“My father told me that my mother got carried away by the water. We found her dead under a tree. Much of the land was flooded, so my three brothers and I picked it up and buried it on high ground near town. Bodies were everywhere. Selim Hawladar, 48, vividly remembers November 15, 2007. The violence of Cyclone Sidr struck Bangladesh, robbing him of his home, job and part of his family. He lives in Southkhali, a coastal town in the Bagerhat district of south-west Bangladesh. “When I see on TV that another cyclone is going to hit our country, I get scared. how will we survive What shall we eat and drink?”
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Southkhali might be the exact definition of paradise for many. Its hundreds of intertwining green paths surrounded by trees make it a labyrinthine landscape of 95 square kilometers. Amidst so much vegetation emerge small houses made of tin and bamboo, in which the 29,000 inhabitants live. To the east, the Baleshwar River. To the west the Bhola River. And to the south there are privileged views of the Bay of Bengal and the Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove swamp. The former makes the area particularly vulnerable to natural disasters, while the latter acts as a natural shield against it. Mangroves cover 10,000 square kilometers of land and water. 60% are in Bangladesh. The rest in India.
“The number of fish in the river has decreased due to the salty water. 10 years ago I fished 10 kilos a day, now I fish one or even less.”
Selim Hawladar, fisherman
A more than 20-kilometer dam funded by the World Bank separates the Baleshwar River from the Sarankhola subdistrict. Its outline is reminiscent of the Great Wall of China. Thousands of stone blocks with the aim of protecting the territory from the consequences of global warming. The sea level is rising and with it the water level of the adjacent rivers. In addition, the hurricanes are becoming more violent and the embankments collapse more easily. The remains of the ancient barrier can still be seen in the waters of the Baleshwar. In the last decade, Shoutkhali has lost at least a square kilometer of land, and salt water has invaded the communities, rendering the land barren. “The number of fish in the river has decreased due to the salty water. “10 years ago I fished 10 kilos a day, now I fish one or even less,” Selim laments. The Baleshwar River is also the main source of water for the Southkhali people: for bathing, cleaning and even drinking.
Aerial view of the World Bank funded dam which protects the 20 km Southkhali community and the rest of Sarankhola subdistrict in Bangladesh. Irene Vila Capafons / Pau de la Calle
Water salinity is gradually encroaching on coastal communities in southern Bangladesh. “The rapid development of the 1980s, the increase in extensive shrimp farming and the development of monocultures led to saltwater. Now, with sea level rise, it’s gotten even worse,” says Dr. Samiya Selim, Advisor to the Sajida Foundation’s Climate Change and Disaster Management (CCDM) program. Because of this situation, freshwater sources have been polluted, livelihoods have been lost, and miles of land have disappeared. According to the IPCC (Intergovernmental Group of Experts on Climate Change), the freshwater surface of the rivers in the southwest of the country will have decreased from 40.8% to 17.1% by 2050.
Such is the case with the family of FAK, 17, and his sister SS, 15. “Three years ago we lost our home to river erosion. My parents went to Khulna [la tercera ciudad más grande de Bangladés, al suroreste] to earn money and since then we have been living here alone,” explains the eldest. His house by the river is a tiny shack. A few wooden pallets on bamboo canes, four walls of rusty tin and a lifebelt, courtesy of the government, are your maximum protection in the event of another natural disaster. And it’s not the only danger. “One night a man tried to come in to attack us. That’s why we go to our grandmother’s house every afternoon to sleep more soundly.” They continue to go to school, but their studies are affected. The last time they saw their parents was last April. They have to wait at least eight months to see each other again.
Lipika stands in front of the ruins of her former home in Pratapnagar, Satkhira. Cyclone Amphan destroyed it on May 16, 2020 and sank it in the river. He currently has no money to build a new one and lives with his family in a makeshift house. Pau de la Calle
Selim Hawladar, 48, on the path that connects his home to the river. The man, who lives in southern Southkhali, lost his home, job and part of his family when Cyclone Sidr hit the Bangladesh coast in 2007. Pau de la Calle
Aerial view of the World Bank funded dam which protects the 20 km Southkhali community and the rest of Sarankhola subdistrict in Bangladesh. Irene Vila Capafons / Pau de la Calle
Selim Hawladar lives mainly from fishing. 10 years ago he was catching about 10 kilos of fish a day, now with the salinity of the river he is catching a kilo at most.Irene Vila Capafons
Panchina Begum, a 39-year-old single mother, lives in north Southkhali. She says the floods are taking everything away from her and that recovering from a natural disaster is becoming increasingly difficult. Pau de la Calle
Panchina Begum works as a day laborer. She fishes, keeps chickens, cows and ducks and is a domestic worker. In the picture he is working with another day laborer to build a well to collect rainwater. Pau de la Calle
A group of children are playing in the water where there used to be land. They jump from the embankment that the villagers built to protect Pratapnagar from erosion. This community is one of the most hurricane-affected communities and was hit the hardest in all of Bangladesh by Cyclone Aila in 2009. Pau de la Calle
FAK, 17, and his sister SS, 15, live alone in this hut. Three years ago his family lost their house to river erosion and his parents had to go to the big city of Khulna to earn a living. Due to the salinity of the water, the land has become barren and can no longer be cultivated. Many Bengalis had to emigrate in search of work.Pau de la Calle
Aerial view of Gabura Island in Satkhira District. On the left the Kholpetua River full of fishing boats. On the right the saltwater pools where shrimp and crabs breed. Both are separated by a narrow dirt road that can only be covered by motorbike or on foot. Irene Vila Capafons / Pau de la Calle.
Salma Khatun cleans one of the containers she uses to cook in the same pond where she raises shrimp and crab. Irene Vila Capafons
Few pieces of land have survived in Pratapnagar. They jut out of the water in the form of inhabited islands and communicate with each other via floating wooden and bamboo bridges. Around 30,000 people live in this shrinking 33.8 square kilometer area. Its inhabitants build dam after dam to minimize the impact of natural disasters. Nevertheless, more than five square kilometers of land are already under water.
Resistance to climate change
“Bangladesh is particularly vulnerable because of its funnel-shaped coastline. It’s a delta, a flat, low land very close to sea level,” says Samiya, a climate advisor at the Sajida Foundation and a professor at the Bangladesh University of Liberal Arts, where she studies climate resilience and adaptation. Around 26 million people are threatened by the increasing salt content of the water. The districts of Khulna, Bagerhat and Satkhira – to the south and southwest – are doomed to bear the brunt.
Bangladesh is one of the countries that has adapted best to climate change. In 1970, around 500,000 people died in the Bhola cyclone, the deadliest in its history. Now the death toll is at a hundred in the worst case. “People are very resilient, especially those on the front lines. But we are still suffering casualties and damage,” says Samiya. “There are good initiatives, such as floating agriculture. Better knowledge mobilization and investment is needed to see if these adaptation strategies work and can be applied elsewhere. But the funds are not enough,” he concludes.
About 30,000 people live in Pratapnagar, a shrinking area of 33.8 square kilometers. Its inhabitants build dam after dam to minimize the impact of natural disasters. Nevertheless, more than five square kilometers of land are already under water
Gabura can only be reached by boat. No bridges, no roads. There is not a single paved road on the 34 square kilometers of this river-surrounded island in the Satkhira district. It can only be reached by motorbike or on foot. The rain turns these paths into mountains of mud that make it impossible to pass. The municipality is surrounded by countless earth dikes in the form of an embankment for its protection. About 47,000 people currently live on this island, more than 5,000 have emigrated in recent years.
“We suffer from physical and mental illnesses due to salty water. I’ve battled dysentery all my life. We drink water from the pond. Being healthy is a constant struggle.” Faced with salinity, 42-year-old Salma Khatun and her family turned their farmland into ponds for shrimp and crab. The same ponds that, in the absence of fresh water, cover all sanitary needs. Like many farmers, he began to devote himself to fishing and collecting honey.
Khatun’s main source of fresh water is a plastic reservoir that collects rainwater. But it is not enough to cover the basic needs of his family. At least once a day he has to walk a long way to the only public fresh water well. He knows he’s bound to run into someone who will hopefully just make a nasty comment. He holds his gaze and his ears are deaf. The well is behind the elementary school, a rectangular, three-story white building that doubles as a cyclone shelter but does not have the capacity to protect the entire population of the island.
Nargis Nahar is not at home. It’s strange because he said he wanted to tell his story to journalists. His two daughters appear. It is said that Mama went in search of her brother. The night before, Gabura was hit by a heavy monsoon. It lasted less than 15 minutes, enough time to shake up the islanders’ lives once more. Nahar’s brother, who was fishing in a boat, was killed by a wave.
Another neighbor’s husband, who was also in the river at the time of the storm, was shipwrecked and injured. He lost the boat and all of his fishing gear. In front of their houses they share their experiences and comfort each other. “Past is past. There’s nothing we can do. Let’s move on.”
This report was funded by the CLIC 2022 grant and received local support from the Sajida Foundation, a Bangladeshi NGO.
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