Life after the closure of Jute mills: The creation of new poor
About three months into the COVID-19 pandemic, Mamun (pseudonym), a jute mill worker in Khulna suddenly came to know that he lost his job. His initial reaction was denial; he thought it must be a rumor, but as time went by, the entire jute mill colony realized that this was only part of a mass lay-off that would impact the entire community. On 1 July 2020, the Bangladesh Jute Mill Corporation (BJMC) announced the closure of 25 state-owned jute mills and laid off around 70,000 workers in one go. Like Mamun, thousands of skilled workers would become jobless overnight and because of the pandemic, many became poor for the first time. Panic, chaos, and fear ensued within the jute mill colony. No one knew what do to. Initially, they thought of organizing a protest, which seemed difficult given the COVID-19 lockdown.
The BRAC Institute of Governance and Development (BIGD) and the Institute of Development Studies (IDS), conducted an explorative qualitative research project named “Durdiner Diaries (Chronicles of Hard Times) in Bangladesh where we followed the lives of people like Mamun — whose livelihoods and incomes were deeply affected by the pandemic — to understand their governance needs over time and to identify how they are navigating life in an attempt to bounce back from poverty.
We interviewed the same 40 households in three different locations (urban, peri-urban, and rural areas) of Khulna over nine months. In the peri-urban location — an area whose economy was highly dependent on the jute mills —we came across Mamun. This is his story.
Struggle to find a new occupation, uncertainty, and coping strategies
It has been almost three years since Mamun lost his job. He has tried several lines of work in the last three years but has more or less settled as a day laborer. He views it as a degradation and says that not only did he lose his income but also his dignity as a skilled worker who was highly appreciated in his workplace. Losing his job came with further consequences: within six months of the termination, the dismissed workers were evicted from the jute mill colony. Being jobless and homeless, Mamun thought of going back to his village but couldn’t do so as he was still viewed as a ‘respected government employee’ there. He eventually rented a house in a locality and tried to cope with his new situation. Poverty hit him for the first time in many years, and Mamun felt “a year passed just by wiping away the tears.”
As a day laborer, Mamun has no fixed job contracts. His work can include anything and everything from unloading sand from trucks, carrying sacks, and painting walls. Some days he gets work, some days he doesn’t. This uncertainty with the source of income forces Mamun to reduce costs at home. Like many new poor in our study, he cuts down food consumption and health expenditures as a coping strategy. Their diet primarily consists of vegetables and lentils. Mamun and his family now rarely consume fish, meat, eggs, or fruits. He and his family do not go to the doctor unless and until it becomes completely necessary. They have been postponing his mother’s surgery for months, and when his wife had typhoid, they couldn’t take her to the hospital immediately. Only after a week, once Mamun could borrow some money, was his wife admitted to a hospital.
Losing identity, community, and networks
Despite these material struggles, Mamun also lost something as invaluable as his identity. All through his life, Mamun was a jute mill worker. This became a part of his identity. His parents were also jute mill workers; he was born and raised in the Jute Mill’s labor colony, made friends there, and started work there. He grew up in the ‘community’ of jute mill workers and shared a common bond and identity —along with traumas and tragedies—with the other workers. With the jute mill closure, Mamun lost his community, his identity, and his networks. Now, he lives in an area where he doesn’t know many people and they don’t know him either. He doesn’t have any strong network which can help him survive. At the same time, he is also not comfortable seeking help from his present neighborhood, because he does not feel like he belongs there. This loss of belonging, among many things hurts him.
In all our visits, we would often find Mamun romanticizing about his past life. Even when we interviewed him on an issue unrelated to the jute mill, Mamun would start reminiscing about the good old days at the mill. We never heard him say anything negative about his experience at the mill. On the contrary, he had once said, We were like zamindars in the jute mill. I didn’t have to worry about house rent, water, and electricity bills.”
Life doesn’t stop at one place and neither will Mamun. He knows he cannot return to his previous life and so is trying to cope with his new reality. He bought a motorcycle with some savings and is thinking about building a livelihood with it. Despite challenges, he graduated from the Bangladesh Open University. Mamun’s struggles of losing a job, his day-to-day challenges, his endeavors to find a new occupation followed by an identity crisis, and his strategies to cope with the new norms, reflect the stories of the newly emerged poor and the lack of opportunities that prevent them from making a rebound. This is Mamun’s story but there are thousands of others like him whose lives were transformed overnight due to the closure of the jute mills. Their pain and fight for survival have remained unexplored. This particular segment of newly poor people requires tailored solutions to pave their path to recovery.
