Faith Under Water: A Gripping True Account of Flooding Disasters and Escaping Slavery and Organized Crime in Dhaka, Bangladesh: True stories of climate change refugees, #1

By Luke. G. Dahl

Thoroughly gripping and painfully heartbreaking, Faith Under Water is a powerful chronicle of a family's determination to never give up despite setbacks, terrible losses and betrayal after a series of catastrophic floods in Bangladesh.

Filled with suffering, hardship and with the ghost of a dead sister lost to the flood hanging heavy on their psyches, the Samad family were close to breaking point, but Ahmed, being a traditionally minded Muslim father, was obstinate. He was finally convinced to depart with his family for greener pastures in the city of Dhaka, but another wave of flooding delayed their exodus.

All wasn't smooth sailing on the way to Dhaka. Robbed and captured by a gang of bandits, the Samad family are unable to escape the cycle of incessant tragedies that has become their curse. Brought to the stronghold of a criminal organization to serve as "helpers," the family quickly adjusts in order to survive. After managing to escape slavery, they finally manage to arrive in Dhaka, but the cold, hard reality of life on the run had one final, painful lesson to teach young Azam.

Faith Under Water is a poignant true account of shattered dreams and soul-crushing despair from the award-winning author of the Daddy's Curse Series.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedenheim Publishing
• Release date: Mar 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9789151901145

Luke. G. Dahl

Luke Dahl was born in Sri Lanka but grew up in Stockholm after being adopted by his Swedish parents. Following high school, he went on to study at University in Brisbane, Australia, where he achieved a degree in Business/Travel and Tourism. Today, he is back living in Stockholm, where he works for SpaceVR as CFO. Luke has always had a love of writing and for poetry in particular, winning a competition a couple of years. Now he spends a lot of his free time writing scripts, perfecting his art.  When he has time to relax, he enjoys going out with friends and seeing his family. He also loves to travel whenever possible and is involved in charity work through his family, constantly reminded by the Dalai Lama quote - 'Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.'  In the future it is Luke's burning ambition to trek to Mount Everest's base camp and perhaps even attempt to climb the mountain itself one day.

Book preview

Faith Under Water

Floods Of Our Lives

BASED ON TRUE EVENTS

Luke. G. Dahl

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

THIS IS OUR LIFE

CHAPTER TWO

DECISION IS MADE

CHAPTER THREE

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

CHAPTER FOUR

PLAN GOES AWRY

CHAPTER FIVE

NEW GOLAM

CHAPTER SIX

WHAT LURKS IN THE SHADOWS?

CHAPTER SEVEN

LEAVE OR STAY?

CHAPTER EIGHT

RUBICON

CHAPTER NINE

BASIRAT

CHAPTER TEN

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Daddy’s Curse

CHAPTER ONE

THIS IS OUR LIFE

I opened my eyes. On yet another day on the eleventh year of my life, I slept and woke up with fear and uncertainty. That was not something unusual in this village. I turned to my left to check on Saleeha and saw she was fast asleep. I was grateful that she still got to sleep soundly without the same level of fear and worry that the rest of us had. She was just eight years old, after all. Noticing the book I had been reading when I nodded off, I closed it and kept it with the others. As usual, Abdul had already woken up, probably already on his way to the river to catch some fish as he and father sometimes did. Ever since he turned fourteen, though, Papa had suggested he start going alone as it would toughen him up and prepare him for the physical issues being a man entailed. Unlike Abdul, I was not physically gifted. Sure, I was able to do several physically-tasking duties, but I always got tired pretty quickly, and even my productivity was never anywhere near as good as Abdul's or Papa’s. My gift had always been my brain, which was why I read books extensively. Thanks to Ali, the wandering merchant who passed by once a month with great books, textiles and other exotic materials from far away countries, I had learned about different cultures and the like. Even though I had never been as far as even Dhaka, I had already accrued knowledge from other continents solely based on their stories, both fictional and real. This enabled me to school myself and help the family in a different kind of way than what was usually expected of he men or even the women of the house. Papa was not too happy with my lack of work ethic and preference to stay at home and read or work for shorter hours, but Mama convinced him otherwise. Mama was always supportive of my reading and learning more, especially since the harsh conditions surfaced. Thanks to my efforts, Saleeha had begun showing an interest in reading as well, which was very important since we could no longer go to school after the floods started. We had had one school in our village, but that was destroyed now.

The floods had been the cause of almost every bad thing in our lives. Before these disasters, Ishwaripur, the village I call home, was a place known for its harmonious living, strong communities and historical heritage. Our town was also somewhat of a mini tourist center due to the number of temples and religious buildings built long ago that could be found there. From the map of Bangladesh I got for free from Ali last year, I could tell our village was in a region known as Shyamnagar Upazila and located at the southern part of the Satkhira District. We were pretty far away from most of the big cities, with the nearest being Basirat. We were, however, closer to the Ichimati River, now known as the Kadamtali Canal, which was good and aided our trade with other towns, villages, and cities in Bangladesh. Our benefit soon turned to our worst nightmare, though, as the waters began to rise. My brother had noticed this a few weeks before disaster struck and told Papa in passing, but neither of them thought it was a big deal. They were both soon made to rue that decision because the rising sea levels all culminated in a terrible catastrophe five years ago.

I stopped thinking about such bad memories and stood up from my bed. I could see through our window that the sun had not yet come up and dawn was fast approaching, so it must be quite early in the morning. Checking on Saleeha once more, I heard her still snoring lightly. I went to the sitting room and saw the time on the clock was 6:01 a.m. As I was about to leave the house to get water for my Salat that morning, Papa came out from his and Mama's room. He had woken up surprisingly late.

Good morning, Papa, I greeted.

Good morning, Azam, Papa replied. He had the same frown as he always had for the past five years. Are you going to get water for your morning Subh? he asked with unusual interest, and I nodded. Subh was the name given to our morning Salat prayers as practicing Muslims, but I always found it hard to pronounce that word, which was why I preferred using Salat for them all. It was also called Fair prayer.

While you are at it, place some water on the fire for your mother. She is not feeling too well, Papa said, making me grow concerned.

Is she alright?

I just told you, she is not feeling well, Papa repeated himself a bit more forcefully. Did he not get that was something people usually asked?

I meant what is wrong with her? I clarified.

Then why did you not just say that from the beginning? Papa was more irritable today than usual. Anyway, go place the water on the fire before going for your Subh and do not forget to put her in your prayers. When you are done, bring the water to the room.

Okay, Papa.

I take it Abdul has already prayed his Subh and gone to the river? he inquired. I was not sure if Abdul had prayed his Salat or gone directly to the river, but those were both safe bets to assume.

I presume so, Papa.

I have told you to stop using those large words with me. What does presume mean? Papa sniped, clearly annoyed at the use of a word he did not understand.

Presume means assume, Papa, I explained. I am sorry. I will try harder.

Papa sighed after my apology and rubbed his forehead with his finger. To me, he should be happy he had someone from whom to learn English. I did not know if it was a matter of pride or just a hatred for English, but I did not see the reason in refusing to learn new words. Instead, he was kind of banning me from using certain words he did not understand. Ahmed Salam was a hard man to convince or sway from his beliefs. A devout Muslim, he even considered taking the role of Muezzin after the former one was killed by the flood when he was going back home. The Muezzin was the person who does a call for prayer for our community by shouting at the top of his voice for us to wake up and pray our Subh. Papa was the only reason we had not left Ishwaripur. While many people left the flooded lowland plains of our village for the capital, Dhaka, my father had decided against it, choosing to stay in his hometown instead.

Maybe I should try and learn these words, Papa mused, much to my surprise, as I was headed out the door to make a fire. You could teach me sometime? he asked softly. This was the coolest