"Led by a local Arakanese girl, my wife and I went to explore the Muslim quarter in Sittwe. Another reason for the visit is to buy some marijuana. We took winding alleyways into the neighborhood, and finally found an Indian woman who took us to her house. She went into the back of the house and came out with a large plastic bag full of marijuana. There were both Muslims and Hindus living in the neighborhood. I took a few steps out of the lean, two-storied brickhouse to explore the area a bit. The neighborhood seemed to be located in the back of the city with only garbage piles and drains existing beyond. The opposite of the drug dealer’s place is a storage type building and on the corner next to it lies a garbage pile. Houses are painted in bright colors like red and blue, all flaking off the walls. A scavenger kept himself busy at the garbage. The neighborhood, it seemed to me, is a vibrant place, busy with people doing drug trades and other livelihoods. The sense of being a ‘different’ or ‘alienated’ place hit me hard. The drug dealer woman said she was looking after the drug business for the time being because her husband was then in prison for drug trafficking. The marijuana we bought is locally known as B.O.B – an acronym for Bay of Bengal, as the drug comes from Bangladesh. We walked back to our ride, making our way through vendors selling sundries and small groups of people playing cards and other types of gambling games. I took both a mental image and a photograph of the scavenger and upon arriving at the hotel, I sketched it in my book."