South India – Day 11
Saturday, February 15, 2025
Local breakfast
This morning, I didn’t manage two breakfasts, but instead got to eat at a very local place with Roy David. It was small and absolutely packed with people jostling to the front where the food was being cooked and served steaming hot, and then jostling again to get a spot at a table – organized chaos. Cheap and good was the place’s attraction. Both our meals together cost about a hundred rupees ($1).
The previous night about a thousand kids came stamping and shouting into the hotel around 11:00 and commenced with music and dancing in the early morning. It must have been some kind of school program. I can’t say I was disappointed when the power suddenly went out! What a curmudgeon I am!
Hanging out with Roy David
It turned out to be another slow day, which is something I never plan, but I welcomed the chance just to hang out with Roy David. No schedule, no agenda. Just sitting and talking through the afternoon. That is how you get to know people. At one point, Roy fired up his computer and we sat at his desk watching Adivasi videos. There was one in particular that provided a whole history of their land rights struggle set to a song in their language. Those images often come back to me when I find my mind drifting off somewhere. I hope I can find a way of letting you see that video.
Roy was continually mentioning dates of important sangham (meetings) and landmark events for the Adivasi. For him, the whole history is a picture on one canvas. He can see it in his mind and point to this part and that part. But for me, well, I’m afraid things quickly get into a tangle. The gist of it all, from 2006 at least, when the Forest Rights Act was passed, and that was a huge achievement for tribal people across India, is that they have had to continue to fight. Slowly, slowly the rights afforded in this act are being implemented, but every step requires a huge effort. Later, Roy gave me a book filled with magnificent photos, for which he was a contributing author. This is sure to help me unravel more of the story.
Seeing the beauty
It is hard not to sink into a sense of despair when talking about the Adivasi. But despair, and especially pity, are not the kinds of messages I want to convey in these writings. I want you to see these communities in all of their beauty and vibrancy. It’s not an attempt to deny their hardships. It’s just that too often we outsiders define people like the Adivasi only by their loss, and that takes us down a road to nowhere. No, there is so much to learn from the Adivasi and even much to celebrate. Their sacrifices have not been for naught. They have gone from zero human rights, not even being seen as human, to … well … Roy David told me about one district in Karnataka where 21 communities got community land rights. In another district, 56 villages have been promised. So far only 10 have received their land, so there is still much work to do. And take a look at Muthu’s village. It’s thriving. And that meeting at Nagarhole, the Adivasi who live outside the park have received their community rights. The one’s inside, though, no. While there is still so much to do, and many setbacks to face, they at least have the courage to hope.
Kaveri
That afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting a young social activist named Kaveri who, for her Ph.D. research, spent five years collecting data on the oral literary traditions of the tribal peoples of Kodagu. She became very close with five communities and plans to publish a book of their stories. In reality, she feels that five books are needed, one for each tribe, as they all have their own original narratives, mostly related to nature. The account of one community tells of a struggle to stay on their land from long, long ago. The need to safeguard their simple life in the forest seems to be an inherent part of their existence. Most stories are passed down in song, and this is how the children learn. They describe how to hunt in the forest and collect honey; which plants are medicinal and how to use them; how a marriage must be conducted; where the gods are and how to worship them. This generation may be the last to hear them, though. The storytellers have become few and listeners even fewer. I should probably mention that Kaveri comes from the Dalit community, a fact I find irrelevant. I’m telling you because she told me.
As I shared with her about ARI, her eyes began to sparkle and she could hardly contain her excitement. Though she has achieved a high level of education, she hasn’t much experience in farming and it is her hope that in the future she can work with the Adivasi communities to cultivate their hard-won land and be self-sufficient.
Roy’s farm and art collection
In the evening, we hopped in Wajid’s auto once more and putted out to Roy David’s farm. On the way we passed a small community of 250 households. They were Adivasi who had been evicted and then given their land back. On reaching the farm, I have to say, the most striking feature was the giant murals. Roy frequently hosts volunteers, and some of those appear to have been artists. He gave them free run to use any and all walls as their canvases, so if you ever go there, don’t be surprised at the giant three-eyed monkey or cranky swami looking straight into your soul.
We sat and talked for a while by the fish pond, which was teeming. Wajid found a few ripe lemons so we collected those and went back to town in the last vestiges of twilight. At the hotel, I immediately approached my new best friend, the Shoma cook, determined to establish firmly my new tradition of having a Shoma every night. Two friendly Tibetan monks greeted me with handshakes as they were leaving.
