One has to travel by boat for some hours, then take a Mahindra jeep, then walk thirty minutes to a few hours on the hill tracts, past muddy roads and steep slopes, to reach a para (neighbourhood) like the one Renu Aktar calls home. Three years ago, a family lived there, deprived of food, work, and any real purpose. That family was hers.
Renu had nothing to look forward to back then. She lacked food and had no work. Most days passed with her doing nothing, worrying about how her family would eat by nightfall.
Then something shifted. Renu received assistance of Tk 10,000. With this money, she bought a goat.
"This is not a loan," she says. "Finally, I bought a goat! I sold that goat and bought a boat. I also received seeds and plants to have vegetables in the yard and two more goats."
Today, Renu owns three goats, some chickens, and her own boat. Vegetables grow in her yard. Food is no longer a daily worry, and she talks now about growing her small business further, not just surviving it.
"I used to do nothing at all and have low self-esteem," she says. "Now, I have a purpose and a way forward to have a sustainable income for my family of three."
Renu is one of the 2,309 families whose lives have followed a similar arc across Rangamati Sadar. Behind that shift sits a project called PRLC, supported by the European Union and run by Manusher Jonno Foundation with ASHIKA in the Rangamati Sadar Upazila. However, the families rarely speak in those official terms. They speak in goats sold, ducks kept, honey jars filled.
Watching a hillside change, one family at a time: Himel Chakma has served as Karbari, the traditional village chief, in Kuramara para of Bandukbhanga Union for nineteen years. Few people know these hills as well as he does.
"There are many families I have seen dealing with poverty," he says. "One man had land and other resources but didn't know how to use them, so he was severely poor until he received both monetary support and training."
That man's fortune turned around.
"Now he earns more than 50 to 60 thousand taka per year from just vegetable earnings and bears his children's education fees and saves decently," Himel says.
The stories repeat themselves, each with its own twist. In Adarpahar of Sapchari Union, Rumi Aktar attended seven training sessions and received vegetable seeds along with two ducks. Her backyard now feeds her family and brings in a little extra.
"I sell vegetables and eggs two times a week, earning around TK 2,000," she says.
In Kainda para of Balukhali Union, Rupan Chakma turned a modest grant into a small business built on patience.
"With the training that I have received and Tk 7,210 as support, I started doing beekeeping and farming several types of Jhum vegetables and fruits. I earn around Tk 1,200 to Tk 1,500 from selling honey only."
In Kuramara para of Bandukbhanga union, Chandrajit Chakma once struggled to keep a broken house standing over his family of five. A grant of Tk 7,210 enabled him to buy a pig, which he later sold for around Tk 35,000.
"With that money, I fenced and repaired my house," he says.
"I received sunflower seeds from which I got 30 litres of oil. With that, I not only met my needs, but I also sold oil in the market, which gave me more money. I also received geo bags of ginger plants, which I grew and sold in the market."
In Dhaka, what value does Tk 7,000 carry? For an office-goer, it might be an average transport cost or a decent restaurant bill in Dhanmondi, but for them, this Tk 7,000 is a tool to shift their financial status. Tuhin Chakma, the assistant project manager of the PRLC, describes it as support for a transition.
"We gave grants to the 'poor' and 'extremely poor' people with which in most cases, they bought a goat. Within a year, they had five goats from one, which they sold to buy a cow, grow vegetables, and sell them in a market. That's how they overcame their condition from being poor to being out of poverty," he says.
Someone has to teach the teaching: A grant alone does not build a livelihood. Someone has to show a family how to use it, and that responsibility falls to people like Nalinimoy Chakma, a farmer facilitator of PRLC from Kaindapara.
"For more than 100 individuals across three paras (villages), my purpose is to train and share knowledge with our farmers about the crops they should grow, how they should grow them, and the ways to make them climate-resilient," he says.
He reminded the farmers to wear aprons before spraying pesticides, as they are harmful to the skin, and encouraged them to use clay pots to protect their chickens, reducing the need to fell trees for cane baskets.
"I am proud of what they learnt and achieved while making it sustainable," says Nalinimoy Chakma.
What the hills still need: Progress here comes with real limits, and local leaders talk about them openly. Amar Kumar Chakma, chairman of Balukhali Union Parishad, respects what his community has built under PRLC, even as he points to what still holds it back.
"I appreciate the collective effort and people's will to change their fate through entrepreneurial spirit despite having trouble with financial, safety and transportation issues," he says. "We have a very tiny yearly budget for the whole union, so a road can't be constructed alone, and this is damaging our potential."
Sudip Dewanjee, a livestock extension officer from the government of Bangladesh in Rangamati, agrees that the work will outlast the project itself.
"People perceive Rangamati Sadar Upazila as the municipality only, which is not true; it is vast and deep," he says. "So much so that after travelling for three hours on Kaptai, you will find some families and they will reach there; give them all the necessary support from animal vaccination to livelihood and nutritional support."
"People now know the importance of vaccinating their livestock animals," he says. "We, representing the government, are on our toes to carry forward the support."
A road worth walking again: One has to travel by boat for some hours, then may have to take a Mahindra jeep, then may have to walk thirty minutes to some hours on the hill tracts, from muddy roads to steep slopes, to reach a para where a handful of families live deprived of food, work, and the purpose of life mentioned at the beginning. To do something, to earn a little, one needs a purpose. The long journey from door to door, para to para, serves this purpose, showing how even a small investment can go a long way in writing a story of survival, resilience, and empowerment.
