Everyone is talking about Hitler.

Remember how I blogged about the new Hitler store in Ahmedabad? Twice? Well, I'm not the only one talking about it. The NYTimes is talking about it, too: click here to read the article and see a picture of the storefront (the picture I couldn't manage to get because I was passing by in an autorickshaw). This quote by the store owner pretty much says it all:

“None of the other people are complaining, only a few Jewish families. I have not hurt any sentiments of the majority Hindu community. If he did something in Germany, is that our concern?” Mr. Shah asked.

He said he thought Hitler was a “good, catchy” name for his shop. In fact, his business plan seems to include cashing in on the name to attract customers. “We have not written anything below the sign or on our cards to indicate what we sell to generate mystery,” he said. “The customers who come in tell me they came in seeing the name.”

Update: Israel plans to ask Chief Minister Modi to force the Hitler store to change its name. Click here to read more.

Red is not the only color in Gumla.

I'm making up for my recent boring, all-text posts with some photos from a week of field work in Gumla District, Jharkhand:

On my first day I visited some villages in Raidih block. It turned out many villages were almost empty because Monday is the weekly haat, or market. People from every village in the area flock to the haat, which sees about 5000 people every week. Adivasi haats are famous for having a party atmosphere and a lot of drinking. I did not witness that here, so I guess that reputation comes from another adivasi region. Here are some photos from the haat:

And photos from my village visits, during which I held group discussions about irrigation:

For some reason the self-help group thought it would be funny if I pretended to be their accountant in the photo.

That man in blue is covering his face because he was sneezing.

Drawing a map of their village.

This house was painted for a wedding back in April. The doorway says "swagatam," or "welcome."

 There was a solar panel store in the district headquarters. Or more accurately, an electronics store that also sold solar panels so that you could actually use the electronics you purchase--because what good is a TV if you don't have reliable electricity? The solar panels are fairly cheap (and maybe secondhand?): Rs 1800 for the small ones, which are rated at 20 W and can power 2 light bulbs for 4 hours (the store also sells light bulbs, of course). 

There are missionaries all over the adivasi regions of India. This village is one of many that has converted to Christianity.

It may be hard to tell in this photo, but this woman has tattoos on her face (note her forehead). Many adivasi women in this region have tattoos all over their bodies. The heaviest tattoos I saw were on women's forearms. I didn't want ask about the tattoos because I thought it might be a sensitive issue. Luckily, I didn't have to: sometimes the women would ask me where my tattoos were! I took advantage of this and asked them why they have tattoos. They believe that the tattoos are required to allow their spirits to leave their bodies after death; without the tattoos, their spirits would be trapped. However, this traditional practice seems to be on its way out, as many of the younger generation do not have tattoos (perhaps because of the influence of Christianity in the region?).

 carrying wood to be used as fuel

typical village house, with an awesome jackfruit tree

And some agriculture/scenery:

animals grazing on land that hasn't been tilled yet

People are finally sowing!! (See this previous post to understand why this is exciting.)

rice paddies--that actually have rice, despite the poor monsoon! here's hoping the yield is alright come harvesting time.

forest near Palkot

forest near Palkot. the terrain was very bouldery, not unlike Hampi in Karnataka.

mango on a tree

 I got around on a motorcycle. See, Mom, I wasn't lying when I said I wear a helmet.

 

...and yes, "red" in the title of this post is referring to the Maoist presence in Gumla. Don't worry, they have given permission to the NGO to operate in the area and do not bother them. Because I was with a Maoist-approved NGO, I was safe. (To clarify, this is not a rebel NGO. They are also friendly with the Indian government. They just do what they need to do in order to get work done in these communities.) To be honest, nothing seemed out of the ordinary and I never would have known I was in a Maoist area if the NGO hadn't told me.

Follow up to Hitler: Opening Soon

I got some interesting responses to my previous post, and I thought I should share:

1) One friend of mine from Delhi thought I was unfairly picking on Hindus by only discussing the Ahmedabad riots.The reason I chose to discuss Ahmedabad is because the Hitler store I saw was located in Ahmedabad--I thought that if my racial politics theory about Hitler's popularity had any legitimacy at all (and I fully admit that it might have zero legitimacy; I'm no expert), then it would make sense that I saw a store celebrating Hitler in a city like Ahmedabad, which is home to particularly tense ethnic relations, as evidenced by the riots.

This friend felt (or at least, I think he felt) that I should have balanced my argument with an example of Muslims killing Hindus. He mentioned the murders of millions of Hindus crossing the border from East Pakistan into India during Partition. However, I think he might be equally unfair as I was with my Ahmedabad example to only mention the devastating massacres committed by Muslims against East Pakistani Hindus. Hindus killed Muslims too, on both eastern and western borders. Muslims also killed Sikhs and Hindus on the western border in addition to the East Pakistanis. Sikhs killed Muslims. Basically, everybody was killing everybody as they fled across newly-formed borders, and millions from all these ethnic groups were brutally murdered. My friend also did not need to go as far back as 1947 to find an appropriate example of Muslims violently attacking and killing Hindus. There are many examples in more recent history, including several bombings. It is a back-and-forth cycle of violence. Wikipedia provides a summary of religious violence in India and gives many examples of various groups killing each other. Read it here.

2) Two other friends of mine thought the fascination with Hitler had more to do with the fight for independence against the British during World War II than with present-day racial politics. Following the age-old adage of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, the leader of the Indian National Army (INA), a group of soldiers who broke away from the British army during WW2 in order to fight for their independence, sought the support of Hitler and Mussolini.

A huge percentage, if not the majority, of the British army consisted of Indian soldiers. I visited some WW2 battlegrounds, war memorials, and cemeteries in Northeast India (specifically, in Nagaland and Manipur) in May 2011. At the cemetery in Kohima, there were very few British names among the hundreds of Indian names (even if people had been cremated, they had a tombstone). I soon crossed the state border into Manipur and learned about the soldiers who abandoned and fought against British (really Indian) soldiers such as those commemorated in Nagaland. In Moirang, I visited the INA Museum, which proved enlightening. I knew that the INA worked with the Japanese against the British in Southeast Asia and elsewhere, and I knew that they would basically ally with anyone who was against the British, but for some reason seeing a photo of Bose shaking hands with Hitler was like a smack in the face. I should not have been surprised at all to see this, yet there I was, confronted with evidence of a man fighting against the oppression of his nation joining hands with a man inflicting oppression upon another nation--of an oppressed hand-in-hand with an oppressor. It felt quite unsettling to see someone I had repeatedly heard lauded as a hero with someone I have always thought of as a villain in the context of my own family history. Because I'm a bad daughter who only ever buys her father books as gifts, I purchased a book entitled Bose in Nazi Germany by Romain Hayes (read a review here) from the museum gift shop. I haven't had the chance to read it yet, but my dad said it was very interesting and I should pick it up.

outside the INA Museum in Moirang is the spot where the INA first raised the Indian flag

I admit that Hitler's connection with the INA and the independence movement was my first thought as to the rationale behind Hitler's ubiquity as well. However, there does not seem to be an equally popular fascination with Bose himself or with the history of the INA's role in India's independence struggle. In fact, Hitler's autobiography outsells Gandhi's autobiography (not that Gandhi had much to do with the INA, but he is by far the most popular figure associated with the independence movement--if people are more interested in reading about Hitler than about Gandhi, then they're likely not going to read as much about Bose). This is why I thought there had to be more behind Hitler's popularity than only the Bose/independence tie. Though of course my friends could be right and I could be wrong. Or maybe they're right in the sense that Hitler's popularity simply carried over from an earlier time, even if today most people are not terribly interested in studying that history.

3) One of the above two said something about the middle class admiring Hitler's discipline. I have no comment on this, because I'm totally ignorant about that. He may be right.

Well, I guess I have reached no conclusions on this issue. If you're interested in more takes on Hitler's popularity in India, check out the following articles:

Hitler Usurps Mahatma, NDTV: This suggests that people are looking to learn about strong leadership.

Indian Business Students Snap Up Copies of Mein Kampf, The Telegraph: Business students think they can learn about management skills from Hitler. This article says that students "see it as a kind of success story where one man can have a vision, work out a plan on how to implement it and then successfully complete it." However, an Indian professor "cited Mein Kampf as a source of inspiration to the Hindu nationalist BJP" and thought that Hitler's popularity is due to political tensions.

Hitler Memorabilia Attracts Young Indians, BBC News: Young people admire Hitler's patriotism and discipline. Hitler "is seen as someone who can solve problems. The young people here [in India] are faced with a lot of problems."

The Advent of Hitler in India, Dr. Aafreedi: I disagree with a lot of what this guy says, but he brings up much of what my friends and I have discussed: the rise of race-based political parties and right-wing extremists, the WW2 history wherein Bose allied with the Nazis, and the admiration of strong leadership.

Hitler: Opening Soon!

I'm back in Ahmedabad for one day between salt pan sites (they are quite far away from each other and I had to go through Ahmedabad to travel between them). I took an auto from Law Garden to Bodakdev, and from my auto I noticed a store called "Hitler" with a banner proclaiming "Opening Soon!" The store sign was decorated with a swastika. A swastika in India never has to do with Nazis; it is a traditional symbol in Hinduism and Buddhism. But the connection with Hitler here was more than clear, and it's something I've never seen before. There was no indication about what kind of store this will be or what it will sell.

Anyone who has traveled around India has probably noticed the tremendous popularity of Mein Kampf. The book is ubiquitous: you see pirated copies of it being sold in railway stations and on the street as well as legitimate copies in high-end Western-style bookstores. It seems to be a perennial best seller here. The first few times I saw it being sold by some street hawker, I would feel deeply offended and start yelling at him, how could he sell such a blatantly racist book written by one of world history's most evil figures and perpetuate hateful stereotypes about a group of people Indians otherwise have little to no exposure to? Of course the hawker would stare at me with a blank face and have no idea what I was talking about. The yelling was pointless anyway, because it's not like he was going to throw the book out. Eventually it became too exhausting to yell at every book hawker selling Mein Kampf, because there are just too many of them.

Don't cry anti-Semitism just yet. I'm fairly certain this has absolutely zero to do with Jews. Most Indians who discover I'm Jewish--including Muslims--have no idea what that means. Most either hear "Jain" when I say "Jew" or assume I'm a type of Christian. The vast majority of Indians have never met a Jew before and are unaware of the centuries-old stereotypes. They really have no reason to like or dislike Jews.

Instead, it probably has to do with the racial politics within this country. India has hundreds of political parties, and of its two most dominant, one of them, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), promotes Hindutva, or Hindu nationalism. They believe that pre-Mughal India belonged to the Hindus, and India should be reclaimed by members of its indigenous religion (this is a distorted view of history. Hinduism was brought by the Aryans, who invaded the Indus Valley civilization from the steppes of Central Asia, so that they could impose the caste system to control the indigenous population. The Aryans are no less invaders of India than the Mughals; they just came millenia earlier). Regional ethnic-based political parties have emerged as well, in pretty much every region. It is easy to see why Hitler's theory of racial purity would appeal to these parties, some of which are quite militant. (In one particularly upsetting episode a few years ago, a Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) supporter told me he loves Jews because the Israelis are fighting the good fight of "getting rid of Muslims" to "reclaim the land for its rightful owners." It was a gross misunderstanding of the Israel-Palestinian conflict, not to mention that it was extremely insulting to associate my entire ethnic group with racist politics. I'm sure he finds Hitler inspirational and identifies with Mein Kampf, but he harbored no hatred against Jews.)

If the popularity of racial politics is the true reason behind Hitler's ubiquity, then I should not be surprised to see a store celebrating Hitler in Ahmedabad, which saw the some of the worst Hindu-Muslim riots in Indian history in 2002 and remains an ethnically-divided city. Even after ~2000* Muslims were brutally beat to death and burned alive by Hindu extremists, the people have Gujarat have continued, for the past 10 years, to re-elect the same Chief Minister, Narendra Modi, who is believed to have instigated the riots (or at the very least, even if he did not start the riots, he held back the police from intervening to stop the rioting. He was by no means an innocent bystander). Many consider Modi a mass-murderer; Sonia Gandhi of the Congress Party famously called Modi a "merchant of death." The BJP thinks of Modi as a very serious contender for their Prime Ministerial candidate. It will be a terrifying day for Muslims and other non-Hindu minorities if or when Modi is elected as Prime Minister.

(*This number is contested and highly controversial. I've read figures everywhere from 500 to 5000.)

My Gujarati translator for the past few days was Muslim. I discovered this only after he forgot about lunch--or rather, he was fasting for Ramadan, and I forgot to ask him for a lunch break. After dinner one evening, we were watching the news about the humongous blackout that affected 19 states, and Modi came on TV to, as usual, talk about how awesome his Gujarat is while the rest of India is falling apart thanks to the Congress Party. Javed, my translator, muttered in Hindi, "Modi is full of shit."

Javed then started telling me about his experiences during the riots in 2002. He was 14 years old at the time, and he said it was the most terrifying time of his life. His parents pulled him and his siblings out of school because it was too dangerous for Muslims to go outside. He did not leave his house for six months. He was lucky enough not to live in the main Muslim area that had been burnt to the ground by rioters, but he had several friends from that neighborhood who were killed. When I asked him why his family didn't just leave Ahmedabad, he retorted, "Where would we go? Where else in India would be safer? Hindus and Muslims kill each other everywhere in this country. Look at Assam right now. Hindu Bodos and Muslim Bangladeshis are at war. Ahmedabad is my family's home. We have been here for generations, and we do not want to abandon our home. All we can do is hope for a more peaceful future."

For a more peaceful future, India will have to navigate the tricky ethnic politics that have arisen thanks, in part, to migration bringing communities together that would otherwise have had little contact--and to these communities now struggling to take advantage of the same limited resources. The violence in Assam between the Bodos and the Bangladeshis is, at its core, not a religious disagreement. The Bodos, who are an indigenous group, are pissed off because they feel the Bangladeshi immigrants are impeding on their land rights. Likewise, the militant Shiv Sena has emerged in Mumbai to protect Maharashtrian interests against the influx of Bihari migrant workers. This pattern has been multiplying nationwide due to both internal migration and international immigration.

Many Indians will point out that much of the ethnic tensions started during the British Raj, when the imperialists employed divide-and-conquer tactics to take over the country and control the population. I don't doubt that the legacy of colonialism plays a role in ethnic tensions, but I don't think that's the entire story.

(Of course the US has become less welcoming to immigrants and certain ethnic groups, and I'm not implying that there aren't ethnic tensions at home too. The root cause is actually the same: immigration. I just think these kind of tensions sometimes take on a more violent manifestation in India.)

All of this is to say that I believe Hitler's popularity stems from India's racial politics and has little or nothing to do with anti-Semitism. Or you can read what the BBC had to say about this two years ago here.

Happy 5th Anniversary, India!

I first set foot on Indian soil five years ago today. And I certainly had no idea at the time how much my life was about to change.

I still remember that first day in India. The very first thing I noticed about India, before even reaching the subcontinent, was the profusion of mustaches. When I reached my gate at the Bangkok airport, I found myself surrounded by an unusually high number of mustachioed men. (I was flying to Chennai, which I now know is the mustache capital of India. While mustaches are popular all over the country, a higher percentage of men seem to fancy them in South India than in North India.) At the time I wondered why so many people would choose to adorn their face with the ugliest style of facial hair. I still wonder a bit, but I think it is some sort of symbol of manliness.

When I stepped off the plane in Chennai, I was immediately hit by the intense heat and humidity and shortly after by the smell. Those of you who have been to India know that smell. I'm not sure how to describe that distinct smell of India, but I think it's what you get when you combine a plethora of spices with a plethora of animal poop with a plethora of tropical flora. (You get used to this smell after a while. I never notice it now.)

At the baggage claim, I waited and waited and waited for my luggage to show up on the carousel. It didn't. Thai Airways had left it in Bangkok or possibly in Los Angeles, where I started my journey. There was no Thai Airways representative for me to speak with, so some baggage handlers came over to help me out. They didn't speak a word of English, but somehow they managed to communicate to me that I should put my name and Indian address on the back of some piece of scrap paper and my luggage would be delivered. There was no computer to check where my luggage was, no official form for me to fill out, nothing. I completely flipped out. I thought I was never going to see my bag again.

(The next day, my bag showed up at the university, just as the baggage handlers promised. This was an important lesson I would learn again and again in this country: somehow, things always work out in India.)

After the lost luggage ordeal, I finally went through customs. Someone from the university was supposed to pick me up, but there was no one holding up a sign with my name. I was suddenly barraged by taxiwallahs who wanted to take me to my hotel, madam. I was already flustered because of my luggage, so this overwhelmed me. I had no idea where to go or what to do. I managed to find a payphone and called my contact at the university, who quickly resolved things and sent the driver. Apparently he thought I missed my flight because I didn't come out with the rest of the passengers.

The streets of Chennai, even from the window of the car, were just as overwhelming as the onslaught of taxiwallahs. I had never seen so many people. And are those cows in the street? So that's not just a stereotypical view of India that my grandfather joked about before I left the States?! Oh my god there's an elephant! And monkeys! Is that pickup truck filled with people? There are dozens of men sitting on the roof of that bus!

I thought--and I remember this verbatim very well--what the hell have I gotten myself into?! 

Since then, nothing has been the same. Apparently, I got myself into a powerful experience that would alter my life forever. That first stint in India changed the course of my career (at least up until now): upon witnessing the incredible disparity between the lives of India's poor and my own privileged life, I decided to work in development, to apply my engineering skills to trying to help raise people out of poverty through sociotechnical interventions.

I have spent half of the last five years in India: a semester in Pondicherry, a year working in Delhi, and a year working in Shimla and studying Hindi in Varanasi, and now this summer doing research. I have been fortunate enough to travel to 26 out of 28 states, from Kanyakumari to Ladakh, from the Pakistan border to the Burma border, over the course of my time here. I have celebrated almost every major festival, many more than once. I have ridden on an elephant into the depths of the jungle to see tigers and leopards and crossed waterways on trees that were trained to extend their roots to the opposite riverbank. I have walked with a migratory tribe and their herds of buffalo from the high Himalaya to the plains of Punjab. I have shared chai with people from all walks of life all over India, from an upper class Princeton alum in the Delhi Gymkhana Club to Buddhist monks and nuns in Sikkim to adivasi villagers in Jharkhand to a tribal chieftain in Nagaland to an autowallah in Gujarat ("unity in diversity" is India's favorite slogan. I'm convinced chai is what ties people in this country together). Most importantly, I have made some truly great friends who have shown me unparalleled kindness, who have made me laugh until I peed a little, and who have made my time here unforgettable--they are the real reason I keep coming back.

Happy half-decade, India. Thank you for turning my life into an unbelievable adventure. I can't wait to see what the next half-decade will bring.

Adivasi Economy and Water Access (or lack thereof)

Pranam dobara, Jharkhand. (Or in English: Hello again, Jharkhand.)

I'm back in Jharkhand conducting a feasibility study for a solar thermal pump. Why a pump? As the tribes of Jharkhand have traditionally been engaged in hunting and gathering, they are relatively new to agriculture and thus have no irrigation infrastructure. Only 5% of the state of Jharkhand is irrigated; the rest rely completely on rainfall (this monsoon season's lack of rain is having serious consequences, which I will discuss later). Why solar thermal? Because diesel is soon to be deregulated and, without subsidies, it will become too expensive for poor farmers to purchase the fuel to operate their diesel pumps (assuming they even have pumps). As it is, legal diesel is not easily available to these communities. The farmers explained to me that they must buy diesel on the black market, and this diesel is often adulterated and thus the pump often does not work properly. Electricity, which is free or close to free for agricultural purposes in India, is either nonexistent or extremely unreliable in these villages. Meanwhile, the capital cost of solar PV pumps is too high. Solar thermal is much less expensive than solar PV, plus the fuel (sunlight, duh!) is free and available, so this could be a good irrigation solution. For some reason, I'm not sure why, it seems no one has attempted to develop a solar thermal pump, other than an NGO in Ethiopia, but they have faced some mechanical issues and their pump is priced too high for Indian farmers. I am also thinking about possibly including a built-in filter or still so that the water that exits the pump outlet is clean, but maybe this is getting too complicated. (I have not made a final decision about what my project will be; next week I will be doing a feasibility study for another, totally unrelated, project in the salt pans of Gujarat.)

I am spending my time in some of Jharkhand's poorest communities: adivasi (tribal) villages in Gumla district. Most villages I have visited belong to the Oraon tribe, who speak a language called Sadri, and the other villages belong to the Khadia and Lohar tribes, who speak their own language as well as Sadri (since Oraon is the dominant tribe in the area, the other tribes have learned their language). Their Hindi is at times difficult for me to understand because (a) it's a different dialect and accent than the Hindi I have learned (it is similar to Bihari Hindi), (b) when they don't know a word in Hindi (after all, it is their second or third language) they substitute a Sadri word, and (c) they don't use the usual English and Urdu loan words that I've gotten used to in Delhi and Shimla--they use the original Sanskritized word.

I have been interviewing farmers about sinchai (irrigation), and, obviously, this involves a lot of questions about khetibari (agriculture) and more generally about their livelihoods. I also stumbled upon a fantastic book in the NGO's office, Mainstreaming the Margins: Water-centric Livelihood Strategies for Revitalizing Tribal Agriculture in Central India* by Sanjiv J. Phansalkar and Shilp Verma. I don't think a more perfect book could exist for the project I'm currently researching. So, let's talk about the adivasi economy. (Note to Jhanvi: you had asked me for some more context to understand the coal cycle wallahs. Here it is.)


*The use of the term "mainstreaming" here does not mean assimilating the tribal communities into mainstream Indian society. The authors emphasize that there is "no inherent conflict" in preserving tribal identity and culture and an approach to tribal development that involves mainstream water technologies and ties to the mainstream markets. Besides, I tend to believe that cultures are dynamic. What culture has really stayed the same throughout the centuries? While there is certainly value in protecting certain aspects of culture, I would argue that it is more important to live a meaningful life free of poverty--not that being free of poverty necessitates sacrificing traditions. Of course it is preferable to both preserve culture and promote development, when possible. Anyway, the Christian missionaries have already altered tribal culture; a huge percentage of adivasis have converted from their animist religions to Christianity. As a reaction to this, Hindu missionaries swooped in and converted many adivasis as well. Fairly few people still practice their traditional tribal religions. Although I'm usually very anti-missionary, I have to admit that they have done some good: in Northeast India, especially Nagaland, Christianity has brought high literacy rates and an end to intertribal warfare. Ok, tangent-rant done.

Phansalkar and Verma explain that the adivasis participate in three economic spheres: (1) forests, (2) agriculture, and (3) migration. It is a very common misunderstanding among the mainstream Indians that all adivasis depend only on forest activities (forest activities basically means gathering "non-timber forest produce (NTFP)" such as wild fruits, tubers, and mushrooms). Each Central Indian adivasi group is different from each other, and while many (if not all) groups have roots in hunting and gathering, their engagement in NTFP today varies widely. The communities I have been visiting in Gumla have largely abandoned that way of life in favor of a settled agrarian lifestyle.

Well, settled to an extent. Phansalkar and Verma emphasize that tribal agriculture is not modernized and thus cannot sustain a community for an entire year. Tribal agriculture is rain-fed and has no irrigation inputs, so during the non-rainy seasons people must migrate to other parts of India to work as laborers. Some bring their families with them, while others send money back to their families.

After reading a bit about migration in this book, I decided to ask the villagers what they do during the rabi (November/December to February) and garmi (March/April to June) seasons if they don't cultivate their land. As expected, many answered that they migrate. I asked to where, and the answer surprised me: to brick industries in Uttar Pradesh and cement industries in Himachal Pradesh.

Wait, did I hear that right? Cement industries in Himachal Pradesh? They couldn't possibly be referring to Nalagarh, where I had worked with IIRD in 2011, could they? (You may or may not remember my two blog posts discussing Nalagarh's cement industry: the first and the follow-up, in which I briefly discussed the migrant workers I had at the time believed to be Bihari.) I asked them, "do you go to Nalagarh?" and now it was their turn to be shocked. "You know Nalagarh?!" "I worked in Nalagarh on village development planning," I told them. Apparently I had been wrong about the migrants in Nalagarh being Bihari; they were Jharkhandi, and from these villages! Who knew these two very remote, very different areas were tied to each other? And what a coincidence that I had worked in both the area that was demanding the migrants and the area supplying the migrants! India continues to astound me with what a small place it is, despite being a country of over a billion people. (Yes, I'm aware I've written that sentence before, possibly more than once. The smallness of India really never ceases to amaze me.)

Phansalkar and Verma argue that this migration is the biggest obstacle to the development of the tribal belt. What good are health and education initiatives if people aren't around to receive the benefits? They claim that the government and the missionaries (who have historically been the only ones helping the adivasis--that's why there are so many Christian adivasis) are attacking the symptoms, not the root cause, of the communities' poverty problems. To lift the adivasis out of their poor living conditions, they must be given assistance to build a more stable livelihood in their home villages, to build a life without migration. Only then will these health and education programs become effective. The key to ending migration? Irrigation that will allow year-round agricultural productivity. The root cause of tribal poverty, then, is poor access to water, according to the authors.

As I stated earlier, right now the vast majority of tribal communities depend solely on rain for their agricultural livelihood. This means most adivasis only grow one season of crops, the kharif (monsoon) crops. Unfortunately (unfortunately is an understatement), this year has seen drought-like conditions (the Government of India is refusing to declare a drought, but the Jharkhand state government is considering it). This is my sixth consecutive monsoon season in South Asia, and I can say it has certainly been the driest I've experienced. It is unbelievable to ride a motorcycle through these villages and pass acres and acres of land covered in grass and weeds from the previous season--at the end of July! Rainfall has been so low that farmers didn't even bother to turn the soil, let alone sow the seeds. Why waste the money on seeds, fertilizer, pesticides, and herbicides if there isn't enough water for the crops to grow? I do see a few tilled plots scattered here and there, but I haven't seen much of the beautiful, healthy florescent green rice paddies that I'm used to seeing in the monsoon.

This lack of rain is terrifying for several reasons: the kharif crops provide these communities with food for the rest of the year. If the kharif fails, then they will not have enough food to eat (and they have very little money to buy food from elsewhere)--people will go hungry. Additionally, people will go thirsty. In every village I have visited, people tell me that their wells dry up by the end of summer (which in India is April to June) and that usually the monsoon rains re-fill the wells. This year, however, the wells have remained dry. These wells provide the only source of drinking water for the entire year, and villagers depend on the rains replenishing these wells during the monsoon. Even after a good monsoon their drinking water supply is limited (this is why there is little to no agricultural activity during the rabi and garmi seasons; the wells do not have enough water for both irrigation and domestic purposes, and the communities consider drinking water more important), so a poor monsoon can be catastrophic. I cannot properly articulate how grave these circumstances really are and how scared I am for these communities for the upcoming year.

What does my pump idea have to do with all this? Well, I hope that by increasing access to groundwater (which is actually quite accessible in Jharkhand, where the water table is high at less than 15 meters), I could help reduce the dependence on rain. Of course the groundwater level itself depends on the rain, so utilizing groundwater wouldn't completely eliminate the problem. However, especially if coupled with groundwater recharge methods, pumps to access groundwater could certainly alleviate some of the issues (worst case scenario, just keep digging deeper until you hit water). The NGO facilitating my visit here has developed earthworks methods that have proven quite successful in aiding groundwater recharge; they have actually seen a rise in the water table where these techniques have been implemented. I hope that, if ultimately I do decide to work on a pump, the implementation would include groundwater recharge earthworks.

Not only would an affordable pump reduce rain dependence during the kharif, it would allow for additional crop seasons. A second (rabi) or even third (garmi) crop season utilizing groundwater irrigation would significantly increase a family's income as well as provide them with a stable year-round livelihood. They would no longer have to migrate for work. And, as I explained earlier, Phansalkar and Verma believe the end to migration is integral to raising these communities out of poverty, because staying put allows them to take advantage of social services.

Bas.

(PS: Sorry there are no photos. The Internet here is waaaay too slow for me to upload any.)

Cool and Phool

That title is a lie. "Phool" means flower, but I'm actually going to talk about fruit, or "phal." It just didn't rhyme as nicely.

I am currently sitting in my friend Marena's apartment in Orakhan, Uttarakhand. Uttarakhand is in the Himalayas, so I am surrounded by gorgeous green mountains right now. I came up here to hang out with some NGOs. ...But to be more honest, I am using the NGO visits as an excuse to escape the heat of the plains and the pollution of Delhi for a bit. And the cool weather and clean air have been sooooo nice. Definitely the break I needed. Returning to the mountains feels oddly like returning home, thanks to my stint in Shimla. For some reason (probably the natural beauty), I always seem to feel happiest up here in the Himalayas.

view from near an NGO

The area around Orakhan is home to many different types of fruit trees (apple, pear, peach, plum, apricot, etc) and Marena is determined to take full advantage. She taught her host mom how to make peach jam (but her host mom made it a bit too sweet, with a 1:1 sugar to peach ratio--meaning one kilogram of sugar for each kilogram of peaches) and fried up some apple pie samosas with her coworkers. Nom nom nom. Marena should open a phal ka dhaba.

(I'm very tempted to bore you with details of Himachal Pradesh's successful fruit and fruit products business that has basically lifted the state out of extreme poverty (along with hydropower) and how it would be smart for Uttarakhand to replicate this. However I will restrain myself, as I have given you many boring development-related blog posts recently.)

Marena chomping on a peach tree.

The cool, clean air, delicious fruit concoctions, and beautiful mountain views have rejuvenated me, and now I'm prepared to do some serious field work in Jharkhand. More to come.