Nature’s custodians

ANSHU MESHACK



Notwithstanding the ravage left by the 2004 tsunami, the nature-loving Nicobarese continue nursing the islands’ greens even as they piece together their traditional way of life

“I would bunk school to be in the bagicha (garden) with my grandfather,” says Ambar, a wide grin spreading across his weather-beaten high cheek-boned face and mischief dancing in his narrow eyes. A stocky Nicobarese who grew up in a thickly forested village in the Nancowry group of islands in the Bay of Bengal, Ambar knows every species of every tree in the wilds he calls home. He can also master the tallest waves in the open sea on a little dinghy boat that he shaped with his own hands from a wide tree trunk. He may be unschooled, but uneducated he sure isn’t.

Ambar and his people probably haven’t heard of the buzz around environmental conservation and climate change, but they do more to protect the environment than many organised events do for the special days earmarked for saving the earth. For these island people grew up learning to respect, and live in harmony with, the natural heritage they see themselves as custodians of.

Those with the university degrees have come a long way since their research findings created new ideas for saving the environment; but have we, in the process, forgotten the wisdom of the seemingly-rudimentary traditional practices? Even as annual celebrations of special environment events are seen as ways of expressing good intent, there are communities who have, over the centuries, continued to sustain themselves without disturbing the fragile ecological balance. Which is the wiser way?

The six “primitive” tribal groups living in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands are a case in point. The islands are an archipelago of pristine, emerald green islands of volcanic origin, formed by a submarine mountain range. Only 37 of the 572 islands are inhabited. Though clubbed together and commonly referred to as a part of the Union Territory of Andaman and Nicobar Islands, the tribal communities residing across different islands are remarkably distinct from their non-tribal neighbours. The indigenous tribes in the two groups of islands are broadly classified into two groups: the Onge, Sentinelese, Jarawa and Great Andamanese of Negroid descent living on the Andaman Islands; and the Shompen and Nicobarese of Mongoloid descent in the Nicobar Islands. Except for the Nicobarese communities, the population of all the other tribes have decreased dramatically, to a total of 500 in the last 150 years as a result of the outbreak of measles and other diseases brought by the infrequent interaction with non-tribals.

The Nicobarese offer a unique and valuable contribution to India’s tapestry of natural and cultural heritage. Theirs is a complex whole of traditional knowledge, beliefs, laws, values and customs that has, over the centuries, integrated the knowledge acquired from other cultures through trade and contacts with visitors to the Islands. The resultant blend of cultures has enabled the survival of the Nicobarese, unlike their other tribal counterparts.

Enriched by traditional mores reflected in their activities of everyday life, the Nicobarese community offers glimpses of a truly just society based on cooperation and cohesion. The traditional norms extend to all spheres of life, including the use of natural resources and norms regarding conservation of the ecological balance amid human activity. The Nicobarese are horticulturalists and pig-herders who, till before the tsunami of 2004, inhabited large permanent villages mostly adjacent to the coast. The rich marine life in the vicinity of the traditional coastal villages was strictly a source of subsistence, not for livelihood or trade.

For livelihood, coconut plantations are a renewable resource and are traded in exchange for what are now “essential” commodities such as rice, sugar, cloth and fossil fuels. Although the Nicobarese economy is sufficiently monetised and trade-dependent, such monetisation has not changed the subsistence basis and nature of the economy. Harvesting of coconut is a perennial activity that is in tune with the natural cycle of regeneration.

“Planting is done in ‘sections’, or small plots of trees, so that harvesting (and therefore income) is distributed throughout the year,” explains Martin, the young heir to a vast plantation belonging to atuhet or joint family in Kamorta Island. “Harvesting in one section is completed before moving on to the next. When old trees die/become unproductive, new saplings are inter planted to keep the numbers constant.” He is quick to point out, “Plantations are common property of the family. All members work together and the harvest belongs to all.”

The tsunami of 2004 brought in its wake not just devastation of villages and ecological wealth but also changes in the cultural mosaic of the Islands, an inevitable outcome of the disaster recovery process. A decade later, it is the pragmatic outlook to life and a strong sense of self-dependence that enabled a handful of survivors to pick up the pieces and start afresh, long before the State intervened with alien and non-indigenous goods and services like housing structures made of sheets and iron, blankets and cash compensations. The ingenuity of the local communities immediately after the tsunami is a brilliant display of the survival skills that have sustained them in the face of many adversities.

Just a few months after the calamity, many survivors had moved to houses in safer locations, built using pieces of wooden planks salvaged from the sea coast — in the traditional stilted design, with thatched sloping roofs that are sturdy and leak proof — all without a single nail in the entire structure.

The struggle to find a balance between the traditional ways of life and the new-worldly aspirations of increasing material wealth has, sadly but predictably, impacted the sustainable living practices of the tribal communities. This transition, if not adequately managed, can irrevocably impact the natural heritage of this global biodiversity hotspot while also placing at risk the wealth of cultural heritage that has been adapted and protected by the local tribals over the centuries. Ambar and his ilk, caught between the traditional and modern after the tsunami wiped out their sustainable means of living off the land a decade ago, know this only too well.

(Charkha Features)

SHATTERED LIE THEIR DREAMS AND HOPES

Tazeem Akhter

Girls in a village near Poonch in J&K rarely get to study beyond the ninth standard, while the boys have all the opportunities for higher studies, writes Tazeem Akhter



On the dusky village roads in Batal Kote, in Loran region of Mandi tehsil, a two-hour drive from the border district Poonch, 250km from Jammu,when one starts observing the milieu, the feeling of having reached a bygone era is inevitable. A kuccha raasta leads to a double storey wooden house, a typical structure for this kind of geography and climate — wooden floorings, wooden staircases and wooden pillars. Before one comes to terms with the beauty of this wooden house, questions regarding its residents start popping up in the mind.

As if in answer, a lady in her mid fifties, Zaibun Noor, steps out from the house and offers a warm welcome. While opening the door of the baithak (drawing room), she informs us that a total of 19 members live in this house and they own much of the agricultural land around. Of her three sons, one works in the police department and has two wives. The second son, a matriculate who is in the money-lending business, has an 18 year-old wife who is already a mother of two. As she gets involved in the animated conversation, it is difficult to figure whether she was happy or sad, for a discussion on education leaves everyone in shock — none of the women members of the family was ever enrolled in school. Until the recent generation of the grandchildren, that is.

But there's a rider here too: The male grandchildren are enrolled in Kerala School (a reference to Christian Missionary schools that provide quality education) in Loran while the female grandchildren had to settle with the Government middle school in Batal Kote. “Kudiyan dusre ghar jana” (girls will be married off), said the grandmother of the little children, explaining why they are not interested in educating the girls of the family. The trend is similar across the village.

A few metres away from this wooden house are a group of four to five girls hidden by a water-tank. Seeing them unburdening a huge bundle of wood each, cut and carried on their heads through the nearby forests, it is evident that they are exhausted. Striking up a conversation with girls in such remote areas always requires a certain amount of impudence, but as the conversation starts off, their brutally frank talk and disarmingly gentle smiles quivering across their shy faces leave one spellbound. A sense of satisfaction and pride is palpable when the girls share that they do attend school — two of them are Class 10 students and three are in Class 9.

These young girls work really hard, literally, for their education. After helping in household chores every morning, they attend school, and after school, they head to the forests to gather firewood, carrying the huge bundles home on their heads. Done with that back-breaking work, they begin helping with the cooking for dinner. They study once the household is asleep — all this, despite knowing only too well that they will not be given a chance to study after Class 10.

This is not unusual. The recently released Annual Status of Education Report shows that the proportion of girls (age 11 to 14) not in school in Jammu & Kashmir has dropped encouragingly from 8.3 per cent in 2006 to 3.7 per cent in 2011, but rose again to 5 per cent in 2012. The proportion of girls in the higher age group (age 15 to 16) not attending school was a substantially higher 13.9 per cent in 2012; a telling comment on parents who hold back their daughters from school, intending to marry them off instead. “It is impossible to study after Class 10. Our parents marry us off as soon as we have our exam results in hands”, said Ishrat, one of the five girls, breaking into a shy giggle.

The current statistics, however, do not take away the zeal these girls have for studying further. Even though the idea of girls studying in college sounds incredibly bizarre to them initially, they are ready to put in every possible effort to study harder and, with good grades, try and convince their parents to allow them to study further. This is a distant dream they wish to fulfill. But that will require a change in the mindset of their parents in particular and society in general.

Charkha Features
charkha@bol.net.in

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Custodian of culture

DEVLAL NARETI

In the ongoing protracted battle between the state and the Naxals in the central part of India, the dominant tribal population of this region has become the most prominent victim. Against this background, 240 km away from Raipur — in Damkasa village near Durgkondal block in Kanker district — 70-year-old retired teacher Shiv Singh Anchla has dedicated his post-retirement life to the conservation and promotion of the Gondi language and culture.








The Gond community, to which Mr. Anchla belongs to, is one of the largest tribes in Chhattisgarh. In the forested hills of the Bastar region in south Chhattisgarh, the Gonds have been significantly known for their rich culture. In recent years though, the vibrant colours of this rich civilisation have been fading away.

The Gond community, like other adivasi communities, is woven into a symbiotic relationship with the environment. They worship nature that, in turn, helps these indigenous communities sustain their socio-economic and cultural lives. Their care and concern for their natural heritage is well reflected in their customs wherein every single community is entrusted with protecting one of the rare trees and animals and no one is allowed to harm them at any cost. This way, the balance between man and his environment is maintained. The advent of external factors, however, has weakened the sanctity of such practices.




“Adivasis have always been environment-friendly because they believe that trees, stones and forests are their God. Alarmingly, in the last few years, trees are being cut ruthlessly, indicating that adivasis are forgetting the importance of their life-giving forests,” says Mr. Anchla worriedly. To restore respect for Mother Nature, he has established Jango Raitaar Vidya Ketul after the name of a local deity Jango Raitaar, revered as the goddess of language of the Gond tribe. Set in five acres of land donated by Mr. Anchla himself, this nature park is home to rare herbs, plants and trees which otherwise are likely to become extinct with few even recognising the loss.

Mr. Anchla is also planning to establish an International Divya Gyan Research Institute and Gyan Mani Shiksha Dweep Vilakshan Vidyalaya. This institute will train people who share the common interest of exploring the history of local adivasi culture, their deities and their unique relationship with forests.

This visibly-determined old man sensed the looming threat during his teaching days and began to share with his students the intricacies of their natural as well as cultural heritage to ensure that the next generation takes responsibility for the cultural wealth they have inherited from their forefathers. Not an opposer of contemporary education system, he believes that every form of education that develops or increases the knowledge of mankind should be promoted. He maintains that this should not, however, be at the cost of sacrificing their traditional culture.

To save the traditional Ghotul practices, the Gondi language and the tribe’s festivals, he organised a Rath Yatra in November last year to make people aware of their culture and join hands for its preservation.

Leading a humble life, Mr. Anchla is also the religious head of the Gond tribe in Chhattisgarh. Besides, he is a skilled medical practitioner (vaid) and successfully treats many ailments using natural herbs.

(Charkha Features)

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Results - "Sanjoy Ghose Media Fellowship 2013 - Ladakh"

Charkha announces Results for the “Sanjoy Ghose Media Fellowship 2013” for highlighting development issues of women in Ladakh:

Azra Khatoon - Women as Flag-bearers of Change in Ladakh– individual women or groups of women, who fought structural, social norms in this tough geographical area to bring development and positive changes, be it in the field of education, economy, or saving their natural or cultural heritage.
and
Gizala Shabnam - “Contemporary Challenges of Women in Ladakh” – a view of the evolving nature of the socio-economic, geographic and cultural challenges faced by women in Ladakh. This can include how age old challenges reflect themselves differently in today's world.

Congratulations!

Story from Borderland

The Road to nowwhere


Ashutosh Sharma



The slight figure of a young woman, clutching an ailing child to her, moves steadily through the twisted paths and treacherous footholds carved in the sheer rock faces of the towering snow-covered mountains. She knows that the slightest mistake can cost a life, but Zahida Bi has embarked on this foot-journey from her village Murrah, located in the Peer Panjal range in Poonch district of Jammu and Kashmir, to reach a government hospital at Bufliaz in Surankote Tehsil, about 16 km away, to get her child treated. It will be dusk by the time she reaches the base, so she will take refuge at a relative’s place for the night. After the visit to the hospital in the morning, she will have to undertake this arduous journey again.








“In the absence of a primary health center in our far-off village, we are completely dependent on the basic health care services available in Surankote or Poonch. Even to board a passenger vehicle, we have to walk continuously for over six hours as there are no roads, virtually disconnecting us from the rest of the world,” rues Zahida Bi.

The border district of Poonch in the Jammu region has only 120 health facilities catering to 189 panchayats. The numbers may seem adequate for the scanty population they cover collectively, but the poor quality of service at these centers is further marred by their distance from the people who reside in villages in the remote interiors.

According to the 2011 Census, Poonch has a population of about 476,820, over 90 per cent of which resides in villages. Villages like Murrah are tucked away in the higher reaches and remain cut off during the winters due to the absence of roads. On the other hand, there are at least 16 road projects, conceived under Pradhan Mantri Gram Sadak Yojana (PMGSY), on which work has been abandoned half way for various reasons. In 2006, the Ministry of Panchayati Raj categorised Poonch as one of the country's 250 most backward districts. It is one of the three districts in Jammu and Kashmir currently receiving funds from the Backward Regions Grant Fund Programme.

The intense geographical challenges, coupled with the conspicuous absence of basic amenities, public infrastructure and administrative inertia, throw up tales of extreme hardship faced by villagers every day. Poverty is the primary issue in such villages where militants once ruled the roost and did not allow any development work. Though militancy has decreased considerably, the villagers are yet to taste the fruits of economic development.

Children are the worst-affected. Besides arranging for firewood and fodder from the nearby forests, they have to ferry eatables and dry rations to their homes as the area does not have an outlet of the Consumer Affairs and Public Distribution (CAPD) Department. Their problems are further compounded during the rains and flash floods.

Haji Mohammad Aslam, Sarpanch of Murrah, says, “We paid heavy human costs during the years of militancy. Though peace has been restored, the promises of development in this backward village are yet to be fulfilled. A large majority of village youth are doing menial jobs in big cities simply because there are no employment opportunities in Poonch. The government has even failed to provide us basic amenities like safe drinking water.”

“Without a road, the government cannot begin or accelerate developmental work here,” opines Ghulam Din, a local resident, adding that between Kalaali and Murrah, two concrete pillars meant for a bridge stand tall at Laadian. The construction work was reportedly suspended halfway due to unknown reasons. “In the absence of the bridge, many people, especially children, have lost their lives in flash floods,” he says and regrets, “We have made many representations to the Roads and Buildings Department but to no avail. The bridge needs to be spanned immediately. It will ensure supply of all essentials to our villages through mules round the year.”

According to villagers, agriculture and livestock are their mainstay but the concerned departments are doing precious little to help them in these sectors.

When these issues were brought to the notice of the then District Deputy Commissioner, Ajeet Kumar Sahu, he said, “The area remained out of development focus due to militancy and geographical challenges. I have recently sent a proposal to the government listing the issues of this particular village among the top ten development issues being faced by the district.”

Charkha Features