America, then and now

How much have things changed in the US in the last two decades?

“Pat him down,” the immigration officer at the checkpoint of the airport said with a solemn look, as I stood, hands raised.

There is a new scanner at the US airports which pass a ray along the body of an aircraft passenger to detect if that person is carrying anything of potential harm to others.

Rest assured, the rays do not expose the body on the scanner.

The rule is to take out everything from your pockets and stand under the machine, housed in a cubicle. Everything means just that. I had some calling cards which were kept in the pocket and, hence, the patting down order.

Another person diligently rubbed his hands on my leg, and all this because the cards were not taken out. Full marks for caution.

The US seemed like a changed place. My last visit was 20 years ago. In the latter part of the 90s. The world was a different place then.

Terrorists intent on blowing up planes filled with unsuspecting passengers existed in thrillers, mostly.

In 1995, when a stop-over in Cairo had to be postponed due to an intractable sandstorm, the plane had to make a landing in Luxor with soldiers surrounding the aircraft at all times.

Half-jokingly, I talked about the situation resembling a hostage crisis to which another passenger just laughed, albeit a bit nervously.

For this sort of talk, one may now be detained and off-loaded from the plane.

This time, in the US, something happened which seemed a bit peculiar.

I, along with another colleague and compatriot, were talking to an Indian colleague and, in between our conversation we switched to Bengali for a few seconds and suddenly someone on the road, stopped, looked at us, and asked: “Anyone of you speak Arabic?”

A bit puzzled, I replied: “No, we don’t.”

The man about to cross the street did not seem convinced and asked again, a bit firmly: “Are you sure?”

Was he an Arab? Nope, he looked more like an African-American. Anyway, think what you will but the incident was a bit perplexing.

Washington in December was gearing up for Christmas, and signs of a change in leadership were all around.

I saw Trump t-shirts, badges, entire shops devoted to the president-elect.

They knew who is the boss.

In between our conversation we switched to Bengali for a few seconds and suddenly someone on the road, stopped, looked at us, and asked: ‘Anyone of you speak Arabic?’

Strangely, no one was talking politics. They had far more interesting things to do, like sip glass after glass of mulled cider, for instance.

It appears that once something is done and dusted, people prefer to leave it. Exceptions are South Asians of course.

Fellow Bangladeshis appeared to be experts on US politics, each giving out his own version of how things should be done and what a period of uncertainty awaited them.

Also, so far away from Bangladesh, the AL-BNP rift still managed to trigger evenings of heated overzealous debates.

Back in 1997, the US was the top place for South Asian students for higher education. That was the golden period for TOEFL, SAT, and GMAT.

Living in the UK, I went to Montana, the big sky country, partly driven by fascination, partly by a desire to see what higher education opportunities the famed journalism department of the University of Montana had to offer.

Already a working journalist, what struck me then was the absence of a single South Asian in Missoula, the university town.

By chance, I met a guy of Indian descent but whose connection with the land of his parents was only in his name.

Being a South Asian from London, known as the flamboyant hub of masala and sub-continental masti, the sparse look of Montana was an eye-opener.

At that time, many friends scattered across the US had one ambition: Finish education at their universities and stay back with a respectable job offer. In fact, almost all of them did exactly that.

Today, when we hear of higher education in a foreign land, the countries which usually come up are Australia, UK, and Canada.

Post-September 11, there has been a steady decline in students heading for the US.

This shift resulted in the rise of the IELTS exam as opposed to the TOEFL, which was once the buzzword among young students in Bangladesh.

On my way to the airport after a seven-day visit, I had a chat with the driver of a taxi who claimed to be from Bahrain.

“I have worked in Dubai and am here only to get the passport,” he commented in a solemn tone on a chilly cold morning with ice making the road a bit precarious.

When asked about the election result and his overall opinion, he answered with grim negativity.

“This shows that irrespective of how liberal people appear in public, there is an inherent parochial nature.”

“Did you face racism here?” He asked me.

Well, I was here for too short a time to actually perceive the overall attitude of the people.

And then, suddenly, I remembered the incident on the road.

Nope, I did not tell that to the driver.

“My sole desire is to get the passport and leave this place,” came his resolute comment.

On two sides of the road, leading to Dulles Airport, I saw several cars, trucks, and vans, either overturned or veered off the main highway on to the grass due to sudden snow fall and the early morning slippery conditions.

“Today is the first day, and already so many mishaps,” remarked the driver and I wondered if he had more in that line other than just the inclement weather.

The plane was delayed, passengers sat on the lounge looking grim, and just to lighten the mood I decided to buy a shocking pink hoodie with Washington emblazoned on it.

Published in Dhaka Tribune, Jan 17, 2017

The Link,

https://www.dhakatribune.com/opinion/op-ed/2017/01/16/america-then-and-now/