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     Volume 5 Issue 92 | April 28, 2006 |

   Cover Story
   Straight Talk
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   Dhaka Diary
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Dhaka Diary

Foreigner rickshawala!
A few days ago, it was a hot and sultry day and I was having a cold drink in a fast food shop. Besides that, I was watching the hustle and bustle of Gulshan through the window. Suddenly, I saw a middle aged foreigner enter the shop. He bought a few cold drinks and was sweating profusely. After paying his bill he hastily went away. I looked outside to know where he was going and saw an interesting scene. His rickshaw-puller was sitting on the passenger seat and the foreigner himself was driving the rickshaw! I couldn't help but laugh when I saw that the rickshaw puller was enjoying a cool drink, which the foreigner had given him. The foreigner was also enjoying his new experience and I am sure that he will remember and cherish it for a long time.
Mohammed Sohel Hara
Olympia Palace Restaurant

One of Those Days
The other day when I was on my way to an interview, while getting down the rickshaw, suddenly, the heel of my shoe came off! It was a highheeled shoe, so I could not walk or even stand properly. There I stood in a posh office, limping, not because of a broken leg but because of a broken shoe! Then I walked out of the office, bare-footed, holding my shoes in my hand, searching desperately for a cobbler. When I ultimately found one, beside a busy road, I was relieved. That was not the end though. I had to stand on one shoe, waiting eagerly for the other shoe to be fixed. I guess this sight provided some enjoyment to the spectators who were bored in the nearby traffic jam. A girl with folders and papers, dressed well, standing on one shoe, the other foot bare! I felt like a joker in a circus. Finally when my shoe was fixed, I heaved a sigh of relief! Phew! It was such an embarrassing experience!
Zannatul Lamea (Eshita)
North South University

Diary from Chittagong
Donating blood
I was working my hours at the Sondhani office at the Chittagong Medical College. People looking for blood were coming in and out of the office the whole day. All the volunteers were busy. Meanwhile, a man whose sister was in the operation theatre came looking for blood. As a rule, I asked him to bring one bag blood belonging to any other group in exchange for the one that he was taking from the office. A few minuets later he brought one of his friends who was going to donate the blood. I was about to draw blood from the donor, when I found many old scars made with a blade on his left arm, including several ring like marks. I called one of the seniors present there as I suspected that the man was probably a drug addict was unfit to donate blood. When we asked him about this problem, he could not offer a clear explanation. He kept on insisting that he had a very normal life. However, we still could not accept his blood and told him so. The man got very angry and started to scream. We just told him that there could possible be a chance that we were wrong, but that does not give us the right to take the risk of accepting his blood, which might be fatal for a patient. He left with a gloomy face. I felt sorry for him and wondered about young people now, who as teenagers let their emotions get the best of them.


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