Adaptation in Gurguria, or: What are "Climate Resilient Technologies"?

In Gurguria, a small village in Bagerhat District, we meet "beneficiaries" of an adaptation project ADAMS is implementing under the Community Climate Change Project (CCCP). These women have been introduced to "climate resilient technologies" for fishing, livestock activities and homestead gardening.

The village is located close to a river, and highly flood-prone. An embankment exists, but frequetly leaks or breaks down. On top of that, the area is affected by saline intrusion: Salt water is streaming inlands during high tides trough rivers and channels. Instead of producing rice, the farmers in this village therefore mainly switched to shrimp farming - a highly contentious business, because inundating former rice field with salt water further increases the salinity of the soil in the whole area.

The women of Gurguria keep some poultry, and grow vegetables. These stalls, raised on pillars, were provided under the CCCP project. The women also recieved training on how to protect their chicken and ducks from waterborne diseases.

As part of the project, nearly the whole village was raised on a plinth to protect it from flooding. The work has just been finished.

In our group discussion, the women emphasise that they are very satisfied with ADAMS and the whole project. They also feel their living situation has improved in recent years, because they changed from merely cultivating rice to diversified income activietes, including shrimp: "We have three meals a day now", "We have electricity now", "We can build a better future for our children", they say. 

Thanks to the experience of ICCCAD researcher Sarder, I realise the problems of the plithing project: 

• It is build out of sand, which is susceptible to being washed away by water. 
• The plinth is designed in the wrong way: The edges are right-angled and steep – if they were gradually inclining, they would be less erosive.

This plinth is thus endangered endangered to be washed away in heavy rain once the monsoon season starts. 

The vulnerability of plinthed houses to cyclones has also not been considered in the project. 

Experts from the government  implementing agency and technical advisers have been involved in designing and monitoring the project - but apparently, noone realised these flaws.

What I also don't like about the project is the fact that the community members (i.e. those defined as "beneficiaries") had to contribute 600 Taka on their own to have their houses raised. According to ADAMS, this is necessary to establish "ownership" of the project, and ensure maintenance. Consequently, though, not all houses were raised, and only some families got flood-resilient sanitation facilities.   

The houses that were not raised are now lower than the plinth, and even more endangered to flooding. 

If you aim to address the poorest, most vulnerable people with your project - I guess you need a different approach.

Field Trip to Khulna

Thanks to Sarder, our Field Coordinator at ICCCAD, I get the chance, together with other Visiting Researchers, to go on a field trip - fully organised and payed by our research institute.

We visit the city of Khulna, where the local NGO ADAMS is working with so-called "slum dwellers". Many of these women are climate refugees: They came to the city after cyclones had destroyed their homes and assets. Now they are working as housekeepers, earning 1500-2000 Taka a month.

The "slum" area is owned by the local government, which is renting houses here to about 15 000 to 20 000 people. This means that the housing condition is relatively secure - but for the costs of 700-1500 Taka rent.

ADAMS is providing microcredit for "slum" dwelllers (the major activity for most local NGOs in Bangladesh), but also offer pre-schooling for the children of microcredit recievers. Lamia is only 3 years old, Her mum accompanies her to lessons. She hopes to enable Lamia and her two sisters a better future by investing in their education.
Government schools are generally free of charge on lower levels, but for 9th grade education of Lamias older sister, the family has to pay a small fee. Better equipped private schools are unaffordable for the poor.

ADAMS is also running two training centres for skill development in Khulna city and in Mollahat Upazila within the Khulna division. These centres, as well as their guest houses, are pretty posh. I get the impression that giving microcredit to the poor is not such a bad business, after all.

While engeneering and construction trainings are offered to men only, women can take computer courses. Espat Jahat Lisa, 22 years old,  is taking this course because she wants to work in an office. She is not married yet. "I want to have a career first", she tells me.

The sewing courses are reserved for women. Some of them walk to the training centre for two hours to recieve the training.
After six months the course participants can apply for a microcredit to buy their own sewing machine, and start a small business at home. For stitching together one kameez, they will get about 30 Taka, and 80 for a three-pieces combination with pants and scarf.

Many of the ADAMS so-called "beneficiaries" live in the village next to the training centre in Mollahat. It's a remote area, and people are striving for alternative job opportunities besides agriculture to improve their living conditions. 90% of the loans go to women.

Tania is a 25 years old mother of two children. She took a sewing course seven years ago, and is now running a small business in her house to supplement her husband's income as a driver.
Tania tells me that she borrowed 6000 Taka to buy the sewing machine, which she had to repay in weekly restallments, staring 15 days after recieving the loan. The condition was to pay back 7000 Taka within one year. Tania managed to do that - but no one at ADAMS wants to answer my question about what happens if you fail to pay back the loan.

Note: Bangladesh is divided into seven Divisions, which are named after the big cities within the region. Each Division is sub-divided into Districts, Upazilas, and Unions. So, there is Khulna Division, Khula Disrict, and Khulna city; and within the Khulna District, there are several Upazilas and Unions.

First Impressions from the Field

What I am learning:
- rephrasing all my questions, because terms like adaptation, stakeholders and evaluation mean nothing to community members
- focusing on their experiences instead of posing hypothetical "either-or" questions
- bring a gift - some sweets, like it is the habit here in Bangladesh. This is not a sweetener, but simply a matter of respect. After all, they are taking the time to meet me, when they have so many much more important things to care about
- I should have learned Bangla!! I can feel how much is getting lost in the translation, but cannot grasp these losses
- people in the worst circumstances can somehow manage to keep their smiles - and women can look so pretty because of their smile!

Challenges I am facing:
- how to define whether a project is a CBA project?
- how to define to which extend hazards are influenced by climate change?
- how to talk to community members about their feelings towards the NGO, or government representatives, while those people are present? Bengali courtesy seems to forbid any straightforward criticism...
 - what to do when faced with all the luxury back in the hotel/guest house, and how to deal with this glaring injustice?
- how to avoid this feeling of helplessness when realising the limits of adaptation?

Field Work, finally!

After living in Dhaka for nearly a month, and conducting interviews only in Dhaka, I finally start collecting data "in the field".

What does that mean?
- I visit local NGOs that are implementing CBA projects on behalf of different donors and international NGOs
- I talk to both the NGO staff members and go with them to the communities, where we meet with the so-called "beneficiaries": the community members participating in the project
- in groups, mainly with women (because most "beneficiaries" are women), I try to pose my questions on how the projects are conducted, and how they feel about it

... and why?
- research on community-based adaptation should be community-based, I guess
- the "sucess" of a project, if it can be examined at all, has to be judged based on the people's perception, I would argue
- to develop some sort of understanding of the reality these people live in - without running water, electricity, without accessable roads, sometimes without sanitation facilities, in constant insecurity of where to get their next meal from, how to raise their children, how to create a future for their family - you just have to actually be there, and see things with your own eyes

Dhaka: First Impressions - updated

What I like:
- the people - everybody is just so incredibly friendly here (not just compared to Hamburg or Dortmund)
- the climate change community, which has its own language, full of abbreviations (IPCC, UNFCCC, CCA, DRR, BCCSAP), and in which people come together from all over the world, with everybody knowing just Bonn in Germany (home to the technical sessions of UNFCCC negotiations each June)
- the mangos! the lychees! the bananas!
- among friends, colleagues, and even acquaintances, you always share your food
- there are no fixed prices: foreigners pay more than locals for transportation (Rickshaw and CNG), and steady customers get better prices in restaurants: some contribution to "financial justice"
... I could add so much more.

What I don't like:
- the weather: just way too hot, and humid; the rain in between doesn't really help
- the habit of people just dumping their trash on the street, and of spitting out all the time (especially men, but also some women)
- the traffic - I know it's cliché, but to go 10 kilometers in rush hour, you might need one hour. This is not to talk abut the fumes, and the dust, and the continous honking
- the incredible poverty of some people you see in the street, and the strict distinction between rich and poor - me living in a sort of "gated community" here in Baridhara, among politicains, diplomats, tourists, and everyone else who can affort to escape from the crowded and dirty streets
- people in Baridhara having their servants - sorry: employees - wash their big facy cars every day, while there is scarcity of fresh water supply in some other parts of this country!

Jamdani: Visiting a Weaving Village

Yes, Bangladesh is known as major exporter of cheap, poor quality chlothes, produced under exploitative labour conditions, at the cost of worker's health, and sometimes lives.
But it is also home to Jamdani, a weaving tradition considered Cultural Heritage by Unesco. 

Thanks to one of my colleagues at ICCCAD, I got the chance to meet some weavers in Rupganj, south of Dhaka.

Noah and his wife are awaiting us with a huge table full of local, seasonal fruits. I finally get to try jackfruit, the national fruit.

Jamdani textiles are mainly used for Sarees. The fabric is very light and thin, and has to be washed in a special procedure, called Kata.

Many people are weaving autonomously, with the loom taking up most of the room in their little hut. This women told me she started weaving when she was eight, learning from her parents. She knows all the different Jamdani designs by heart. 
This piece will probably cost about 6000 Taka (70 Euro). When I ask if she ever made a Jamdani for herself, she laughs at me, telling that she can only afford Sarees for about 500 Taka on the local market.

In the small factories, weaving is also done by hand mainly - which takes a lot of skills, concentration, and time. The guy sitting at the right side of the loom is the main weaver: He has to remember the desing of the Jamdani, and count the stitches. They tell me that only the main weaver gets a salary, from which he then pays his helper.

The only way for weavers to assure a regular payment is to sell their Jamdanis with the "help" of local business men, called Mahajan.
They provide a small weakly payment for the weavers, and know how to attract customers. In consequence, most of the sales price will go into their pockets.
The Mahajan of the village we visit owns the building in the back of this picture. His workers are living in tin huts.

The Shitalakshya river next to the village is comparatively clean, providing - the only - washing opportunity. Electricity officially exists, but black outs are rather the norm than the exception.

By boat, you can reach the char, an island formed by sedimentation from the river.
With habitat becoming increasingly scarce in highly-populated Bangladesh, people often build their homes on chars, despite the risk of flooding and erosion.

This very small char is only used to grow vegetables. From what I understood, this is actually supported by the government.
Admittedly, what the man is harvesting here does look like cow food a bit - but when cooked, these jute plants taste very nice: much like spinach.

Dhaka: Traffic and Lifestyle

Jatiyo Sangsad Bhaban, the National Parliament House. According to Wikipedia, it's one of the biggest legislative buildings in the world, and there's a very nice, but fenced and safely guarded park around it.
My Bangladeshi friends tell me the park used to be open for visitors, back in the days, before the political situation got so tense.
Since 2014, Awami League has passed some highly contentious decisions here, in absence of the boycotting opposition. It's both frightening and interesting to get to know more about the deadlocked political situation that led to bloody clashes in the beginning of 2015.

Motijheel at the city centre at a very quiet Saturday morning: Rickshaws, busses, cars and CNGs (the little green vehicles on the right side in the back) are actually able to move on the streets.

Going by rickshaw is slow, but can be quite fun. Mizan, Tasfi and I have to squeeze a bit here, but even four people are officially allowed on a rickshaw. And inofficially, everything is allowed in Dhaka traffic.

 One ride costs about 30 to 40 takka for locals, and usually not more than 70 for foreigners: less than 1 Euro! The Rickshaw pullers are considered the poorest of the working class. Most of them do not own their vehicle, but have to pay a rent for using it - which might take up most of their daily earnings. They also have restrictions about the area and distance they can take you.
Usually, you can also walk these distances, and might be faster. I attract a lot of disapproving looks for doing so, though: The two groups of people who are not expected to walk at all are women and foreigners.

CNGs are considered the most comfortable way of travelling further distances. They are small enough to squeeze in between cars and busses - and do so very hazardously; but that's the only way to make your way through the traffic. A ride costs about 250 to 300 takka, which is expensive for Bangladesh.
It's also smoggy and hot inside. And with the cross-barred windows (for my own protection, I was told), I always feel like a prisoner.

I was told to never ever go by local bus - which I disregarded, of cause. Talking about climate change all day, shouldn't you at least use public transportation?
I was accompanied by a (male) ICCCAD colleague, though. It's considered not really appropriate for women to go on their own. Besides the staring looks of local guys, the bus ride was not that bad. Just a bit shaky, as you can guess from the picture. 

Fresh Naan is prepared on the street. Bangladeshis like to deep-fry their pastries, and add a lot of sugar, but for the bread, you go with the basics: Naan is simply some pizza-style dough, baked in a stone oven - it's my favourite! For Roti, the bread is fried in a pan, and for Paratha, you add oil to that. Served with scrambled eggs, vegetables and/or lentils, this is a typical Bengali breakfast.

Bengali deserts, or: What you get when invited to visit one of Mizans friends and her family, and have asked them, please, not to prepare any dinner.
Mangos and lychees are in season now, and these delicious small bananas are sold everywhere and all the time here.
Traditional Bengali sweets mainly consist of fat milk and sugar, either turned into pastries, pudding (which tastes very light and fresh, for some reason), or pancakes (filled with a sweet cream). Those rund samosa-style delicacies in the middle are not sweet, but deep-fried.

Rose Garden, a former colonial building in the centre of Dhaka that was turned into a heritage site. Apparently, a lot of Bangladeshi films are shot here, and those who can affort it rent the place for weddings and partys.

Cursorily enough, no one bothered to renovate the back side of the house.
For pictures and films, superficial beauty suffices, I guess.

Learn and note: Bengali relates to the culture and laguage, including e.g. people living in Kolkata. Bangladeshi specifically refers to the nationality of Bangladesh.