Rowing against the tide: How a coastal village is fighting climate change with a boat race

On the edge of the world's largest mangrove forest, where rivers — unable to push back the saltwater of the Bay of Bengal — turn saline, people from a Bangladeshi coastal village have reached for an unusual weapon against climate change: Noukabaich, a century-old dragon boat-style paddling sport and cultural festival of Bengal.

When Cyclone Aila struck in 2009, it swallowed entire embankments whole. The people of Sardarpara watched rivers claim land their families had farmed for generations. Saltwater crept into their fields and never fully left. 

Today, the intrusion of saltwater has turned their agricultural land barren, and even the water from tubewells burns the eyes. The only source of drinking water is stored rainwater.

The village is separated from the Sundarbans by a brick road, one that also functions as a dam — the only thing that has so far kept the salty rivers out of the homes of the people of Sardarpara.

For years, they believed they had no choice but to leave the land their forefathers were born in — that their skills with the forest and the river could no longer sustain a life, that they would have to start over somewhere else.

Many among them have done exactly that. But the ones who stayed chose a different fate. 

They are using their skill of rowing a boat to generate income that helps fund community infrastructure in one of the country's most climate-vulnerable regions.

Every year, Khulna's Kurulia, Dhaka's Adi Buriganga, Tangail's Basulia and other rivers of the Bengal delta fill with boats for the Noukabaich. Each event draws thousands of spectators. Hundreds of paddles splash in the river, and both banks are crowded with cheering men, women and children whose collective chants create a festive atmosphere.

Many boats from different corners of the country participate, each carrying 50-70 participants, but one boat among them almost certainly beats them all: the Sundarbans Tigers, the one carrying the people of Sardarpara.

"You see, we use a different approach to the sport. We use our feet," said Dalim Sarder, the captain of the team.

He showed us how they row the boat while we were on it. He took one end of the paddle in his hands — using it to keep the shaft steady — and pushed the other end with his feet, instantly doubling the boat's speed.

"This way, we don't get tired easily. Legs can push so much faster than hands, and they don't tire as quickly either. The other participants are scared of us," added Dalim.

But they have another incentive to row faster than everyone: They win to survive.

Rowers from Sardarpara use their feet as well as their hands to power the paddle, a technique that helps them dominate the race. Photo: Razequzzaman Jewel

The prizes at Noukabaich events are typically motorcycles, refrigerators, pressure cookers — things the people of Sardarpara have little use for. So they trade them for something they actually need.

"The organisers offer prizes such as motorcycles or refrigerators, but we usually work through contracts and receive cash payments instead," said Rafiqul Islam, chairman of the local Noukabaich committee, who now mediates the sport as a referee.

"Sometimes the contract is worth Tk1 lakh, sometimes Tk1.5 lakh, sometimes Tk2 lakh. If a contractor in Manikganj wants us to compete, they contact us, hire our team, and we travel there as a group," added Rafiqul.

The contractor keeps the physical prizes. The team walks away with cash.

"Our team has around 60 members. First, we deduct expenses — transportation and other costs. If Tk50,000 is spent and we receive Tk2 lakh, the remaining Tk1.5 lakh is divided among the team members."

The money they take home goes straight into their walls. Most houses in Sardarpara are made of wood and tin. A handful have any bricks at all. 

In one way or another, the people of Sardarpara depend on the Sundarbans for their livelihoods. Some become mouals (honey gatherers), venturing deep into the forest to collect honey. Others spend months catching fish and crabs in the rivers that snake through the delta.

During the fishing bans imposed by the government, many are left without income altogether. The forest and the rivers are enough to put food on the table. But the money they need to protect their village from an increasingly hostile climate comes from Noukabaich.

"A significant portion of that money goes into a community fund," said Asadul Islam, who manages the fund's accounts. "We have used it to create freshwater resources for the village."

He led us to a recently excavated freshwater pond, roughly 30 metres across. In a region where safe drinking water is scarce, it serves as a lifeline for local residents.

"It is still unprotected," Asadul said. "Cattle and other animals get into the water and contaminate it. We are hoping to build a fence with the money we earn from future races."

The nearest desalination plant is located several villages away. According to local residents, it stopped functioning just two years after it was inaugurated in 2011.

Over the years, the fund has also contributed to the construction of a mosque and an Eidgah field. The mosque remains unfinished — only the main structure stands.

"But building or repairing embankments requires far more money than we can raise through boat racing alone," Asadul said. "We haven't been able to collect that much yet."

The dam that exists now was built by an NGO years ago. Sections have crumbled, others have been patched with Noukabaich winnings. But a proper repair would cost far more than boat racing alone can raise.

Asadul knows the math does not add up. The list of things that need to be fixed is growing. The land that they live in takes away more than it provides.

But every monsoon season, wherever the competition takes place, they load onto a bus — 60 men from Sardarpara — and travel to wherever the river is wide enough to race. They will win. They almost always do. And when they come home, the money will go towards whatever is most broken.