Vakkapali tribal Oriya women are again at the receiving end

By K. SUDHAKAR PATNAIK reports

Allegedly gang raped eleven Kandho Tribal Oriya women displaced by the Machkund Power project and settled in Vakkapali village of Paderu Mandal in Visakhapatnam district of Andhra Pradesh bordering Koraput district of Orissa are again at the receiving end.

The incident that took place in July 20, 2007 had rocked the entire state of Andhra Pradesh has taken a new turn when the eleven alleged gang raped women appeared before the court on last week charging against them to explain why an action should not be initiated against them for lodging a false complaint against the special police force combing the area.

The court in its notice stated that the CB-CID superintendent of police Siba Nanda Reddy submitted a report that the case filed by the women in the Paderu police station on August 2007 alleging that the special police party gang raped them was found false. The eleven women appeared before Araku first class magistrate, as the Paderu first class magistrate was on leave who summoned the women to appear before him. Araku court was packed by the social activists of both men and women, leaders of Bahujana Samaj Party (BSP) and Adivasi Aikya Porata Samiti leader Rama Rao Dora. They raised slogans in support of the women victims who have been victimised based on the CB-CID Superintendent of police Siba Nanda Reddy. CB - CID itself is a part of the government.

The women activist of opposition Telugu Desam Party Dr. Padmavati Naidu while talking to this writer over phone said the Andhra Pradesh state government is trying to save the skin of police who raped innocent tribal women. She alleged that they have appointed the superintendent of police who was favorable to the government and got the report in favour of the accused police men. She said that the victimized tribal women are being harassed by some or other way. “We have decided to intensify our agitation till justice was done to the tribal women of Vakkapali”, she said.

Former Telugu Desam Minister Mani Kumari alleged that the State government has hatched a conspiracy to dilute the case and a part of it the CID report was fabricated accordingly. The SP submitted his report on February 14th this year before the court at Paderu basing on which summons issued to all the 11 tribal women and they appeared before the court on which the case has been adjourned to March 19, 2008 .

Lalita on behalf of Orissa National Organisation of Women wrote in August, 2007 : "As a woman myself and as a womens network we are shocked at the rape of tribal women in Andhra Pradesh and not really surprised at the way the police has been handling this unfortunate incident. History has shown that women have borne the brunt of all kinds of violence whether it is war, religious fundamentalism, terrorism, caste violence etc. I would suggest that let a national online petition be put up in the web and let as many of us possible send it to the authorities not only in Andhra but also to Delhi, like the NHRC, NCW, Prime Minister and other".

Surat Diary
By Sudarshan Chhotray.

An understated tragedy AIDS is an increasingly normal part of the life of the migrant labourer. The author explains Pratap Jena, 28, belongs to Maulpalli village in Polsora block of Orissa’s Ganjam district. He was working as a textile labour in Surat (Gujarat). He married two years ago and has a son. His sudden death on 1 February 2004 sent a shock wave through the large migrant labour community and their family members, who toil in Surat’s textile industry. Pratap’s case was not an isolated one. He was identified as an AIDS victim just a few months ago at an AIDS awareness camp in his village. Identified along with him were 21 others, out of 618 patients tested.

In Ganjam district, there are 65 more who live with full blown AIDS. The government claims that there are only 166 AIDS patients in the entire state but non-government organisations assert that there are more than 5,000 HIV positive people of whom at least 400 are AIDS patients. And of these 25 patients have died so far, sources said. Migration is the major culprit for their condition. There are more than 600,000 Oriya migrant labourers working in Surat from Ganjam district alone out of 900,000 labourers from the state. At least 30 per cent of them are seasonal migrants and the others live in the slums of Surat around the year, in conditions that carry high risks of unsafe sex leading to HIV transmission. The medical community of Gujarat and Orissa confirms the alarming increase in AIDS among migrant labourers. Driven out of poverty Orissa presents a paradoxical picture of poverty amidst plenty.

Despite being endowed with vast natural resources, Orissa continues to be amongst the poorest states in the country. The state economic survey shows a heavy incidence and persistence of poverty, which characterises the economy of Orissa. Poverty is also spatially concentrated in Orissa: some regions, such as the south, are poorer. Several anti-poverty and wage employment programmes have been implemented in the state since 1980-’81 to create income generating assets and employment on daily wage basis. But migration goes unchecked. Unofficial sources say that of the 10,00,000 Oriya migrant workers in different parts of the country, more than 500,000 are in Surat.

The situation worsened due to the colossal damage caused by the super cyclone in 1999 and the subsequent severe drought of 2000 followed by unprecedented floods. Surat, slums and sweat Surat presents a mix of continuity and change in its social character. Its dominant trade-centred city economy of the past is now an amalgamation of a capital-intensive industrial set up and a wide range of numerous small-scale units associated with production, processing, repairs and services. Job opportunities in the textile, diamond and jari industries have over the past decades attracted workers from distant states like Orissa and Andhra Pradesh. About 86 per cent of Oriya migrants in the city are from Ganjam district alone and most Andhra migrants from its Warangal and Nalgonda district.

Low agricultural productivity in many of the South Orissa and Telengana villages and an almost total lack of alternative jobs have led to large scale out-migration of younger males to Gujarat. In many of these areas, the failure of developmental programmes, persistence of poverty and a continued marginalisation of rural poor, especially those belonging to the lower caste groups, led peasant and farm households to send part of their male labour force to the city. Many workers were attracted by the possibility of being absorbed in specific sectors where people from their villages were already working. Migrants to the city can earn anything between Rs 1,500 to Rs 4,000 in a month. A large part of this income has to be remitted back to their villages. Many are working to retrieve their mortgaged land or acquire some land in their native villages that can sustain their families.

This city’s organised slums now house more than 17 lakh migrant labourers from Orissa, Andhra, Uttar Pradesh and Tamil Nadu besides wage labourers from Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Bihar, Maharashtra and Gujarat itself. Dense and dingy living conditions, long working hours and oppressive work environments make the lives of many migrants a living hell. The location of their slums is determined mainly by nearness to worksites, available patches of land along the roads and rail tracks, open spaces adjacent to factory walls, low lying areas and river and canal banks. Narayan Bahera, a seasonal migrant worker from Orissa’s Gangpur village working as a weaving master and machine operator, asserts that Oriya labourers have chosen Surat because jobs here have not demanded educational qualifications, training or experience. Narayan claims “Our jobs are temporary and casual and we live in apprehension of losing them. Surat’s power loom industry is growing fast and despite job hazards and labour disputes we have to adjust rather than enter unions. We don’t want to lose our jobs, hence we ask our fellow Oriyas not to be involved in any union activity.” AIDS running amuck It is against this background of hardships that Surat will soon have a dubious first to its credit in the state – the city with the highest incidence of AIDS. Doctors believe that more than 300,000 suspected carriers are working and living in the city. Brothels flourish as much as jobs and this is one reason why Surat is a sitting duck for an AIDS bomb. Surat is the only city in Gujarat with an organised “red-light” area.

Large-scale proliferation of premarital promiscuity, multiple sexual partnership with commercial sex workers and high homosexuality are part of labour life here. Today even police records shows that there are around 5,000 commercial sex workers in Surat, a large number of who are AIDS carriers. The menace of AIDS is graver than usually understood since migrant workers return to their native places taking the risk across several hundred kilometres to their families. There are no specific action or programmes undertaken by the government to curb unsafe sex, but NGOs in the region, with some financial support from state AIDS cell and funding agencies, occasionally conduct health camps in rural areas. The response to AIDS awareness activities however continues to remain low due to the social stigma and embarrassment related to the disease. Compounding the problem is the lack of counselling skills as well as absence of sufficient equipment for the Elisa test, relating to HIV identification. Keeping in view the rising number of suspected AIDS cases among Oriya migrants the health department of the government of Gujarat and the district administration of Ganjam signed an agreement to issue health cards to migrant labourers. A promising initiative that turned futile because a system to identify and mobilise migrant workers could not be put in place.



“Hunger Will Not Wait For Our Leaders To Catch Up; Luckily, Nor Will We!”
By Aditya Malaviya


The lush green fields of rice and sugarcane give way to the bustling port of Gopalpur-On-Sea as we make our way to the offices of Samudram in the small fishing village of Koturu in Chatrapur block of Ganjam district in Orissa.

Clad in a simple cream sari, blue blouse and matching blue bangles, B Chitamma, all of 65-years of age, has a warm smile on her countenance as we step into her spartan office. She gestures shyly at the two chairs facing her, inviting us to make ourselves comfortable. She laughs when she sees the quizzical look on my face, and explains with a glint in her eye that she is fluent in both the languages- Telugu, spoken in the land of her birth, and Oriya, her adopted land for the last quarter century or so. But for now, she explains (through Kaley-ji, my interlocutor), she prefers to speak the language of her ancestors, Telugu. Unfortunately for me, I am at sea in both!

Thinking aloud, one can’t help but notice a prosperous feel to the village - new High School building, the gaudy pink cyclone shelter, concrete by-lanes and the general hustle-bustle of a small, close-knit fishing community seemingly at peace with itself. Barely have these thoughts crossed my mind when Chitamma quips: “It was not like this even 10-years ago…we have been heavily exploited and lost our traditional fishing rights in Chilika lake to prawn gheri’s (enclosures) set up by non-traditional fishermen. We have seen our livelihoods and food security disappear faster than the fish in Chilika," she says in an emotional appeal. “There was a time when we told the government either you kill us, or you give us our fishing grounds back from the non-tribals. The government didn’t bat an eyelid…!”.

Born in Visakhapatnam, Post Gandhigram (in the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh), Chitamma was one of the youngest in her family of three brothers and three sisters (she’s, in fact, fifth in the lineage!). Her parents worked with the Scindia Shipping Company in Visakhapatnam city, her father a mason and mother a fact-to-tum, doing odd jobs with the company. And though they were not well off in the sense of the word, there was enough for everyone on the table. A special bonus used to be new clothes, usually on festivals, since the family was hard pushed to clothe everyone. “My mother, a fisherman’s wife herself, always made sure we were fed. The rest came later, if it came at all!”, she smiles.

Two brothers were employed as fitters in the same company, while another was a carpenter. She had a carefree childhood, generally helping with household chores, and being pampered by her older siblings. Because everyone went to work and sisters married off, Chitamma had to drop out of school while still very in class five to take care of household chores.

She met her husband, P Potadu, a fisherman himself, “during one of those instances” and was married at the age of twenty. Which meant she had to relocate to her husband’s village - Koturu- from her native village of Sanolianuagan in Andhra Pradesh. Soon she was blessed with three sons and three daughters; two sons have taken to fishing in their father’s footsteps, while another is a port worker, while the daughter’s are all married off and settled in their own lives. But Chitamma clearly remembers what her mother had once said to her before she was married: “You are marrying into a poor(er) family. One day you will make a name for yourself (because of hardwork you will have to do)”. Little did she know that decades later, those words would prove prophetic for her in more ways than one…

The village of Koturu, she reminisces, is not only small, it came with its own peculiar problems, chief amongst them being poverty, hunger and alcoholism - ad nauseam. “I was shocked by what I discovered: an open well, no school or hospital, and people with little – if any- livelihood options. If there was anything that was aplenty, it was the staggering legion of alcoholics! They weren’t bothered that what they were spending on alcohol meant their wives and children back home were sleeping on empty stomachs. It was disappointing to see that many a woman in my village were alcoholics also. This really got my gall!”.

The fishermen community can basically be divided into two castes: Wadabalaji and Jalari the Wadabalaji are the higher castes, while Koturu village is dominated by the Kondra (fishermen) and Sahukar (money lenders) community (her husband, incidentally, is a Jalari). Constant quibbling between these castes was a source of friction in the village, and distracted the people from their real enemy- declining livelihoods and food insecurity. “People constantly borrowed money from the Sahukars for food, but they never really spared it a thought; money borrowed for other reasons, like meeting medical bills, marriages, festivals and merry-making was, to them, real borrowing. But poor diets meant poorer health which means higher medical costs. It all added up in the end, but people never really saw the connection”, she says; “I couldn’t believe it”.

Realizing that something ought to be done, Chitamma was nevertheless at a loss where to begin. That was when she first hit on the idea of saving money as a way out for the women of Koturu. She began by visiting women house-to-house and setting up small groups. It was hard work, not only because she was an ‘outsider’, but also because the men of the house were suspicious- and so were quite a few women. But she pushed on nevertheless, and managed to finally put together 15 groups comprising about 20 women each in a two-year period. “Each group began saving Rs 30 every month. When they said they didn’t see how this money was going to change their lives, I told them about the frog-in-the-well! If they didn’t come out of their ‘wells’, they were resigned to a lifetime of poverty and despair”, she says, taking a moment to speak to some women members come to meet her.

Thus was born the Kali Amma Nari Shakti Sangh, the umbrella organization for the smattering of these groups, all 15 in number. It was registered in 1991-92, and immediately took up cudgels against hunger, poverty, education and health issues locally. “We especially advocated for more PDS shops and setting up schools for children, so that the next generation would not have to sleep hungry or want for a livelihood”, Chitamma says, adding “Sheer poverty and helplessness drove many young children to a life of hard labour. Many would begin working as agricultural labour on daily wages when they were as small as 10-12-years of age. And all they got for a day's hard labour was Rs 2 (1US$=Rs 40), which would be snatched by their alcoholic father. They would just go to sleep hungry”.

Chitamma found herself increasingly troubled by many aspects of the situation of local fishermen communities. As she matured, her thoughts became clearer and she began speaking her mind out loud. The fishermen, in turn, identified with what she was saying. Soon, her voice was their voice.

From now on, she knew, she would have to chart out her own course in her struggle for her people. She went back to traveling to fishermen hamlets, understanding the problems in each area and mobilizing the people on her own.

Then came her first victory. “Most fishermen are anemic. Many are even malnourished, and so are their children. They don't have the money to buy iron-rich vegetables and fruits, and barely manage on fish and rice, their staple diet. And then they blow away their money in liquor. We had to thus, start with alcoholism in the village, otherwise everything constructive we did came to nothing in the evening (when the binge drinking begins)”, she says, suddenly sitting up in earnest. Twenty years ago, she says, almost all the men and women in the village were incorrigible alcoholics, sometimes even hitting the bottle in the afternoon onwards. “Then one day, a fight broke out between some families over a petty matter, and before we knew it, 10-15 families became involved in the quarrel and things began to turn ugly. It was all because of liquor….But no one seemed to be bothered in the village if heads got broken or people suffered. That’s when I called a few women, and together we went and broke the utensils, hearth and other material used to make liquor. We did this three times, and warned them we would be back”. Then, for good measure, the women went to the Collector and asked him to do something. The Collector was impressed by their determination and sheer grit, and he made a visit to the village to see things for him.

“When the Collector came, everyone gathered around and he asked the villagers to sign a petition demanding that liquor manufacture in the village should be banned. But no one stepped forward! Then I stepped forward and signed the petition, which spurred the other women to come forward and sign. Then the Collector asked us when we wanted him to take action- today, tomorrow, a week later…Today!, we shouted in unison, and that was a turning point in my fight to change the fortunes of my people!”. Now it has been almost 20-years since alcohol was manufactured in the village, and the villager women are proud of this milestone. They claim that even the number of people taking to alcohol has come down significantly, but that should surprise no one.

Not only has alcohol manufacture stopped, but today the village has a primary school, and people have access to drinking water through tube wells. “Though we wasted a lot of time and money in chasing up government officials –which was disappointing- we have succeeded in improving life in our village on some issues. That is promising”, says Chitamma.

While each village had its own sangh (group), they came together to fight on common issues, such as water, PDS or health. “But we were not getting any loans from banks- there were a lot of problems. We then decided to make a mahasangh”, says Chitamma.

The women sangh members held a series of meetings in every village, mobilizing women and men on common issues and concerns. This resulted in a big gathering held at Kendrapada, village Balisahi, in 1995, wherein each sangh participated. Thus was born Samudram, a State Level Federation of Women Fish Workers Organization, with the express objective of development of marine fisher women and their families living along the coast of Bay of Bengal in Orissa.
(Samudram was registered the same year under the Societies Registration Act, XXI of 1860, with the registration number 42871 (95-96), headquartered at Katuru village in Chatrapur block of Ganjam district).

When it was time for electing the office bearers, the natural choice was Chitamma, who had begun it all in the first place. “Everyone nominated me, and I couldn’t refuse, not after having such a long way. My people were very important to me, and I wanted to do more for them”, she says, albeit a little embarrassed by it all!

“Samudram has 11 executive members, including the President and Secretary, and has a total membership of 3080 members, who are all traditional fishermen. Members can join by paying a lifetime membership of Rs 150”, she adds, as 10-year old Gajapati, freshly showered and hair neatly oiled, sidles up to her. When asked, he nods that he is keen to set off for school in the village. Soon, we have a small bunch of curious and shy 10-year old something boys and girls outside Chitamma’s small office, looking smart in their uniforms.

Says Chitamma, obvious pride in her voice: “This eagerness for school in our children was not always there. This boy and his friends are perhaps the first generation Kondra’s to go to school”. Like other coastal communities in India, these traditional fishermen have long been characterised by stagnant populations, remote abodes, few economic opportunities and low levels of literacy.

"We eat brinjal with tomatoes or potatoes mostly, at home. Sometimes, we eat dal (arhar dal or tur dal) though not chapattis. Mostly, I eat rice twice a day, and have some biscuits for breakfast since we do not get any food (midday meal) at school. I like to eat everything. But it would be nice to have rice more often and may be even chicken curry sometimes!," says Gajapati, revealing his favorite foods.

Chitamma explains that Samudram is now working 21 coastal blocks in Ganjam, Puri, Jagatsinghpur, Kendrapada, Bhadrak and Balasore districts of Orissa, with its focus largely on livelihood training on boat and engine repair, boat manufacturing to facilitate self employment. A major thrust area has been tackling cheating by middlemen in the fish and prawn trade, who otherwise ganged up against the fishermen by raising the cost of fish at landing centres and discouraged other fishermen from selling their catch to Samudram. “We encourage Samudram members to take up trading, establish linkages with wholesale traders and exporters for Samudram brand of products (like fish and prawn pickles, dry fish, fish papad (popadoms) and the like. Along with capacity building of women in aspects like production of value-added marine products, training by professionals from College of Fisheries, exhibition of our products at various festivals, district and national development exhibitions, workshops and conferences has helped us immensely in breaking the shackles of the middlemen”, says she.

As we go across to the next room to look at some Samudram products, Chitamma explains that Samudram now has 5 procurement centres for fresh and dry fish, one each at Godaband, Arjipalli, Sanolianuagan, Kokharkeda and Poddampeda, run by trained fisherwomen, churning out products like fish and prawn achar (pickle), fish papad (popadams), fish balls, fish pakoda, fish cutlets, fish cake and fish paneer. “Since almost 70% of total marine catch in the state consists of low priced fish, which fetch a proportionately low market price, they are either discarded at sea or made into fish meal (these fish include lesser sardines, Ribbon fish, Lizard fish and Pink Pearches, amongst others). But the meat of these fish is as nutritious as any other commercially important fish. We saw a great opportunity in making value added fish products from these (low priced) fish, as well as preparing by-products from processing wastes”. Armed with the support of organizations like OXFAM, Action Aid, Orissa Traditional Fisher Women’s Union (OTFWU), and the College of Fisheries, Government of Orissa, Samudram not only began intensive training programmes for its members, but also embarked on a sustained marketing blitz for its products, by participating in different national, state and district-level congregations like the Gopalpur Beach Festival and Khallikote Mahatushav. With technical assistance from the Central Institute of Fisheries Education (CIFE), Mumbai, Samudram has been able to hygienically package its products in food grade packs. These are now sold in markets as distant as Chennai (companies include DSF & RSK), Delhi (King Fisher) and Howrah (Star Fish).

However, says Chitamma, while she may have worked hard at making Samudran the “modest success story” it is, she does have a small personal regret. “My sons do not want to be fishermen any more but want to join the army”, says she ruefully, hastily adding “But there’s nothing wrong in serving the nation. It’s just that we would have liked them to be near us and take up their ancestral profession. It would have given us a lot of confidence”, least she be construed as being less patriotic!

“ All I want to tell my people is like I haven’t stopped working for them, they should also help each other. And most importantly, they should not stop being fishermen. Once they do that, we will all die penniless of hunger and misery. It is our lifeblood,” she says, raising an emphatic arm in the air to drive home her point. “My number one priority is education for all our children and youth, then it is sound business and thirdly, good behaviour”. On a more philosophical note, Chitamma says “Earlier there was a lot of fish in the lake, but people had less money, so they ate well. Today, the lake has little fish, but people want more money, so they sell whatever they catch, not bothering to feed themselves or their families well. This is where we are going wrong…”.

(Article written as part of ‘Bursaries for Journalists, supported by CDL/GAA/EU’.)