Where will Mahesh escape?

The climate conference has begun at the Hangar Convention and Fair Center of the Amazon and the Waldemar Henrique Theater located in the City Park of Belém, Brazil. I am staying at a house called Barbosa in the city, along with representatives from twenty-four countries. It takes more than an hour by bus to reach the conference venue.

On the third day of the conference, 12 November, I met German Qaghay Sedoyeka from Tanzania on the bus. He is a representative of the pastoralist Datooga community. German asked about Bangladesh.

I told him about the vast pasturelands of Sirajganj and Pabna in South Asia—the Bathan grazing grounds. Hearing about the 1,600-acre Bathans (according to local estimates) that developed in the Jamuna Basin—about the death of the Gohala and Dhalai rivers, water scarcity, heatwaves, and the annual floods that submerge the Bathans—German placed his hand on the bus window and stared outside for a while. I told him that all the Bathan cows have names—after heroes and heroines from Bangla films. The cows understand the language of the herders, and the herders understand the cows.

German said that the Datooga indigenous people also understand the language of cows and sheep. This nomadic community, divided into ten clans, roams year-round with their herds. As a few elderly men were walking dogs by the roadside, the bus braked sharply, jolting us. German continued, saying that the Datooga can no longer live as pastoralists as before. Many young people are migrating to unfamiliar cities in search of work.

Day by day, “Roftai Manang” is increasing—it means drought and untimely rainfall.

Because of this, the Arusha region is facing “Gweyda,” meaning severe drought.

Every day, men, women, and children of the community walk about 15 kilometers to fetch water—it takes them six to seven hours. German said that they cannot keep the cows without giving them water as they are like family.

The bus arrived, and we got off. At the entrance to the conference venue, as always, vegan activists were silently protesting against animal-based food. Their banners read: “Multinational meat production is responsible for climate change. Animals are our friends, not food.”

While passing through the security check, German said that there is no discussion about cows or sheep in the climate conference, as if they are outside the crisis. But animals and our lives are intertwined.  Some people’s livelihoods depend on livestock, while others stand against corporate animal-based food with logic and evidence.

I wondered—will the countless complex questions and debates from around the world ever find equal space on the climate stage?

I spoke with Musa Usama Damba, Vice President of the Ambascuda Network, which works with farmers and pastoralists in Cameroon.
During an evening conversation on the second day of the conference, 11 November, Damba said their coalition includes 30 small and large organisations—all representing rural farmers and nomadic herders. Damba’s home is in Singa village of the Chefi Koulbang area, inhabited by the Mbororo people. The Mbororo are not completely nomadic; they stay in villages during the rainy season with their herds. In earlier times, summer lasted from November to March, with peak heat in February and March.

From late November through December, villagers used to embark on their annual “Jeterde” journey with their herds. Before each Jeterde, elders used to forecast the weather—studying the stars and wind patterns to determine when to set out and when to return.

They could predict rainfall. But the weather has become unpredictable now. Temperatures are rising unbelievably, and rainfall no longer follows any pattern. It now rains before they return from Jeterde. And because of drought, sources of fodder are shrinking. Milk and meat production are decreasing. Income is falling. Social conflict is rising. Many youths are leaving their herds behind to seek livelihoods in distant, unknown cities.
Hearing about the changing Jeterde journey of the Mbororo reminded me of Bangladesh’s seasonal Bathan herders or the Bede–Mangta nomadic communities, whose own annual journeys of exile have also changed drastically. In those journeys, it is not only the death of land and rivers but also the scars of climate crisis that are visible.

Across Bangladesh, pasturelands are disappearing. The Bathans of Shahjadpur, the Gopat of Dekhar Haor in Sunamganj, and the grazing fields of Ichakhali Char in Mirsarai, Chattogram—all are endangered. To flooding, salinity, and erosion have now been added government decisions to build universities and economic zones. In the coastal chars of Bhola and Noakhali, the movement and migration cycles of buffaloes are changing. Globally, there is still no effective decision to address the climate impacts on livestock.

For the first time, Bangladesh’s Ministry of Fisheries and Livestock participated in the climate conference. On 4 November, they organised a preparatory workshop at SIRDAP Auditorium in Dhaka. At the workshop, the ministry’s adviser Farida Akhter said, “We must present not only our vulnerabilities but also Bangladesh’s strengths to the world. All ministries and sectors together can play a role for the country at COP.”

Although Bangladesh has the resilience to survive adverse climates, its native livestock diversity—like its grazing lands—has vanished. Hybrid cows confined in farms now dominate meat and milk supply. Livestock deaths due to lightning strikes are increasing.

The traditional herding system has disappeared from villages. In Satkhira, once famous for milk-based sweets, not a handful of grass can be found anywhere due to salinity. Heatwaves are causing new animal diseases to emerge continuously. Due to rising temperatures, Bangladesh’s famous fish habitats are also being affected.

The environment and timing for fish spawning are changing. According to Bangladesh’s Eighth Five-Year Plan, by 2024–25 the Livestock Ministry aims to produce 4.992 million metric tons of fish, 16.36 million metric tons of milk, 8.51 million metric tons of meat, and 22.393 billion eggs. How vocal will Bangladesh be in discussions on climate shocks, financing, local adaptation, animal welfare, or non-economic loss and damage in achieving these targets?

As part of its national emission reduction strategy, Bangladesh’s Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC) report pledges a “just transition.” But is a just transition in livestock possible without prioritising native species, Bathans, safe natural fodder, or rural women’s traditional management systems? Or will multinational corporate livestock trade continue in the name of achieving “targets”?

At a session titled “From Pledge to Practice: Delivering Climate Finance in Vulnerable Situations” held on 11 November in the Blue Zone, Pieternel Boogaard, a representative of IFAD (International Fund for Agricultural Development), emphasised financing for local communities’ traditional adaptation.

On 12 November, several discussions took place on agriculture, global adaptation goals, and just transition in the energy sector. At the Food and Agriculture Pavilion, discussions focused on maintaining natural methods to increase soil carbon, agroecology, farmer capacity, forest restoration, effective forecasting, supporting small and marginal farmers, and the use of digital technology in agriculture. At a session organised by the Commonwealth on 12 November, Ruleta Camacho Thomas, climate envoy of the Prime Minister of Antigua and Barbuda, called for ensuring climate finance as soon as possible. Rwanda’s Environment Minister Dr Bernadette Arakwiye stressed the importance of mobilising internal financing by focusing on local innovation.

Mukhtar Babayev, Minister of Ecology and Natural Resources of Azerbaijan and President of the last COP-29 held in Baku, said that the financing process must be inclusive, gender-sensitive, indigenous and community-based, and people-centered. Gianni Laan Hing Poo, Secretary of the Ministry of Environment, Solid Waste Management, and Climate Change of Mauritius, said, “Just transition is not only an environmental issue—it is linked to social justice and economics. Local adaptation strategies should receive the highest priority.”

While refilling water from a jar into the conference-issued bottle, I met Fanuel Operi Murangi, a farmer of the Bandero indigenous community from Omaheke region in eastern Namibia. In this part of the Kalahari Desert, droughts and bushfires are increasing, making livestock rearing increasingly difficult.

Returning by bus at night, I remembered Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s story Mahesh—the farmer Gafur, his daughter Amina, and their cow Mahesh. The cruel village landlord had sold off their grazing land. Mahesh had no field, no food. Floods and drought worsened Gafur’s plight. In anger and despair, he killed Mahesh and left the village to work at a mill in the city.

Across the world, Gafurs, Aminas, and Maheshes still stand. Colonialism, inequality, and the arrogance of power persist in new forms. To these are added unfamiliar climate shocks every day. Gafurs may find ways to flee—but in the human-made world, where will Maheshes escape? Will there ever be an answer to that on humanity’s climate stage?