The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2004

F O C U S O N F S F I C T I O N J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 4 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 45 T HE G ULSHAN R EGATTA ameed jumped out of bed with the alarm’s first buzz. He washed quickly and dressed in cut-off jeans and a T- shirt that advertised his college back in Tennessee. He ran an electric razor over his morning stubble and brushed his thick, unruly hair into suffi- cient order for a Saturday morn- ing. Old sneakers without socks, a few bites of a toaster-heated chapatti, and he was ready. He looked in the mirror — brown skin, dark brown eyes, black hair, not unhandsome — a Bengali man who also looked American. Stan, the co-worker who had talked him into participating in this international community regatta, showed up in a similar outfit, although his T-shirt adver- tised the U.S. Marine Corps Security Detachment. “All set? Loretta and Jerry are going to meet us there.” “Loretta? Women do this, too?” “Yeah, especially smart, self- confident women like her. She designed the costumes. We’re going to dress as bananas.” “Oh, nice. I hope no one in my family sees me. Do the locals watch this?” “Of course. They line the shores and laugh at us. It’s good for them. You know, Loretta was asking me about you the other day. I wonder if she has a crush on you.” “On me?” Stan rolled his eyes. “Mrs. Right could be under your nose while you go the old-fashioned route. But, hey, what do I know?” Hameed smiled. His American friends were intrigued by his pursuit of an arranged marriage, and peppered him with questions and opinions. He tried to explain the system and why it worked at least as well as the American way, but they didn’t seem convinced. “So who are we racing?” “Several of the embassies and aid missions. Also, the World Bank, CARE, the U.N., the International School, and the rest I can’t remember. Sixteen in all, I think.” “And it’s fair game to capsize the other boats?” “Absolutely, if it helps us win. But remember, these boats aren’t very stable. They’re more like canoes than rowboats.” Stan smiled, as if relishing victory, or some secret joke he wasn’t shar- ing. It was less than a mile to the lake, tucked in between the two posh enclaves where most of the international community lived, Gulshan and Baridhara. Ha- meed’s office and apartment were in Gulshan. His family lived in an older neighborhood across town called Dhanmandi, H A YOUNG MAN FINDS THAT FATE PLAYS A ROLE — EVEN IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE . B Y M ARY C AMERON K ILGOUR Donald Mulligan