Fifth Notes from India
March, 2006
(Hope you have some time? Then get comfy and ready for a
long report! No window of time presented itself for a mail-out in nearly two months)
Last phase of the
instructor training in
The hostel consists of a
barren courtyard with 4 swings, 3 halls, one of which gets unbearably hot with
tin roofs. The paint on the cement walls cannot be made out and is covered with
many posters. Some of them I recognize as to be condemning domestic violence
and one is of a dressed up and crying cow. The text I am told is something
like: “why are cows and little girls killed?” This relates to some Muslim and
Dalith (untouchables) communities who eat beef, which is highly condemned in
most Hindu communities. I heard rumours the jail sentence is higher for being
caught killing a cow (holy!) than for killing one’s wife! The latter part of
course refers to the tradition of girl infanticide.
The girls sleep in these
two halls and have their classes here. One teacher (Wenlido apprentice) sleeps
there with the girls on the floor. I am struck by what she is paid! One fifth
of what a woman is paid working for a womyn’s NGO (more foreign funding)! Obviously
much less importance is given to work with these underprivileged girls …
Mahila Samakia is the
womyn’s organization in this case which pleads with the families to let their
girls go to school. The families don’t pay for this but do loose some family
income. The girls come here for 6 to 12 months with the objective to get them
ready to enter the school system.
What I liked about sitting
in the corner of one of these halls for 8 days (taking notes) was that it felt
like an aviary with at least 12 sparrows flying in and out, building their
nests in the old electrical outlets and whatever other cracks they could find
in the walls. There were some mice as well racing around the edge of the room. A
couple times they ran right over my legs (I was in their path) … That was
harder to enjoy… as well as the many flies ….
We (14 of us Wenlidobens)
would walk to the small village where a woman got the contract to feed us. We
sit on her cement porch on the ground and eat the ‘best food’. Their courtyard
is barren with a clay/cow dung ground (smoother and warmer than cement) and a
maze of high walls all throughout this village. At some point I realized why! One
gust of wind would cover our plates and food with desert sand. I enjoyed some
of the elder, toothless womyn ‘hanging out’. One of them was our ‘massi’ (auntie)
cleaning our dishes on the ground out in the blazing sun! The people in this
village mainly work the cotton fields.
The young girls were
amazing – a sea of little ‘munchkins’. The first workshop was with 15 to 19
year olds, the second with 11 to 15 year olds and the last to girls under 11. Many
of the role plays where they act out their common struggles of sexual
harassment and attacks were on ‘going to the well getting water’, or working in
the field, or a landowner having the girl come over making chapattis for him
when his wife was out, and then harassing her, or struggles when minding the
cows and buffalos. A lot of children, womyn or old men are used for this to
take them to ‘graze’. They are called cowgirls and cowboys. Funny how those
terms just strike a very different picture in my mind!
When we first arrived, the
girls literally all hung on us, and some asked me: “How long did you go to
school? I want to go just as long as you did!” These girls are in the ‘struggle
for their right to go to school’!!! As part of the discussions on Domestic
Violence they identify it as (mental/ emotional) violence to be denied their
right to study, to have to work in the field, and to marry someone they don’t
like!
Before doing the discussion
on sexuality and rape, we do ‘body mapping’ with them. They do not receive sex-
education even in the schools in
I feel a deep love and
satisfaction watching their open, loving faces, their pigtails with red
ribbons, their dirty, brown school suits, their white teeth and eyes shining
(at me). Everybody calls everyone ‘ben’ (sister) in
What I learn is that
menstruation is called ‘Kapan’ which means ‘cut-off’. They are then not allowed
to enter the kitchen without bathing, cook for men, go to the temple (even the
kali temple!!!!), and on goes the list of taboos.
The Wenlido program for
these younger girls has changed drastically (from adult program) and all of us
are excited in anticipation of how it is received. It’s been an intriguing
challenge bringing many of our concepts down into its simplest forms and then
anchoring them in with techniques and games that re-enforce the concepts
playfully. We pass the first test: their attention stays with us, they are
enjoying themselves, and for the debriefings they remember most!
P. and I burst out laughing
as we watch the rows of little 10 year old girls learning to block slaps. This
is a country where it is still perfectly acceptable to slap girls and womyn
around, not only in homes, but in schools. You even see it in the Hindi soap
operas. Nothing wrong with that! We laugh as we imagine the changed scenario. P.
talks to them about it, and is not worried. We are glad that the teachers (now
Wenlido apprentices) are there to see what repercussions this changed behaviour
might have. Also how this work will affect the girls. It feels good leaving
them with support.
As we stop in on our way
out for good-byes we are mobbed by some 80 girls not wanting to let us go. It’s
impossible to move! Our womyn know just what to do. Call for a game! Make a
circle and do an action song game with some 80 girls. I’m impressed and they
love it! Then we run for the vehicle under much laughter.
On the way back to
The following two workshops
were held in the same school. These were apprentice supports (to get them started
on their 100 hour apprenticeship program) for R. and K. with one group of girls
13 years old and another with 10 year olds. I got very inspired by their
creativity in teaching these youngsters. Two teachers were invited for the
program. As I asked them for feedback they expressed concerns that the girls
were too young for body mapping and information on sex/rape. I brought to their
attention that, by current studies made in
From here off to another
town in
One of the apprentices
tells me, that she has been in ‘relationship’ secretly with a neighbour boy,
who is of lower caste. So, no chance for marriage, she explains. Last week she
found out though the family is getting him married. She is heart broken! Now
out of spite she is ready to succumb to her mother’s pressure to view and go
with the next prospect. I am worried for her, we have a long talk …. The stress
on these upper middle class girls in their mid/late 20ties is tremendous. Until
then it is acceptable to wait in most urban centres with the educated girls at
least. In the past I have even heard kids boast with how much their mother was
worth in dowry!
Our final debriefing on
this workshop we held on the lawn of a famous and well visited lotus temple on the
edge of town. Seven of us raced there on three scooters around sunset. I loved
that! The temple is guarded by the military and I was taken aback when asked
who we were, where we worked, who this foreigner was (me?) and what we did
there so long sitting on the lawn..??
This day isn’t over and I
am on the train to Rajasthan to do an assessment for M. in her small village. Her
village girls (16 to23) were so not-used to seeing or relating to foreigners,
that when I did any corrections or trying to make myself understood … everybody
would rush over to get all the details. Needless to say this caused way more
disturbance than being of any help. Another misfortune was that I ended up not
having a translator. It brought to my attention again how spoiled I have been
and that my Hindi is far from good. But I do understand most – may make my
wrong conclusions though. :-(
In the discussion/debate on
what is sex and rape, they asked…with ‘child marriage’ what is it then, sex or
rape? Many of these girls were married.
M. and I slept in the
office and I loved seeing and hearing all the wild peacocks. They are very
abundant in Rajasthan and
The next day was
International Womyn’s Day, and 4 of us go off (them Hindi and Rajasthani
speaking) to another village an hour away by local bus to a womyn’s day event,
driving on a very bumpy road thru the desert. Womyn are cramped in the bus,
many gypsies and Adivasis (tribals) and men with their big colourful creatively
bound turbans (very different from the Sikh turban in the north). I am enjoying
the scene tremendously, wishing not to forget a single moment…as I watch us
passing the camel carts, the oxcarts and the many herds of goats looking for
some meagre food to munch.
We arrive and make our way
thru the village and climb up some narrow stairway to a room full of womyn. A
white cloth is put in the centre and we each dip our hands in red paint and
print our hand on it. Then we tie a raku – a cotton thread – on each other’s
wrist. Lovely songs are sung with the clay water containers being used for
drums. After a while each woman tells her story, how she got to where she is. My
friend M. tells her story of being married at 11 (I have written about it in
previous reports) and it ends with her pointing me out and saying what a
difference Wenlido has made in her life. How she is making different decisions
for herself and feels she is contributing in such a meaningful way to her
community with those tools. I am deeply touched to play a role in this amazing
woman’s life story. Later on she has to leave me on the bus to the next town. We
hold each other and cry, not knowing if we see one another ever again ….
The next destination is
Ahmedabad for our Wenlido Prashikshak Millan, (3rd Wenlido National Gathering).
On the way I witness from the train a sudden and unexpected torrential rain,
creating floods and thousands of rupees worth of crop (cotton, millet, chilly
pepper, wheat) damage in many places. I observe many womyn sitting outside with
all their pots and pans catching the ‘water from the sky’ in this desert land. What
a struggling country!
Last minute we find out
that the venue we had booked for the gathering had no guarantees for water or
power, an impossible proposition in this blistering heat being without fans or
bucket baths. So off we are on a hunt for another venue two days before womyn
arrive from different parts of the country. Many already on the train! We end
in one freshly built bungalow, without anything in it (not a problem in
The famous Indian holiday
‘Holi’ falls into our time together. So we have the traditional fire the night
prior and 2 hours in the morning of fun and laughter putting color on each
other and lots of singing and dancing. Story of Holi.: There was a girl called
Holika. She was given a gift from god that she would not burn in fire. Her
father is a much-feared king. The son (younger brother to Holika) will not
accept his father as ‘god’ as the father demands. So the father orders him to
be burnt. Holika holds him in the fire, transfers her gift to him, as she burns
and the boy survives …. The king did not allow any dancing or colors in his
kingdom. Therefore the celebration is in the fire for the evening and the
colors the next morning.
The last day’s closing
includes P. (who assisted the 3 phases of instructor training in
The same evening I board
the train south to
For two years now most Wenlido
workshops have been taught in Tamil Nadu by the team of three (the Makal Manram
team!), of which just J. had been certified. Now G. will be able to teach
independently as she speaks Hindi (besides Tamil) and can also teach in the
north.
Again I get to enjoy a
couple of days at the Makal Manram Commune, watching on as People start pouring
in with their concerns and troubles, hearing that M. is back. Since she had her
Mastectomy last year (breast cancer), her health has been extremely fluctuating.
I feel honoured that she went thru the struggles of the long travels besides
leaving behind her commitments at home (rare occasion).
In these few days I came to
know about a man who was suffering in the hospital with a broken leg, which was
not being tended to for the 15 days. I am told he was hit by a lorry which was
owned by a police man. Suspicion is that that is the reason they said it was
only a minor injury (for insurance purposes?). They went to see him with his
crying wife and daughter. And his wound was open, smelling and infected. They
have filed cases against this particular hospital before. Another case that
came up one evening was that someone tried to set fire to the guava orchard,
which was being care taken by some village tribals I visited, in January. A
Makal Manram member tried to intervene on the scene and was badly beaten up. They
spent hours in the police station filing a report. I hear of the ‘all womyn
police station’ in Kanchepuram (as in most cities), how they have a good
inspector right now and they have received their domestic violence complains
well. Then there were a group of bonded labourers (to brick kiln owners) who
were eagerly waiting for them to return and make a case. I hear how quick they
have to move on this and how (smart otherwise) bribes are paid below tables of
officials and all the efforts are in vain.
Even though all this was
going on, they decided to take me to my friend A. in Auroville. They know how
much it means to me to at least have a short time to support my friend who is
mourning the loss of her daughter/my little friend. We find time to play in the
waves of the ocean for 3 hours and I am so thrilled to see my friends totally
let go of their worries and their fear of water (non-swimmers). We all become
like children holding hands, jumping up to keep the head above the waves. I
know from them how much courage this takes when you cannot swim. I take the
trust serious they place in me as the only ‘water rat’. Without me there, they
may not go much further than knee deep. At some point I realize people starring
in amazement at this odd group of 6 womyn, screaming and jumping with delight
and wet in sarees and other clothes. We have a little bonfire in the evening
and I stay back with A. Sharing and crying into the starry night. I appreciate
this heart connection…as we ache over the tremendous loss.
Next morning off and back
to the commune for the night, where two village womyn are awaiting M. for
counsel. Then I am taken to Chennai to the railway station by J. and M. Before
that I am introduced to their friend, a revenue officer who had fought hard in
their town a case against Pepsi who were illegally draining water away from the
villagers there. Attempts were made on his life. Then he suddenly was
transferred away to Chennai. I meet his wife and children. Again I am in awe of
the (self-less) commitment these people have toward justice in their communities.
I also meet a social activist friend who exposes issues on television in a
special news broadcast. Fascinating character who is very supportive to Makal
Manram and also Wenlido. He is connected to many social change efforts.
Another night on the train
and now I am in
I am amazed how the 6
months have flown by in this country. I watch myself being at ease here. Certainly
it was possible because I have been so well supported, loved and cared for by
my friends. They carried me thru, especially in the times my health was
compromised. I have personally witnessed 250 womyn go thru the basic workshops,
held two 3-phase instructor trainings, where 20 carefully selected womyn (as
good potential trainers) have become new apprentices. We have eight certified
independent, presently active instructors, one full time (Wenlido co-ordinator
for a year), and the plan is to certify, hopefully, all by December. Of those,
two womyn plan to teach Wenlido full time. S. (who had taken much initiatives
for two years) needs to pull back for personal reasons, and now two other womyn
are taking more initiatives for advanced Wenlido work and co-ordination.
What I am taking home with
me is a deep sense of satisfaction that comes from having contributed in a
meaningful way to several communities of womyn. I have come to know a feeling
that I can only describe as a deep sense of joy. I feel it like a vastness in
my heart region when I watch a workshop, where a rare platform is given for
deep and honest discussion on those complex and difficult to solve womyn’s
issues, or I feel it just looking out on the rice paddies, womyn coming from
the well carrying water on their heads, or herding the cows and goats, or … many
other touching moments run by my mind.
Having heard past accounts
of womyn who’d gone thru the program, I know even more now will be affected (by
Wenlido). They will know how to keep themselves safer, how to support each
other more effectively when traumatized and some will make different decisions
for themselves than they could have ever imagined before.
I feel deeply satisfied and
enriched … because I love connecting and contributing to these truly amazing
groups of womyn. I appreciate the courage and strength to act on a deep
commitment to undo domination culture mindsets and create opportunities for
positive change in our communities. It certainly is not welcomed by everyone. We
are struggling at times, because we have never been here before and we feel
encouraged by the results. We laugh a lot….
I have changed and grown
thru these connections. We all have changed. Womyn of action! We are doing it!
In womyn’s strength and hope
for many ‘New Beginnings’ for all our bens(Gujarati), akkas (Tamil), didis (north
Indian), sisters around the globe.
Gitta