Anima Rani Sarkar fought two cyclones. Now she has to brace for the third one

In Satkhira's Hetailbunia village, a myth has come to life.

But it has taken a different turn: it is a tale of the phoenix rising from the ashes, to be consumed by watery flames only to rise again. It is rinse and repeat, like Sisyphus meets the phoenix.  

Anima Rani, in her own words, was "born into constant natural calamities." She learned to swim only because she was so used to sinking into the depths formed by sudden flash floods.

It was death or desire. And for decades, Anima has always chosen the latter.

Satkhira, which lies in the Khulna division in southern Bangladesh, is a region which is extremely vulnerable to cyclones, storms and floods.

For Anima, the idea of a home being blown away, roads being submerged and even the strongest trees being uprooted was nothing new.

After all, she had lived through two of the strongest cyclones – Cyclone Aila (May 2009) and Cyclone Amphan (May 2020).

As Cyclone Mocha approaches the coastal areas of Bangladesh, Anima is now preparing for the third. Her life has been in a constant phase of rebuilding.

The cyclones feast on what she builds, yet Anima always returns to pick up the pieces and start anew, undeterred and unbroken.

When I met her a year ago for a project for Brac, her words left quite an impression. It would have been impossible not to.

"I have a love-hate relationship with water. It has taken so much from me, but it has also helped me rebuild every time," she had said at the time.

Her most memorable fights, however, weren't always related to disasters. At times, it was a fight against fate.

"As a child, I was sure that I would get educated and find a wonderful place to work. I always imagined myself in an office, with a table in front of me and a phone which never stopped ringing," she said.

She was married at 16 and moved into a small mud house with her husband.

At first, her husband found employment guarding other people's ponds. Then, with some help from Anima's father, they leased their own pond.

They began to make money and moved into a new three-bedroom brick and mortar house.

Anima took us down a memory lane pointing outside to the mud house they first had, which still stood to this day. It was a symbol of how far she had come.

While Anima was on the up and up, the skies had different plans.

A few years into leasing the pond, Cyclone Aila arrived.

"That monsoon, the rains never stopped. It rained for almost a month. When the cyclone made landfall, it blew away the roof of the kitchen. Water rushed into our house and before we knew what was happening, we were submerged waist deep.

"We had invested in a few cows, but they all died during or after the cyclone. All the fish we were rearing in around 37 acres of water bodies were washed away. We had invested all our money in our fish, cows and our new house, and it had all been swept away."

For two weeks, Anima and her family – husband and daughter – had to stay on the roof. They made a makeshift kitchen there as well.

"We survived on whatever fish we could catch, selling most of it and keeping some for ourselves. We travelled everywhere by boat for almost four months because the waters did not recede."

Photo: Brac/Sarkar Pratik

It was also during this cyclone that Anima almost lost her daughter.

"I remember one day going to a village nearby with my daughter, who was still a few months old. We were on a makeshift boat made of bamboo tied together with rope. Suddenly, the boat jerked in the strong currents whipped up by the winds, throwing the two of us into the swirling waters.

"We were washed away in seconds. I held on to my daughter with all the strength I had. After a few terrifying minutes I regained control and swam back to the shore, holding onto her."

It took a while for Anima to get back on her feet. The neighbours would help with cooking and food supply.

When the waters receded, Anima began to rebuild once again.

She started working in the union council, first as a volunteer and then in a paid position.

After the birth of her second daughter, she resigned.

"When she was a few months old, I joined the Prime Minister's One House, One Farm project - a poverty alleviation project through family farming - as a field officer. I secured the job easily because of my experience with the council, but field work was too difficult with a six-month-old daughter, so I had to leave that too."

She eventually joined the Mahila Awami League and worked her way up to become the president of the district unit, a position she is very proud of.

In 2018, she got a loan from Brac and set up a water plant to meet the drinkable water crisis in her area.

"Flooding constantly brought sea water into our villages, ruining the fresh water in the lakes and ponds, and making the groundwater salty. Women and young children were having to walk 7-8 kilometres for drinking water."

Then, she invested more money in fish farming.

That's when Cyclone Amphan came.

"We thought we had taken enough precautions this time, but it still caused catastrophic damage. Our ponds were flooded again and all our fish were lost.

"There were more floods last year. They seem to be getting worse each year. We lost more fish, then my husband was bitten by a catfish and we had to spend Tk300,000 on hospital bills."

Considering her constant losses, I asked her what her hopes were for the future.

"When I am asked what I hope for, I say I don't have hopes. I don't have dreams. I only have realities. I'm planning on selling bottled water soon. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't.

"When I look at my three daughters, I see a future. They will study, work hard and get that office room. And when the next cyclone comes, I will know that I have survived before, and I will always find a way to do it again. What else is there to do?"

The next cyclone is here. When I tried to contact Anima Rani, her phone was switched off. She must have been preparing for the next rebuild. It's what she does and she has been moulded by.

What else is there to do?