The Sylhet floods are unusual in that they rarely occur. While this article is being written, the water is retreating in Sunamgonj, where bodies are still visible. Because my native town is Sunamganj and I feel deeply connected to the Sylhoti people’s difficulties — my people – I will refer to it as such. And perhaps the issues of media consumption and flood policy comprehension stem from a false sense of proprietorship only when one’s own skin or kin is on the line of fire – or water, as in this instance.
On June 9, record-breaking rains began previously unheard of in Sylhet and Sunamganj districts, as well as the neighbouring district of Kishoreganj. For five days straight it rained relentlessly in Ashar village; however, the villagers paid it little mind since they have grown accustomed to the ever-changing seasons that frequently jeopardize their livelihoods.
The villagers’ primary worry was how they would store the grain collected before the flash floods during Baishakh, in order to keep it safe for next year. But when the waterline crept closer and closer to their porch five days into rain that showed no signs of stopping, a slow panic set in. This was not like other years, when eventually the rain would stop and the water would flow back out along the river and lakes.
It was like plugging up all the waterways and letting the rain pour down. Days and nights became indistinguishable as the skies stayed dark, and soon whole villages became disconnected from each other as water rose to cover entire highways.
The Sylhet floods are not normal
When the water rose above their door and continued to rise, one family franticly tried to escape, but it was too late. The waves hit them and they slowly drowned in their home – all seven members of the family.
One account out of millions, people lost all their grain- a year’s worth. They were trying to save any property documents they could find and had spent entire lives sorting them. Having to sleep with livestock because that was the only remaining wealth and losing mothers, fathers, and children to the never ceasing water became normalcy. The worst part is not being able bury or burn loved ones respectfully nor have time to grieve; let alone having endless nightmares about it..
The human lives lost in the floods were not simply a result of the rising waters that are necessary for haor-bashis to give their land the nutrition it needs to prosper the rest of the year.
It was an unprecedented assault on their lives and livelihoods, equal to man-made catastrophes such as conflicts. It is no surprise, but it is deeply concerning that Dhaka residents are unable to locate flood victims’ stories “relatable.” The local and global audience regard flooding as a yearly custom — a bloodletting dedicated to an angry Mother Nature who asks for just as much as she gives back.
Flooding is abnormal, and the expenses of it are not normal; if we continue to normalise it in our stories, we will never recognize that we have not evolved into a post-flood Bangladesh. Unfortunately, neither the prevention nor the follow-up for flooding may be achieved effectively without careful planning and implementation by various government, non-profit, and commercial organizations.
According to experts, Meghalaya, Assam, and Sylhet are about to be engulfed by the second round of monstrous floods. This deluge has been deemed the worst in decades with 72% of the division suffering from its tragic effects. In light of this information, relief efforts need to focus on aiding the most vulnerable families first. By doing so we can prevent wider spread issues such as waterborne diseases.
Locals often ask for the installation and maintenance of sluice gate-style dams to regulate water flows in haors. The construction of the Fandar-Khaal dam in Sunamganj has eliminated the prospect of millions of tons of water flowing down Dekhar haor to the Surma River.
Given that the original intention of constructing this dam was to save neighbouring farmlands, it is now worth considering if Sunamganj’s annual flooding costs have surpassed those benefits. Unfortunately, inadequate scrutiny and lack of transparency are common with national and local infrastructural projects like these– their CBA (cost-benefit analysis) reports are hardly ever made public from the outset.
The inefficiencies of bureaucracy are not the only reasons for this. River embankments face highly controversial property rights cases. Despite the fact that government authority allows for the regulation and elevation of embankments as needed, local thugs frequently manage them and soil is often sold for money, effectively reducing the depth of the riverbed and leaving more room for flooding. If only powerful locals did not stand in the way, imposing embankment control by purchasing land or using existing strategies would be a preventative action.
However, in a nation so close to the sea level, structural modifications may never be enough, and local governments must be empowered to deal with floods in the northeast as cyclones are dealt with in the southwest.
The effectiveness of a preparedness measure is determined by how well it contributes to the achievement of the intended purpose. UNOs and local government officials can use more than 20 different readiness measures, many of which are geared towards enhancing coordination and collaboration among first responders during a disaster. These include multi-use plastic boats that may be refurbished into planting beds in the dry season, radio-based communication devices for when the power goes out, enlisted flood volunteers’ records so that rescue operations are streamlined, local flood warning announcements, and special shelter requirements.
As the floodwaters retract, stories of individuals’ resourcefulness begin to bubble up – for example, investing in gas cylinders so school shelters could have access cooked meals, using beds as firewood when needed, and gathering rainwater to drink since local wells are inaccessible. These are only a few examples amidst many.
There is a lot of power in the mass, and it can only be unleashed when we take on flood management like we would a fire or an earthquake – not as something to be handled after the fact with food and medicine, but as a problem to be overcome with all of human creativity and resilience that a people can provide.
And, perhaps, the tales of a flood in Bangladesh won’t be about numbers or a narrative, but rather about an individual battling overwhelming odds and pulling off what most thought was impossible. It’s not about a tragedy of the commons, but instead it’s a song for heroes.