An end to life as they know it

Rui Moun, an 85-year-old living in the remote hills of Bandarban, has known hardship throughout her life. She says struggle is a constant companion for most of the indigenous people who live on jhum cultivation, a slash-and-burn method of agriculture, on the little patches of arable land available on the steep hills. But the present food crisis is nothing like she has ever seen before, Rui Mon tells the Dhaka Tribune. The octogenarian breaks down in tears and says she wishes she could die to end the suffering. It was not always this bad, she says. Thirty years back, the Jhum people grew different varieties of crops on the highlands of Thanchi in Bandarban. But different reasons – mostly man-made, but also some weather-related – have triggered a collapse in the jhum harvesting practices handed down from generation to generation. Jhum farmers said the small arable spaces in the hills are only suitable for jhum cultivation once every four years. Following each round of multi-crop cultivation, the land needs to be left alone for at least four years so that jungle weeds, herbs and shrubs grow naturally. Then the wild vegetation needs to burned to make the land ready for the next round of cultivation. Usually farmers grow crops like rice, sesame, pepper, ginger, turmeric, pumpkin, corn etc on a single piece of land. Although this had been the routine practice for hundreds of years, people can no longer follow this cycle any more. When the Dhaka Tribune visited the remote areas of Thanchi recently, the jhum farmers said there were too many mouths to feed now and too little land available for meeting the demands. In the remote areas where there is no awareness about family planning, a population boom coupled with limited cultivable space have made the food crisis more complicated, the highlanders said. People can no longer wait four years to grow crops on the same piece of land. The second round of harvest must come within two and a half years, or the families face starvation. “In the past, we had food to eat and plenty of work available. We also caught fish in the Shankha River,” 85-year-old Rui Moun told the Dhaka Tribune while sitting in her home at Young Noung Para village under Remakree union. Those were a different time when people in the hills could also go hunting small deers, Samba deers, and wild boars and hens in the forest, she said. Back then, Rui Moun said she could go Bangalee vendors in the nearby bazars and exchange one Hari – or around 4kg – of rice for one Hari of dried shrimp. But those golden days are long gone. Now people hardly had any rice that they could exchange. Nirandra Tripura, a 32-year-old resident of Kesapru Para, said the alarming drop in rice production means that food is becoming more and more scarce each day. Thirty-seven households in Kesapru Para are facing starvation after excessive rain damaged the jhum crops there last year. The situation is the same for people in Usamoung Karbari Para, one of the locals named Ao Ma Ching told the Dhaka Tribune. “Crops from jhum cultivation has not been satisfactory in the recent years. Even if a little bit grows, rats and pigs eat them,” said Rengui Murong of Loyakree Para. “Bad weather and frequent rounds of cultivation on the same land mean we cannot get a good harvest,” he added. On the remote hills, there was simply not enough arable land where the Jhum people could grow their crops, Rengui said. Chankran Mro, of the same village, said the people now had no choice but to leave it to their own fate and hope for the best. When the only way of livelihood they have known their entire lives seem to be disappearing fast, hope is the last straw they can cling onto.