskets of mud on my head. Excited by my enthusiasm, he and the other workers joked and laughed as they outfitted me Bangladeshi style. The seven of us worked quickly, and in no time at all we emptied the mud pit.

After releasing the workers for lunch, we rested in the banana grove, enjoying a comfortable breeze in the shade. I stole food from Chi Chi’s tiffin (a local “lunch pail” with three round, stacking boxes) and forced down the liter of oral saline that Kristin insisted I drink.

Chi Chi poses for a photo while directing the workers

When the workers returned to the site, we started the second batch of mud. It seemed to go faster than the first round as our increasingly cohesive team found its rhythm. As the sun started to set we finished the mixing. We were about to congratulate ourselves on a job well done when the sky suddenly became dark and a torrential downpour threatened to wash away our hard work. Frantic to save over three hours of labor, we rushed to fill any available container with mud and carry it to the covered pile next to the pavilion. As the spectators ran for shelter in the banana grove, two little boys recognized the importance of keeping the mud dry, stepped forward, and started filling baskets with mud.

The Mud Team

Working now together as a close-knit team, we managed to save the last bit of mud as the rain stopped. We then paused for a picture - exhausted and muddy, but relieved that we saved the entire second batch. Shaking hands, acknowledging the new bond that had been forged between us through hard work towards a common goal, we departed with a bit more respect and understanding.

I think we moved up in rankings because we optimized some of our web pages and have been getting a lot more press lately (which in turn links back to our site). Thanks to my intern Brian for delivering the great news!