Last Update from India

I can’t believe that ten months have already passed, and that my time in India is coming to a close. I leave Ahmedabad tomorrow morning, then attend our endpoint conference for several days, and will then travel through the Himalayas for a while. I’ll be back States-side on July 20!

In terms of my projects, things have come to a close. The marketing project I was involved with – marketing products made by my NGO for the western market – has been established; samples were made and sent to the US and the NGO seems to be ready for forthcoming orders. The documentation work I did for the legal office is also finished; both English and Gujarati copies of the two-year report have been printed for the NGO. My work with the manual scavenging community – collecting stories of those who have given up manual scavenging for alternative livelihoods – is also finished; take a look at this website to read these stories.

Working on making items for the marketing project

But, like I’ve mentioned before, it is really the moments in between these projects that have been the most meaningful. The village visits, laughing with young women, attending village weddings, forming relationships with my coworkers, drinking endless amounts of chai, speaking broken Gujarati, and feeling a sense of identity and belonging to this place, a rootedness to the culture here, a sense of home. Those are the moments that I will always remember and that tie me to this country forever.

Wearing a sari for the first time!
At a wedding of one of my coworker's siblings - wearing my coworker's sari

I now leave India with more questions than I ever had before. What did it mean for me, as a westerner, as a Gujarati American, to come to Navsarjan for this time period to "serve"? When I look into the faces of the desperately poor and hear about their situations, what do I say when they ask me for a solution? How do I wrap my mind around the untouchability and atrocities I've seen this year -- and how to make sense of it in a world that perhaps doesn't seem to care and denies its existence? And how do I take a hold of what I’ve learned and witnessed here, continue to make it relevant to my life when I return to life back in the States?

Me in one of the villages I visited -- the young thin girl in the front is the victim of an awful rape case (Navsarjan is currently fighting on her behalf)

But, at the end of it all, what I do know for sure is that after spending months with the legal staff at Navsarjan, I have decided that I specifically want to continue to work on human rights issues from the perspective of law. I’m excited about this, and am very much looking forward to this opportunity!

For now, thanks for journeying along with me this year and I look forward to catching up with many of you when I return!

A Day in the Life ...

AIF, the organization that sent me here to India, has asked us to write final documents about our experiences here. Below is one that I wrote, "A Day in the Life..." It is long, but if you are interested, I hope it can help paint a picture of my life here.

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*I work for Navsarjan, an NGO whose primary mission is to eradicate caste-based discrimination. We work primarily with Dalits (“untouchables” or the Scheduled Castes) to address their concerns – such as legal justice, education, vocational training, and so much more.

The Journey

The sun has hardly been up, but my day has already started. I am in a rickshaw, wind blowing on my face; music blasting from speakers behind me; cars, bikes, and scooters, dogs, cows, and camels all surrounding me. I am in Ahmedabad beginning my journey to one of the villages in Gujarat where my NGO works.

The drive to the main bus station from my apartment is a long one. I begin from my suburban middle class neighborhood; on the way I find bungalows and slums, apartments and tents, homes of the fabulously wealthy and homes of the desperately poor. I then cross the bridge that divides my city into two, entering the old city from the new. I am immediately surrounded by throngs of people and find myself overwhelmed by the traffic and noise around me. On my left are a number of women squatting on the ground and selling all types of vegetables. On my right are migrant families waking up from under pieces of blue cloth barely hung on sticks, a feeble structure they know to be home.

I finally reach the main bus stand and look at the hundreds of buses around me. Unable to read Gujarati, I am humbled as I learn what it means to try to navigate the world without being literate. I look around at the people at the station, families carrying their belongings in small white sacks, women dressed in some of the most beautiful saris they own as they prepare to go to a wedding in their native village, until I find a man in a khaki uniform, a bus conductor. I ask which bus will take me where I need to go, and after some pointing and navigating, I hope that I am on the right bus, ready to begin the three-hour journey into the village.

Sometimes the buses are so crowded that people are pushing and pulling, screaming at each other as we climb up the stairs to get a spot on the bus. Having not yet mastered the Indian art of wiggling into tight spaces, I can never find a seat during these routes, and instead find myself barely standing squeezed in the middle of five people. But not all days are like that; on the days that I am lucky, I have a seat next to the window all to myself, and can feel the breeze blowing directly onto me.



It is on these bus rides that I do most of my thinking. What will I learn about today at the village I’m visiting? What do I tell them when I look straight at the desperate poverty they live in and they ask me what I am going to do for them? How do I make sense of the stark contrast between the poor and the wealthy in this country? How can I be sensitive to the culture around me while at the same time making calls about what is right and wrong, what is okay and not okay? Can I ever truly fit into this culture, or will I always be a foreigner to this land?

On other journeys, I turn to my neighbors and answer their questions about the work that I am doing, trying to change any misconceptions about caste, gender, and poverty that come up. Sometimes I am with staff of my NGO on these trips, learning about their stories and being inspired by their level of dedication and sacrifice for the cause towards which they work.

These journeys are not a means to an end, a pastime until I reach my final destination. Instead, they are crucial components of my time here in Gujarat, moments where I can dig deeper into my own reflections and can hear stories that will move me and compel me to continue working towards justice.

The Destination

After many hours on a bus, then on the back of a colleagues’ motorcycle, I finally reach the village, my final destination. I am with my colleague by my side, but am immediately overwhelmed by everything I see, children without any clothes, women covering their faces with their saris, and one-room homes that house more than ten people. I sit down on a rope-bed with other staff member in one of these homes, am greeted by the entire family, and we soon begin listening to their story.

On this particular trip, I am with the legal team, listening to cases of atrocities against Dalit individuals and thinking of ways to respond to these concerns through the law. The story I hear is overwhelmingly awful. I listen as a family tells me about their loved one, a young girl raped by a dominant caste man. The family is in tears as they recall the story; the pain is visible in their eyes. With the Navsarjan staff member by my side, we try to comfort them and the fieldworker talks to them about legal responses that we can take for their case.


The family turns to me and asks me what I am doing here. What will I do for them, how does my presence benefit them in any way? I am speechless, for I do not know how the words documentation and reporting matter to the family I am with, who have just seen their little girl brutalized. I simply say that I am here to listen to their story, that I am here to learn and to meet them, and that I will try to take their case to more individuals.

We end our meeting over chai, we all drink from saucers in our hands and I try my best to appear completely comfortable drinking out of a plate. We smile and we talk, and I am again humbled by what I’ve heard and moved by the strength of the human spirit, to be able to continue in spite of the most horrific incidents hat may happen. These are the experiences that have compelled me to continue working in this field, to always remain connected to those who have suffered and to fight on behalf of their human rights.

The Night

I then sit with my colleague on his motorcycle as we head out from the village back to his own home, another village nearby. It is night, the stars are out, and the wind feels particularly cold as we drive by. On this journey we talk about what we learned at the meeting, trying to understand as much as I can from my colleagues’ perspective.


We reach my colleagues’ home and am greeted by many members of the family. They all take such an interest in my presence there and the questions never seem to end. Kids come running to the house and look at us shyly, wanting to play together. The women gather in the kitchen and we sit together as I marvel at the perfectly round rotis that are made. We talk about each others’ cultures, giggling over marriage prospects, discussing untouchability in the village, and trying to make sense of the different worlds we live in. A feast is prepared for the evening; chicken, roti, vegetable, rice, and lentils, and I am asked to eat two or three servings of everything. Completely full and exhausted from the journey, I fall asleep quickly on the rope bed outside, under the stars and lost in thought about all that I experienced that day.

Humility

If I were to describe my year in a word, it would be humility. Being humbled, before all those around me, my peers and fellow fellows, my coworkers, the precious Dalits I've had the privilege to meet and connect with.

It's just the nature of doing this kind of work -- jumping from one side of the world, barely knowing the language, trying to asses exactly what "skills" I bring to the table, trying to make connections with individuals and coming up with a concrete "project" to work on for ten months ...

After being pushed and pulled, challenged and elated, strengthened and defeated for ten months, I come away from my AIF experience with more questions that I ever had before. What did it mean for me, as a westerner, as a Gujarati American, to come to Navsarjan for this time period to "serve"? What was the impact of my ten months here? Did I do as much as I set out to do? What do I say to those who look me in the face, tell me about the desperate poverty they live in, and ask me for a solution? And how do I wrap my mind around the untouchability and atrocities I've seen this year -- and how to make sense of it in a world that perhaps doesn't seem to care and denies its existence?

I don't have all the answers about development or human rights; I only have more questions. I'm looking forward to the months ahead, to some time to think through these issues and process some answers.

Everyday Heroes

One of the best parts of my placement with Navsarjan is being surrounded by such strong, passionate, and dedicated individuals. The people that I work with are such inspiring individuals, many of whom have worked out of the most hostile situations to dedicate themselves to the Dalit cause. Again and again, I am humbled and moved by their stories and by the actions that guide their lives.

Here is one of the stories I've been lucky enough to hear:

Kantibhai - Perhaps the most inspiring story I've heard, someone who grew up in absolute poverty, was denied basic human rights (water, food, shelter) and the chance to study simply because he was Dalit.

For instance, he says that while he was studying, "The upper caste students could pick up any Dalit student they chose to beat us up. This could be with or without reason. Sometimes they get drunk and come to beat up the Dalit students just for fun. We had no right to say "no". We had to face it. We cannot complain. If we complained, we should face the abuse from the college administration as well. We just have to obey."*

Today, Kantibhai oversees Dalit cases from throughout the state of Gujarat. He firmly believes, "Nothing is impossible in this world!" and is proud to say it loudly! He is incredibly dedicated to this work, and has spent so many years running from village to village, meeting with government officials and non-Dalits to stand up for the rights of his community.

*I encourage you to read Kanti's story in full here.** It is such a moving story and will help to give you an overall understanding of what kinds of discrimination Dalits face today.

**Link has been fixed

Work Updates

I have posted a lot about my experiences and reactions throughout my time here, but very little about what exactly I'm doing through the fellowship. Work is full of ups and downs, major challenges and incredible successes, but it's such an interesting journey. Here's a quick overview of what I've been up to:

1) Marketing Project

Navsarjan runs a number of different initiatives, one of which is a vocational training school for Dalits (and anyone who believes in equality), where courses such as driving, tailoring, motor rewinding, and beautician are taught.

From the tailoring and design courses, the students and a production team make a number of beautiful items - clothes, cards, pictures, paintings, wall hanging, tablemats, cushion covers, etc. We are currently working with a US-based team to expand the reach of these products to the international market. We are aiming to be able to sell high quality products to the western market -- and in so doing, increasing the skill level here and raising awareness about Dalit issues back home.

Learning about product quality and embroidery from another NGO

2) Two-Year Report for the Legal Office

While Navsarjan's been doing legal work since it began, a specific legal office (the Center for Dalit Human Rights) opened just two years ago. For this project, I interviewed the legal staff, made case visits with them, and documented and evaluated it into a two-year report for the office.

With young women in a village during one of these legal field visits.

3) Manual Scavenging

I came into Navsarjan with the specific interest of working on the manual scavenging issue, and I'm grateful that I've gotten the chance to do just that. Currently, I'm working with the manual scavenging campaign team to:

A) Collect stories of manual scavengers who, against all odds and with the help of Navsarjan staff, have left the practice of manual scavenging. We'll be creating a website with these stories.

An entire community of Dalits who belong to the manual scavenging caste but refuse to practice manual scavenging, and instead make these 'supras'.

B) Talk with manual scavengers, learn about their situations, and see what options they have for alternative livelihoods. We also hope to bring some of them to work on the marketing project mentioned above.

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While these are all "projects" I'm working on, more than anything, this has been an incredible learning experience -- about Dalit issues and responding to human rights concerns. About working on-the-ground and about the reality of discrimination. It's the small moments, day-to-day, whether I'm stuffed on a bus or sitting in front of a manual scavenging family just talking, that are the most eye-opening and impacting experiences of my time here.

Untouchability Exists

I've been learning about and witnessing Dalit issues firsthand during my eight months here as an AIF fellow. I've gotten so in-depth with the issue that there is simply no question about the existence of caste-based discrimination in this country -- I just can't deny the countless stories of abuse, rape, and torture against my Dalit brothers and sisters, the realities of untouchability and pollution associated with this group of people, the segregation (separate but 'unequal') that exists in every village, and the fact that on a broad-level Dalits remain economically and socially behind so many other groups of people in India.

I realize that caste and untouchability are very heated topics -- and that many, many, many will disagree with me when I write this, but I can't deny what I have seen -- the practices of caste-based discrimination and untouchability exist. It exists, not just in remote 'untouched' villages, but across the country, in most, if not all, villages and cities in India.

The most common form of untouchability occurs at the temples -- often, Dalits are not allowed to enter the same temples as upper-caste individuals. People belonging to upper castes will not associate themselves with Dalits - will not enter their homes, eat their food, or drink their water - for if they do, they will become 'polluted' themselves.

It starts from these 'small' acts of untouchability -- and builds all the way up to such horrific acts as torture, abuse, and rape against Dalits.

It's so hard for non-Dalits to make sense of this issue, to recognize it, and to identify with it. What does it mean for someone to be denied basic rights because they have a different last name? How do we make sense of an issue that doesn't really affect us or change the way we live? What is caste, anyway, and what exactly does that mean for Indian society? For many of us, this topic is just a foreign concept that is very difficult to grasp.

But what I can say in response is this: Untouchability is discrimination, plain and simple -- and it exists. No one knows better the reality of this caste-based discrimination than Dalits themselves. They live this reality and are quick to recognize it for what it is. It exists, it exists, it exists. Go to any village and talk to the Dalits there -- there is no denying it exists.

Understanding caste and untouchability is such a crucial component to learning India. It is part of the bedrock of this society and shapes so much of what happens here. We simply cannot understand India without understanding the social norms and practices that exist in this country.

I challenge you to take this issue on as your own, to recognize its reality, to learn as much as you can about caste and about those who are being left behind in India's development.

The Other Side of the Conversation

A few days ago, I visited a village with Navsarjan staff where they were working on two cases -- one of an upper-caste man in the village who assaulted and attempted to rape a minor Dalit girl, and another of an individual who destroyed land belonging to a Dalit and threatened to take his life if he retaliated.

In the village listening to the Dalits' experiences

On the journey to the village, we began discussing some of the challenges the staff members faced in their work. Again and again, they said the most difficult thing for them was to stand directly in front of non-Dalits speaking of their work and the reality of the injustices they saw. Though certainly not all, they said that many non-Dalits are still quick to deny the practice of untouchability.

Praveen (fellow AIF fellow), Bhaldevbhai (fieldworker), Me, and Bharatbhai (fieldworker) on a train - on the way to the village.

During the train ride on the way home that day, I saw exactly what the staff members meant. In our train compartment, some of the men began asking the Navsarjan fieldworker I was with who he was and what work he did. He was careful in his response -- initially only painting a broader picture of working on "human rights." After the other men pressed him further, "What kinds of human rights?", he finally respond and said, "We work on issues for whomever needs them, women, kids, or Dalits--"

At that point, the rest of the men started retaliating, denying the practice of untouchability and claiming that the fieldworker's work was meaningless. It was an intense argument - 1 against 7! - where they accused the fieldworker of working with criminals and saying that his work was unto no purpose!

In my seven months in Ahmedabad, I have so clearly seen the impact of untouchability practices and a number of caste-based atrocities on Dalits throughout India. I simply can't deny that these practices continue unabated. Hearing the men's perspectives on the train was certainly hard to swallow -- Is there any room for dialogue and reconciliation when denial is so rampant?

I am reminded that for Dalit rights activists, the work ahead is quite demanding, extremely difficult, and very long indeed.