Dhaka Thursday February 25, 2010

Adivasi's tears and grief

Sareeta Haider

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IN the eve of 25th December in 2003, I was in Modhupur of Tangail district to spend two quiet days inside the forest with the native people. Throughout the day I roamed around along with many other tourists in the forest. In the evening when the sun was setting down to the horizon behind a haze of fog, we arrived in the village called Pirgacha. As we approached a joyous Garo group who was celebrating 25th of December surrounded us.

It was the Christmas day. Some of them were playing drum, ringing bells, singing and many others were drinking. Amra dukkho vhuli ... amader duhkho amder bon amder nai. It struck my mind -- why they have dukkho (sorrows)? Are they oppressed, but why? Actually he meant that the forest does not belong to them. It is a great sorrow they seek to dip in merry making. It was a little sentence but had a big inner meaning that forced me to visit Modhupur forest once again in 2005 to find the sorrows of the Garo people.

My second visit gave me more opportunities to visit several villages and meet more people. When I was walking through the forest, I felt as if I was walking through a typical village of Bangladesh as the definition of the forest disappeared from my mind. The sal trees that once stood proudly on the yellowish soil of Modhupur with wild life and diversity can be hardly seen. Actually Modhupur, which was the home to a large number of animals, birds and a particular group of people, is now unknown to them.

Out of 100,000 Tibeto -- Burman Garo people of Bangladesh, approximately 16,000 live in Modhupur who are also called Mandi, which means man. They are living in the forest for centuries with their rich culture and heritage and depend heavily on it for their living. The Garos practiced shifting cultivation or 'jum' (the slash and burn system of cultivation) as the forestland is slightly higher than the surrounding countryside.

My first contact was a 50-year-old Garo, Mr. Benedict Mangshang, ex. Chairman of Aronkhola of Modhupur. He said: During the Mughal period the adivasis could take land for cultivation for three years under the Chang Pattani system through which the government used to collect tax. Under this system adivasi people had to plant seedlings every three years and had to move to another land that made them to adopt a nomadic life. But this shifting cultivation or jumming was banned in 1962. Since then our life became stable like plain land people.

It is mentionable that Modhupur forest is the largest plain land forest of the country and it is now diminishing. Planting of exotic species like Eucalyptus camaldunesis. Acacia Mengium, Auriculaeformis and crops like teak, pulpwood, and rubber are replacing the stands in the sal forest. According to experts, these trees grow fast and are destructive to the ecosystem and are unworthy to replace the sal trees.

As I was talking to Mr. Mangshang about the forest, he said: Modhupur is already blessed with its natural sal forests and wildlife. Is it necessary to replace the sal tress with some other alien species?

Next morning I left Jalchatra with a local Garo who was my guide for the second day of my trip in a rickshaw van. I was relaxed as well as excited to meet an herbalist in Bhutia village, which was about eight km from Jalchatra. A gentle breeze was blowing and I saw the forest floor was carpeted with innumerable leaves of sal trees. The bright tangy smell of snapped twigs, the fragrance of the wild flowers and the standing sal trees took on a new and magical dimension on that fine morning. I could feel the pulse of pain of the trees, as they were crying for survival. And suddenly I heard a noise, which echoing in the forest and I thought hundreds of monkeys making this noise. My guide told me that it was the noise of monkeys doing all this. We trail of the noise and saw quite a few of the primates. I was excited; as this was the first time I saw a monkey in the forest.

Finally I managed to reach to my destination Bhutia village and met the Herbalist. This septuagenarian kobiraj (Herbalist) Alio Hajong is quite sturdy. He told how he spent his days here and what it was look like before. He was very emotional while he was recollecting his days.

He told me that this forest had a plenty of plants and shrubs of different varieties from which he used to make herbal medicines. He had regular earnings. He however lamented: It is very hard to find those plants, shrubs, roots and leaves, because of these are missing as the forest is gone. Now I cannot use my expertise. At present people are involved with social forestry, as a result we don't even get weeds or creeping plants. I strongly feel that there should be a separate garden with all herbal trees and plants.

He mentioned some of the native names of the sensitive herbal plants like Hartaki, Gota, Vui Kumur, Dud Koloish (the buckle of it was used for chronic dysentery), Kalo Tulshi (for cough, cold and fever), Bashuli (for respiratory problem for children), Bee-honey (for cataract treatment), Boira and Amloki (for pneumonia), Roots of Makhkhal (it is toxic and used for scabies) and many more which he cannot remember.

He also said the species like barking deer, wild cats, pea-cocks, foxes, tree frogs, snakes and wild indigenous birds like dupingchep, sheruk (wild myna), pipprop (bulbuli), dumashiki (magpie robin), horical (green pigeon) had almost become extinct in 10-12 years. These plants, animals and birds were the gifts of the nature, which maintained the natural food chain process (It's a kind of process through which the nature maintains it's balance). A few monkeys could be seen only.

Then I walked through the village, and saw Garo women on the street wearing beautiful doksari -- a traditional Garo women's dress. They were waving their hands at me. In one of the houses I found a bunch of wooden poles (like totem poles) with some marks on it. And one of them was covered with doksari as if an old mandi woman was standing. I asked the family members about it and they told me that it was called "khamma" -- a traditional sign of remembrance of their mother who died recently. They also told me about other beliefs of Mandi life like sacrificing of animals -- sometimes a chicken or a goat and even a cow for different reasons including good harvest and cure from sickness. They used to perform a festival called 'chogaria' that means searching suitable lands for jum cultivation (slash and burn system). All festivals are celebrated with colourful costumes, dances and music.

After a tiring day I returned to my base station with heavy heart, while I was on the rickshaw van, I saw a huge sal forest area being cleared. And roots and green leaves on the stumps could also be seen in the patches but there was no sign of sal trees. I also saw some jackfruit trees, which were lying down on the ground of the same area. I have seen many banana and pineapple plantation in some places, and in front of one of the banana garden a truck was loading with green bananas. My guide said that they did not eat these bananas, because it creates serious health hazards to them, like severe stomachache and other problems, it is commercially cultivated. When I asked him what the reason was, he just could give any answer as to why this is done. But he predicted that within a few years the soil of Modhupur will be ruined, and it will turn into hard stone because of the plantation of banana.

Actually Modhupur forest has been exploited to the optimum with the plantation of the commercial cultivation of pineapple and banana. This production of pineapple is not new to that area, but what is new is the excessive use of pesticides and hormone. The local elites and the government mainly initiated this plantation.

My guide -- Anupom recollects: I have seen forest all around us in my childhood and in monsoon my grandmother used to collect potatoes called Amfeng with a special kind of instrument Khonta. We used to eat this as Sthong means vegetable. My grand parents also used to cultivate Mimandi Dhan (Common Paddy). There are several varieties of this common paddy named Mikhchu, Minathik, Mirithhi etc. But now they are part of history. We, the Adivasis, have become the worst victims of deforestation.

The process of depletion of the natural forests started when the government begun rubber plantation in the area in 1987. Actually that was the incident, which put the people in distress afterwards. Gradually through the laws, rules and policies government wanted to save the forest, and by establishing of national park, eco-park, woodlot, etc but it did not work.

At present, the Adivasis have nothing to say as they have already lost everything, their lifestyle, their habited, their culture and festivals and finally their motherland -- the forest. Mostly regretted: We don't have our forest, and we don't have our life. Once we used to be the owner of this land but now we have become the laborers. Is it our fate?

I was simply speechless, as I had no words to console them. But they transferred the pain to me.

Sareeta Haider is Professor of Demography, Dept of Population-Environment, Independent University Bangladesh (IUB).

Bibliography
Gain Philip, 2002: The Last Forests of Bangladesh. Published by Society for Environment and Human Development (SHED).

Robbins Burling: The Mandis (Garos) of Bangladesh. Earth Touch, March 2005.

Gain Philip: Modhupur A Forest Stolen for Cash. Earth touch, June, 2004.

Gain Philip, 2004: Bon, Bon-Binash o Bonbashir Jibon Shonggram. Published by Society for Environment and Human Development (SHED).

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