OSTRICH: The old steamer to Khulna, Bangladesh

The boat is full with five hundred passengers and a little flair in the colonial steamers on the rivers of Bangladesh. The man with the two heavy travel bags, he can make it no longer really. The first cables are caught, even announcing a groan and crunch to the departure of the ship, while it reaches just running up the pontoon. Suddenly, he Shift in the steamer. The ship touched the harbor wall, then it is again close to the investors. The Ostrich will also include this passenger yet.

The departure of the steamer was preceded by an anxious wait. Heavy fog had enveloped the country for days in dark gray, cluttered schedules of ferries and the skippers on rivers in the Ganges Delta robbed the view. Only now, the sky has cleared, the Ostrich is taking off and stomps down the Buriganga.

Actually, the steamers were already in a maritime museum. Between 1912 and 1938 they were built in the shipyards of Calcutta, when Bangladesh was still British India. Someone even then they must have given the name of Rocket. Rocket launcher like - because of the shape and because of the speed, at least in those years knew nothing like it.

Together with three identical ships, the Ostrich travels on the rivers today between Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh and Khulna in the west of the country. It has long been the little fleet cult: A ride on the paddle wheeler is for backpackers to any Bangladesh tour, tourism agencies connect the river often travel by visiting the Sundarbans, one of the largest mangrove forests in the world.

In six of the first class cabin can be the man who has just managed to board covered with a sigh on the crisp white bed. Huq Howlader, 61 years old, prayer cap, brown horn-rimmed glasses, white beard, is a stockbroker. He has done good business in the capital, now he wants to return to his native village. Howlader was late because he had forgotten his lungi, the shorts for the night. In his haste he has caught the market a copy with a lush floral pattern. Now he takes out the Lungi and examined with a serene view the colorful piece of cloth. "It's only for a few nights," he says. Every few weeks will Howlader the ship because it is a relaxed travel and because he is afraid of the bus drivers who do not fear death. "On the ship, at least I can sleep calmly."

"Only Allah knows what the weather is," says Captain Salam

About 30 hours need the paddle steamer from Dhaka to Khulna after, three days later they are back in the capital. The one way in first class costs eleven euro, a third class ticket which is not much more than a tenth. Of course there are faster transport in Bangladesh, even better and more modern. To be honest, the Rockets are not even very nice ships. The Ostrich, for example, the rust-colored crude form of a houseboat, ship their skin is cracked and dented, the metal sheet which is to protect the paddle wheel is deformed bizarre. Nevertheless, it will travel with it quite comfortable around the country. There are in the almost ten-square-foot cabin with air conditioning, a sink and a coffee table. Printed on pillows, blankets and curtains is a blue wheel, the logo of the national shipping line BIWTC, the Bangladesh Inland Water Transport Corporation.

After the Ostrich has left the Buriganga, now they plowed the waters of the Meghna River. Two river dolphins show up and just as quickly as. On a wooden boat catches up with fishermen with two children the net that cannot celled boat rocks on a carpet of water hyacinths, the guys waving. Up on the bridge, Captain Abdus Salam and talked to his helmsman on the weather and the fog. Salam, 51 years old, has a long white beard and a gentle voice. "Only Allah knows what the weather is," he says.

The Ostrich winds through a dense network of aquatic plants

For 34 years he controlled boats on the water, 17 years as captain. A year ago he wanted to quit. His son had died in a swimming accident. The shipping line he even offered a post in the country. But then he's moved on. "On the steamer to get your mind off things," he says. Salam has brought his ship in any port or, once there was an incident. When you create he had almost crushed a passenger who could not wait to disembark. Salam was therefore in the capital trial. "I could not see him," he said, "I've made a mistake." In the end, it has acquitted the judge.

Ferries in Bangladesh deserve their bad reputation. A few months ago and which completely filled Coco capsized 300 kilometers south of Dhaka in the dense fog. They had not yet taken every 90 deaths from the water, because the next ferry crashed into a motor boat and lay down on a sand bank. More than 5,000 passengers in the past 20 years came in ferry disasters in Bangladesh killed. But of the great maritime disasters were the Rockets so far been spared. No one had fallen in the nearly 100-year history because of an accident, the PR spokesman for the line a few days later, proudly. After all, keep the ships of state BIWTC appeared approximately at the predetermined number of passengers. Around 600 people visit the Ostrich place - that is little compared to the new private ferry lines on which are crowded, often up to 2000 people. The shallow draft makes it easy to maneuver. The flat design makes the Rockets more stable than the more comprehensive term ferries that threaten to topple in a storm.

But storms are still not in sight. On the rear deck of the Ostrich tea is served - little more than an effort suggestion of luxury, a touch of colonial travel comfort. Howlader, the stockbroker, sits at the breakfast table, a long table with a tablecloth, the only white on the first day of the trip. A passenger leans against the railing, his eyes following a boat with brown sails stretched on bamboo poles. On the banks smoke smoke from the chimney of a brick factory. The Ostrich winds through a dense network of aquatic plants. The Green now covers almost the entire river. Two waiters take care of each guest, fried fish, fried chicken and vegetables and serve.

Howlader leafs through the Bengal Financial Express. The age of ten he drove the first time at one of the steamers, third bottom in the class. As a young man Howlader moved to London, heard the BBC, to learn English, and was surprised that at the beginning of the financial news programs always have been reported. "What is this exchange that it is more important than the Queen?" He wondered.

Howlader sat in the library, read in with the world of derivatives and other assets and was soon able to pay with the first stock gains his rent. As an exchange expert, he returned to Bangladesh, where it is missing on every other inhabitants of all basic necessities. "I came back, because I wanted to help." He says at least. His home had changed, but the Rockets still contributed to his village, but had been upgraded with diesel engines.

The poverty line on board marks a rope, which the crew stretched between the first and third class. In the cheapest seats, there are no cabins or chairs. Women, men, children have designed the deck planks and have moved their veils. It is surprisingly quiet for so many people in confined spaces. In the shelves to the ceiling put orange life rings, at a kiosk selling drinks and cookies. A young man stands in the middle of the seated crowd and talks at the travelers. Maybe he is a preacher, or dealer. Most of it not look dignified.

Up on the bridge Captain Salam, meanwhile, has other worries. For example, the countless small fishing boats on the Meghna. As to the cries from the water follows a long-drawn bugle of the Ostrich, the push for rail passengers. A wooden boat with two fishermen came too close to the ship. Water enters the boat, it is already questionable depth in the water. A grotesque scenario: During a fishing vigorously in the belt sets to reach the shore, can the asses of others at the bow in anger any more. He gestures wildly, almost loses his balance. Soon you can not hear the two, only seeing the mouth movements, the Flailing arms, but to whom they blame for the near-accident is clear. Finally reached the boat that would save the country.

Captain Salam will lose not a word about the incident. Not later than the Ostrich again on an afternoon in the port of Dhaka and flow is at anchor, passengers from the lower deck on land. Salam packs his travel bag. For two days, he can now relax at home. "Maybe even" a little longer, he says, smiling again with this sly look. So exactly can say never. The fog is, it should in the next few days are denser.