Climate change keeps destroying my home. So I bought one I can move.

Climate change has already washed away my family’s home twice. The only reason we still have one today is because we can take it with us.

Piyas Biswas

1 hour ago
July 27, 2026

9 min read

Climate

Mohammad Sumon Mridha stands with his wife, Hena Begum, and their 3-year-old son, Rabbi, in front of their movable wooden-and-tin home in Louhajang Upazila, Munshiganj, Bangladesh. After losing their land to repeated river erosion, the family now lives on rented land along the banks of the Padma River.

Journalist’s notes

Piyas Biswas, July 2026

Interview subject:

Mohammad Sumon Mridha, 30, now lives on the banks of the Padma River in Lohajang Upazila of Munshiganj district, about 50 kilometers (31 miles) south of Dhaka, where he rents a small plot of land with his wife, Hena Begum, 22, and their 3-year-old son, Rabbi. A fisherman, his life was once very different. Born and raised on Jhautya Char, a river island in the Padma, Sumon was a farmer who cultivated rice and vegetables on his own land, raised cattle and supported his family through agriculture.

Forced to abandon one river island after another, he eventually dismantled his wooden-and-tin house and transported it by boat before the river could swallow it.

Today, he lives in a traditional movable house that can be dismantled and relocated within a few hours whenever the river threatens again. Although he now lives on rented land, the house provides his family with a rare sense of security in an uncertain landscape. If the Padma erodes the land once more, they may lose the ground beneath their feet, but the family can at least take their home with them.

Background information:

Bangladesh is on the frontline of the global climate crisis. Every year, floods, cyclones and river erosion reshape the country’s landscape, forcing hundreds of thousands of families to leave their homes. According to the International Organization for Migration, nearly 4.96 million people in Bangladesh are living in internal displacement linked to natural hazards.

The Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre estimates that natural disasters displace around 700,000 people every year, and Bangladesh has consistently ranked among the Top 5 countries with the highest levels of disaster-related displacement globally. Looking ahead, the World Bank projects that by 2050, one in seven Bangladeshis could be displaced by climate-related impacts.

For millions of people living along the country’s riverbanks, home is no longer a permanent place but something that needs to be as mobile as people to be able to respond as the rivers change course.

Against this backdrop, the district of Munshiganj, south of Dhaka, has quietly developed a remarkable local solution. For nearly five decades, artisans and carpenters have been building prefabricated wooden and tin houses designed to be dismantled, transported and rebuilt.

Originally developed for families living in erosion-prone areas along the Padma River, these movable homes allow residents to relocate without losing their entire investment whenever the river claims their land. Today, the industry has grown into one of Bangladesh’s most distinctive traditional crafts, with more than 150 workshops and house markets producing homes that are sold nationwide.

Unlike conventional concrete buildings, every component of these houses is built separately. Walls, roofs, doors, windows, floors, staircases and structural frames are handcrafted in workshops before being assembled on-site. When necessary, each section can be carefully dismantled, loaded onto trucks or boats, transported to a new location, and reconstructed within two to four days.

This modular design makes the houses particularly attractive not only for erosion-affected communities but also for people seeking affordable housing, temporary settlements, tourism cottages and eco-resorts.

The houses are built primarily from Nigerian ironwood, teak, mahogany and locally sourced timber, combined with corrugated steel sheets for roofing and walls. The structural frames are designed to withstand Bangladesh’s humid climate while allowing natural ventilation, keeping interiors cooler than many concrete buildings during the hot season.

Construction typically requires five to seven skilled carpenters and takes eight to 10 days for a standard single-story home, while larger two- or three-story houses require around three weeks to complete. Prices generally range from $1,000 to $10,000 in U.S. dollars for standard homes, while custom-designed multifloored residences and resort cottages can cost considerably more.

Beyond providing shelter, this industry supports thousands of livelihoods. Entire local economies revolve around the production of these homes, including carpenters, wood traders, sawmills, tin suppliers, transport workers and designers. Tradespeople travel from across Bangladesh to learn the specialized techniques that have been passed down through generations in Munshiganj.

Meanwhile, demand continues to grow as buyers from climate-vulnerable districts, expanding towns, and tourism destinations purchase these houses for both practical and commercial purposes.

I was born and raised on Jhautya Char (a char is a sandy river island). Back then, it only cost five taka (four U.S. pennies) to cross the river by boat. My father was a farmer, and when I grew up, I became a farmer too. We had two houses, one a more traditional home, and in 2016, we bought one that is designed to be portable. Around them, we had many kinds of trees, including mango, jujube and jackfruit.

During the monsoon season, flooding and river erosion were common on the char. One year — it was 2018 or 2019, I was still a teenager, it’s all a blur now — the river rose so quickly that even the jackfruit tree beside our houses collapsed.

The river erosion was very severe. We did believe our traditional home would survive that day, but the river had other plans. The riverbank collapsed, and it was washed away. My father and I were not prepared for it even as it had been raining heavily all day.

Around 2,000 families lived on that char.

Watching everything disappear is heartbreaking. Only someone who has experienced river erosion knows how painful it is.

A new char, and another battle with climate change

After the first char slipped into the river, my parents and I took our portable home and moved to the nearby Majhikandi Char, where we lived for about six or seven years. I married my wife while living there.

But that char wasn’t immune to floods and river erosion either, and last year we had to leave again.

When the rains first came and flooding was evident, we had built a platform attached to the roof of the house. We lived there and even cooked our meals there. We had to. The torrents had claimed our kitchen. We were hoping to ride it out.

But eventually the water inside our house reached as high as my neck. We had no choice but to take the house apart.

Once again, I had tried everything I could to stay, but once again, it was impossible. It brought me to tears.

My wife, my parents and I stood in neck-deep water and rain while disassembling the house and loading it onto a boat. We spent the whole day soaked. I was shivering from the cold. Some parts of the house, such as the side walls, were damaged, but we were able to repair them later.

After moving the house across the river, we could hardly sleep that night because, paradoxically, we were so exhausted.

I remember that as we were dismantling our house, another one nearby was already collapsing into the river. I felt for that family. When river erosion begins, you simply don’t have the chance to help anyone else. At that moment, I had to choose whether to save my own house and belongings or help other people.

Many houses were washed away that day. Even our tube well, the metal pipe bored into the ground that supplied us our water, disappeared into the river.

After losing my own land, I am now living on someone else’s. It is very difficult: Three families now share a very small plot of land, whereas on the char, a single family had much more space to call its own.

Still, we are in the same home. We were able to re-create our kitchen. This type of movable house is very useful. It is small and can be dismantled quickly. If five to seven people work together, they can take the whole house apart within two or three hours and move it somewhere else.

My parents and I bought this house about 10 years ago for 50,000 taka ($406). We saw many of our neighbors buying this type of house, and that inspired us to buy one too. We are grateful for the investment.

Life today

After the flooding last year, we rented a small piece of land and settled here during the Bengali month of Boishakh (April-May).

Our first night was very difficult. We managed somehow to place the roof over us and slept on the bare ground underneath. It rained throughout the night, and we got soaked.

Growing up, we knew that during Boishakh — its first day is our New Year’s Day — heavy rain, storms and floods were common. We had lived with them since childhood. Now they seem more fierce and more common.

The flooding not only changes the course of the rivers, it changes our lives. I’ve traded working the land to working the river. Now I am a fisherman to support my family.

Although it is not our land, it would still hurt if this place were washed away by the river, to have to move all over again. But losing our previous spot was even more painful because that land belonged to us. We farmed crops, raised cattle and grew vegetables.

Now there is very little work. We struggle to survive. I worry about how I will be able to educate my son.

Despite the switch to fishing, even the catch is small. On a good day, I sell around 500 taka ($4.05) worth of fish, but some days I catch nothing at all. I earn only about 10,000 to 12,000 taka ($81.05 to $97.26) a month.

Mohammad Sumon Mridha poses for a portrait with his wife, Hena Begum, and their son on the banks of the Padma River in Louhajang Upazila, Munshiganj, Bangladesh.

For families like ours who do not own land, this movable house is a great advantage. We have rented this plot for three years. If, after those three years, the landowner asks us to leave, we can dismantle our house and move it somewhere else to start yet again.

That, at least, would be a more understandable kind of eviction than the one climate change forces upon us.