A traditional toy for festivals

The vuvuzela, a plastic horn made famous around the world since the 2010 World Cup in South Africa has become ubiquitous, too, in Bangladesh. But while the bellow of the vuvuzela might feel right at home amongst the colour and joy of Pahela Baishakh celebrations, which mark the Bangla New Year on 14 April, it's not the season's original sound. That belongs to the rhythmic, swinging temtemi, a traditional toy sometimes called demdemi depending on the locality, which has featured at festivals and fairs for decades.

“Making temtemi as well as eyeglasses of coloured paper and paper crocodiles is a business inherited from my forefathers,” says Khalilur Rahman from Old Moulovi Para in Comilla. Today he is the district's last craftsman of these festival items. “My family originally came here from Bihar in India and I have been doing this business for the last 40 years.”

Made of bamboo sticks, a thin tin sheet, coloured plastic and paper, rubber bands, string and small pieces of cardboard, a temtemi sells for just Tk 10.

“Once I ran this business year-round,” says Khalil. “Nowadays I make temtemi only during the Baishakh season. Students and young people like this tradition and sometimes they ask me to make some. For children it is a favourite toy. Unlike the imported vuvuzela, the temtemi's rhythmic whirr isn't disturbing and because I don't use plastic it's better for the environment.”

Each year around the time of Pahela Baishakh, Khalil earns around Tk 25,000 from temtemi sales.

But being a seasonal item these days, Khalil has had to change his profession. For the rest of the year he sells cosmetics from his van. “It takes skill to produce the finest temtemi,” he laments, “It's a handicraft but I have never received any support or interest from government authorities to protect this tradition.”

“We can't survive on temtemi and other festival items anymore,” says Khalil's wife Zulekha Begum. “Chinese-made plastic products have grabbed the market, so we won't be teaching future generations in our family how to make temtemi.”

“I will continue to make temtemi during the Baishakh season for as long as my health supports it,” says Khalil, “and if anybody wishes to learn how to make them I will gladly teach them.” But, he fears, temtemi might be lost in the years to come, a noisy and colourful tradition destined to belong only in museums.