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Working Paper series--SUBALTERN INNOVATORS NETWORK
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Working Paper Series no: WP/EU-IND/2002/10 (SI-NET/EU-IND/10
Jan 2002
)
Contract no. IND/B7-3001/95/115-31
2002


 

SUBALTERN INNOVATORS NETWORK(II)

(SI-NET)

 

Ashok Jain & D.P. Chakraborty
India Coordination Centre
Institute of Information and Communication
University of Delhi South Campus
Benito Juarez Road, New Delhi-110021,India

 

 

Write-ups in this series refer to innovative activities in India which do not involve established and dominant institutional structures, but have a strong and active presence amongst local communities. This "other" innovation domain either by design or oversight, is often left out of a discourse on innovation networks.

The title Subaltern Innovation Network is inspired by the writings of The

Subaltern Studies Collective. Founded in 1982, the collective’s writings

opened up entirely new ways to study the history of colonialism bringing

into relief the manifold diversities that has been beyond the oversimplified elitist interpretation to cope with*.

Likewise this series attempts to make the presence of the relatively unnoticed domain of subaltern innovators felt amongst those engaged in innovation studies in general and with human centred systems perspective in particular.

 

--------------------------------------

*A Subaltern Studies Reader, 1986-1995, Ranjit Guha, (Editor), Delhi Oxford University Press, 1998. The subaltern refers to "such entities and forces of civil society as are usually left out in cold blood by elitist studies of politics".

---

 

 

CONTENTS

 

  1. Dilip Rathod delivers three Maharashtra villages from alcoholism
  2. For the mentally challenged, this village commune is an oasis of peace
  3. This school doesn’t just educate, it helps retrieve lost tribal pride
  4. Sister Alice broke off from her order to help women shrimp peelers
  5. Harmala Gupta provides hope to cancer patients on the edge
  6. Siddhrajsinhji and wife protect old ‘subjects’ from modern travails
  7. Radha Khakha is a literacy evangelist in remote Latardih
  8. Under this mango tree, enlightenment goes by the name of Andher
  9. In a Bangalore slum, the printed word is the voice of the people

 

1. DILIP RATHOD DELIVERS THREE MAHARASHTRA VILLAGES FROM ALCOHOLISM

Rathod’s evicted all illegal distillers. The only licenced liquor shop is now 15 km away.

A few months ago, two men carrying a barrel of country liquor arrack into a Banjara tribal village in the Nanded district of Maharashtra came in for a rude shock. They were accosted and roughed up by a group of aggressive women who dragged them to the sarpanch. Illegal distillers have no place here and this is how these women choose to tackle the menace, even if their method wasn’t too democratic. It’s just an instinctive reaction to years of frustration at having to toiler ate drunken hasbands wreaking havoc on their homes.

The women’s brigade, however, hasn’t sprung up on its own. It’s inspired by 33-yearold Dilip Rathod, a tribal himself, who’s initiated the antiliquor agitation in the village. The walloping each culprit gets is not part of his guidelines, but having encouraged these women, he leaves it to them to deal with it.

Not too long ago almost all the men in the three villages around Himayatnagar were hopeless drinkers who spent their day’s earnings on illicit their day’s earnings on illicit liquor. Nearly 40 widows in a population of less than a thousand lost their husbands while they were actually drinking in country liquor shop. One-fourth of the women too were regular drinkers. Till Dilip Rathod a young man decided to step in and evict illegal distillers from the village. At present the only licensed liquor shop is 15 km away from the cluster of village. And even the faithful pilgrim is known to falter down a dirt track that is 15 km long.

It wasn’t easy to evict those distillers,so the villagers themselves had to be educated about the kind of things mixed in illicit liquor. They went to the collector also met all the people who could help. The system, for a change, swung into action. Today, there is not a single distiller in the villages. The inspector brought all his cops to the villages and told the people that if they found any of them receiving money from the distillers, they should bring it to his notice Now only 10 per cent of the villagers are known alcoholics, who religiously trek 15 km to get high.

During his fight against the distillers, Rathod was threatened many times by hostile lobbies that controlled the illicit liquor market. But he stood his ground. "

Education came accidentally to him, he got through the village school and then managed an MSW degree from the Mumbai University. In the beginning, he worked as a medical social worker in Mumbai’s JJ Hospital; had a stint with the traumatised and mentally imbalanced Latur earthquake survivors. But soon he realised his calling could be of use to people around him. Acutely aware of the poverty in his native village, he decided to give up his career plans two years ago. And returned to his village in Nanded to help in the upliftment of his backward brethren.

The average monthly income in a typical Banjara village in Nanded, Maharashtra is Rs.500. The doctor that visits them every week is a mere ‘injection doctor’; he does not even have an MBBS degree. At least eight people die of malaria every year between July and September. Schoolchildren attend classes but teachers don’t. Rathod is trying to drag the villagers out of this mire.

He began with tackling alcoholism: now he has to educate the children, bring healthcare to the village and teach them how to earn more money. With his own meagre financial resources, contribution from villagers and a Rs 4,000 per month fellowship from Child Relief and You, Rathod’s slowly transforming the villages. His wife fully supports his effort.

Address for communication : Dilip Rathod, SIPRA, Gram samjik Kharya Vikas

Sanstha, Himayatnagar, Nanded

Tel. 02468-44418

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2. FOR THE MENTALLY CHALLENGED, THIS VILLAGE COMMUNE IS AN OASIS OF PEACE

Working in the pastoral setting of Jivhala’s farm has a therapeutic effect on the inmates.

Laxman is an expert at mixing and spraying pesticides and insists on telling visitors how important it is to get the proportions right. Santosh, even with his muddied hands and sweat rolling down his forehead, gesticulates and unleashes his obsession with a brief on the latest films shown on television. The pious and reclusive Devendra doesn’t like this one bit and scoffs at Santosh. Devendra leads a frugal life and is considered the priest of the group of 43 living in the village commune.

All three are mentally challenged and live on a sprawling 30-acre farm near Antroli village, a one-hour drive from Solapur. They lead a placid, pastoral life in the commune-an innovative experiment nurtured by Jivhala, which was set up by Annarao Rajmane who believes that work ng on the frm has had a sublime and therapeutic effect particularly on the mentally handicapped persons.. All the inmates participate in running the commune and undertake almost all the chores involved-right from tending to cattle to weding, trimming and harvesting.Rajmane was

associated with the socialist movement in the ‘70s. As the mentally challenged grow older, frustrations creep in and cause tensions in the household, particularly if the parents are insensitive or fail to understand the situation. In such cases, they often turn unpredictable and violent. Annarao believes that it’s essential to engage mentally handicapped adults in some physical activity for at least three to four hours a day. This led him to think in terms of a village commune exclusively for adults. The younger lot draw succour from his two-decade-old school (with 75 students) in Solapur city. Jivhala also runs a day-care centre in nearby Barshi town (with 50 students). Now plans are afoot to admit women inmates as well.

After a stint with Vijay Merchant’s National Society for Equal Opportunities for the Handicapped (NASEOH) in Mumbai, Annarao decided to set up a small school for the mentally challenged in 1980. As they grew up, it was decided that a self-sufficient farming commune was ideal for these youth. Annarao and his colleagues along with a group of parents set about raising the Rs 7 lakh required for the property they had identified for the purpose-a 30-acre stretch of land about 25 km away from the city. A clutch of cooperative banks in the region and some rich individuals donated the amount. The state’s social welfare department agreed to pick up the tab for staff salaries and the self-sustaining farming project took off in ’90

The farmland is now lush green with teak, eucalyptus and coconut trees. A small fruit orchard is also taking shape. Wheat grown over 7 acres fetches the commune 60 quintals of grain every year. The vegetable patch yields over 10 kg and the dairy brings in 10 litres of milk everyday. "Other than edible oil, sugar and a few sundries, everything is available here." Both of Jivahala’s schools are now the pivot of families with mentally ill children and basically undertake therapy sessions. A great deal of emphasis is also laid on personal hygiene.

A goat-farming project is on the anvil so that the commune can raise enough money to run on its own and lessen its dependence on charity. The inmates do not pay anything for their upkeep though some parents do offer monetary assistance to Jivhala whenever they can.

Address for communication : A.B. Rajmane, Jivhala

Society for Mentally handicapped.

Janata Shopping Centre, Navipath,Solapur 413007

Maharastra,

Phone : 0217-724322 (O),0217-311764 (R)

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3. THIS SCHOOL DOESN’T JUST EDUCATE, IT HELPS RETRIEVE LOST TRIBAL PRIDE

Nesting in the hills of Wayanad district, Kanavu teaches tribal children to confront their past, their own identify-and also how to pass exams.

Years ago, writer and social activist K.J. Baby dreamt of setting up a school where tribal children could grow up in a habitat beyond the clutches of landlords and settlers who held them in bondage. Baby wished to reach into the recesses of the tribal psyche and tap the latent genius of the community. Most of all, he wanted the children of the forest to stand on an equal footing with the kids in the cities. Baby and his wife, Shirley, set to work on realising their dream. They created a school out of a cluster of thatched structures standing on six acres of land donated by a trust. And they christened it Kanavu (Dream).

It nestles among the rolling hills of North Kerala’s Wayanad district, which has a high concentration of tribal. With its innovative teaching methods and visible impact on a crop of students drawn from the social underclass, Kanavu is making waves and drawing the attention of authorities that see it as a role model. The school discards conventional practices; there is no classroom, no syllabus. Their aim is to teach self reliance to these children who’ve no access to the opportunities offered by society to a more privileged class of children.To prove tribal kids capable of learning the same skills as ‘mainstream’ children, they first teach them to respect themselves.

The children are taught to confront their past not through textbooks but by invoking living examples drawn from the life of the community. The next step is to initiate them into the process of skills development. They learn music, painting, dance, theatre and martial arts tribal folk songs and rituals form the core of the effort to reinforce their sense of identity. Farming is integral to the process of picking up a traditional, gainful occupation.

Baby says his objective is not to produce a generation of students obsessed with passing exams. The priority is to build the children’s self-confidence and provide avenues of self-expression. Coming from disparate tribal groups with a history of mutual hostility, the children are taught to bond with each other and rise above divisive tendencies. Essentially, Kanavu teaches children to integrate the best elements of community and enhance the quality of life and awareness levels of the tribal.

These objectives are woven into the daily regimen. The school’s 52 children are divided into seven groups and are allotted chores like sweeping the premises, cleaning toilets, tending the cows and preparing food for the other kids. The day starts with lessons in kalaripayattu, the traditional martial art of Kerala, which is intended to erase the fear and sense of insecurity that accompanies generations of brutal oppression. Training in music and classical dance take up the post-lunch phase, followed by academic instruction in specific subjects Scientific awareness is inculcated by stimulating interest in the local environment, supplemented later by books, slides and pictures.

The students, with a formidable reputation as performers of traditional tribal dances and folk songs, are much in demand in neighbouring schools and even in elite social clubs as far away as Thiruvananthapuram. The proceeds from the performance are just enough for the school to balance its budget, but it’s the impact on the audience that’s more important. It’s an important forum for cultural transaction, observes teachers at the A.R.Nagar High School in Malappuram. They learnt a lot about Wayanad and its tribals."

Address for communication : KANAVU, Nadavayal, P.O. Waynad 670721

Kerala

Phone : 0493-681114

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4. SISTER ALICE BROKE OFF FROM HER ORDER TO HELP WOMEN SHRIMP PEELERS

Alice’s conscience defied the Orthodox Church to form self-help societies for fisherwomen

Faith does not reside in churches. It is lodged deep within a being. And Sister Alice affirms that. She stepped into limelight some 15 years ago when she and her friends mobilised the fisher folk on the coastal belt of Kerala. It was the beginning of mass movement against the powerful trawler lobby. It was an act of conscience that alienated her from the establishment.

In 1991 she broke with her religious order and set up the Women’s Initiative Network (WIN), a voluntary organisation committed to the welfare of women employed in the fisheries sector.

The aquaculture industry attracts huge foreign exchange by way of prawn exports. Yet the plight of its female workforce falls outside the government’s gaze. WIN addresses the concern of women working in the prawn peeling factories that dot the coastline of Ernakulam and Alapuzha districts. Women from Kerala’s coastal belt are endowed with special expertise to carry out this task.

Yet, they are subject to all the ignominies, which afflict a labour force employed in any unorganised sector. They are not allowed to form unions and are denied compensatory allowance for work-related health hazards.

WIN has been trying to create options for these women. "They want to provide them with other income-generating programmes to reduce their dependence on the fish-processing industry. Her efforts to organise them into a union came to a naught in the face of stiff resistance from the industry as well as the political establishment. : To top it all, there are no industry norms to inhibit their employers. Women where prevented from attending the meetings by their husbands who were members of various political unions.

Alice enrolled the ‘second sex’ workforce into self help groups and set them on the road to self employment tapping alternative occupational possibilities. Their aim is to train the women in alternative means of sustenance such as floriculture, ornamental fish-rearing, tailoring, embroidery and so on." Consequently, these women now have increased bargaining power with the management.

The main thrust of the self-help groups is to empower the women. Therefore, Alice and her co-workers first addressed that disempowering factors-lack of economic security, organisational backing and opportunities for skills development-which kept the prawn-peeling women dependent on men. They began by making the women financially self-supportive. They pooled in their savings with the self-help groups and took loans to meet their household needs. Peer pressure ensured prompt repayment of the loans.

They gained the respect of their husband as they can raise money for the family which their husbands are unable to.

Alice’s self-help group has made them bankable by giving her access to that system. The nun and her 22-member core group oversee around 150 self-help groups, which touch the lives of 3,000 families along the coastal belt of Ernakulam and Alapuzha districts. More and more women are waiting to join up.

Alice’s self-help programme has taught the illiterate fisherwoman to value herself. It has taught her to save and has thus improved her bargaining position at the workplace. Most important of all, it has sent a message, loud and clear, to the male mandarins of the fishing industry that the women squatting on the damp floor of the peeling sheds are now aware of emancipation.

 

Address for communication : WIN Centre, Post Office Eramalloor,

Alapuzha, Kerala

Phone: 0478-874352.

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5. HARMALA GUPTA PROVIDES HOPE TO CANCER PATIENTS ON THE EDGE

CanSupport is the result of Harmala having experienced the importance of palliative care as a cancer patient herself

With a support system for cancer patients in view, Dr. harmela Gupta, her self a cancer patient set up Cancer Sajyog, in 1991. The aim was to rope in survivors and their relatives to try and provide some hope to suffering patients. But soon she realised that more was needed.

Thus was born Cansupport in 1996. The idea, according to Harmala, was to not just provide hope, but support as well. She wanted to replicate the assistance that she received in the West in the form of palliative medicine in India. CanSupport decided to set up home-care units to help patients avoid the frantic search for a miracle that inevitably led to expensive, ineffectual treatment. Most of their patients-who belong to the economically disadvantaged classes-are beyond any hope for a cure and hence are usually discharged from hospitals. CanSupport keeps visiting these patients to offer advice, counselling and medicines. Initially, the group was a coming together of concerned acquaintances from different fields and team of three-a doctor, nurse and counsellor-was constituted to visit the patients. But the problem lay in a lack of genuine expertise in palliative care. But serendipitous help was at hand. BBC correspondent Mike Wooldridge Dr Abha Saxena, an All India Institute of Medical Science doctor who, after a course in palliative care in Oxford, had started a ‘pain clinic’ for cancer patients in AIIMS.

The group, in addition to providing free service, also sometimes gives these people rations. While the main idea is to provide direly-needed counselling, CanSupport also distributes bedpans, wheelchairs and backrests. Resources, obliviously, were a problem, The group, needed more nurses and money for daily functioning.

Slowly, some contributions from organisations and individuals started trickling in and work began in a 25-km radius around AIIMS. Another facet of the group’s work is the helpline that functions from 11 am to 1 pm from Monday to Friday. Manned by trained volunteers, it aims at extending immediate counselling and also access to CanSupport. In collaboration with the Institute Rotary Cancer Hospital at AIIMS, the team of five-comprising Dr. J.P. Jain, counsellors Sister Agnes and Harmala, nurses Sister Leonarda and Ruth Wooldridge and driver Bahadur Singh-is always on the move between 9 am and 5 pm five days a week.

In case of an emergency, they are also available on weekends. Recently, CanSupport has put another team on the road, enhancing their activity and aim of reaching every area of Delhi and its outskirts. Now, at any point the group has about 50 patients on hand. It’s a modest but dedicated beginning and so far about 400 patients have come under CanSupport’s protective umbrella.

Address for communication : 38, Shahpur Jat, New Delhi-110049.

Tel: 6497154, 6497415, Helpline no: 6497153.

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6 SIDDHRAJSINHJI AND WIFE PROTECT OLD ‘SUBJECTS’ FROM MODERN TRAVAIL

Students who have graduated from Kavrani Kanchande’s two scholls, based on an alternative idea of education, are unequal to none.

Once a principality, Dhrangadhra is now a dot on the map-halfway between Bhuj and Ahmedabad, There, Siddhrajsinhji and his wife Kavrani Kunchande spend their time piecing together lives torn apart by political apathy and divine indifference. To the people of Dhrangadhra, Siddhrajsinhji is "Siddhbapa", Gujarati for "Siddh uncle". The couple manage and partially finance the Jhalama Unnati Astha (JUA), a 10-year old NGO with a "people’s agenda". JUA’s responsibilities include primary education, the preservation of a bird sanctuary in the Little Rann and the equitable distribution of earthquake relief in the remote villages of Saurashtra.

There were no jobs, no proper schools, no attempt was being made to promote industry. The monsoons played truant twice in three years. There was no irrigation. Water was scarce and conservation non-existent.

Siddhrajsinhji responded to Dhrangadhra anguish by doing something no government had ever done. He carved out a handicraft industry in the area. Apprentice schools were opened where master craftsmen from neighbouring towns shared their ancestors’ secrets with Dhrangadhra’s men, women and children. These people now chisel a livelihood from stone and silver and the work produced is exported to propel the town’s economy.

In 1990, in her first act as chief trustee of JUA, Kavrani Kanchande opened two schools English-medium Sri Rajini and Gujar-ati-medium Rajya Shala. The schools share a campus on the old palace grounds where 800 children learn the values of independence, self-appraisal and equality. The kids and masters and servants are students in the same school

In Kanchande’s alternative education system, two-and-a-half year old children spend nights out under the open sky. Older children hop on to their bikes and explore the Little Rann. They stage plays, compete in sports events and dance to the rhythm of the Dandiya. Parents pay just enough to settle the salaries to teachers. Some of her students have moved on to Mayo Girls and rajkumari College where they hold their own against toppers.

For most of the year, the Little Rann of Kutch-formerly the Dhrangadhra Rann-is a vast wasteland. But when monsoons arrive, a miracle unfolds. The sea gushes in, embracing the rivulbreeding ground for shrimp. The pink flamingos arrive in droves and so do the Caspian terns. This unique eco-system is today on the government’s "hit-list". Deemed a wildlife sanctuary, the area is about to lose its protected status. Official moves are afoot to "denotify" the sanctuary in an attempt to save illegitimate salt mines and shrimp farms that have mushroomed within the sanctuary. The trust won’t let that happen, JUA has moved the high court against the government’s denotification order.

On January 26,2001, earthquake relief too entered JUA’s agenda. In the confusion that followed the fury, volunteers of the trust were among the first to act. They gathered evidence, assessed damage, identified victims and dispatched supplies. Siddhrajsinhji and his team cemented a fraud-proof method of relief distribution. For instanced, tents were given as a loan-not as a donation-to prevent their sale and community leaders were asked to submit lists of the homeless for verification. Within days, 126 villages resurfaced and eight hospitals and 65 schools reopened

Siddhaj Sinhji family has been here for the last nine centuries; they have no motive no political ambition. They don’t discriminate gender or religion. Most importantly they are small, which is why they value resource.

Address for communication : Jhalama Unnati Astha

E.mail : goldrays@vsnl.com

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7. RADHA KHAKHA IS A LITERACY EVANGELIST IN REMOTE LATARDIH

Hollow and empty promises are all that Khakah’s project to educate the deprived tribals have received by way of assistance

Daily wager Lalmuni Munda is a happy man. For, now he can send his only daughter to school. What had hitherto been "unthinkable"-there is no government school in his village Latardih, 25 km off Ranchi-has become a palpable, tangible reality. This tale of realising the impossible obvisionary who gave concrete shape to her dream and hopes of the local tribals. Lalmuni is not alone. Every resident of Latardih is greateful to Khakha’s endeavour. Wife of an ex-serviceman, Khakha, who is in her late forties, had for long nursed the idea of imparting education to poor tribal children. And this finally led to the opening of Bhavna Vikas Vidyalaya in godforsaken, back-of-the-beyond Latardih.

The vidyalaya is quite remarkable in that even children from government schools in nearby Olidih and Hahab areas cover a 10-km stretch through hilly terrain to attend classes here.

The school have not received a single penny from either the government or any private quarter till now, and provide books, clothes and sometimes even stationery to the students so that they can attend classes without having to negotiate basic hurdles." The school, if Anirudh Singh’s who helps Khakha in running the school to be believed, also has an incentive mechanism in place in order to encourage education in this backward region of the country: "They don’t charge tuition fee from those students who come to classes regularly. And it has worked wonders. The attendance is nearly 100 per cent in all cases." Despite their achievement, little help has been forthcoming. Though Khakha has approached the Bihar Education Project (BEP) a number of times for some assistance, nothing has come till date.

Acute scarcity, however, has not deterred Khakha. She is currently trying to build an annexe to the school, with help from none but the villagers who give her their labour for free. The important thing is that we’ve been able to make them aware, at least, of the importance of education in their lives, Khakha believes.

The school has four teachers-all local youths on a monthly salary of just Rs 300. Initially they all began teaching for free. It’s only recently that they have started paying them this meagre sum and that too not on time. They don’t bunk school even for a single day and that’s really commendable.

Jadunath Munda is one of the four teachers. A matriculate, who lost both his legs in an accident while working as a daily labourer for the forest department, he currently teaches English at Khakha’s vidyalaya. Dimburaj Munda is Jadunath’s colleague-a teacher at a nearby government high school; he takes time off to teach at Bhavna Vikas Vidyalaya. Besides, he has also donated 2.5 acres of land for the expansion of the school. They do it all for the benefit of my people who are non-literate and poor explain Dimburaj.

Khakha now plans to open more schools in other inaccessible villages like Budri, Veyandih and Sapah, continuing with her plan to educate the most "uneducated, unfortunate and poor" people of the area.

 

Address for communication : Church Lane, Pathal Kuduwa Road, Ranchi, and Bihar.

Phone: 0651204673

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8. UNDER THIS MANGO TREE, ENLIGHTENMENT GOES BY THE NAME OF ANDHER

Mahadev Savji Andher fought his ‘tribal’ tradition and polio to go to school and subsequently start a school or his brethren.

Physically challenged tribal Mahadev Savji Andher’s dream to educate his brethren has turned out to be that and more-a truth bigger than both reality and imagination.

He was not to be deterred even if it meant starting a school under a mango tree. And today, his dream has taken wings and the school has become a secondary-level education centre with 450 students, seven teachers and even a principal.

In an age of hi-tech communications, Andher’s Maharashtra Vidya Mandir-an under-the —tree institution running for the past 10 years in the tribal area of Talassari near the Maharashtra-Gujarat border-would probably sound archaic to many. But scratch the surface and, sure enough, obsolescence gives way to an edifying tale of provenance.

The fact that Andher, who himself had not attend school till he was 12, could dare think of such a project was nothing less than revolutionary. Particularly in a scenario where he wasn’t merely fighting a tradition obstructing his wishes but was also trying to tide over his physical impairment-loss of mobility due to a polio attack at the age of eight. Guruji, as he is fondly referred to by the villagers of Sutrakar, was immobile for two years, till he was 10. But his powers of keen observation enabled him to slowly turn the situation around. He had seen people who looked different from us villagers. They were clean and refined in their behaviour. He wondered how there were two types of people in the same world. His Grandfather use to say that they came from the city and their appearance and behaviour were linked to their education. I decided to learn and educate people from my society." So, when his grandfather, a quack, tried to initiate him into the trade, Andher rebelled and announced that he would go to school and then teach others.

He began learning to walk by leaning on stick, and soon enough started attending school. Guruji passed the Maharashtra Primary Level Certificate exam in 1958. The following year he happened to meet social worker V.V.Patil who helped him open the school under a mango tree. " During monsoons we used to get some sheltered space from the village panchayat. Locals also chipped in and a hut was built to hold classes." With each passing year the school grew in strength. By 1976, Andher had to recruit teachers to keep up with the number of students. In 1992, a secondary section was added.

Two years ago, the Maharashtra Gopalan Samiti, which has been actively working to educate tribals in Talassari, adopted the school. So, now there are a few concrete rooms. But some classes are still held under a tree.

They are, nevertheless, curious. Sudhir Andher, Guruji’s son who is also the principal of the school, says: "Many of the students have to walk 10 km to the school and back. Some of them have to cross an overflowing river during the monsoons."

Guruji points out that often the guardians are not amenable to the idea of sending their children to the school because they see them as helping hands on their fields. They are trying to find a solution so that the children aren’t deprived of education to introduce different courses was introduce Guruji’s suggestion has been lapped up by all Ask Shankar, a fifth-standard student, about his future plans, and pat comes the reply, "Khoop shikayachay (I want to learn a lot)" for youngsters so that they can be trained in other vocations and earn a better living.

 

Address for communication : Mukkam Sutrakar, Vedagpada taluka, post office

Talassari, Thane, Maharashtra.

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9. IN A BANGALORE SLUM, THE PRINTED WORD IS THE VOICE OF THE PEOPLE

"They don’t realise that we know our needs. If we need help, we’ll ask. But we should be allowed to speak for ourselves."

Bangalore’s L.R.Nagar with its slushy mud roads, assortment of stray dogs, goats, chickens and Children playing outside looks just like any other slum in the city. But there’s a difference .Among the 1,000-odd slums in Karnataka, this is one with a voice. Slum Jagatthu (slum word), a monthly magazine, is the voice of the residents of these shanties.

Its editor, 30-year-old Issac Arul Selva, maybe a class IV dropout, but his understanding of the problems here and the need for reformative action makes him the right candidate for the job. Besides, he knows this world from the inside. Selva says that public, press, government and even many NGOS think of slum-dwellers as an underprivileged class. They don’t realise that they know their needs and want to put them across in our own way. They should be allowed to speak for their selves.

Slum Jagatthu was started with the help of a Bangalore-based NGO, Jana Sahayog.the idea was the brainchild of Y.J.Rajendra, its founder. Says Rajendra: "Slum residents have the capacity to highlight their own problems if given the platform and pushed in the right direction.

Rajendra saw the need for a publication of this nature for three reasons. First, slum residents were deprived of first hand information. Second, reliable information on their problems was not available to interested parties. Third, exploitation by middlemen and mis-appropriation of funds was rampant and went unnoticed.

In 1997, the Jana Sahayog office was loaned out to launch the magazine. Talented and eager slum residents like P.Suresh, the magazine’s sub-editor and sociology —economies graduate, were identified and given training. Thirteen workshops in collaboration with other organizations were conducted where journalists from language papers taught them the basics about computers and photography. After a dummy run of six months, in January 1998 slum suddi was registered and the reins handed over to the residents. Today, the only help the magazine team gets from its mentor is the office space. Following some registration hurdles, the publication was reborn as slum Jagatthu in October 2000.

The magazine has a modest circulation of 2,000 copies. But it has a subscription base that should

Make them proud. Besides being sent to 180 slums, it is posted to city corporators, ministers and

Government officials concerned with slum development police stations local MPs, MLAs, NGOs

And many other organizations. the police are regular readers and even praise from an MLC who says he keeps in touch with the slums problems through the magazine. Postal concession subscriptions and honorary reporters help cover the production costs.

The magazine reports mainly on the problems faced by residents their success stories information on legal rights the creative efforts of residents (poems short stories) peoples reactions as in letters to the editor and the slum diary. The diary is a compilation of gazette reports government policies news from other publications and a list of events. This detailed column is the resident’s weapon with which they approach officials armed with information.

Last year during the rains most of the houses in the slums collapsed. The corporation announced a relief of Rs 2,000 per house. But nothing happened after that. Slum Jagatthu reported the issue and it came to the notice of higher ups. It was found that the officer in charge of delivering

the compensation had misappropriated the funds. The officer was penalised and compensation given with due apologies. According to Selva, after the reports on the problems of the slum, Rs 2 crore was sanctioned for sanitation and water supply. The work is expected to start in the next few months.

Selva and his team also actively help in solving the problems of the residents who approach them. Says Selva, "Slum Jagatthu is our tool to interact with the people, and to be heard." The voice of more than 1.5 million people.

Address for communication : The Editor, Issac Arul Selva, 5/B/$ Block,

Ranka Park Apartments, 4,5,6 Lal Bagh Road, Bangalore 560027. Ph: 2243723.

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