The strange mobile villages of haor
The villages are built by farmers, locally called jiratis, who hail from nearby areas. They exist only in the dry season and are disassembled ahead of monsoon
Haor is a strange place.
For six months, it becomes a sea of freshwater. Whichever direction you look, you see only water and the villages sticking out on the horizon. Human habitat and activities become confined mostly to the villages during this time.
On the other hand, when the water recedes and the vast land resurfaces, haor becomes full of diverse economic activity. Also, the network of submersible roads reappears, allowing you to explore more of the magnificent place.
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Just when you think the place cannot get any stranger, you come across these tiny 'villages' that were definitely not there during the flooding, because they are built on the haor bed instead of some elevated ground like the usual villages.
These temporary 'villages,' often having only a couple of bamboo-made houses, are built only for the dry season, and are disassembled and taken away ahead of the monsoon flood.
These are built by the farmers, locally called jiratis, who hail from nearby areas outside of the haor. These farmers own their lands in haor, or just work on leased land, but their families do not live here. During the dry season, these farmers live in these houses, cultivate their land and raise a couple of cattle.
When the crop is ripe, they harvest the yield and move before the monsoon flood fills the massive bowl called the haor.
Such temporary houses can be seen all over the haors of Netrokona, Sunamganj and Kishoreganj.
In mid-February, near the gateway of Kishoreganj haors, crossing Balikhola ferry ghat, and just before Mithamain ferry ghat, we met Md Meraz and his two nephews, Rafiq Mia and Jinnat Ali, who were finishing off their day's work.
Rafiq was bringing the cattle home, Jinnat was after the ducks and Meraz was washing up. Their activities centred around four houses in the middle of the vast fields, where they all lived.
The men are from Boulai Union in Kishoreganj Sadar. In total, five people, all related, live there.
Farmers by profession, they built the houses in late October.
"We'll go back in April just as the floods come in. Last year, there were nine houses here," said Md Meraz, a 60-year-old farmer.
The houses are built from scratch every year. Along with the tin roof, bamboo fences and whatever furniture and cookware they have, the farmers also bring all the agricultural equipment necessary, including a diesel pump for irrigation. They even brought fuel wood for cooking the whole season.
The parts of the houses and the cattle were brought in by boat, Meraz said. However, they will return by road, on trucks and tractors.
Combinedly, the family has around 30 acres of land, where they are cultivating hybrid paddy – Hira 2, Hira 70, Sathi etc.
A good yield would fetch them 70-90 maunds of paddy per acre, they said. The produce will be taken to their home in Kishoreganj and then sold in the market.
In the distance, maize fields could be seen. Meraz said other farmers from his area were growing them.
The three men also raise eight cows that give milk. They also have some ducks, taking advantage of the nearby pit full of water.
The farmers sell the milk at the nearby bazar in Mithamain or Gopdighi. From their house, Mithamain is nearer than Gopdighi, which is two km away, but there is a river that must be crossed by a ferry.
Rafiq and Jinnat, both around 30, have been doing this since they were eight years old. Their forefathers were also involved in the same.
"When I was old enough to walk, I used to come here with my father for fun. We had to travel on foot back then, as the submersible roads were not there," Jinnat said.
The rest of their families live in their native village, which is not far away.
"Bringing the cattle home in the evening, we start and reach home around Esha prayer's time," Jinnat added, meaning it takes around two hours.
"We visit home whenever necessary," Rafiq chipped in. "Even twice every week."
The farmers buy their daily essentials from Mithamain or Gopdighi. But they grow some gourd on the corrugated tin roof of their huts and some other vegetables in the yard of their houses.
There are incidents of theft and robbery in the area. While the farmers said they were always safe, inside the hut, they stayed with their cattle to prevent theft. The house smelled of cattle when we took a peek inside.
One thing that we liked very much was the constant smiles on their faces. Despite the hard work and the toil of seasonal migration, the farmers are happy.
An amused Rafiq said, "How can one live without happiness? As far as we're above the ground [meaning alive], we need to be happy." His cousin agreed with a broad smile.
Of course, these farmers are not poor, although they might appear so from their traditional and 'practical' attire. They own abundant fertile agricultural land both in haor and in their villages. However, the climatic uncertainties, especially flash floods, occasionally deprive them of the crop they expected, ruining their hard work.
"When water starts flooding, everything is gone within hours. The only thing to do then is to salvage the house and go home," Meraz, the elderly farmer said.
Near Austagram, we came across a larger settlement, with about tens of houses dispersed over a large patch of farmland on both sides of the all-season road.
There, Arman, a 16-year-old boy, was working in a vegetable garden. His younger brother, 10-year-old Shohag was feeding three buffalos which were cooling in an irrigation canal.
The boys live there with their father and uncle who were gone, visiting their village in Kishoreganj then.
Arman's family do not own this land; they cultivate it under some kind of lease. The land owner looks after some things, such as managing an electric connection for the houses.
On the west side of the Austagram-Mithamain road, we saw a couple of cattle farms that also had makeshift houses in the haor.
Khurshid Mia was taking care of 15 buffalos there. Both Khurshid and the owner of the farm, Julhas Bepari, lived in Mithamain, a few kilometres north of the farm.
There was a makeshift house for Khurshid and his coworker, and beside it was a shed for the buffalos. The shed was covered in a mosquito net, clearly to protect the buffalos from mosquitos at night.
"When the nighttime fog is gone, the buffalos will stay out in the open," Khurshid said. "They need a shelter only in the winter."
Khurshid said the buffalos were being raised to be sold before Eid-ul-Fitr. After that, his job will end there, and he will come to Dhaka to pull a rickshaw. He has been pulling rickshaws in the capital's Lalbagh area for many years now.
His work as a herdsman in the haor brings him Tk600-Tk800 per day, Khurshid said. His job description includes cutting grass for the buffalos for the night, tying them in the field during the day and letting them take a bath in the nearby ponds. The pasture was grown just by fertilising the natural grass.
As we were talking, a buffalo untied itself and ran to a pool of water under a bridge. Khurshid rushed to stop them. He claimed poison had been applied in the pond by illegal fishers, and the buffalos must be prevented from bathing in there.
We said our goodbyes and let him do his job.
There are an estimated 35,000 jiraitis in the haors of Bangladesh, according to informal estimates. Although these temporary houses look like small villages, they are in a sense incomplete because no women live here. Of course, women do visit the houses on day trips to meet with the male members of their families.
