'Let the Shibsa flush us out if it erodes our land away'
Fakirkona, one of the remotest zones within the coastal belt of Bangladesh, is inhabited by 200 disaster-hit families who struggle to grab onto solid ground at any cost
Fakirkona, now an island, was dismembered from the mainland Kalabagi village when the catastrophic cyclone Aila hit Dacope of Khulna in 2009. Powerful tidal surges of the River Shibsa washed away three-fourth of the tail-shaped southern stretch of Kalabagi, leaving roughly 50,000 square metres of the Fakirkona locality and around 200 families floating on the saline water.
Now, poor fisher-folk live in Golpata cottages on raised tree branch-supported platforms. They roam around through the ridge-like narrow walkways, amidst muddy fields, as two tides flash over the island everyday.
Dinghies are their only modes of transport. The fishermen cruise either to the forest, or to Dacope upazila headquarters, the periphery of their small world.
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One late January afternoon, housewife Rozina got off a dinghy holding 10-month-old son Shefayetullah in her arms. Rozina's husband Firoz Moral had rowed the family dinghy 30km off downstream Shibsa. They both looked exhausted as they had just arrived from Dacope Upazila Health Complex, where little Shefayetullah received medicine for pneumonia.
"My child has been suffering from pneumonia for the last couple of days. There are no health facilities in this village," said Rozina, 22.
Non-government organisation Heed Bangladesh's community nutrition and health promoter Arifa Khatun visits the village once every month. According to Arifa, half of the 25 children in Fakirkona have been suffering from malnutrition and stunted growth.
Now a mother of two children, Rozina, who was born and brought up at Fakirkona, married her neighbour Firoz when she was only 13.
"We spent around Tk2,500 in the last four days for Shefayetullah's treatment. Firoz borrowed all the money at 10% interest," she said.
Firoz, 30, ekes out a living by catching young crabs and fish from the Sundarbans' canal. He has put himself in Tk80,000 debt during the last one and half years.
Where did all the money go?
"The volume of catches has declined and so has my income. My wife had a caesarean operation that was expensive for us. My second child has been suffering from chronic pneumonia. All the money I owe was spent on these," Firoz said.
His elderly neighbour Anwarul Islam Gazi is involved in the same profession. The fishermen row into the Sundarbans during the Bangla month of Magh (which started in mid-January of 2023) and will catch young crabs, shrimp fries and fish for the next six months, at regular intervals. For one week of fishing, they pay a total of Tk840 for a forest pass and approval from the Forest Department.
"Years ago, we used to catch an abundance of parshe, dagne, bhetki, tengra and other fresh-and-brackish water fish. But the volume of catch is declining due to excessive salinity. I couldn't even catch fish worth Tk800 in one week," Anwar, 41, said on 25 January.
Anwar has one six-year old daughter. On days he takes a break from fishing, he sails his beloved daughter to her primary school twice or thrice a week.
"I want to support my child's education as long as I can. But we live in this remote village. My daughter can seldom attend her classes," Anwar said.
A couple of years ago, Anwar purchased a Tk12,000 solar system on loan so that his daughter could study at night. The system supports only two 20-watt LED bulbs.
Anwar did not want his younger brother Quamrul Gazi to take fishing as his profession. So he also supported Quamrul's education. But the younger brother could not get past the third grade as he was identified as belonging to the third gender at school.
Quamrul, now 24, sometimes accompanies his elder brother in fishing. The neighbours do not bully him. He roams around the tiny village freely, but he never leaves Fakirkona.
"He feels shy in front of new faces," Anwar said, as Quamrul, standing behind his brother, peeked at this correspondent.
As the sun set in the west, their aged father Ramzan Gazi was still napping on a wooden bed on the porch. According to his national ID card, he is 84-years old.
"An accident broke his hip 10 years ago. Since then, he has been bed-ridden," said Ramzan's wife Anwara Begum, 65, who has also been suffering from old-age complications.
The elderly couple never left their cottage during any of the extraordinary weather events. Despite warnings from disaster preparedness volunteers, they grabbed onto their fragile house structure even as the strong winds of cyclone Sitrang hit Fakirkona in late October 2022.
Anwar said he tried to send his wife, daughter and brother Quamrul to the shelter. But they did not want to leave his ailing parents behind.
"We did not go to a shelter during the time of Aila. Why would we? This is the only place we belong to. Let the Shibsa flush us out if it erodes our land away," said stubborn Anwara.
Eighty-year old widow Kulsum also stayed in the village during the cyclones in the last decades because her son Abdullah cannot move around like a normal person.
Abdullah, aged about 65, is a person with disability. Abdullah is perhaps more marginalised than Quamrul as his bent legs (bowleg syndrome) do not allow him to freely roam around the marshy land criss-crossed by narrow ridges.
"Could any mother leave her weak child?" Kulsum asked.
Like Kulsum and Anwara, people of Fakirkona keep their feet on the land, defying its geographical vulnerabilities.
