Divertissements : Ken Gibbs

Working was thought to be a 24/7 job when I joined UNICEF Dhaka in 1980, but looking at my work colleagues, I wondered if it was useful and/or necessary. The quality of one’s professional contribution seemed unrelated to the number of hours one worked. Well, at least that was what I told myself at the time.

As a professional, I felt it important to maintain a healthy life-work balance to ensure that I was able to fulfil the requirements of the Mandate and the terms of my contract. That translated itself to meaning that we needed to have – in as far as possible – a normal, satisfying family life. We sent our children to boarding school in the possibly mistaken belief that it would harden them up in preparation for whatever career they chose, so that left just my wife and me.

Mary Gibbs

We had early decided that if I was able to provide for the family adequately, then Mary would be available for the children as and when they needed backup. As Dhaka was a two-year home leave station, this meant that Mary needed to return home to be on hand for the children during their holidays rather than having to rely on friends to act in loco parentis. This translated to Ken being left on his own.

I enjoyed playing tennis – though I was not very good at it, but it at least kept me off the streets. At other times, I enjoyed playing bridge and singing (not at the same time, of course) which meant playing bridge with a World Bank colleague and his wife. Such evenings were characterised by the menfolk talking shop incessantly while occasionally imbibing rather more than was wise. However, it was the singing that tipped the scales.

We discovered that the American School in Dhaka had an active music teacher who encouraged us to put on ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ where we found a number of ‘voices’ which sat comfortably together. Not only were the performances of ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ well received but they had a spin-off for a few of us who decided that drinking quite a lot of beer had a positive influence on our singing.

Move on somewhat, and Mary decided that she should introduce some discipline into those who were drinking beer while trying to sing some form of barbershop. As to whether it was to conserve the stocks of beer or to improve our vocal qualities, I know not, but a Swedish friend takes up her memory of the time, perhaps because her husband had become a member of the elite (acapela) barbershop group which became known as the ‘Banani Bunch’:

"I am writing to you as an XUNICEF-member. I enjoy very much reading your contributions on the site, from your numerous postings around the globe.

Also, we have met, a long time ago, in Bangladesh, around 1985 when my husband was part of that famous barber shop group, named the "Banani Bunch", and the members of this group also included John Conway; an American with surname Conly; and yourself. You were a great asset to the Dhaka entertainment community in those days. I also remember meeting your wife, Mary, and that she was an accomplished pianist. So in those days he Dhaka music scene was quite vibrant, mainly due to all you British people there.

As I said, it is a great pleasure reading your contributions every week ! Continue with that ! "

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So there you have it: Famous without realising it. Don’t tell Mary. . . . . . On the positive side, it gave us an interest outside of UNICEF and there seems to have been a number of former UNICEF staff who discovered that there is a life after UNICEF.

Could this be a covert suggestion to our burgeoning membership that – actually – some of us are interested in what others created or participated in during and after their professional careers ? Our esteemed editors would be delighted, so they tell me; and this was not just because they were tiring of my own contributions, I hope.

For anyone who has a memory stretching back as far as 1984/85 and who might have been working in Bangladesh at the time, ‘The Banani Bunch’ knew something about self-presentation. In line with many local males, we dressed ourselves in matching lunghis which are sarong-like and cool (very necessary in Bangladesh during the hotter months), and straw boaters – to give us that debonaire look as befits the famous. We put on a bit of a show for the UN Ball and Mary felt that she should match our interesting attire by changing her hair colour and having it set in tight curls. She was astonished that nobody recognised her. A pity that we didn’t have a photographer with us on that occasion. . . .

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