Sunday, August 14, 2011

PROUD TO BE ADIVASI Ways Of Owning, Ways Of Belonging Tribals in Gujarat are holding out against possible industrial expansion into their lands by becoming more self-reliant


APOORVA SALKADE
Rainy-day plans A grain bank in Watda village, Baroda district
PROUD TO BE ADIVASI
Ways Of Owning, Ways Of Belonging
Tribals in Gujarat are holding out against possible industrial expansion into their lands by becoming more self-reliant

Trigger Why we are doing this story

  • Tribal lands are under pressure across India. In Orissa, they have been holding out against big corporates like Vedanta and Posco.

***

From afar, the fumes rising from factory chimneys in Gujarat's industrial belt make them seem like skyscrapers on fire. It's a grey rust-and-chemicals stretch that they call, without irony, the Golden Corridor. It extends all the way from the north of Ahmedabad, through Baroda, Bharuch, Ankleshwar and Surat, down to the state's southern tip. East of this, green fields merge into each other, much like how the tribal communities tending them mingle with tribespeople of neighbouring Madhya Pradesh and Maharashtra. This green frontier holds a different kind of promise, hope and ambition: tribal farmers are charting an alternative development plan, impelled by the fear of industry devouring their land the way it has in many tribal regions across India.

A unique idea that has taken root over the last two years among the tribespeople here—the Rathwas, Dungras, Chaudharis, Bhils and Nayaks, across 1,200 villages in the Narmada, Baroda, Surat and the Panchmahals districts—is that of creating what they call green economic zones (GEZs) as bulwarks against special economic zones (SEZs). Rather than lose land to corporate giants, they want to reclaim it by focusing on reviving tribal culture and language, fighting migration, creating economic self-reliance.

With happy faces greeting you at every village, it's clear tribal communities are aware of the importance of being at the vortex of such positive transformation. Watda village of Baroda district has found financial autonomy through eight microcredit groups and a grain bank, both run by women. The grain bank is no more than a dimly-lit house where some 500 kg of maize, the staple of tribal populations in these parts, is stored in three ceiling-high baskets. The stock is of "deposits" of 5 kg per year made by 60 families, on which they earn interest. "For every 20 kg of grain a family borrows, it has to return 23 kg—an annual interest rate of 15 per cent. It's a blessing: not only does it make us self-reliant, families that contribute to it earn interest," says Raily Seema, president of the grain bank. Loans of grain help out when market prices shoot up during shortages, not unusual in the summer months.

Fuelling such change and overseeing it at the micro level is a network of Gram Vikas Kendras set up across the region by the Baroda-based Bhasha Trust, a voluntary group. No doubt the tribal community in this belt has come a long way. Ten years ago, practically every village battled heavy debt, and to work off the debts, more than half the farmers migrated to labour in the cities. "Today, hardly 10 per cent migrate, since they have found constructive ways of creating income while staying on their land," says Dr Ganesh Devy, founder of the Bhasha Trust. "If all goes well, in 10 years this region will be economically on a par with the rest of the state."

That could well prove true. The microcredit formula is certainly working here, unlike in parts of Karnataka and Maharashtra, where borrowers' inability to repay is clogging the system. In Morangna village, near Baroda, over 70 per cent of the 100-plus families are subscribers to microcredit schemes. The local State Bank of India branch has 400 accounts opened by self-help groups over a few years. Moneylending families have gone out of business: 800 of them have shut shop.

Genaben, who heads a microcredit group in Morangna and is now a proud entrepreneur, shows us around her neat little grocery shop, a stone's throw away from her home. "I started this a few months ago, borrowing Rs 10,000 from our microcredit group account. My monthly earnings are up by Rs 2,000, thanks to the shop," she says.

Much of the confidence the tribals have found to deal with practical problems is the result of what the Adivasi Academy in Tejgadh, also overseen by Devy's group, has done by way of training. The academy is a picturesque red-brick building set on a 10-acre campus at the base of a misty hill some two hours from Baroda (see box). The open-air classrooms, the non-formal learning environment and the rustic look lend it a Shantiniketan feel but there is a difference: it's an academy for tribals that is run by tribals themselves. Children are encouraged to study their own culture and language, and graduate to serve their own community, rather than migrating to the city. Informal courses at the academy have made graduates learn and think about agriculture, literacy, finance, health and women's empowerment in locally useful ways.

No wonder their grassroots engagement has touched 95,000 families and created over 2,300 microcredit groups that together transact in about Rs 16 crore every year. Over 300 non-formal schools set up in the last few years have raised literacy from 15 per cent a decade back to 40 per cent now. Happily, empowerment of rural women, always an area of resistance, has also taken off. Women's groups run some 150 grain banks and several gobar banks; microcredit has encouraged women to run small businesses or trades. Some women's groups in the Surat and Tapi districts have even prohibited alcohol in villages.

Agricultural practices have improved, with productivity boosted by organic farming, vermicomposting and drip irrigation. Raipur village, near Tejgadh, has seen a steady 30 per cent increase in harvests in the past few years. Taking his bullocks around, Kelji Rai Singh, who grows maize and cotton, says, "I'd rather buy more land than sell my 11 acres. I use drip irrigation on seven acres. and have seen productivity improve so much that I plan to drip-irrigate the remaining four acres."

In other villages, like Kanalwha, non-formal classes are a hit. Chatra Singh, a teacher who takes lessons in his living room, focuses on practical learning—tree walks, lessons in mythology and religion by the river. He speaks to his 30-odd students in Rathwi. "These children have never been to school before," he says. "So it's important to draw their attention, which I do by teaching in their tribal language rather than in Gujarati." There are close to 3,000 students enrolled in such non-formal schools.

At its core, the movement is not just about numbers but an increasingly conscious community—albeit one that has always taken pride in its tribal identity—inspired to protect its land. "We are well aware of the dangers of land acquisition. Everyone knows it's happening all around us," says Viresh Rathwa, who oversees a number of initiatives around Tejgadh. "But what's amazing is how much everyone here wants to be part of this concept, even if they don't immediately connect with a term like GEZ. They understand it as a green movement. After all, the fields are where we belong, and nobody wants to lose his home."

***

Also Alappuzha, April 28, 2011

  • The age limit for taking the Class IV equivalent exam of the Kerala State Literacy Mission is 50 years. Fatima Beevi would have none of that. Taking special permission, this 90-year-old wrote the exam for four hours, answering questions in Malayalam, basic social science and arithmetic. She'd prepared for four months. Now, she looks forward to taking the Class VII exam in May 2012.
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PROUD TO BE ADIVASI
An academy in Tejgadh gives tribals lessons they can readily use
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