I drank eight cups of
tea today.
I’m lying in bed,
another’s, not mine, in a home in Panipat, Harayana. I’m warm beneath my
blanket and listening to nothing, a rare moment of near silence in the crazy,
chaotic, supercharged world that is India. There are no physical distractions
but, even so, my brain wont seem to turn off. It’s buzzing with the homes and
faces and stories of the last few hours. And I drank eight cups of tea.
As I sit and think about those little cups of sweet
deliciousness, I find it hard not to connect with the once personally
preferred, now endlessly frustrating book
Three Cups of Tea. Whatever the
outcome of
recent news,
I feel Greg Mortenson was on to something when he described the importance of
tea in Pakistan. Similarly, it seems the mechanics of friendship and business
and everyday life in India are fueled on chai. We drink chai in the morning at
home and again at work. There are chai breaks in meetings and chai before bed
and chai whenever you feel like it in between. If you are invited into
someone’s home or office, there will more often than not be an offer (that you
would never dream of refusing) of a sweet and steaming cup. I like to think
(perhaps I am correct in my assumptions) that any important conversation
happening in India, is happening over chai.
As part of my work here on the Subcontinent, in an effort to
better understand the realities faced by
Dalit individuals, I have
had the opportunity to go into the field and meet Dalit people in a variety of
communities, as well as the individual activists and advocates working at the
grassroots level. During the last day of my trip to Lucknow, and on a more
recent trip to Panipat, I’ve attended a monthly meeting of a Women’s Domestic
Workers Union and met legal advocates who take cases of atrocities against
Dalit’s to the local district court pro-bono. I’ve also met volunteer tutors
and Dalit children who study at night, after being forced to abandon their
standard course of education. Due to the close connections and relationships
formed by my coworkers, I’ve been welcomed into people’s homes to hear their
stories and into community meetings to discuss issues and solutions at the
local level. And in all of these districts, in all of these homes, over many
cups of chai, I’ve sat, and watched, and listened.
 |
| Domestic workers at a village meeting, Lucknow, UP, India |
Late in the evening, I listened to women from Gronda
Village, who work as manual scavengers (cleaning human waste from upper caste
homes) for little pay in order to provide for their children’s basic needs and
education. They shared how at the end of the day, after their struggle to send
their children to school, teachers in the local schools practice
untouchability, refusing to teach their children and demanding additional books
and resources be supplied from home. The women, some of whom also deal with
abusive relationships and alcoholism at home, want to know why their girls
should go to school if it is not to be taught, and how they can possibly
provide for their family and themselves if they refuse to work as manual scavengers.
And I don’t have the answer. The government has promised ration cards for basic
needs and scholarships for their children, but the people of Gronda (as is the
case for so many) have not seen these promises fulfilled.
Earlier, I met a group of women, men and children, in the
Refinery District. They were domestic workers 'employed' by upper caste (or
‘general category’) families working at the refinery. The GC families are
provided homes in the district and their children attend school for 50%
tuition; they are also allowed to hire a domestic worker, whose salary will be
paid by the refinery. This worker, essentially a servant, is provided a single
small room on the backside of the property to share with his or her family.
According to the government, these workers should receive 3000-4000 Rupees per
month (60-80 USD) for basic cleaning and housework with any additional work
earning them extra pay. In reality, many of these workers earn little (120R,
under 3 dollars) to nothing at all beyond their room. They are expected to be
on call 24 hours a day, responding immediately to a chime wired from the main
household to their single room. Should a worker refuse additional tasks, or
ignore a summons from the homeowners, s/he will simply be forced to pack their
bags and leave, loosing his or her home and livelihood in one fell swoop. One
of these workers, a relative of the women whose home I was sitting in drinking
chai, had been accused by the property owners of stealing. Upon hearing this
accusation, the person was arrested along with a few others, and taken to
the police headquarters where they were beaten for 24 hours, after which they
were instructed to go home and keep their mouths shut. The activist I came with
had became involved through work for another organization. She helped the
victim receive medical treatment and later file a lawsuit under the Prevention
of Atrocities Act. Though there was clear evidence of police brutality, after
months of intimidation, the victim was forced to compromise. To date, even the
small compensation granted in the compromise was denied.
In addition to speaking with various community members, I've
watched and listened to activists supported by my NGO, interacting with these
groups and struggling to find solutions to the great many issues facing Dalit's
across the country. In Lucknow, I met a young women attempting to organize
women domestic workers into a labor union. Some women have responded to her
work, and moderate achievements have been seen. When organized, the women were
able to pressure a homeowner who had been denying due payment to a laborer whom
she had fired for being ill and unable to work. Though this activist has
generated interest in the union, and women seem to understand the support it
can provide workers in times of need, she is having less success helping them
understand the benefits of demanding an equal minimum wage for their
labor. "If I do not accept work for whatever payment I am offered,"
they ask, "how will I support my family and myself?" And again, I do
not know the answer.
 |
| National Domestic Workers Union: Outside Lucknow, UP, India |
 |
| A Foundation partner conducts a union meeting, focusing on the topic of demanding fair minimum wages |
What I am learning here, what I am seeing in each and every
one of these visits, is that there are no simple answers to the problems facing
Dalit communities. There are questions asked that I can answer in theory,
but even in my head my answers sound flat and unconvincing. My foundation does
not expect me to know the answers. They don't expect me to solve the problems,
for they are not problems I can solve. They expect me to learn; to educate
myself so I can understand what and whom the foundation is supporting, and what
I am supporting by working here. The expect me to learn, and spread the
knowledge I have gained to others, and they expect me to provide support to the
foundation where ever my skills allow.
And that is why I am here. I am here to do whatever it is
that's asked of me, with the humble hope it will be helpful to my NGO in the
work they are doing. I am here to learn and to listen. And hopefully, as I
listen, I will begin to understand. And understanding, I think, is the first
step in the great ladder towards progress.
For now, I am thankful to my teachers-- the community
members, the activists, my co-workers. I am thankful for the stories they have
shared, and the knowledge I have gained from the work my NGO continues to do. I
am thankful for the warmth with which I have been welcomed and thankful for the
many cups of chai. And I am hopeful that, even when the problem seems too big
and all encompassing to tackle, Dalit individuals, with the support from those
like the foundation, will inch further towards the path to equality. Further
towards the end of caste discrimination. Further towards the finish line in
their fight for basic human rights and equality. Listening and Hoping and Fighting.
Day by day.
Happy to share a small window to a very different sort of life in a different sort of world that is still our own,
Emily
[Sidenote: In the event that I am getting annoying, or you simply want a different perspective on the life of a volunteer in India, I've added links to the blogs of a few fellow volunteers in the India section of the right side bar. So have at it my friends, if you so choose. ]
