Let us take a village. Assume that it contains a total population of 2000, which includes its men and women, infants and adolescents, young and the old. It is known to all that none of us lives alone in this society. Kith and kin, friends and well-wishers, fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, wives and sons—at the very least, we all need to live alongside some of them. Correspondingly, let us suppose that the 2000 people residing in our village are also members of another 200 families.
Here goes one account. But let me put forth a different one. This village, with its 200 small, medium and large families would approximately have 2400 acres of land if we calculate the measures of their ancestral homes, lakes and ponds, arable and non-arable lands, droughts and canals. Out of the 2400 acres of land, no crops can be grown on 400 acres. The rural houses, ponds, village roads, cemeteries, burning ghats,[1] Eid-gahs,[2] schools, and playgrounds take up at least 400 acres of land. Leaving out these 400 acres thus leaves us with only 2000 acres of land.
Let us try to find out who is the owner of this 2000 acres of land. We can have an approximate estimate. If this land is equally distributed among the 200 existing families, the trouble ends there. This is a logical enterprise. But unfortunately, this does not happen in reality. It cannot happen. Investigating the originary ownership of this 2000-acres land and examining its distribution among the villagers according to the present law and order of the country may give us a clue as to who owns how much of this land. That, and only that, can be accepted as a picture of reality, the ultimate truth.
If we look closely into the nitty-gritty of who gets how much among these 200 families, then the list that we may get looks somewhat like this:
Let us assume fifteen families own 600 acres of land. Now, a small calculation. The fifteen families who own 600 acres have a total of 90 members in their families. If 90 people share 600 acres of land, then each member acquires a little more than 6 acres. These 15 families constitute the privileged upper-class stratum. A real survey of the village reveals that there are at least 30 families[3] who own more land than the relatively less privileged common folks but are less fortunate than the aforementioned well-off. These 30 families occupy another 600 acres of land. Then, as of now, the situation resembles something like this: out of these 30 families, every household gets 20 acres each.[4] Leaving aside the complications of which family consists of how many members, we assume that their total strength is 180. If we distribute 600 acres[5] equally among these 180 members, each member is allotted a little over 3 acres. Investigation of the figures of land distribution and population in the village has brought us to a stage where we now have a clear account of at least 270 people[6] and the ownership statistics of some 1200 acres of land.
In this village, out of the 2000 acres of cultivable land, there remain another 800 acres of land which is used to grow 2-3 crops in rotation. We already have the statistics for this 800-acre land. But, leaving aside the 45 families out of the existing 200, we are still in the dark about the land that is left with the 1730 members[7] of the remaining 165 families. Is there any problem in thinking deeper when we have already embarked upon calculations? We may distribute the 800 acres equally among the remaining 1730 people. Each of them gets a little less than half an acre of land.[8] Although I am proclaiming this way too easily, the rural society is not as seamless as this. In reality, we will see that out of these 165 families[9] which hold 1730 people, few get 10 acres, others get 15, many get 5 acres, while most have to make do with only 4 square feet hereditary land and are left with nothing else really. Extreme scrutiny will lead us to the fact that out of the 2000 people, we will come across at least 1200 who have no land at all. The assumed number of landless people that we have in our study matches significantly with the list of landless farmers that was published by the Government of Bangladesh. According to Bangladesh’s Ministry of Agriculture, the number of farmers now landless in this country has reached approximately 60% of the total population. I will leave it at that. Coming back to the 1200 landless inhabitants of our village, let us see how these people, with no land to themselves, survive. How do they arrange for food and clothing? What is the livelihood avenue to sustain themselves and keep their wives and children alive? At a certain point in our discussion, we will try to address these questions too.
Till now, in our discussion, 200 people out of the 1200 inhabitants residing in our imagined village have absolutely no land. Even if they do, it is so meagre that no one can even thrive for a month depending on that land. Land is the only means of subsistence in a village. Hence, an extremely relevant question—for those who have no land, what do they have for survival?
Further investigation into the question will lead us to the fact that a number of people who ‘own’ nothing, work as daily wage-labourers in the houses of the landowners during the rice-harvesting season. At times they work on a monthly basis. But we must keep in mind that the daily or monthly employments are regular only where the fields and the seasons are favourable. All residents do not employ daily wage-labourers, and not everyone can afford them. In these fields, we see the proprietary farmers working their own fields. Even though they work might be available during the harvest season, however, on average, the off-seasonal employment is always close to zero. Let us calculate and see once more. In our village, there are 1200 landless people. Let’s assume that 300 people out of these 1200 work as day labourers during the time of harvest. And in every other season, 100 farmers work as daily wage-labourers, not more than that. This does not mean that all of them are not willing to work as daily wage-labourers. However, if not all, there always exists a significant number who do not wish to work as daily wage-labourers. And even if they want to offer their services, they fail to do so. This is because in this village, the work is limited to the extent of cultivable land owned by the families, and this never exceeds the need for 300 agricultural labourers during the harvest season and a maximum of 100 in the other seasons. Now it is clear that not more than 100 people work as daily wage-labourers throughout the year and the remaining 200 people work only for 4-5 months during the harvesting season. Those who do not participate as daily-wage labourers may still work as land-tillers, or fishermen or become overseas migrants, travelling far from their families, in search of income. These jobs are not always available. That is why they are compelled to remain without any work and economic cushion most of the time. Now, among the 100 people, there must be few who have very little land for themselves. Maybe an acre, or even less than that. They cultivate the field on their own. Suppose there is a 1-acre field. For this, a single pair of hands is enough. But there are three people in total—usually the men of the household. All three of them cultivate this single 1-acre field. Let us assume that it took 4 months to cultivate this field and as a result, sufficient food for three months was procured. In this situation where three persons are devoted to a one-acre field, where it should ideally employ just a single person, renders the remaining two mouths as what can be called, in economic terms, the ‘disguised unemployed’. These kinds of people need to keep an eye out for employment elsewhere, at least for six-seven months every year. This class of people who have very little land themselves—at least a section of them—usually cultivate the large landholdings of large families as sharecroppers. Oftentimes, they get to work in the fields on an annual contract in exchange for a stipulated amount. This category of cultivators is called bargachashi.[10] The ones from whom land is sought out for cultivation (in share or through annual agreements) are called jotedars.[11]
If we leave out the sharecroppers and the daily wage-labourers, there remains a number of villagers who take up other occupations for livelihood. Few are employed for only a day or a few days, acquiring the roles spontaneously, while other jobs are of a hereditary nature. Let me explain what I mean by this. Let us take the example of a man who has no employment and no money to feed his family. But his house is right by a river. Out of compulsion, he starts fishing for subsistence. But there are many families who have been catching fish right from the inception of their lineage. They have no occupation other than fishing. However, in recent times, the situation has changed. Poverty and need have compelled many to move away from their ancestral occupations. Anyway, like these fishermen, there are also potters who, for generations, have continued making pots and pans for the villagers. There are weavers who weave clothes. There are blacksmiths who make axes and knives. There are goldsmiths, who, however, with the increasing price of gold and silver, have almost disappeared from the villages. From the earliest times, our villages have emerged as self-sufficient units. That is why all the occupations that serve the basic needs of its people could be found within the boundaries of the village. Like the maulvis in the mosques, Ayurvedic practitioners, doctors, and even ‘eyewitnesses’ who are prepared to appear in Court to give false statements in return for money. The failure to choose the right occupation or exposure to harmful guidance or lack of adequate opportunities can coerce some villagers into committing thefts and robberies. Presently, the villages have adopted primary-level education systems on a rudimentary scale. Owing to this, some half-asleep cane-wielders have also started imparting education to children. Some of the villagers have small shops. Some sell fruits and vegetables in the bazaars in and around the village. And if there are factories in the vicinity, we find muscular, able-bodied young men of the villages earn a little cash every month. If there are cities or suburbs nearby, many go there to sell their produce, while others sell milk, some work as maidservants, and yet others work as construction workers. With this, we can conclude a vivid account of the various occupations in our fictive village.
This essay by the prominent Bangladeshi writer, thinker and public intellectual Ahmed Chhafa was first published in Ganakantha on 22 July, 1980. The original Bangla text has been taken from Ahmed Chhafa Rachanabali (The Collected Works of Ahmed Chhafa).
[1] Open crematoriums by the river.
[2] Open-air enclosures usually reserved for offering prayers on Eid.
[3] Chhafa writes ‘300 families’ but consistently refers to the ‘30 family’ figure hereafter. Given that he previously states the village to comprise 200 families in total, this seems to be a printing error.
[4] Chhafa miscalculates this as ’40 acres per family’.
[5] The original text mentions ‘2 acres’, which does not add up in any of the calculations before and after the text: this in all probability was a printing error.
[6] The figure Chhafa offers here is ‘380 people’, whereas 90 and 180 add up to 270. This seems to have been a counting error on his part.
[7] Chhafa still operates with the erroneous ‘380 people’ figure and calculates the remaining population to be 1620 persons strong. He, however, is consistent with the ‘45 families’ (having six members each on average) account, which leaves us to conclude that 1730 is indeed the only possible accurate estimate here.
[8] Chhafa erroneously calculates this to be ‘a little more than half an acre of land’ per head here. Whether one takes the 1730 figure or the 1620 here, in both cases, the per capita land allotment cannot be anything but slightly less than half an acre.
[9] Chhafa provides the erroneous figure of ‘170 families’ in the original text.
[10] Sharecroppers, known variously as bargadars or adhiars.
[11] Tenure-holding farmers (that is owners of proprietary agricultural farms).
Lokayata 