The Mandis of Bangladesh are one of the few societies of forest dwellers left in the world, but their way of life too is under threat, reports Richard Humphries.

"We are the children of the forest. We were born here. We were brought up here. We want to die here. We are so accustomed to the forest that we cannot survive if we get evicted from the forest." (Paresh Chandra Mree)

These words might have been uttered by any number of people and in any number of places worldwide. It is the plaintive cry of the indigenous forest dweller under threat. For many, it is too late and their way of life has gone. In the Amazon, cattle ranches and the unregulated activities of gold miners have ended. It is too late for Malaysia's Penan. Their forests was destroyed to create, among other things, plywood for concrete moldings for Japan's construction industry. Greed and a cultural bias towards Penan nomadism by Malaysia's leadership has meant disillusionment, new diseases and a calamitous disruption of tradition for the Penan.

But the speaker lived in neither of those places. rather, he lives in Bangladesh and is a leader of that country's Mandi ethnic minority. Mree was speaking of the Modhupur Forest.

The Modhupur is the third largest forest remaining in Bangladesh. Like much of Bangladesh it is situated on low ground, although in its case it has the advantage of a few meters of elevation. It is located to the north of the Bangladeshi capital of Dhaka, between the cities of Mymensingh and Tangail. Once much larger it now consists of only some 50 square kilometers and is shrinking fast. This forest was once exclusively a sal (Shorea robusta) forest, meaning that it was primarily populated by deciduous sal trees. In only 10% of the total area is sal now dominant.

The forest's fauna has also followed the plant life into decline. There were once large herds of spotted deer but there are far fewer of these animals today. Fewer in number also are the peacocks, monkeys, owls and other animals. Tigers once roamed the forest but these are now gone. Even the Mandi, the original dwellers of the forest are in danger of passing from the scene.

While there is enough blame to go around, many forestry officials have been quick to lay the rap for the forest's decline on the shoulders of the Mandi themselves. It should not be any surprise. In the past, the Mandi practiced slash-and-burn, or swidden agriculture. They would cultivate one area for three years before moving on. The view that swidden, which can have negative consequences when overpopulation occurs, is destroying the world's forests is a convenient excuse. This ignores, deliberately, the primary responsibility of logging operations, corruption, ill-advised dam projects, population encroachment and the like. Indigenous peoples like the Mandi are certainly aware what happens when the forests are gone. Their traditional lifestyle is gone too.

In the nineteenth century the forest was under the control of zamindars, local Hindu potentates who allowed the Mandis to cultivate the land in return for paying taxes. This was a form of tenancy, and swidden agriculture meant that the Mandis did not own this land in the form of individual plots. In any event, the idea of an individual owning land would have conflicted with Mandi tradition. They have a matriarchal society and any property would have to belong to a machong, or woman's lineage group. Unfortunately for the Mandi, from the time of the zamindars through successive British, Pakistani, and finally Bangladeshi administrations, the notion that land ownership did not rest with the indigenous peoples was strengthened through legislation.

In many areas tenancy rights from the previous century are not being recognized by the Bangladesh government. Citing a gazette notification of 1984 that placed more land under the control of the Forestry department, one missionary in the Modhupur told me, "the government wants to take away the Mandi lands. Already they are chipping away at the forest and declaring it a public forest was part of the process of taking away Mandi rights."

The idea that a people who have lived on a piece land long before the existence of a country which denies them communal ownership rights to that land may be hard to swallow logically. But it is not so difficult for those who stand to benefit. That aside, the official brief of the Forestry Department is to protect the land and to see that its resources benefit all of Bangladesh's people. It has clearly failed.

But in order to understand what has happened to the forest, one must understand the somewhat tortured relationship between population and land in Bangladesh. Unless one wants to include places like Bahrain or Singapore, Bangladesh is the most densely populated country on earth. It's population of 125 million is expected to double in 40 years. The country has the lowest per capital amount of arable land at less than 0.1 hectares per person. Half of the households in the population, with less than 0.2 hectares per household, are considered functionally landless.

Bangladesh's Bureau of Statistics has recently reported that 47% of the people do not have enough to afford a basic diet. There have been some gains as the introduction of improved rice strains has allowed production of that staple to double. Unfortunately though, in the last few years yields have begun to decline.

To say that there is pressure on the land is putting it mildly. The strain is enormous and unremitting. It the Modhupur Forest there are maybe 16,000 Mandi and perhaps 3,000 from a smaller group, the Koch, living in 53 villages. Their chances against overwhelming demographics like those pressing upon Bangladesh would be difficult under any government, even one with better intentions.

Local corruption has exacerbated the problem. Although a 'protected' forest, wood and crop theft in the Modhupur is quite common. These are mostly done at night and often in collusion with forestry officials. Near the village of Pirgatcha there were small wooden lean-tos in the woods and crop fields. I was told that these were places were Mandi guards would spend the nights in a effort to protect their livelihoods.

Apart from the corruption, mistakes in the name of development have also exacerbated the situation. The Asia Development Bank (ADB), a well-known multilateral agency, has made its share. As one Mandi put it, "Even we indigenous peoples are not happy with the ADB. A lot of their work has caused problems for us."

A case in point has been the Thana Afforestation and Nursery Project, funded by the ADB (to the tune of USD 34 million) from 1988 to 1996. The intention was to replant commercially useful wood species such as eucalyptus in areas of the Modhupur where the sal forest had been degraded to the point where regeneration would be difficult. Areas used for crop cultivation as well as the remaining sal-dominant woodland areas were to be excluded. The project's goal was to replant some 48,000 acres in the Modhupur. It was supposed to benefit and involve local poor people, Mandi and Bengali, who would be allocated the woodland plots (though not land tenure).

Unfortunately, power for implementing the project was devolved upon local Bengalis with political power. Allocations of land and funds were made on the basis of influence and through bribery. Many of those receiving plots were known wood thieves. According to Proshika, an NGO in the area with its own afforestry program, at least one forestry official admitted as much, saying that 65 to 70 people received their wood lots through 'manipulation'. Encroachments were made on Mandi crop land and in areas of the remaining sal forest. Within the woodlot plantations themselves, project guidelines with regard to harvesting were often ignored. Half-grown tress have been felled to secure immediate profit. (RH)