Eating and Drinking Hill Tracts Style

Having no pre-conceptions about the Chittagong Hill Tracts area in Bangladesh except for DFAT’s ominous warning, “reconsider your need to travel” due to a “high risk of kidnapping...”, I was assured by my friend it wasn’t only safe enough but a must see destination on any itinerary in the country.

Image by peterzak via Flickr

Given the security warnings I wasn’t at all surprised to learn we were to be escorted at all times by three police armed with rather vintage, although I assume functional, rifles. Given the prevalence of Islam, I was sceptical when I was informed our first night’s dinner would consist of barbequed pork washed down with locally distilled rice wine. We had seen pigs on our wanderings, which confirmed the existence of pork, but all we could spot in the way of beverages at the various local shops was bottled water and soft drink.

That evening, sure enough, while our armed escorts milled around the restaurant, we were asked if we would like to try some ‘pig’. After a few nods and winks from our guide Mikey, not only did a plate of pork skewers arrive but so did what appeared to be a bottle of slightly discoloured drinking water. It was in fact the promised rice ‘wine’. The restaurant was owned and run by a family from a local minority tribe and, as they aren’t Muslim, were more than happy to eat and serve pork and alcohol. As soon as the ‘water bottle’ appeared a cloth shade was draped across the shop front giving the place a speakeasy kind of feel. It seems that although permitted it was prudent to consume such vices discreetly.

For a home brew the spirit was surprisingly smooth and with a faint taste of rice I was quite happy to sip it straight. My fellow travellers preferred to mix it with a heavy dose of cola or lemonade, suggesting they didn’t share my fondness for the flavour. That night we worked our way through a few bottles of the drink and even got a little to take away. We were leaving the hill tracts the following day for a boat and didn’t know when our next opportunity to ‘stock up’ would be.

After our dinner I even discovered that our protectors got in on the action. “Aren’t they forbidden to drink?” I asked Mikey. “One of them is Hindu, so he can drink” he replied. On our way out, we got a small bottle and discreetly slipped it to our Hindu guard, so he could enjoy a nightcap once he got home.

It was an unexpected start to my Bangladesh trip but after that night my assumptions about alcohol and pork were confirmed. We never again saw another pig on the trip, either on the street or the menu. Apart from a few select bars in the main expat areas of the capital, Dhaka, beers or spirits weren’t offered as a solution to our thirst, which was more in-line with my expectations of a trip to a Muslim country.

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