Can Everyday Belief Practices Inform Disaster Frameworks?
Insights from the Sundarbans Delta
The Sundarbans have always been a region of metamorphosis. Towards the end of the Pleistocene era, at a time of massive geological change, sediment deposits from the Ganga and its tributaries washed down to this deltaic plain and created an ecosystem so diverse that its early human inhabitants, nine thousand years later, purposefully sought harmonious coexistence with their nonhuman counterparts.
Over millennia, the delicate balance between saltwater and freshwater was subject to continual change, something blatantly visible today as rising sea levels and anthropogenic activity are persistent threats.
These mangrove forests, now about 10000 square kilometers across India and Bangladesh, are home to Indigenous tribes whose anchoring in this environment manifests in various indigenous practices holding profound place-based and cultural significance.
Evidently, rituals and customs meant to evoke a sense of oneness with the physical environment are ubiquitous across the region. Take the “Wedding of the Frogs”, for instance. A symbolic ceremony marrying these amphibians, deeply associated with water, is said to appease the rain gods during seasons of drought. It is important, nay crucial, to understand a community’s connection to the natural world when researching methods to mitigate climate change. In the Sundarbans, these communities rely on time-tested traditional knowledge systems and mystical or spiritual ritualizing to address environmental challenges like cyclones. An elder of the community in Kumirimari told us about inviting the God of Wind, Varun Dev, to their homes during storms as a plea for mercy and protection from the destructive forces of nature.
Perhaps most interesting is the legend of Bonbibi, the guardian deity of the forest, and her pervasive presence in the region. Bonbibi is believed to protect the land, water, creatures, and the people that dwell in these lands. Before venturing into the forest to fish or collect honey, fisherfolk, and collectors offer prayers to safeguard their journeys and to return with a bounty of supply.
These practices, while occasionally scoffed at by outsiders, are deeply rooted in situated scientific reasoning and ecological awareness. They demonstrate the community’s intimate knowledge of their environment and their innovative ways of addressing ecological forces and phenomena.
Our ethnographic explorations in the southeastern islands of the region led to a clearer understanding of the various perceptions and connections the communities have with nature. Interestingly, we observed a significant shift in the cognitive and psycho-social responses in the people we spoke with, particularly when discussing cultural practices and disaster management.
As outsiders and researchers, we quickly picked up on the skepticism and hesitation amongst the community members who weren’t too eager to share details of their everyday lives. The source of this reluctance could be attributed to several things like the wide disconnect between lived experience and academia or even social norms and practices.
However, as ethnographers, we wanted to make it as explicit as possible that their everyday life was the key to bridging this widening gap. After a couple of hours of conversations, we noticed a remarkable transformation in their interactions with us. They started to talk about the importance of their cultural practices, their pride, and their sources of ancient wisdom, as opposed to a mere question-and-answer session.
This shift has had a profound impact on our data collection process. The increased willingness to engage has enriched our understanding, providing us with deeper insights into the community’s adaptive strategies and resilience.
Beyond that, these conversations underscore the crucial role of creating culturally sensitive research methodologies. Instead of otherizing, acknowledging and valuing Indigenous knowledge systems help us foster a more inclusive and comprehensive understanding of disaster management practices. These small instances as outcomes of responsible (and not extractive) ethnography emphasize the need for academic research to bridge the gap between scientific inquiry and indigenous belief systems, thereby promoting a more holistic approach to understanding and addressing environmental challenges.
While interacting with the residents of the Sundarbans, we also observed a marked difference in the community’s flood memories. Cyclones like Aila (2009), Yaas (2021), Amphan (2020), and Hudhud (2014), all of which have occurred within the last 15 years, were brought up quite frequently. It is worth mentioning that this is a worrying trend where the frequency and intensity of these cyclones have grown severely impacting the lives and memories of the people of the Sundarbans.
Older community members also brought up a particularly devastating cyclone from the 1970s that is rooted in their memory and in how they relate to disasters today. This event stands out in their collective memory due to the extensive destruction it caused, exacerbated by the limited availability of information and preparedness measures at the time. The stark contrast between the past and present highlights the advancements in disaster management and communication technologies. Today, the availability of real-time information through the Internet and radio has significantly enhanced the community’s capacity to respond to such natural disasters, thereby increasing their preparedness and response.
Historically, the people of the Sundarbans relied on traditional and indigenous indicators to predict weather changes and impending cyclones. For instance, the sight of cranes flying westward or ants climbing to the upper parts of trees were considered reliable signs of an approaching storm. These natural indicators, rooted in generations of observational knowledge, played a crucial role in the community’s preparedness strategies. However, in contemporary times, there has been a noticeable shift towards reliance on modern technology for weather forecasts and disaster warnings. While digital information is undoubtedly more accurate and easily accessible, it is essential to recognize the value of traditional knowledge systems, in addressing the Cartesian divide between ‘exact’ and ‘non-exact’ sciences – an inherited legacy from the ‘modern’ Western epistemology.
Proper understanding of the indigenous traditions and recognition and appreciation of their worldviews can facilitate greater engagement of local communities in disaster resilience frameworks, decolonizing and dehegemonizing mainstream risk reduction paradigms that are universal and top-down.
We’re able to use this experience as a way to convey the significance of integrating traditional knowledge with academic research–an essential tool to develop sustainable and resilient strategies rooted in the lived experience and wisdom of local communities.
As people grow increasingly disconnected from nature, these practices guide us on a path of increased empathy, connectedness, and respect for indigenous knowledge passed down through generations.