Why do the boatmen of the Buriganga river never go home?
After their regular work hours, they return to the pontoons and sleep on their boats. They visit their hometowns during holidays if they can afford to – but otherwise, their days start and end by the river
A short distance east of Sadarghat lies Farashganj Ghat with a jetty made up of three pontoons. During weekends, ferries from the southern region crowd here. A few small boats seek shelter in the shade. These ferries carry passengers between Farashganj Jame Masjid Ghat and Kaliganj Ghat on the other side.
Khorshed Kabir, in his late 60s, has been working as a boatman on the Buriganga River for more than three decades and his bed has been on a boat. He has two panjabis, one shirt and two lungis. He also has a comb, a mirror, Millat Ghumachhi powder and a bottle of mustard oil.
On 17 June, Khorshed got out of bed and went to the riverbank to bathe. He had bought a small Tk10 bar soap earlier.
His wardrobe and dressing table consists of a heavy polythene bag, which stays in the cabin of the boat. Then he would go to the Barisal Hotel in Farashganj Bazaar for a Tk70 meal. His only luxury on Eid day.
There are two types of boats at Jame Masjid Ghat: serial boats (which are larger and can carry more than 10 people) and reserved boats. A passenger has to pay a large sum of money to the ghat owner or lessee to ride the boat.
On the other hand, the reserved boatmen – who have to keep shouting "Telghat, Telghat" (oil depot) all the time for their passengers to come aboard – make Tk30 per ride from a passenger. The boatman also has to pay Tk10 to the ghat sardar (headman), Tk10 to the lessee and Tk10 for the mahfil (an annual religious event). If they wound up taking only one passenger on a trip, they make no money from it.
Six men – including Khorshed – who moor their boats at Farashganj Ghat are reserved boatmen. They have their homes in Mehendigonj, Barisal. None of them have dared to rent a room on the bank. The rent they save this way goes a long way towards running their households.
They have expenses of Tk400 a day. Of this, Tk120 taka is for boat rent, around Tk200 for three meals a day and the rest is spent on tea or paan. After deducting all expenses, they can save Tk300-500 a day.
Khorshed came to drive a boat on the Buriganga River just after the flood of 1988 – leaving behind a wife and daughter then. He had a difficult childhood, started to work on a boat by the age of 14-15 years old and gradually started to stay on the boat more to avoid unrest at home.
In 1988, the water of the Buriganga River was not as black as it is now, and the fishermen used to catch boal, shing and shole fish by casting nets. The fare for a reserved boat was Tk2 per trip.
Ever since then, Khorshed has made his home on a boat and has never rented a house again. On stormy days, Khorshed crowds the boat together under the shelter of the launches. If the pillows and quilts get wet, he dries them on the pontoons.
Even in winter, when the river water turns black and the stench becomes overwhelming, Khorshed still floats on the river because he has endured everything.
Diabetic Khorshed said, "The poor can't choose much. Hundreds of boatmen like us live on boats. If I had rented a house, I wouldn't have been able to raise my children. Now, I have four children. I have married off two daughters; my eldest son works as a tailor, and my youngest son is a tea shop worker. The prices of goods have increased a lot in the last 8–10 years. What used to cost Tk2,000 now costs Tk5,000."
Khorshed used to send money home every week through people, but now he uses Bkash. He couldn't save up any money on time for a visit home for Eid, so he decided to go later.
Another boatman, Harun Akanda in his 40s, was also unable to visit home during the last Eid. "The burden of debt is very heavy; there is no peace until it is paid off. If I went, I would have expenses, and my income would stop."
Do you get sick due to the water of the Buriganga River? "We bathe in the river for many days, wash clothes in this water, and wash our hands and faces," Harun replied.
"It causes itching. Some days, the smell is so bad that I feel like vomiting, and my head spins. This water is everything to us. Boatmen also suffer from stomach problems like diarrhoea sometimes."
Razzak Hossain, another boarman, spends most of his days bare-chested. He came to Dhaka 40 years ago. He can't earn as much as he used to, but what will he eat if he leaves his job?
"My sons have their own families, my daughters live with their in-laws, my wife has passed away, and I am now alone. It takes a lot of strength to row a boat; my hands and feet ache. I have to deal with sand boats, oil tankers, and Barisal launches.
If I make a mistake, there's no going back," said Razzak Hossain.
Even when the others are chatting or playing Ludo, Razzak sits alone.
What is your plan for the future? "I have no plans; I will continue to row boats as long as I have the strength," he replied.
Khorshed Kabir, mentioned one advantage of being a ferryman: freedom. In his words, "No one here orders me around. I go to work at my own convenience, and if I don't like it, I come back to the pontoon."
Rubel, another boatman, added, "There is no cheating in our income, there is no scope for it. In fact, we often help out; we even ferry people who are short Tk2 or Tk5. Of course, many passengers behave badly. But there are also good people who give more than the fare. All in all, we are doing okay."