Wednesday was probably the day everyone was looking forward to the most – the chance to get out on a field trip and see what’s actually happening out there in the real world beyond the walls of the conference auditorium, and talk to people who are doing stuff, not just giving PowerPoint presentations about it.
I know that when we used to organise the Scottish Rural Services Conferences, I was always a wee bit jealous of the delegates and staff who came back after the first day’s field trips (or study tours, or knowledge exchanges – they are a many-named activity) excited and animated about what they’d seen and heard, while I and other colleagues had been back at the ranch finalising arrangements for the next day’s full conference session.
So, I was near the beginning of the queue to sign up, and chose the trip to see some of the work being done by Seva Mandir, the organisation who co-hosted the IRN Forum. Seva Mandir is an NGO (non-governmental organisation – or does everyone know that?) working with the rural and tribal communities in South Rajasthan, where Udaipur is located. What they’re about is helping communities to get organised and take control of their own lives – the familiar idea of community empowerment, though in a very different context from the Scottish version.
Around 15 of us set off in three four wheel drive vehicles, heading out through the outskirts of Udaipur beyond the busy urban splurge of colour, noise and smell to the truly rural landscape beyond. We travelled across uneven terrain that turned mountainous, giving spectacular views over the green and brown wooded hillsides.
There were palm trees, scrubby bushes and indigenous hardwood trees like teak (which takes us over the edge of my botanical and arboreal knowledge). However, many of the hills have little tree cover due to logging which then opens up the hillsides to erosion by the monsoon rains.
A few weeks before, this landscape was parched and Udaipur’s famous lakes were dried up. But now, late and incomplete, the monsoon had arrived to fill the lakes and pump colour back into the plant life. This day, however, was dry and punishingly hot.
Apart from finding out things about the area you visit, the other great thing about these trips is the chance to get to know your conference companions better, and I was cheered to be sandwiched between the mighty Janet from Kenya and quiet, smart and funny Irena from Bulgaria. Both are involved in supporting and helping communities in their very different local areas, and both brought fresh and interesting insights to what we saw on our travels.
On the road, the traffic was sparse but still lively, and we manoeuvred past clusters of cows and goats and local people, some of them very young, and various more static groups of individuals, often with dogs lolling nearby, getting on with their day’s work. Women in dazzling saris carrying formidable burdens of grain or water on their heads, kids playing as their father or mother tended to animals, and men and women simply observing us pass by with that direct and impassive stare that is so common among Indian people, and which can be a little unnerving to Europeans, whose eye contact habits are so much more reserved.
First stop was at a large village about 40 km from Udaipur where, amidst the dust and dogs and cows and children, we were served hot sweet masala tea from small glasses by a friendly man without a word of English. In fact, English – which is such a strong and sometimes dominant presence in the city – fell away as we progressed into the countryside, with the few visible signs and posters all being in Hindi.
The next short section of the journey took us over noticeably rougher road to the first project stop, where we saw how that simplest and oldest of technologies, a dam, had been used to create a reservoir that could be used in the dry times by the local villagers for irrigation. Water-harvesting was the phrase used – not one that you hear much in the soggy north of Scotland, but one we may have to add to our vocabulary in the overheated decades to come.
In the small lake below the dammed reservoir a very laidback water buffalo nodded slowly, cooling its blood and looking as relaxed as its urban cow cousins.
We went on to see an area where the local communities have been supported by Seva Mandir to reclaim some of the forest land to reverse the effects of encroachment by farmers and others, whose use of the timber was causing environmental degradation. The solution came from a partnership between Seva Mandir, the villages and the Government who actually owned the land, which gave alternative land to the farmers and ensured that the forest land is more actively managed, including the use of some very robust looking drystane dykes.
Then, best of all, to a Non-Formal Education Centre, where a couple of dozen kids, aged from five to 12, welcomed us with huge smiles, direct and curious gazes and – after they’d warmed up a bit – a couple of songs. The Centre is a two-roomed building, with walls made from mud and dung in the local style (the dung apparently acts as a natural mosquito repellent), and with one side of the classroom open to the world.
The Centre picks up and provides some education for children who, because of remoteness or family circumstance, cannot get full-time education, and tries to give them the basics. From a brief impression of the children, it does a pretty good job. Bright-eyed and just plain beautiful, like young children anywhere, they looked healthy and happy and capable of anything. Some were clearly from poorer families, with scruffier clothing, while others matched the city standard of immaculate well-pressed outfits, but all were involved and engaged with what was going on.
A little later, in Madla Village (or rather villages, consisting as it does of six hamlets which work together as a community, totalling 290 households) in a proud community building standing high over the village, we met a group of the men and women who are active in the life of the community. The women arrived late, having been doing their domestic duties, and three of the four kept their faces covered all the time, which apparently is still the custom for married women in rural communities.
Seva Mandir has been working with this community since 1982, aiming to protect and develop the village institutions such as the samuh which spearheads development activities and the Gram Vikhas Committee, elected to lead from the front.
In a room with open doorways and windows, shelves stacked with publications, and with a surrealistic small bird observing us from the top of a clock high up on the wall, the locals sat comfortably cross-legged throughout the meeting, while the rest of us squirmed and stood and leaned and squatted. Preeta from Seva Mandir and her colleagues (sorry, but my name-blindness is even worse when the names are unfamiliar), translated, as we heard how the community had worked over the years with the support of Seva Mandir to build local sustainability.
Members of the community are trained by Seva Mandir and act as part-time “para-workers”, with stipends paid out of a Village Development Fund.
We also heard about the dislocation caused by the need for young men in particular to travel to the cities for work during much of the year. It’s not something they want to do, we were assured – rather, it’s an economic necessity because the local land is not productive enough to sustain the entire population.
The question “What’s the best thing about living in this village?” provoked a cheerful round of debate. Translated, the key points were the beauty of the land, the fact that you could live off it without having to worry about money, and the strength of the community, which means that if you have any troubles there will be people there to support you.
After a photo session, with the villagers taking photos of our group, we headed back on the rough road towards the busy city, stopping for lunch on the way. The food was good, but best of all was the fun we had with squads of local kids who cheerfully and politely insisted on having their photos taken, and then shrieked and shouted with hilarity when shown their image on the camera screen.
There’s no doubt it’s a tough life in these villages, with a lack of what we would regard as basic utilities and amenities, and Seva Mandir are doing superb and very necessary work to build the capacity of the communities to take control over their own lives.
But nevertheless, at the risk of sounding glib and patronising, and based only on these brief observations, the one necessity of life that seemed to be abundant among the people we met was plain, simple happiness.
More India advantures to come - and watch out for the launch of Bev’s new Rural Network Blog, coming soon.
