Since its independence, Bangladesh has received billions of dollars foreign donations to spend in many projects with the goal of eradicating poverty. Much of it were spend to provide income generating assets, regular food supply and to assist with education, health and safe water facilities. Yet, millions are still living under utter deprivation even after four decades of self-ruling. We may receive a medal for reducing child mortality rate, yet number of people living under extreme poverty is increasing by the day. We may claim near about 100% safe sanitation, thousands still suffer from easily avoidable water borne disease every year. It is worth investigating the reasons behind the failure of development sectors with all its resources.

Ignoring the complexity of poverty
Most of the world looks at poverty through the economic lens. Providing economic resources and building public facilities often considered as the most effective ways of reducing poverty. Most of the development initiatives provide economic assets for income generation as a means to way out of poverty. Event after 40 years of engagement in the country, development world failed to realize that the poverty scenario in Bangladesh is more complex – providing cows or small amount of cash is not enough for someone who has lived on the edge for generation to pull him/herself out of poverty. Experience of social marginalization, let that be economic, physical, geographical, religious or ethnic, often reproduces and spreads the existence of extreme poverty.

Short sightedness of Development projects
Usually development projects are designed only for few years, each trying to address specific needs of a segment of population. Each project starts with a series of goals, indicators, and outcomes and tries its best to achieve them in the defined time frame. It is naive to think that someone burden with the experience of poverty for generation, with no education and little to no access to the institutional support can lift themselves out of poverty. Furthermore, the projects are often designed to gain donor funding instead of trying to address the true need of the poor. While commitment to the benefit of the poor is reiterated in speeches, the everyday workings of development is revolves around ever increasing segmented interventions such as food, livelihood, education, health, water and sanitation, environment, disaster, climate change and the list goes on to attract the funds. With the disappearance of large donor funding, much cry for the poor dries faster than a drop of water on the desert sand.

Risk avert attitude
Overseas development assistance is often a political decision of a government. Like any other political decision, it has to go through the scrutiny of public opinion. With the change in public opinion on philanthropic moral standing and ever increasing uncertainty in the economic life of developed countries, government are always under public scrutiny to show visible results of development assistance. Donors often fund projects that are tested and redeem as the quickest way to achieve the desired result. Development projects are reproduced with the same Formatted, copied, borrowed interventions years after years. And the positive and well documented results and achievements are often presented in snaps of smiling poor men, women or children in the shiny pages of brochures, posters, websites and television commercials to satisfy the public psyche.

Brave new world is needed
Like anything else in the world, the dynamic and complexity of poverty has changed over the decades. With the new circumstances, there is urgent need of new ways of organizing and implementing development projects. Instead of swearing by the age old methods, we should cultivate, nurture and try out innovative ways to poverty reduction. It does not mean using public resources without any regards of propriety, rather asks for an atmosphere where new and brave ideas that gives true voices to the poor will get more attention. The donor’s and development organization must be willing to take risk, must step out of the box to venture into unchartered territories. If we truly want to end poverty, we must be prepared for long haul no matter how uncertain and unattainable it may seem. We must welcome the brave new world without prejudice and fear.

A elderly man lost everything to the river erosion

Nearly 85 years of age, Kumudini is a member of a indigenous group call Hajong. They are all spread around in the North eastern part of Bangladesh and Meghalyam, Asham and West Bengal provinces in India. At the time of the division of Indian subcontinent into two deferent state, there were nearly 100,000 Hajongs in East Pakistan (Now Bangladesh). Now only 15,000 Hajong inhabitants could be found in the border districts of Netrokona and Sherpur. Most of them migrated to India between 1947 and 1971.

Despite being a minority in the land of muslim majority, Hanjong’s migration to India was rooted to their history of struggle for land rights and fair share of cultivated crop almost autonomously and s. Before the arrival of the British, Hazongs along with other indigenous groups, lived in the “Garo” hills, almost autonomously and secluded, under their own social system. In the late 19th century the British Colonial government established a feudal systems, giving the Zaminders the right to govern their acquired land according to their whims in return of yearly fixed taxes. With the backing of mighty British Empire, The Zamindar of contemporary Durgapur, started the Tonko system.

Under this system, farmer received a piece of land with a commitment of certain amount of rice (much higher than practiced rate). The farmers had to provide the amount of rice even they received reduced or failed crops. Even if the farmers cultivated the land for years, the Zaminder can take way the land without any notice. If the farmers ever failed to provide this imposed tax in return, the Zamindar would send his army and take what ever they feel appropriate from the farmers house. In 1937, the Bagaleese farmers started the organized rebellion against the Tanko system. Seeing a hope of eradicating this exploitative and inhuman system, the whole Hajong community, usually dependent on agriculture and poor, not only joined but took a lead in the rebellion.

Because of the relentless pursuing of the Hajong Community and their unimaginable sacrifices the movement was able to stop the Tonko system in the whole area. The Zamindar tried every brutality humanly conceivable: burning entire village, killing unarmed population including elderly and children, raping and torturing Hajong women, yet failed to subdue the resistance, Zamindar and his vast private army fled the area and ask the British Government to send the colonial force, however, the government forces was busy to fight the Second World War.

After the war ended, British Government sent a large army battalion to quell the rebellion. The army tried to get the overdue Tonko rice from the farmers. When the Hajongs resisted, the military unleashed the most brutal force on them. Even though the Hajongs knew that they are fighting a loosing battle, they fought with whatever they can get hold of – bows and arrows, knifes, sticks, swords against mighty British army and police with rifles, machineguns and even grenades, The Hajong Farmers Chanted, “ We would rather give our lives than our paddy”

I met Kumudiny Hajong during my recent visit to Netrokona District. I met many other elderly Hajongs who remembers the fateful but glorious days of the struggle. They related their sorrows of losing their homes, lands, friends and relatives to the struggle. Over the next few weeks, I will try to shed some light on the sufferings of in Hajong Community. I will start with the story of Kumudiny, who at the age of 20, unwittingly become a part of the glorious but painful History. Her story is part of a larger tale of “never ending disaster” in the lives of the Hajongs.

I don’t know how it happened. For years, people in the NGO world only talk about economic growth, development and progress. It did not matter how we achieved it or what price we had to pay for this so-called development. Donors poured in hundreds of millions of dollars as long as it showed economic growth and upward movement in the poverty index. As long our so-called under developed world rushes to be a part of new liberal economy and billions of peoples join the market.

We were told that if we grow more, we could sell it to world market and enjoy the good and great things that market has already produced for us. For a glimpse of the clad clothed women telling us about the new fragrance, we destroyed another pieces of forest. For a test of frozen cold water from the slick and slim refrigerator, we stop growing rice and started to grow shrimp on our land – a land that cannot grow anything else ever since. For a speedy ride to distance on the gas guzzling yet proficient cars, we imprisoned our rivers and built bridges and roads.

Many tried to warn us not be mesmerized and amused by this shiny new world. All those who ever even showed slightest doubt against this new world, we banished them. We all followed the piper from Hamilan. People of our part of the world paid greatly of our sin. Everything we know is in the verge of extinction.

I get angry when I hear that the huge portion of Bangladesh, the country I grow up may be under sea in fifty years. Along with the world, people in Bangladesh will face more and more floods, cyclone and drought. However, unlike those who had promised us the great new world, we have nothing to face these natural disasters. We destroyed everything that could protect us from these calamites; our rivers, land, forest, environment for all that is shinny and glamorous. I guess that is our punishment of selling our souls to the devil. That is our sin that we were amused by these promises so easily. 

I arrived in Pakistan in a time when millions of people are fleeing from their home and bombs and guns indiscriminately killing innocents and destroying everything that poor, ordinary people built over the years with hard labour. The so-called war on terror launched by Pakistani military has displaced millions of people. While fighting is spreading in other areas, Pakistani government forcing people to go back to unsafe places where gun fire still targeting innocent people. People are forced to go back to their destroyed home. There is no water, electricity or even a place to buy food. It is always surprising to see how innocent people become the pawn of political agendas or ideological rivalry.

Once we finished the day covering almost more than 10 miles, 50 children vaccinated, we headed out to the villagehead house in the evening. We ate our share of bread and milk and head to bed. Ahmed Ali sat with few ill of the village, giving them advise on their illness. I fell sleep without knowing.

Next morning they all were up and ready. They are going to find another set of houses behind the mountain picking on the horizon. It was time for me to go back to town.  I bid my farewll to them.  On my way back on the car, I looked back and saw them disappearing behind the mountain. They will carry on for another next 9 days, ensuring every children are vaccinated in the area.

Fatema learing alphabets at the alternative school

Adult are also welcomed to learn reading and write

English, Afar, Math and Social Science is part of basci education

Pastorlaist communities migrate from one area to other around the year in search of water and pasture. Afar communities travel long distance in the dry season. Because of their mobility, it is impossible for their children to attend school. Afar Pastoralist Development Association designed and implementing a education programme that fits the need of these pastoralist communities. The teachers are recruited from the community and trained. Once the training is complete they go back to their village and teach the children. If the community moves, the teacher travels with them

I was woken up really early in the morning with women voice and footsteps, going to the dry riverbed to collect water. They leave early and comeback within few hours, bringing water on jerry cans on the camel and donkey and sheep skin container on their back. I took a walk around the village in the early light of rising sun, going from house to house, watching women baking bread on the hand dug woven, milking the goats, waking up their children. I saw a women getting ready for the Morning Prayer while her children looked at me rubbing their eyes in an attempt to wake up.

Hamferi appeared by my site to assist me my curious journey. While back in his house, Hamferi signalled me for breakfast. After another fill of milk and baked bread, I was ready for the hot sunny day. Hamferi walked up to a hill blew an whistle, calling his student to class. He came back, sat by me and had his breakfast. Then he blew his whistle few more time and signalled me to follow.

We walked up to a structure made with stacked stone and tree branches, a much more permanent structure than most pastoralist School. The villagers chipped in with their labor to build this school. Slowly the classroom started to fill in with students of all ages. Mariam Gillni (8), ran by her brother, holding his hand.  Abdullah Mohammed (22) came with books and a stick in his hand.

Dahara Butaba(20), mother of one daughter, reached last, running and breathing hard. She explained to the teacher that she was delayed because she wanted to get water for her household. The teacher explained to me “this area has experienced the worst  drought in years. Getting water is getting harder by the day” he added, “although the hours for class is from 8 –12 in the morning, sometimes I have to let the children go so they can collect water for their house hold and the animal”

After the class, I rode with Dahara and hamferi to the water point by the dry river. On the way to Dahara, who wants to be a teacher in the future, related  “ I walk half an hour to collect water in the morning, feed my family and then come to class leaving my child to my mother.”

Once we reached the river, I saw the riverbed is covered with numerous holes; all are hand dug by the women of the village in an attempt to secure water. I saw women are collecting water from the hole, filling up their cans and giving it their animals. Hamferi introduced me to the women and explained, “ We are pastoralist, we move from place to place for water. These women have gone far and worked really hard to stay in one place. They want their children to get education.”

I walked up to the women and talk to them for few minutes. Aysia Hammud, a mother seven related, “ I was not sure of this schools at the beginning. What good this reading and write would do to our children, pastoralist children? Now I see the world is changing. Our children need to know the way of life. I would do anything, so they can learn. If it requires to dig few holes, I am happy to do it.”  

I met Fatema, at a water point in Mubaye, a large village on the tip of Teru District of Afar Region. It took us all day a long search on a car to get to this village over few mountains and long drive on a dried up riverbed. Most of the people in the village are struggling to survive the long drought in the area resulted in massive death of livestock and loss of life. In this desolate, desert land surrounded by mountains and plagued with hunger, disease and death, finding a girl speaking English is nothing but amazing.

Fatema, filled her jerry can, signalled me to wait and disappeared. She returned in few minutes with a book and few of her friends. While we were sitting down by the well, Fatema and her friends went through each picture on the book and recited in chorus the name of the animals, birds and objects, table, cat, goats and camel. They counted up to ten in English and then in Afari. They even taught me how to greet people in Afari.

Through an interpreter, I learned that Fatema is a third grade student of an roving alternative school funded by a local NGO, Afar Pastoralist Development Association (APDA). The school is designed to provide instruction for pastoralist children. I was so engrossed by this children that I set off to see the School.

After 20 minutes drive through the desert, we reached a rocky hill sticking out with few huts scattered around. The school is nothing but a small structure created by stacking rocks on top of each other. As I waited, children of all ages slowly started to gather around the school. I saw a man and a children walking toward the school carrying a black board. All of a sudden, sudden wind blew with all strengths and almost toppled the man with the black board. Twilling dust covered the area and I lost the sight of him few minutes. He appeared again with child and put the black board inside the schoolroom.

Mohammed Ali has been a teacher for this community for past 3 years for Non Formal Education programme. He was selected by the community and trained by APDA. Now he travels with the community wherever they go and try to teach the student. “As pastoralist moves from place to place for water and grazing for their livestock, their children can not be taught in regular schools. Whenever they find a water point they stop and I set up my School,” he explained, “ I teach the children to read and write in English, Amaharic and Afari. I also teach them basic Mathematics”

The teacher signalled the students to enter the school. After the student settled down, he started his lesson. I stood by the walkway and watched the classroom. The dust storm razed outside. My eyes moved on each face of the children and found desire for learning in the midst of adversity, determination in the heart of distress. My eyes stopped on Fatema’s face. She gave a bright and reassuring smile. Right then I knew that no matter how her life turns out in feature, nothing even the this dust storm with all its strength could not take way her joy of learning from her for rest of her life.

The room was small with a bed, a dim bulb overhead and a fan casting swinging shadows on the wall. My first destination was the shower. I walked up to the public bathroom with little apprehension and dismay. The floor is littered with plastic wraps for the soap and few shaving razor. I had to force my self into the bathroom. I was surprised to find a shower over my head and the dripping water washed away all my apprehension.

In early morning we headed out to visit few of the village. All the way to the village, I saw women are carrying plastic cans on their backs and if possible in each hand. Sometimes, few women walked together with their jerry cans along with few donkeys in front of them, all with water cans on their back as well.

“Water is life,” the saying true in this part of Afar region in Ethiopia than any other place in the world. People in this part of the world; organize their life around water. Once the water point is emptied, they will move onto the next one. Through out the year, people will move one point to another and come back in a circling route.

Unfortunately, This area has been experiencing a drought for past few years. Rain has been almost non-existent since the beginning of 2008 and all the water point has turned to dust. Women, responsible for the water collection for the household often walk 12 hours to get to water point and walk back 12 hours. And if they are lucky, they will take rest for one day and go back again. Nora Abdu from Tahasuli village pointed out, “Water is everything. We need it for relieve us from thrust, we need it to clean ourselves, we need it cook. Our animal can not survive without water. That’s why I walk 7 kilometres everyday day to get water.”

That night back at the hotel, I looked at the shower for a minute. I am so used to it. It seems so natural that people will have running water and they will spend long time under it to wash themselves. It hard to believe that people only 70 KMs from the hotel don’t even has enough water to drink. I cut my shower really short for that night.

It was last month that the UNHCR announced of the influx of refugees from Somalia to Ethiopia. UMHCR and ARAR estimated almost 10,000 refugees already entered the country and expected to receive 25,000 – 50,000 refugees in next few months.

Tens of thousands of refugees are already staying with the host community for past 2 years. It is hard to guess how many new refugees had entered the country since the withdrawal of EDF. UNHCR send a team for registration at Dolo Ado. Since their arrival only 25,00 refugees was registered.

Because of the push from the Ethiopian Government, NGOs and Un agencies sent their team to set up a camp at Boqolmayo, a barren desert area without any water source within 20 kilometres for 20,000 non-existing refugees. Many NGOs are dissatisfied by ARAR’s strong hold on the Camp Management.

Many in the aid community are disturbed by government’s decision to spend more than 4.5 million USD for the camp administration, a camp without significant number of refugee, for next 6 months in a country with 12 million people are dependent on aid. Also the setting up camp will contribute to the influx from Somalia, a country devastated by war and recent drought.