I encountered a goat in the center of a big city

On the roadside in Dhaka, I suddenly came face-to-face with a herd of goats. Some had ropes tied around their necks, others wandered freely. Beside them squatted two men—presumably their owners—watching me closely. When I raised my camera, the men placed their hands on the goats’ backs and, obligingly, struck a pose. Such is the unpredictability of Bangladesh’s sprawling capital: a city said to house more than ten million people, yet in the middle of its chaos, goats can suddenly appear. The mix of concrete, exhaust fumes, and livestock feels strangely out of place.

And yet, goats in Bangladesh are a valuable asset. Neither as large as cattle nor as small as chickens, they provide meat, milk, and even hides for leather goods. In Dhaka, where most people are Muslim, the festival of Eid al-Adha turns the city into an immense livestock market, with goats crowding the streets until they resemble open-air pastures. Seen in that light, goats on the roadside are not oddities at all, but part of the city’s natural order.

What struck me most was their toughness. Surrounded by blaring horns and engines, they stood calmly in the alleys, as if they had earned a kind of citizenship in the urban sprawl. Yet, I knew the next time I encountered these goats, it might not be on the roadside but hanging in a butcher’s stall. This coexistence—where humans and livestock share the same urban space—is very much the reality of life in Dhaka.