Features | Society | South Asia

Why Bangladeshi Villagers Are Worried About the Iran-US War

Though located around 5,000 kilometers away from the Persian Gulf, rural Bangladesh has a major stake in the conflict.

Mohammad Azaharul Islam watches war-related news on an online news portal while sitting outside his home in Bamonghona village, Gazipur district, Bangladesh.

Around a month ago, rice planting was completed across the fields of Bamonghona, a village in Kaliakair upazila in Bangladesh’s Gazipur district. Though the village is not far from the capital Dhaka in terms of distance, in many ways it still feels far removed from the country’s basic facilities. There is still no proper paved road connecting the village to the local market, making access to medical care, education, and other essential services difficult, especially during the rainy season.

Now, as the fields fill with paddy, corn, lemons, and seasonal vegetables waiting to be harvested, life in the village has entered a slower period. Farmers are less busy for the moment, and many elderly men spend their afternoons at tea stalls or sitting in courtyard gatherings, passing time in conversation.

But recently, their conversations have not been about crops, weather, or local politics. Instead, the talk is about war.

“Wad Netanyahu killed?”

“When will the war stop?” 

“Today Iran did amazing with their bombings.” 

“Who knows what will happen to Bangladesh’s oil price?”

These snippets of conversation drift through the village air. From small tea stalls to courtyard gatherings, from roadside benches to a few old men sitting alone under trees, each one holding a Chinese smartphone connected to a weak but functioning 3/4G network. The war they are talking about is not in Bangladesh. It is happening nearly 5,000 kilometers away, in the Middle East. Yet in villages like Bamonghona, the war feels strangely close.

In the same village, Mohammad Azaharul Islam sat on the balcony of his house, holding a smartphone and watching war updates on a Bengali news portal on YouTube. The video showed missiles, smoke, and breaking news banners about Iran, Israel, and the United States.

Like many families in rural Bangladesh, Azaharul’s household depends heavily on income from abroad. His eldest son works in Singapore. His younger son, Rakib Hossain, works at a petrol filling station in Riyadh, where he has been employed since December 2023.

Rakib had returned home on two-and-a-half months’ leave to celebrate Eid-ul-Fitr and get married. His return flight to Riyadh is scheduled for April 14, 2026. But this time, his visit home was overshadowed by news of war.

“It has become a new tension,” Rakib told The Diplomat. “I already work 365 days a year, 12 hours a day. I thought Saudi people were kind, but I found the reality to be different. At the petrol pump, it often happens that after filling the tank, some people just drive away without paying. Then I have to pay that bill myself. I earn only about 50,000 taka a month.”

He said he was preparing for another two-year contract, hoping to save enough money to move to another country, perhaps Singapore or Malaysia.

“If my company is affected by the conflict and sends me back [to Bangladesh], it will not be a total loss because I have already recovered the money I spent to go to Saudi Arabia,” he said. “But the hard work I am doing, I need to save a good amount of money so that I can move somewhere better.”

Pictured here in front of his house, Rakib Hossain, who has been working in Saudi Arabia since 2023, is currently on a two-and-a-half-month leave and is scheduled to return on April 14, 2026. Photo by Saqlain Rizve.

For Azaharul Islam and his wife, the war is not a distant event playing out on a phone screen. Rather it has become a constant source of anxiety that now lives inside their home.

“We heard that a few Bangladeshis have already been killed,” Azaharul said. “I have only two sons. Both live abroad and work very hard. They have wives and children. We are always worried about them. But we also cannot tell them not to go, because there are very few income opportunities here. Farming does not pay well now, and garment jobs pay very little.”

He said sending his sons abroad required enormous financial risk.

“In 2012, I sent my first son to Singapore by spending almost 10 lakh (one million) taka. But he had to return several times because of job problems. Then in 2023, I sent my second son to Saudi Arabia by spending around 700,000 taka. Because of them, we can live a little better in this village. Who knows how long this conflict will continue? The bombing is happening around Saudi Arabia, which is very frightening.”

Stories like Azaharul Islam’s are not limited to one village. Across rural Bangladesh, millions of families depend on income from relatives working abroad, particularly in the Middle East. 

Around 7 million Bangladeshis currently live and work in Middle Eastern countries. Saudi Arabia hosts the largest number, with around 3.5 million Bangladeshis, who remit $5 billion annually back to their home country. Bangladeshi workers began joining the Saudi Arabia labor market since the 1970s and now make up the largest expatriate community there.

Behind Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates has around 850,000 Bangladeshi migrant workers. Qatar hosts around 400,000, Kuwait 350,000-400,000, Oman more than 700,000, and Bahrain more than 100,000. Most of them work in construction, transport, cleaning, restaurants, retail shops, and petrol stations – jobs that are physically demanding, low-paid, and often insecure. Yet for many rural families, these jobs remain the most reliable path to financial stability.

The money these workers send home has reshaped rural Bangladesh over the past two decades. In 2025, Bangladesh received more than $30 billion in remittances, much of it from the Middle East. This money builds houses, pays for education, supports elderly parents, funds small businesses, and keeps village economies running. 

In many villages, the difference between a tin-roof house and a concrete building is remittance money. The difference between a child staying in school or dropping out often depends on money sent from the Middle East. In this way, the Middle East has become deeply connected to the everyday life of rural Bangladesh.

Over the past few decades, overseas migration from Bangladesh has developed its own geography. Certain districts, such as Cumilla, Chattogram, Brahmanbaria, Tangail, and Dhaka, built long-standing connections with labor markets in the Middle East and Southeast Asia. Through family networks, recruiting agents, and community connections, these districts gradually became important gateways to overseas employment, linking many rural communities to the global labor market.

Cumilla alone sent 964,000 workers, followed by Chittagong with 726,000, Brahmanbaria with 493,000, Tangail with 443,000, and Dhaka district with 404,000. Chandpur, Noakhali, Narsingdi, Munshiganj, and Feni complete the top ten.

There are 16 districts among 64 in the country that sent more than 200,000 workers abroad over the past 15 years, showing how strongly overseas migration has been shaped by a relatively small number of regions. In many of these districts, going abroad for work has become a common life decision, often influenced by relatives, neighbors, and local recruitment networks that have developed over time.

Behind these district-level numbers are villages where migration has quietly reshaped everyday life over two generations. In many villages in Cumilla, Tangail, Sylhet, or Brahmanbaria, it is common to find several members of the same family working abroad. A tin roof replaced by concrete, a family debt repaid – often these changes are made possible by a son or brother working in Riyadh, Dubai, or Muscat. 

Over the last decade, Gulf money has quietly changed village life in Bangladesh. Tin-shed houses have become concrete buildings, even in villages where roads are still not properly paved. Photo by Saqlain Rizve.

Over the past decade, another major change has brought global events even closer to rural life: the smartphone. Even in villages without paved roads, smartphones are now common. Many homes own a smartphone to watch YouTube news, follow Facebook posts, and discuss international politics in tea stalls. Through the mobile internet, global conflict now arrives in real time.

These villages may lack reliable infrastructure, but they do not lack information. News of missile strikes, oil prices, and political speeches travels quickly through Facebook videos and YouTube channels. Many villagers also communicate regularly with relatives abroad through IMO or WhatsApp, receiving firsthand updates about conditions in the Middle Eastern countries.

As a result, global politics is no longer something discussed only in capitals or universities. It is talked about in village tea stalls and courtyard gatherings.

Religion and identity shape how many people in rural Bangladesh see conflicts in the Middle East. Issues such as Palestine, the role of the United States in the region, and broader Muslim world politics are widely – often emotionally – discussed, as about 91 percent of the population are Muslims. Social media, which has become the primary source of news for many rural residents, often amplifies these emotional responses, mixing news, opinion, and rumor in ways that make distant conflicts feel personal.

But beyond emotion and identity, the very practical concern is the economy and the safety of lives. According to the Bangladesh government, at least five Bangladeshi migrant workers have already been killed in missile and drone attacks in different Middle Eastern countries since the conflict began, and several others have been injured. 

In villages like Bamonghona, many families have loved ones working in the Middle East. So when people here watch news of missile attacks in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, or Qatar, they are not idly browsing distant international news. They are watching the reports because someone from their own family may be there.

Moreover, conflict in the Middle East often leads to rising oil prices. For Bangladesh, which imports most of its fuel, higher oil prices mean higher transport costs, higher fertilizer costs, and eventually higher food prices. This affects everyone, but especially rural households, where incomes are already uncertain.

In this way, a missile launched in the Middle East can eventually influence the price of rice in a Bangladeshi village market.

“We don’t understand much about politics, but we understand the connection in simple terms,” said Shakhawat Miah, a 43-year-old migrant worker in the UAE from Nolua village in Sakhipur upazila of Tangail, speaking to The Diplomat over the phone. “War means oil prices increase. When oil prices increase, everything becomes expensive. And if the Middle East becomes unstable, we may lose our jobs or be forced to return home. Already the money we earn and send home is losing value year by year.”

“We are hearing that there has already been a lot of damage in the UAE. If the conflict continues for another month, who knows what will happen to us. It feels very anxious to sleep at night. Who knows when a bomb may come and kill us. Already, someone from my area in Bangladesh has been killed in Saudi Arabia,” he added.

The concern in villages across Bangladesh is not really about military strategy or international diplomacy. It is about livelihood, family, and survival.

Rural villages in Bangladesh do not appear on most maps of global politics. They have poor roads, limited healthcare access, and weak internet signals. But every afternoon, men gather around small smartphone screens and discuss missiles, presidents, and oil prices. They talk about Iran, Israel, the United States, and Saudi Arabia – places most of them have never been, but which shape their lives in very real ways.

The Middle East is far from this village in geographical distance, but not in reality. Millions of families here depend on someone working in the Gulf region. So when war starts there, the worry starts here.

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Around a month ago, rice planting was completed across the fields of Bamonghona, a village in Kaliakair upazila in Bangladesh’s Gazipur district. Though the village is not far from the capital Dhaka in terms of distance, in many ways it still feels far removed from the country’s basic facilities. There is still no proper paved road connecting the village to the local market, making access to medical care, education, and other essential services difficult, especially during the rainy season.

Now, as the fields fill with paddy, corn, lemons, and seasonal vegetables waiting to be harvested, life in the village has entered a slower period. Farmers are less busy for the moment, and many elderly men spend their afternoons at tea stalls or sitting in courtyard gatherings, passing time in conversation.

But recently, their conversations have not been about crops, weather, or local politics. Instead, the talk is about war.

“Wad Netanyahu killed?”

“When will the war stop?” 

“Today Iran did amazing with their bombings.” 

“Who knows what will happen to Bangladesh’s oil price?”

These snippets of conversation drift through the village air. From small tea stalls to courtyard gatherings, from roadside benches to a few old men sitting alone under trees, each one holding a Chinese smartphone connected to a weak but functioning 3/4G network. The war they are talking about is not in Bangladesh. It is happening nearly 5,000 kilometers away, in the Middle East. Yet in villages like Bamonghona, the war feels strangely close.

In the same village, Mohammad Azaharul Islam sat on the balcony of his house, holding a smartphone and watching war updates on a Bengali news portal on YouTube. The video showed missiles, smoke, and breaking news banners about Iran, Israel, and the United States.

Like many families in rural Bangladesh, Azaharul’s household depends heavily on income from abroad. His eldest son works in Singapore. His younger son, Rakib Hossain, works at a petrol filling station in Riyadh, where he has been employed since December 2023.

Rakib had returned home on two-and-a-half months’ leave to celebrate Eid-ul-Fitr and get married. His return flight to Riyadh is scheduled for April 14, 2026. But this time, his visit home was overshadowed by news of war.

“It has become a new tension,” Rakib told The Diplomat. “I already work 365 days a year, 12 hours a day. I thought Saudi people were kind, but I found the reality to be different. At the petrol pump, it often happens that after filling the tank, some people just drive away without paying. Then I have to pay that bill myself. I earn only about 50,000 taka a month.”

He said he was preparing for another two-year contract, hoping to save enough money to move to another country, perhaps Singapore or Malaysia.

“If my company is affected by the conflict and sends me back [to Bangladesh], it will not be a total loss because I have already recovered the money I spent to go to Saudi Arabia,” he said. “But the hard work I am doing, I need to save a good amount of money so that I can move somewhere better.”

Pictured here in front of his house, Rakib Hossain, who has been working in Saudi Arabia since 2023, is currently on a two-and-a-half-month leave and is scheduled to return on April 14, 2026. Photo by Saqlain Rizve.

For Azaharul Islam and his wife, the war is not a distant event playing out on a phone screen. Rather it has become a constant source of anxiety that now lives inside their home.

“We heard that a few Bangladeshis have already been killed,” Azaharul said. “I have only two sons. Both live abroad and work very hard. They have wives and children. We are always worried about them. But we also cannot tell them not to go, because there are very few income opportunities here. Farming does not pay well now, and garment jobs pay very little.”

He said sending his sons abroad required enormous financial risk.

“In 2012, I sent my first son to Singapore by spending almost 10 lakh (one million) taka. But he had to return several times because of job problems. Then in 2023, I sent my second son to Saudi Arabia by spending around 700,000 taka. Because of them, we can live a little better in this village. Who knows how long this conflict will continue? The bombing is happening around Saudi Arabia, which is very frightening.”

Stories like Azaharul Islam’s are not limited to one village. Across rural Bangladesh, millions of families depend on income from relatives working abroad, particularly in the Middle East. 

Around 7 million Bangladeshis currently live and work in Middle Eastern countries. Saudi Arabia hosts the largest number, with around 3.5 million Bangladeshis, who remit $5 billion annually back to their home country. Bangladeshi workers began joining the Saudi Arabia labor market since the 1970s and now make up the largest expatriate community there.

Behind Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates has around 850,000 Bangladeshi migrant workers. Qatar hosts around 400,000, Kuwait 350,000-400,000, Oman more than 700,000, and Bahrain more than 100,000. Most of them work in construction, transport, cleaning, restaurants, retail shops, and petrol stations – jobs that are physically demanding, low-paid, and often insecure. Yet for many rural families, these jobs remain the most reliable path to financial stability.

The money these workers send home has reshaped rural Bangladesh over the past two decades. In 2025, Bangladesh received more than $30 billion in remittances, much of it from the Middle East. This money builds houses, pays for education, supports elderly parents, funds small businesses, and keeps village economies running. 

In many villages, the difference between a tin-roof house and a concrete building is remittance money. The difference between a child staying in school or dropping out often depends on money sent from the Middle East. In this way, the Middle East has become deeply connected to the everyday life of rural Bangladesh.

Over the past few decades, overseas migration from Bangladesh has developed its own geography. Certain districts, such as Cumilla, Chattogram, Brahmanbaria, Tangail, and Dhaka, built long-standing connections with labor markets in the Middle East and Southeast Asia. Through family networks, recruiting agents, and community connections, these districts gradually became important gateways to overseas employment, linking many rural communities to the global labor market.

Cumilla alone sent 964,000 workers, followed by Chittagong with 726,000, Brahmanbaria with 493,000, Tangail with 443,000, and Dhaka district with 404,000. Chandpur, Noakhali, Narsingdi, Munshiganj, and Feni complete the top ten.

There are 16 districts among 64 in the country that sent more than 200,000 workers abroad over the past 15 years, showing how strongly overseas migration has been shaped by a relatively small number of regions. In many of these districts, going abroad for work has become a common life decision, often influenced by relatives, neighbors, and local recruitment networks that have developed over time.

Behind these district-level numbers are villages where migration has quietly reshaped everyday life over two generations. In many villages in Cumilla, Tangail, Sylhet, or Brahmanbaria, it is common to find several members of the same family working abroad. A tin roof replaced by concrete, a family debt repaid – often these changes are made possible by a son or brother working in Riyadh, Dubai, or Muscat. 

Over the last decade, Gulf money has quietly changed village life in Bangladesh. Tin-shed houses have become concrete buildings, even in villages where roads are still not properly paved. Photo by Saqlain Rizve.

Over the past decade, another major change has brought global events even closer to rural life: the smartphone. Even in villages without paved roads, smartphones are now common. Many homes own a smartphone to watch YouTube news, follow Facebook posts, and discuss international politics in tea stalls. Through the mobile internet, global conflict now arrives in real time.

These villages may lack reliable infrastructure, but they do not lack information. News of missile strikes, oil prices, and political speeches travels quickly through Facebook videos and YouTube channels. Many villagers also communicate regularly with relatives abroad through IMO or WhatsApp, receiving firsthand updates about conditions in the Middle Eastern countries.

As a result, global politics is no longer something discussed only in capitals or universities. It is talked about in village tea stalls and courtyard gatherings.

Religion and identity shape how many people in rural Bangladesh see conflicts in the Middle East. Issues such as Palestine, the role of the United States in the region, and broader Muslim world politics are widely – often emotionally – discussed, as about 91 percent of the population are Muslims. Social media, which has become the primary source of news for many rural residents, often amplifies these emotional responses, mixing news, opinion, and rumor in ways that make distant conflicts feel personal.

But beyond emotion and identity, the very practical concern is the economy and the safety of lives. According to the Bangladesh government, at least five Bangladeshi migrant workers have already been killed in missile and drone attacks in different Middle Eastern countries since the conflict began, and several others have been injured. 

In villages like Bamonghona, many families have loved ones working in the Middle East. So when people here watch news of missile attacks in Saudi Arabia, the UAE, or Qatar, they are not idly browsing distant international news. They are watching the reports because someone from their own family may be there.

Moreover, conflict in the Middle East often leads to rising oil prices. For Bangladesh, which imports most of its fuel, higher oil prices mean higher transport costs, higher fertilizer costs, and eventually higher food prices. This affects everyone, but especially rural households, where incomes are already uncertain.

In this way, a missile launched in the Middle East can eventually influence the price of rice in a Bangladeshi village market.

“We don’t understand much about politics, but we understand the connection in simple terms,” said Shakhawat Miah, a 43-year-old migrant worker in the UAE from Nolua village in Sakhipur upazila of Tangail, speaking to The Diplomat over the phone. “War means oil prices increase. When oil prices increase, everything becomes expensive. And if the Middle East becomes unstable, we may lose our jobs or be forced to return home. Already the money we earn and send home is losing value year by year.”

“We are hearing that there has already been a lot of damage in the UAE. If the conflict continues for another month, who knows what will happen to us. It feels very anxious to sleep at night. Who knows when a bomb may come and kill us. Already, someone from my area in Bangladesh has been killed in Saudi Arabia,” he added.

The concern in villages across Bangladesh is not really about military strategy or international diplomacy. It is about livelihood, family, and survival.

Rural villages in Bangladesh do not appear on most maps of global politics. They have poor roads, limited healthcare access, and weak internet signals. But every afternoon, men gather around small smartphone screens and discuss missiles, presidents, and oil prices. They talk about Iran, Israel, the United States, and Saudi Arabia – places most of them have never been, but which shape their lives in very real ways.

The Middle East is far from this village in geographical distance, but not in reality. Millions of families here depend on someone working in the Gulf region. So when war starts there, the worry starts here.

Saqlain Rizve is a Bangladeshi journalist and photographer who covers politics and society from Dhaka for The Diplomat.

Bangladesh energy sector

Bangladesh in the Middle East

Bangladesh migrant workers

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