Floods, erosion, and the fight to survive amid Bangladesh’s changing climate

During this year’s monsoon, dozens of families and their livestock converged on Jatrapur school in Kurigram, northern Bangladesh. The facilities, built by Friendship Bangladesh at Char YouthNet, were the only place in the community to be spared by the floods. 

“This school ground is slightly elevated,” one teacher explained. “There is no other shelter in my area. Every house is under water, and 20 to 25 families have taken shelter here, along with their cows, calves, ducks, chickens, goats and sheep,” said Md. Rezaul Karim. “If the flood water continues to rise, these families will have nowhere to go.”

“There is no other shelter centre in this area,” said health worker Mst. Shahina Akter. “There is even no place like that at many chars for shelter.” 

The floods have become an annually recurring crisis. Many of the photographs in this essay were taken in July 2024, yet community members repeatedly emphasized that these scenes were not exceptional events but part of a pattern that returns almost every year with increasing intensity. 

Similar situations unfolded across other chars this year, as lone schools, raised earthen mounds, or half-built government structures turned into spontaneous shelters as families arrived by boat, carrying their livestock, bundles of clothing, and metal boxes containing their last savings. 

When the author visited Kurigram in July of this year, across the district boats were moving between submerged homes and temporary shelters at all times of the day, as people tried to retrieve whatever belongings remained above water. Rooms filled with rising floodwater could be seen across villages, and countless homes were cut off completely, forcing people to wait for hours before an accessible route appeared.

Local families have become used to rebuilding or moving their mobile shelters sometimes multiple times a year. Livelihoods change adjusting with the situation as fields fall into the river. The district reveals a widening crisis shaped by climate change, where the boundaries between land and water shift constantly, and life must shift with them.

As many as 12 million people are estimated to live on char lands in Bangladesh, the impermanent, moving islands and bars that cover 5 to 6 percent of national territory. Each year, nearly 10,000 hectares of land are lost to riverbank erosion, leaving more than a million people homeless or displaced (Rahman and Rahman 2015, Islam and Rashid 2011). There is some modest coastal accretion as sediment is deposited in the estuaries, but this does nothing to offset inland riverbank losses in floodplain districts like Kurigram, one of the worst affected. With advancing climate change, flooding arrives earlier, lasts longer, and returns more frequently. Erosion now removes entire villages within days, erasing homes, croplands, schools, and community structures.

Kurigram is a city and district in northern Bangladesh, at the centre of one of the world’s most dynamic river systems shaped by the Brahmaputra, Dharla, and Teesta rivers, as well as the larger Bengal Delta. This delta, created through centuries of silt and sand deposition from the Ganga-Padma, Brahmaputra-Jamuna, and Meghna basins, continuously forms and erases char lands that millions depend on for settlement and cultivation (Rahman and Rahman 2015, Sarker et al. 2003). These shifting river islands expose them to some of the country’s most severe hazards (Islam et al. 2011, Alam et al. 2018).

“During flood it’s very tough to eat and drink,” said Kurigram resident Md. Rafiqul Islam. “Knee-deep flood water always goes inside the house and it’s very challenging to maintain proper care for the children. The way water level is rising, I had to shift them to boat from bedstead. Now we are staying on the boat and eating very little.”

In most char lands this season, floodwater entered homes within hours, leaving families with only the height of their bedsteads to protect small children and necessary belongings. Community people described the same struggle to keep food dry, to find a place to cook, or to access safe drinking water once the handpumps disappeared beneath murky floodwater.

“People suffer a lot due to floods,” said Mst. Shahina Akter, the health worker. “People worry about cows, goats and poultry during flood. When they will cook and eat, they have no clue. If you get sick, there is no place to get treatment here. There is no place for expectant mothers to deliver during flood. Women face more challenges to maintain menstrual hygiene.” Her voice emphasizing the intense vulnerability when animals, livelihoods, and human health all hang in the balance.

Across the chars of the district, shops were also submerged, creating shortages of food, medicine, and basic supplies. Villages turned into islands with no visible paths to safety. Even town centres in Kurigram Sadar were not spared, as water rose quickly along key roads, cutting off transport and communication.

This year the floods arrived earlier, stayed longer, and returned more often than in previous years. Research on Kurigram confirms what residents have repeatedly described: that intensified monsoon rainfall and unpredictable upstream flow patterns are closely linked to climate change. These changes have increased the probability of widespread flooding and deepened the vulnerabilities of river-dependent communities (Islam and Parvin 2019; Hossain et al. 2021; Reza 2025).

Yet the water that enters homes is only part of the destruction. The deeper and more permanent loss comes from riverbank erosion, which is now occurring at a rate previously unseen across large sections of the district. During this photo essay journey, erosion sites were visited in Kurigram Sadar, Chilmari, Phulbari, and Ulipur. The conditions were almost identical: large cracks opening suddenly in the earth, rivers carving out massive chunks of land within days, and families watching their last pieces of homestead disappear.

Entire settlements have been lost in the span of months. Community clinics, flood shelters, madrasas (religious schools), Eid prayer fields, playgrounds, offices, mosques and markets have been consumed by the river. In several villages, only the remains of brick foundations were visible under the water’s surface. Many primary schools stood dangerously close to the edge, their future compromised by the land loss. Along one eroding stretch, a line of homes stood only steps away from collapse, their owners preparing for the inevitable. Some were taken by the river before this essay was completed.

The story of Kohinur Begum echoes the experience of countless others across the district. She and her husband, a day labourer, lost three homes in seven months as they moved from one place to another. 

Her words captured the exhaustion that has become common across the chars: “Every house is rebuilt with whatever we can gather, but the river keeps returning. Now we are temporarily staying on another person’s land. With five daughters and a small boy, there is no answer to the question of where we will go next.” Her situation is repeated in hundreds of households across Kurigram, where women carry the weight of rebuilding while ensuring water, food, and safety for children.

Farmers across multiple chars described similar uncertainty as paddyland vanished ahead of harvest season. One such farmer, Abdul Khalek, lost his home eight months earlier. Now the river had reached the last fragment of his paddy plot. His crop had to be harvested prematurely. His voice carried the same grief heard throughout the district: “The land has fed us for years. Now it is being taken before the crops can ripen.” His grief was not just for the land but for the future it once represented.

Further along the river, houses were being dismantled systematically as families tried to salvage whatever they could before erosion made retrieval impossible. This pattern of displacement has become a defining feature of life in Kurigram. Families are now having to move not once or twice but multiple times within the same year. Every relocation means losing established social networks, farmland, livestock, and any sense of permanence.

Eleven years earlier, Afzal Hossain and Jobed Ali had crossed the river to escape severe erosion in their old village. Now the river had reached them again. “The river pushed us here, and now it is pushing us again. There is no direction left,” they said, standing beside a crack in the earth that had widened overnight. Their uncertainty reflects a larger crisis in Kurigram: no part of the district feels secure enough to promise stability.

Across erosion zones, bamboo stacks, sandbags, and geo-textile bags had been placed along the banks in efforts to delay collapse. These protections, though essential, often last only a short time against the powerful currents. People gathered daily along the banks to monitor the progression of cracks, knowing that their homes, trees, and memories could disappear at any moment. Such scenes repeated themselves in char after char, and each visit revealed more of the emotional weight carried by those living on such unstable land.

Children in Kurigram experience childhoods shaped by movement. They learn how to prepare for evacuation, how to climb onto boats quickly, and how to sleep on high beds when water begins entering their rooms. They grow up surrounded by geo-bags and sand walls, fragile defences meant to withstand the unpredictable force of the river. One mother in Chilmari described the situation with quiet resignation: “Our children are growing up surrounded by protections that were only meant to be temporary.”

Despite the scale of hardship, life continues with remarkable determination. Families salvage crops before erosion reaches them, rebuild homes on new patches of land, and gather mud or bamboo to repair structures damaged by water. Women continue cooking for their households even when kitchens are partially submerged. Men continue cultivating and fishing in risky currents to provide food. Community members come together to rescue those stranded during sudden surges of water. These actions reflect resilience, but they also reveal the burden of survival in a region pushed to the extreme by climate change.

Research on Kurigram shows that more than half of households in highly exposed chars face displacement every one to three years (Hossain et al. 2021). Landlessness increases sharply with each cycle, and many families fall into debt traps and poverty that becomes nearly impossible to escape. Women face heightened risks in terms of health, safety, and workload during displacement. Access to healthcare becomes extremely limited during flooding, and the absence of dedicated shelter centres means pregnant women often lack safe spaces for delivery.

This photo essay reflects not only the losses witnessed across these char lands but also the broader challenge facing Kurigram. The district stands as a frontline witness to the accelerating impacts of global climate change. Research has repeatedly shown that intensifying floods, unpredictable river flows, and rapid erosion are all connected to changing climate systems (Islam and Parvin 2021; Reza 2025). Kurigram offers a stark reminder that those who contribute least to global emissions often bear the greatest burden of its consequences.

Across the char lands of Kurigram, people repeatedly voiced the need for safe shelter, reliable drinking water, and secure embankments as the most urgent demands for survival. Residents emphasized that permanent multipurpose shelters must be built on high, reinforced ground, since the existing schoolyards cannot protect large populations when floods intensify. Many called for accessible rescue boats, emergency dry food stockpiles, and mobile medical teams that can reach isolated villages during peak flooding. Locals also stressed that drinking water systems should be elevated above flood levels and that early warning messages should be made clearer and more frequent. 

Meaningful protection will require both structural and social interventions, explained Rakibul Islam Tanim, a young climate activist from YouthNet Global who has worked closely with char families for years. He highlighted the need for climate-resilient housing, riverbank reinforcement through sustainable embankment technologies, and relocation plans for the most vulnerable erosion-prone settlements. In his view, long-term adaptation in Kurigram depends on strengthening local governance, ensuring equitable access to relief, expanding livelihood training beyond agriculture, and creating youth-led community emergency response groups.

Kurigram stands at the frontline of Bangladesh’s climate crisis, where rising floods and relentless erosion repeatedly erase homes, croplands, and entire communities. Yet families continue rebuilding on shifting ground, carrying lives shaped by uncertainty. Their struggle reveals how those contributing least to climate change bear its heaviest cost. Protecting Kurigram now demands urgent, sustained action through stronger shelters, safer embankments, and climate adaptation efforts that reach every char before more ground is lost.