Shedding indignity in India
MeriNews
Oct 6, 2008
KIRUN IS one of the 250 women from a Dalit community from Dewas district of Madhya Pradesh who were forced to live by clearing latrines of caste Hindu households and carrying human excreta in cane baskets for eventual dumping. In return they received some food and Rs 10 a month from each household. This activity was exclusively done by married women from the community.
But today, their lives are changing through a community movement called Garima or dignity, launched five years back with support from ActionAid.
“Two years into marriage I was given a cane basket and told cleaning dry toilets was my destiny. My sisters-in-law said I would have to do it,” recounts Kirun who is now one of the leaders of the dignity campaign. Manual scavenging is often handed down to daughters-in-law - much like an inheritance. When Kirun got married, she inherited 30 houses - to be cleaned of human waste each day.
“It was awful - bringing the soiled, soggy empty basket back into the house after a day of work,” she says with disgust.
Families engaged in manual scavenging are termed untouchables by caste Hindus. Social and economic segregation is enforced by denying access to wells, water tanks and festivities. They are also not allowed to wear shoes or slippers so the caste Hindus can identify them and keep them at a distance to avoid a possible physical contact. It is believed that even accidental brush with them will make a caste Hindu impure.
“Women from the community are also forced to run unpaid errands, like clearing streets of dead animals, picking up leftovers after social events, cleaning animal excreta and tending to the old and sick who cannot move,” says Asif, co-ordinator of the campaign, explaining why caste Hindus continue using dry latrines.
The stigma resulting from centuries of ostracism means seeking alternative employment is a daunting task. Women have to deal with stubborn barriers of tradition and caste, to even attempt to find odd jobs as a labourer or a farm worker.
“Our children are teased at school because of the work we do. This makes them bitter and helpless. Most feel they cannot change their fate, even if they study and will have to live the way their parents do,” adds Kirun.
The strength of the Garima movement lies in the time invested in instilling knowledge and confidence into the community and into individual women. Rights and citizenship entitlements are regularly discussed in community meetings.
“Women were asked to quit manual scavenging on the single most issue – dignity,” says Asif.
“We are coming forward to speak in one voice. This is because of the Garima campaign. We may be illiterate, but each and everyone is given a chance to hold the mike and speak,” says Kirun.
“We go to other villages, ask people engaged in this work to quit it for their dignity and for their children, so that they get respect and there is no discrimination against them,” adds 54-year-old widow Badambai. Kirun’s locality, Nagar Panchayat Bhowrasa, has managed to end the degrading practice completely. Recently, the women of Garima got job cards under the National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme. The offer of 100 days of employment brings hope that they will find a way to fill the income gap. Confidence grows with each new success. One of the most important victories for women like Kirun is reinstatement of scholarship for their children. This had been withdrawn after the mothers stopped manual scavenging.
“We visited the office of the Scheduled Caste Education Department every year to fight for our rights. Now, every child gets a scholarship of Rs 1500, up to the fifth standard,” she adds.
“Earlier, our children were looked upon with hatred and they were not willing to go to school. Now, things have changed for the better; they can go anywhere and lead a free life,” says 35-year-old Leela. Rate
