PICS: KONG YEN LIN

The heat and glare in the white sand flats of the Kosi's floodplain is overpowering. Nearly one year after the river suddenly changed course and just before the monsoon starts up again, the misery of 60,000 displaced in Sunsari continues.

After the embankment was plugged earlier this year and the Kosi sent back to its former course, what used to be fertile fields here have turned into desert. The displaced live like refugees in tent cities.

In one of them in Paschim Kusaha a group of 20 women, all cradling babies, are huddled in a maternity tent run by charities. Despite the help, the conditions are terrible.

"When the wind blows, sand gets into our eyes and babies have eye infections," says Naju Katun, who named her six-month-old son Sibir Ansari, after the camp he was born in. "Every breath we take or food we eat, sand gets into our mouths."

It doesn't help that the settlement area lies parallel to the highway where frequent bandas occur and where there is constant exposure to tear gas. Last month the Kosi Victims Struggle Committee staged a week-long blockade of the East-West Highway to protest delayed relief.

The mothers, mainly Madhesi and Muslim, struggle against poor living conditions and risky deliveries. When born, babies have to survive not just the harsh desert-like environment but also pneumonia, dehydration, malnutrition and diarrhoea. The nearest hospital is 25km away and it takes a day through ruined roads, when they are not closed by strikes.

Official records show 42,000 locals and 11,000 Indian nationals were displaced when the Kosi breached its embankments on 18 August last year.

BORN INTO A CRISIS: Children born during or after the Kosi floods with their mothers in a temporary maternity shelter. Each mother receives a bottle of baby massage oil, an apple and a packet of biscuit a day, but that's about it. Every drop of fresh water is precious in the desert camps.

While most have already returned home, there are 1,240 households still remaining in the 12 camps, with half of them landless. The distribution process of government relief is slow and sporadic. One year later, only an estimated 10 per cent of flood affected households have received help.

Others remain jobless, facing even greater poverty and destitution than they experienced before the flood.
"Plans? I have no plans for the future. Without money and regular income everything is impossible," says Naju Katun, who used to work as a farm labourer before the flood swept away her farm.

"There's nothing at all to look forward to," adds Ruksana Khatun. She is ineligible for the Food-for-Work scheme.
But elsewhere, the displaced are trying to rebuild their lives. Hadis Miya, 33, from Sripur counts himself fortunate to be able to receive the return package. The father of five lost his own father in the flood, and now lives with seven surviving family members in a wooden house off Paschim Kusaha.

"It's so hard to start anew, each time we try to move on something gets in the way," says Hadis, whose provision shop was taken over by protesters during a banda, "I just hope my children have access to basic education facilities and won't have to continue suffering."

SEE ALSO
Stolen children - FROM ISSUE #452 (22 MAY 2009 - 28 MAY 2009)
Where the buffalos used to roam - FROM ISSUE #452 (22 MAY 2009 - 28 MAY 2009)
Silver lining? - FROM ISSUE #452 (22 MAY 2009 - 28 MAY 2009)