Haldar, a meticulously dressed widow of about 50, had at least had some inkling of what was to come. She'd watched as the nearby Sundarbans, a vast mangrove forest that flanks the village, had retreated, its trees looking increasingly weedy. She'd noted how the water appeared to draw strength from the forest's weakness. The only surprise, Haldar insisted, is that the village's earthworks held out for so long. "The trees defended us, but we treated them very badly," she said. "So now we are all suffering the consequences."
哈爾達是個寡婦,今年50歲,總是穿戴的很整齊,對于即將發(fā)生的事,她心里多少有數(shù)。她看過孫德爾本斯上那片廣袤的守衛(wèi)著村子側(cè)翼的紅樹林是怎樣逐漸退去的,因為那些樹變得越來越瘦弱。她也知道那些水流是怎樣帶走了樹木的生命力。唯一令哈爾達感到驚訝的是,村子居然堅持了這么久。她說:“那些樹保護了我們,但我們并沒有善待他們。所以我們現(xiàn)在就要承擔后果?!?/p>
In Bangladesh and the neighboring Indian state of West Bengal, there are thousands of villages like East Dhangmari -- places that are losing their natural defenses against climate change just as it is intensifying. The land is paper-flat and crisscrossed by rivers bulging with meltwater from the Himalaya. Cyclones frequently roar in off the Bay of Bengal, sometimes killing thousands. Flooding is pervasive.
在孟加拉國和鄰近的印度西孟加拉邦,有成千上萬個東當馬里一樣的村子--在氣候變化加劇的時代,它們卻在逐漸失去自己的天然屏障。那里地形平坦,其上十字形交錯著喜馬拉雅山上融化的雪水匯成的河流。颶風時常從孟加拉灣席卷過來,有時會造成上千人的死亡。隨之而來的就是肆虐的洪水。