| LETTERS | BRIEFLY SLATED | NOISE |

THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE FROM NEW AGE

April, 2007 @newagebd.com Main Page « Front Page « Metro « Business « International « Sports « National « Editorial « Op-Ed « Home « Timeout « Letters «

People power at Phulbari Tanim Ahmed visits Phulbari seven months after a mass uprising by local people forced Asia Energy, a UK mining company, to suspend its plans to set up an open pit coal mine there photos by Andrew Biraj Azizul Islam runs a small grocery store at Poragram just about five kilometres from Phulbari town. Small villages look like islands amidst the fields of newly planted green paddy and the beige wheat almost ready for harvest.    Aziz drops his amicable manner and eyes the stranger sceptically, the moment Asia Energy coal mine is mentioned. Villagers, mostly farmers, surround him and the stranger. Azizul takes it upon himself to begin his round of questioning as he fishes out an old cell-phone that he must have bought second hand. Securing the supposed journalist’s credentials and references, Azizul is still in two minds to call and find out whether he should trust the stranger, when the rickshaw puller comes around. Fakir Ali, former convener of the Phulbari rickshaw-van pullers’ association of Phulbari, had been in charge of miking in the area prior to the rally of August 26 last year. He had made his rounds in that area relentlessly for three days and assured the small crowd that this was a ‘friend’ and ‘one of us’.    Azizul remains sceptical and keeps eying the stranger from the city claiming to be a journalist of an English newspaper he has never heard of. ‘There were others who had come from as far away as Dhaka. They would come and ask all kinds of questions. Later we found out they would take our land and houses for a coal mine in exchange for pittance.’    Munirul Islam, another farmer sitting across table beside Azizul chooses to answer why he does not want the coal mine. ‘It is not merely a question of getting a good price for my land that I will have to give up. What about the mango tree I planted 10 years ago? I have nursed it from a sapling and now it gives me mangoes to go around for my entire family and then some.’    The people of Poragram have mostly migrated from Kansat, near Chapai Nawabganj, site of another people’s uprising and they are proud of that. ‘We will stand up like those in Kansat. We know how to keep what is ours, come what may.’    He goes on about the open pit coal mine. ‘All this land you see around us will be swallowed in a large ditch from where they will dig out coal. But that is not the end of the matter. The surrounding area will be contaminated and polluted. The farmers in surrounding areas will lose their livelihood. You cannot do something like that in such densely populated area. The economy of the entire district will be crippled, let alone sections of farmers.’    Abdus Salam, still refusing to say how much land or livestock he owns, says, ‘Tata has failed to acquire only a few hundred acres of land even in India. And this Asia Energy, or whatever its name is now, is a foreign company trying to acquire thousands of acres of fertile arable land. They make it sound as if the soil on the surface is of no value and the only thing of value is what is underneath this land of ours.’    He says he has been to Barapukuria, where there is another coal mine, where the Indian conglomerate Tata wishes to set up another open pit coal mine, and tells the others, ‘Even the land on which the offices of the mining company has been set up has not been paid for. The poor guy who owned the land has probably ended up spending more than what he will get for his land, running around for compensation.’    Munirul declares with an air of finality, ‘We own this land and we will not leave here. We will stand up against any such bid. They might very well kill us, like they have, and then our voices will be silent. But we will resist till the last drop of blood, I tell you.’    There is an approving grumble all around.    A few villages away, at Belpukur of Birampur, there are a number of Santal huts characterised by thick walls and few windows. Two women stand around chatting but refuse to give their names. They meekly state what is at the heart of their predicament. ‘This soil, this tree and this environment are what defines us. Without these around us, we will not remain who we are anymore. It does not matter how much money they give us.’    They refuse to talk any further, fearing that there might be harsh reprisals for having opposed the coal mine. Referring to the mining company and its employees, they say, ‘They are very influential and strong. We don’t know what they will do to us and or our menfolk.’    Sri Krishna Pal, who drives a tractor, comes around. ‘I do not believe a word they say. And there is no question of leaving what we have inherited from our forefathers. Moving to some place else would be like committing suicide. Where would we go from here anyway? There is nothing for us to do at other places.’    This level of awareness and calculated caution among ordinary villagers is evident across the region of proposed mine pit and it is due to a relentless campaign spanning over a year to build up informed public opinion opposing the proposed open pit coal mine.    Asia Energy, a UK-based mining company had begun activities in Phulbari upazila (sub district) as early as January 2005. In the beginning, even the conscious sections of Phulbari had not taken note since there was little information, of substance, forthcoming from the mining company. The activists, mostly left leaning, working under the banner of national oil-gas committee’s local chapter, could not even find out how much area the project would cover.    According to the proposal of this little known UK-based company, which has no previous experience of mineral extraction of any sort, the open pit coal mine would affect four upazilas, namely Phulbari, Parbatipur, Birampur and Nawabganj, directly. The open pit mine would mean dislocation of over 100,000 people—50,000 people according to Asia Energy’s own estimates—including Santals and Mundas—some 2,000 according to Asia Energy. The pit would also gobble up hundreds of graves, places of worship and archaeological sites. The pit and other structures of the coal mine would take up some 5,200 hectares and affect upto 17,000 hectares, almost the size of Sylhet city.    As for benefits, the company claimed that the coal mine, provided that coal exports were allowed, would add some $700 million to Bangladesh’s economy over 30 years—between 0.7 and 1 per cent to the national GDP, as Asia Energy put it without making allowances that the national economy would grow over the years). The mine would apparently also generate permanent employment for some 1,100 people.    This, the local populace, who are also the rightful owners of mineral resources as stipulated by the constitution, decided was simply not good enough, when they came to know about the project during discussions at village markets and at the smaller ‘yard meetings’ that were run by the activists from Phulbari.    The democratic campaign besides informing the people and increasing the level of general awareness necessary for a strong public opinion also set up committees at the villages and unions that would later coordinate activities prior to large programmes in the countryside or the small townships.        A democratic campaign and the forces of evil    Although the exact details and dates are contradictory the general story dates back to the beginning of 2005 when the citizens of Phulbari first began an initiative to oppose the coal mine. Initially there was a Phulbari Community Council, which never really gained much currency and soon faded after the formation of the Phulbari Protection Committee that included leaders of all political parties, besides general citizens. The Phulbari municipal chairman was the convener while it was decided that the ruling party’s Phulbari unit’s head would act as the joint convener. Although the National Committee for Protection of Oil, Gas, Mineral Resources, Power and Port, (commonly referred to as the oil-gas committee) was involved in an isolated manner, there was no local committee of the citizens’ platform.    As the campaign went on and public events began to attract increasingly higher number of attendants, there were calls for stronger movement and tougher programmes that would compel the government to sit with the local leaders in Phulbari, allowing them the opportunity to negotiate and come to a settlement. But the protection committee, especially prominent leaders of the mainstream political parties—BNP, Awami League, Jatiya Party and Jamaat-e-Islami—were not comfortable with such a radical position and tried to thwart proposals for a stronger movement. They suggested that the weekly procession, scheduled after the evening prayers every Saturday in Phulbari, be rescheduled to once every two weeks and then once a month. This procession, which began sometime in mid-2005, would draw up to 2,000 people as the general people of the town were already well aware of what would happen to their lives.    Their role became even more controversial within a year of the protection committee’s formation when some of the notable leaders of that committee went to attend the Bishwa Ijtema in Dhaka in 2006 and while there secretly met with the officials of Asia Energy. It is not clear what went on in that meeting but since then the protection committee started playing a rather conservative role in the movement. On the eve of the siege programme, quarters of the protection committee filed a general diary at the local police station stating that they were not involved with the programme and could not held responsible for what went on the following day.    The more dedicated activists had apprehended this, and contacted the oil-gas committee much earlier, in September 2005. They floated another platform parallel to the protection committee, which was the local chapter of the national oil-gas committee. This new committee included mostly left leaning politicians, namely from Gana Front, Workers Party of Bangladesh and the Communist Party of Bangladesh. There were also activists, students, teachers, farmers, general citizens and all local professional bodies of workers and labourers, except the bus drivers’ association.    The member secretary of the local chapter of the oil-gas committee, SM Nuruzzaman, says, ‘Even after we formed the oil-gas committee we continued our campaign under the banner of the protection so as not confuse the general public. We also did not want to divide our forces and had decided not to keep both the platforms active simultaneously.’    Zaman points out there was the added advantage of continuing the campaign under the protection committee’s banner since it included the names of the notable political leaders of the area. ‘We were always working at the field level and it helped convince the people initially even by uttering the big names.’    He said local leaders would also be more accommodative once they knew that the platform had the endorsement of the mainstream political sections in Phulbari.    The siege programme, however, was carried out under the oil-gas committee, which had gained much popularity with its programmes and events, and the dedication and sincerity of the field level activists. Although the protection committee was first approached with the proposal to organise the programme, it declined while the central oil-gas committee agreed.        Gearing up to the siege …    Activists of the oil-gas committee were bent on gathering as many people as possible to demonstrate the strength of their movement in numbers. There was a strong campaign across villages of the four sub-districts as well as the towns.    The evening before the day of the siege, there was a motorbike procession and central leaders of the oil-gas committee spoke to the general people. Anu Muhammad, the central member secretary of the oil-gas committee, said, ‘We were astounded at the extent of resentment of the people. They were ready to break down the Asia Energy offices and chase out every single person advocating for the coal mine.’    He said that the zeal of the people was quite overwhelming even for the organisers, who had taken the siege programme as another event among a string of more to come. While there could be dire implications for storming into Asia Energy offices, the organisers secretly decided to change the venue of the initial gathering without informing the general populace. The new grounds were farther away from the site of siege but the general people were not told about it—lest the organisers themselves be branded as traitors.    Zaman was in charge of bringing in the people of Hamidpur union. ‘When we hit the highway, I turned left instead of right. The original venue was to our right across the bridge. I told the people that we would first make a round of the town before proceeding to the grounds. The GM School was at the other end of the town and safely away from the Shujapur field.’    He says, people could reach the company’s offices by several paths from the Shujapur field and they would surely storm into the building that day. ‘We had decided upon this solely to avoid any accident because as organisers this was our responsibility.’    Some 70,000 people gathered at the school grounds that and a number of procession were still on their way when the people proceeded towards the bridge to hold the rally where the law enforcers had put up a barricade.    Anu read out the declaration and called upon people to socially boycott Asia Energy if they do not leave Phulbari immediately. He also declared other programmes, after which the day’s proceedings were brought to an end. ‘We had ended the programme and were actually moving away from the barricade when there were sounds of gunshot.’    The paramilitary forces killed three and wounded many more. Some were crippled for life. As the crowd dispersed, the leaders of the movement became scattered and took refuge wherever they could.    ‘I was right in front when they opened fire. I tried to shout out asking the BDR men hold their fire and we would ensure that no one approaches the bridge,’ said Zaman. But his efforts failed and soon he was also among the hunted. Law enforcers raided the houses of every leader.    Zaman had stayed at a neighbour’s place. He said, ‘The leadership was in fact perplexed and did not quite know what to do in that situation since we did not really expect such a thing to happen.’    While the organisers tried their best avoid any clash with the law enforcers, some quarters branded as ‘collaborators’—people favouring the coal mine project, mostly for personal benefits—kept discouraging the people from joining the rally. ‘We have heard that they tried to scare people saying that there would be gunfire, although we did not apprehend anything of the sort.’    It was not so much what happened on that day but rather what followed for the next four days. The entire township took to the streets, men, women and children. They brought the town to a standstill enforcing a spontaneous general strike from the morning of August 27. The law enforcers could not find a single place to buy food or have a drink. It was decided that the local kitchen market remain open for just a few hours in the morning so people could buy their necessities.    At the heart of this spontaneous resistance was the people’s uprising.        People rise    The Tripti restaurant, by the side of Dhaka-Dinajpur highway at the upazila sadar of Phulbari, must have been the site of many a meeting among activists all through last year. The restaurant, situated at the very heart of Phulbari town, known as the Nimtoli intersection, is barely several hundred yards away from the point where the paramilitary forces opened fire.    At about 7:30pm on a typical Wednesday (March 21) as shops pulled down their shutters the daylong crowd of the Nimtoli intersection had already begun to thin. Inside the restaurant, voices still boomed and occupants gave little sign of leaving anytime soon.    Madan is a waiter at Tripti. He also writes poetry. Zaman mentions that Madan was part of the movement throughout, once he sets down the tea cups. Outside, he points to a passing rickshaw puller. ‘That is Saidul. He was beaten by the BDR men on August 26 as he was right in front of the rally,’ says Zaman and beckons Saidul.    ‘I think it still hurts in the chest, they beat me so bad that day. And then I fell in a narrow alley and others tumbled on top trying to flee from the gunfire,’ says Saidul half smiling as he remembers what had passed that day.    Across the street, an attendant of a drug store, was also wounded in a tousle with the law enforcers on August 26, says Zaman. ‘We are proud of how well he rallied the crowd that day.’    Sweeping his arms at the people still milling around, Zaman said, ‘Except for a few odd persons, everybody was on the streets during those days,’ as he walks to a graveyard to attend the funeral of an old school-master. On his way back, like many others, an old woman stops him. Lovingly stroking his arms in the dark street, she asks after his health. Zaman had been picked up by the military on February 11 and beaten up severely. He was sent to jail that day and released on bail on the evening of the next day. Since then the military had taken him to their camp on two consecutive nights—March 18 and 19—but this time only enquire about the implications of a coal mine.    ‘They did not beat me this time chachi. They were very nice. And look how I have put on weight after that little meeting with the military. It was a rather healthy encounter, I tell you,’ he says laughing as the old woman gives him her blessings and asks if the coal mine would really go ahead. ‘Well we have to be strong and stand up against it, don’t we?’    Right opposite to a mosque in Jolapara, sits Mokhlesar Rahman, a para-medic. He was initially part of a medical team that would provide services to those becoming ill during the large rally. ‘It was really hot at that time. And as with any large gathering there was bound to be some people that would collapse from the heat or dehydration. When they began firing, the medical team fell apart but till then they were performing really well, giving saline water or little bits of first aid wherever needed.’    But Mokhles was not happy and wanted to be with the procession. ‘I wanted to be up front and so I was. In fact I was injured that day too, when the law enforcers charged batons on the rally. I was fortunate not to get shot.’    The doctor was also part of the team of volunteers that went to villages and unions for public campaigns.    Later that night, Zaman visits a wedding next door from his house. The mother of the bride, Renu, he says was among the first women to come out on the morning of August 27.        The women    After the initial indecision on the evening of August 26, leaders of the movement began to gather people in their own communities from the early next morning. ‘There was an unofficial virtual section 144 in place, virtually barring any public assembly. So when we began to shout slogans and advanced towards the highway, the BDR personnel charged upon us,’ said Zaman.    There were a number of times when the people gave chase too. But by 9:00 am or so, the BDR men became ruthless and brutally charged upon the activists. At this time there was a desperate announcement from the mosque by Zaman’s older brother. ‘He urged everyone to come out on the streets. He said this was time to stand up in solidarity,’ said Zaman still bewildered how his generally sedate brother had done such a thing.    ‘He is not at all a political person, whereas I have always been politically involved. But something sparked him into action that day,’ says Zaman.    The first woman to come out on the streets was Nurunnahar, with a machete. ‘It is rather ironic that a woman who has been utterly neglected by society, who is detested by and large for not being honourable, was the first woman to strengthen our social cohesion. It was Nurunnahar who prompted other women to come out on the streets too.’    In plain English, Nurunnahar is a prostitute and often remains away from Phulbari on ‘business’. She was married twice before but the husbands were no good and actually made her work for their expenses, said Nurunnahar’s mother.    ‘The one footage that was played over and over again and sparked much public opinion was when the BDR men beat up Taslima,’ says Zaman. That really sparked everyone to come down on the streets. Since the morning of August 27, the people of Phulbari went on a general strike. Faced with the public resistance the paramilitary forces were withdrawn the next day but the general shutdown continued till the evening of August 30 when Mizanur Rahman Minu, Rajshahi City Corporation’s mayor and Anu Muhammad, on behalf of the people of Phulbari signed an agreement that accepted all the demands of the people.    During this time communities took up initiatives on their own to make sure that the labourers and workers who would surely starve without their daily work, did not have to starve.    ‘We distributed some 2,200 kilos of rice for two days and cooked khichuri in these large pots to be distributed to all the poor families,’ said Zaman. Like every other event of the people’s movement, donations were voluntary. ‘People would contribute whatever they could. Some would help out in kind, some with cash.’    For large events business organisations would offer their services for free, be it with a sound system or setting up the stage or supplying chairs, explained Zaman. ‘There was nothing mandatory about it. People felt for the cause and contributed on their own.’    The social boycott that the rally of August 26 had called for was partially in effect from earlier on. The local association of construction workers refused to work at the site of a proposed model town that Asia Energy would build for the people of Phulbari. They had to bring in workers from Dinajpur. For months since the uprising, local grocers, shop salesmen refused to sell anything to the paramilitary forces or their families.    ‘They had to go and buy their groceries from Dinajpur,’ said Manik Sarkar, general secretary of the Phulbari business association.    The solidarity of the people of Phulbari and outlying villages is evident from the manner they speak of their uprising. They wear their clothes they wore on August 26 and the next day as trophies. ‘I was wearing this same sari when the BDR men beat me. Boy did it hurt,’ said Taslima as she went on her way to the local market one evening.    ‘They have killed my little son. This time I will go myself and have the three others come with me, if we have to protest against the coal mine,’ said Salekin’s mother in the middle of a paddy field. Salekin was a student of the 6th grade and had come from a school exam before he set off to join the procession.        The threat remains    Phulbari is aware of what goes on in Dhaka. The people are sceptical about the attitude of the energy adviser, Tapan Chowdhury, who has repeatedly refused to suspend the activities of Asia Energy and has instead suggested that the company should try to ‘win the hearts’ of the locals.    ‘We will not fall for that,’ says Zaman. Ever since his encounter with the joint forces, the activists have strengthened their resolve to oppose the coal mine. People in Phulbari are very much aware that the company has changed its name and might make a bid to return.    ‘I told the military officials quite plainly that there is no point in beating up individuals,’ says Zaman sitting in his modest bedroom.    The army men had taunted him accusing him of collecting tolls and burning houses. ‘They can beat some of us but they cannot silence us all. I told them that it would be far better to simply shoot the people, because if they cripple us, we would limp on to the streets and continue to protest.’