Having slipped and
stumbled up the worn-out steps carved into the slope of the hill, the
view from atop makes it very difficult to be optimistic. Ominous rain
clouds hang over hill after hill of bare brown mud, crammed with
makeshift tarpaulin and bamboo structures.
Last year, these slopes were densely forested, with a few makeshift settlements for Rohingya people
escaping persecution in adjacent Myanmar. In August 2017 the Myanmar
military launched a scorched earth operation, which sent thousands of
terrified refugees fleeing across the border each day. Within two months
the hills had transformed into the largest refugee camp in the world.
It took an unprecedented
humanitarian effort by Bangladesh to accommodate more than 700,000
desperate new arrivals. Government and non-government agencies rushed to
install basic infrastructure. A thousand acres of forest was razed with
astonishing speed to make way for homes.
Much of the
infrastructure built to provide essential services to the new population
became potential threats to their safety. For example, in the first
weeks since August 2017, NGOs dug as many latrines as they could
wherever they could find space, to try and preserve the dignity and
health of the traumatized newcomers. But within weeks, the same
latrines, dug to an inadequate depth, and used far beyond capacity, were
quickly filled up and overflowing. A light shower of rain sent rivulets
of putrid waste running through the camp.
Now that monsoons and
the threat of cyclones is nigh, the vulnerability of the camp
inhabitants is starkly obvious. Already this month an eight-year-old
girl was killed in a landslide. According to the Emergency Preparedness
and Response Report by Inter Sector Coordination Group (ISCG) as of 22
May, around 200,000 individuals are at risk of landslide and flood in
camps, of which 25,000 are at very high risk. Some 18,408 people have
been relocated from high risk locations or were otherwise part of risk
mitigation efforts.
Moreover, the density of
the population here means that even a small occurrence disaster could
take many lives. UN’s recommends having at least 35 square meters of
space per person in any habitation. In the camps there is less thanfive
square meters to each person. Further relocations are on-going to reduce
the density and risk.
“When
we constructed our latrines, we took these dangers into consideration,”
says Farid Ahmed Sagar, senior manager of Climate Change Adaptation and
Disaster Management at Friendship,
one of 79 majorNGOs working at the Rohingya camps. “They are enclosed
spaces with bathing rooms and separate latrines for men and women. They
were constructed on raised cement platforms, in areas that we deemed
least likely to flood.”
Friendship dug its
latrine pits to a minimum depth of six feet. Yet, knowing that
eventually even these will fill up, they have constructed two desludging
plants to empty and treat the waste from surrounding latrines. Sagar
points out that each detail represents a struggle. Even finding a space
in the crowded camp, where a project does not inconvenience or disturb
residents in any way, is a difficult task.
Despite the precautions, it’s impossible to guarantee the safety of the latrines, says Friendship
director Kazi Amdadul Hoque. “Because we have never worked in this
landscape before, we do not know it well. We have done all our work
during the dry season. We can only identify possible threats and arrange
alternatives.”
The site management at
the camp, which is a partnership involving all the organizations working
at each camp block, have been surveying to identify at-risk facilities
and getting the organisations responsible to dismantle or move these
projects. However, their assessments are mere approximations, given that
the landscape has not been tested by severe flooding or rain.
All it takes is one
flooded latrine to contaminate all the water sources in an area, destroy
the environment, and put the population of the camp at risk of cholera
outbreak. Heavy rain poses other risks. Latrines on slopes are at risk
of collapsing during mudslides.
Bangladesh has done a
herculean job of accommodating the largest fleeing population of our
times. But the entire job was done without regard for future problems.
Looking at the landscape
from atop the hill, one wonders what might happen if a bad cyclone were
to sweep over the area. How long would it be before the flimsy bamboo
and plastic sheeting would give way? What might the scale of destruction
be in such a densely populated and vulnerable area? Are there shelters
and hospitals equipped to even begin to deal with such a contingency?
With the risk of
cyclones, rain, and floods around the corner, the upcoming season will
be a trying one in Cox’s Bazar.Now that the immediate catastrophe of a
fleeing population has been negotiated, attention to long-term disaster
preparedness is the next most urgent need.
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