The White Man Makes a Celebrity Tour through Maharashtrian Villages
With Melissa and Sanjay from CRY Mumbai and towing along my three Singapore friends, I ventured 14 hours from Mumbai into the interiors of Maharashtra. I went to villages and met Dalit farmers who are collectivizing and working together and claiming the human dignity that they’ve never had the wherewithal to claim before. Traditionally, a farmer Dalit wouldn’t even look his landowner employer in the eye, let alone request a living wage, let alone request anything.
Nobody really spoke much English except for our CRY companions who provided some spotty translation. And never before in my life have I been treated as such an absolute celebrity. I would sit on the ground in these villages and just have children staring and smiling at me the whole time.
I like CRY because CRY doesn’t just roll through villages throwing out money like the U.S. and the U.N. used to do. This old strategy achieved very bad results, especially in Africa where increased foreign aid has increased the wealth of dictators while all standard of living indexes have plummeted for nation’s overall populations. CRY looks for responsible partners who have already been working and achieving results. Then CRY provides funding and support through these trustworthy partners. There are no blank checks given to governments or officials. It’s also key to find partners who aren’t corrupt because many NGOs are corrupt. I was told over the weekend that the majority of NGOs in India are corrupt.
The town I voyaged to is called Latur. Outside of Latur are many, many villages. In 1984 a Dalit man, whose name I was never clear on, began organizing his village to act collectively. If the Dalits work together and can get the other lower-castes (who aren’t Dalits but still aren’t living well) to work with them, they are stronger. The Indian government, in theory, genuinely wants to abolish the caste system. It is explicitly made illegal in the Constitution. There are programs where Dalits can get land, affirmative action that guarantees them seats in Parliament and in village councils (called panchayats), places in state schools, and government jobs. Legally, these are positive rights that should be there for the Dalits to claim, but they can’t claim them if they can’t even look their employers and local officials in the eye. Landowners and officials do all they can to ensure the Dalits would never ask for their rights because having a subjugated class is useful for cheap farm labor. Plus, absorbing money from Dalit programs is useful for anyone corrupt. A number I heard quoted over the weekend is that for every Rs.100 doled out for Indians, Rs.86 is absorbed by corruption.
So in 1999 CRY met this man who had been collectivizing Dalits since 1984, and CRY began providing funds and support to him and other village leaders who this man has recruited. Now there’s a network of 65 villages, and CRY is providing salaries to 24 village leaders. Word has been spreading from village to village, and this is what CRY seeks. CRY seeks to get in at the root level and get these people to work for themselves and stand up for themselves.
I met all of these leaders and we were treated to many songs and chants about standing up for their rights and how education is their right. I went to a “model village” where Dalits and other non-Dalit lower castes were living and working together. I went to a school where there was a childhood development center sponsored by UNICEF that monitors the health and development of children. This UNICEF center and school were supposed to be for Dalits too, but Dalits were kept out until the collectivized Dalits took the initiative to claim what was rightfully their place there.
The Dalits also took me to their fields that they have been farming collectively for over a year now. There were 40 acres of government land that the non-Dalits had been using for grazing their animals. Now the Dalits have been collectively farming these 40 acres, and I’m unclear on how they are able to take this government land, but I think they are trying to acquire it through adverse possession, an old-English common law concept. Anyway, right now their third crop is growing. First the Dalits had to remove trees and plow the land that was kind of prairie-like. Our farmer hosts called it jungle. The first crop was destroyed by the upper castes. The second crop was successful, and now some Dalits don’t even have to work anymore as wage farmers anymore, and supposedly farming wages at landowners’ farms have risen too.
These middle and upper classes are a group called Marathas, I think (I’m not sure if only the upper classes were Marathas, or if the middle classes were Marathas too, but definitely the Marathas are landowners – there was the spotty translation), and in what was very symbolic to my Dalit hosts was that while we hiked out to the Dalit’s collective fields, a young Maratha man offered us water. The Dalits said that last year these Marathas were destroying their crops and now they were offering them water.
These collectivized Dalits have been claiming seats in local government (which were always reserved for them – it’s in the Constitution – but they were always kept out through the caste subjugation system), and through their louder voice in regional politics, Oxfam discovered them. Oxfam is the farming NGO, famous for their slogan “Make Trade Fair” that can usually be seen written on the hand of the lead singer of Coldplay, Chris Martin. Oxfam has taught the Dalit collective farmers methods of organic farming and ways to sculpt the land to conserve water in this drought-prone region. The big farmers are using wells. The Dalits haven’t been able to dig any yet.
Conclusions (And Eric’s public singing debut)
I’ve heard repeatedly on the BBC and read in the Wall Street Journal and the Economist that poverty is grinding in the Indian countryside. So I roll through on a celebrity tour through one tiny part of the Indian countryside where 24 years of work and the aid of multiple NGOs have made life a little better for those who used to be even more miserable. It was heartening, and these people’s pride and determination made me smile.
But I know this was a superficial picture. I’m sure I was spared seeing misery that was probably not far from my eyes. I’m sure also that there are villages all throughout India where life is much worse than it is for these 65 villages outside of Latur.
And these villages were in particularly high spirits because foreigners were visiting. People were especially honored by my presence, the American. All of the funding for this CRY project came from CRY America. Plus I’m white anyway, and that would make me a guest of honor even if I weren’t in CRY America. Oh, I’m also a lawyer, and this really impresses people.
I was asked to give an impromptu speech at the school. These children don’t speak English, so Melissa and the CRY partner, Dalit leader guy translated. Melissa told me they wanted me to speak about education in the U.S., and her advice was that I should throw something in there about how there should be no discrimination in education. So I got up and gave my speech to a school assembly of over 100 kids. I said education was of the highest value in the U.S., and some of us liked education so much, we’re studying for 25 years. In the U.S. anyone can become whatever they want to be: lawyer, doctor, pilot, teacher, astronaut. I said this only works because there is equal opportunity for all. Yes, I know that there are access problems in the U.S., and the high financial price keeps people out, but I just skipped that part. Truthfully, I winged this speech and I don’t even remember everything I said.
After my speech, the headmaster of the school added a story he knew about America. He said that President Woodrow Wilson was riding down the road where he saw someone trying to lift something heavy. Woodrow got out and helped the man lift the thing. The headmaster said this is why America is such a great place – even the President will stop to help the common man.
Anyway, the verdict was that I gave a good speech. I like public speaking.
I also like singing. When we were saying our goodbyes at the community center (where the village Dalit leaders come to meet – rent paid by Oxfam), we were treated to one last round of songs about asserting guaranteed rights. After these songs, the people wanted to hear some American songs. Moments earlier people had been asking about American Independence Day, so the first song that came to my mind was the Star Spangled Banner. Man, I was so nervous. I explained to the people (through our ad-hoc translators) that when we say the Banner in the U.S. we put our hands on our hearts but they didn’t have to because they’re not American. So I put my hand on my heart, and I could feel my heart just pounding in my chest, and I sang, and I thankfully remembered all the lyrics. Alvin recorded it on a digital camera. He said he was trying so hard not too laugh. The Star Spangled banner requires quite a singing range, and my range is, um, erratic. I hit quite a flat note when I got to “… the land of the free,” and lots of other places too.
Feeling emboldened and because I love singing so much, I then sang “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley. I said it was a Jamaican song about the Jamaican’s people’s struggle for independence. After the first verse, I drew a blank on the second, so I just ended the song early. In the original version, the second verse is sung twice, so I sort of skipped two verses, so most of the song, and I was so bummed because the second verse is my favorite: “…how long shall they kill our profits, while we stand aside and look. Hoo. Some say it’s just a part of it, we’ve got to fulfill the book…”
I toyed with the idea of some gangsta rap: “I fuck these hos, after our shows…” But don’t worry, I didn’t do any rapping. My Singapore friends declined to sing anything.
All weekend I had been the number one guest of honor anyway. We went to a total of 4 villages, and in every village, garlands of marigolds were put around our necks, and in one village, pretty blankets were draped around our necks. And these blankets were ours to keep. Red dots of powder were put at the center of the girls’ foreheads, and on the guys’, red lines. Once when there was an extra garland, it was put on my neck. Maybe I’ve mentioned before that Indian men hold hands as symbol of friendship, and some guy wearing sunglasses held my elbow while we walked to the school. He didn’t speak English. Indians sort of love white people. Plus, I’m a lawyer and in CRY America. I kind of like being treated as a celebrity. Melissa said that never before has she gone on a project visit and been treated as such a dignitary. I, probably unsurprisingly, took a lot of criticism from my fellow travelers about my white-person celebrity status.
Nobody really spoke much English except for our CRY companions who provided some spotty translation. And never before in my life have I been treated as such an absolute celebrity. I would sit on the ground in these villages and just have children staring and smiling at me the whole time.
I like CRY because CRY doesn’t just roll through villages throwing out money like the U.S. and the U.N. used to do. This old strategy achieved very bad results, especially in Africa where increased foreign aid has increased the wealth of dictators while all standard of living indexes have plummeted for nation’s overall populations. CRY looks for responsible partners who have already been working and achieving results. Then CRY provides funding and support through these trustworthy partners. There are no blank checks given to governments or officials. It’s also key to find partners who aren’t corrupt because many NGOs are corrupt. I was told over the weekend that the majority of NGOs in India are corrupt.
The town I voyaged to is called Latur. Outside of Latur are many, many villages. In 1984 a Dalit man, whose name I was never clear on, began organizing his village to act collectively. If the Dalits work together and can get the other lower-castes (who aren’t Dalits but still aren’t living well) to work with them, they are stronger. The Indian government, in theory, genuinely wants to abolish the caste system. It is explicitly made illegal in the Constitution. There are programs where Dalits can get land, affirmative action that guarantees them seats in Parliament and in village councils (called panchayats), places in state schools, and government jobs. Legally, these are positive rights that should be there for the Dalits to claim, but they can’t claim them if they can’t even look their employers and local officials in the eye. Landowners and officials do all they can to ensure the Dalits would never ask for their rights because having a subjugated class is useful for cheap farm labor. Plus, absorbing money from Dalit programs is useful for anyone corrupt. A number I heard quoted over the weekend is that for every Rs.100 doled out for Indians, Rs.86 is absorbed by corruption.
So in 1999 CRY met this man who had been collectivizing Dalits since 1984, and CRY began providing funds and support to him and other village leaders who this man has recruited. Now there’s a network of 65 villages, and CRY is providing salaries to 24 village leaders. Word has been spreading from village to village, and this is what CRY seeks. CRY seeks to get in at the root level and get these people to work for themselves and stand up for themselves.
I met all of these leaders and we were treated to many songs and chants about standing up for their rights and how education is their right. I went to a “model village” where Dalits and other non-Dalit lower castes were living and working together. I went to a school where there was a childhood development center sponsored by UNICEF that monitors the health and development of children. This UNICEF center and school were supposed to be for Dalits too, but Dalits were kept out until the collectivized Dalits took the initiative to claim what was rightfully their place there.
The Dalits also took me to their fields that they have been farming collectively for over a year now. There were 40 acres of government land that the non-Dalits had been using for grazing their animals. Now the Dalits have been collectively farming these 40 acres, and I’m unclear on how they are able to take this government land, but I think they are trying to acquire it through adverse possession, an old-English common law concept. Anyway, right now their third crop is growing. First the Dalits had to remove trees and plow the land that was kind of prairie-like. Our farmer hosts called it jungle. The first crop was destroyed by the upper castes. The second crop was successful, and now some Dalits don’t even have to work anymore as wage farmers anymore, and supposedly farming wages at landowners’ farms have risen too.
These middle and upper classes are a group called Marathas, I think (I’m not sure if only the upper classes were Marathas, or if the middle classes were Marathas too, but definitely the Marathas are landowners – there was the spotty translation), and in what was very symbolic to my Dalit hosts was that while we hiked out to the Dalit’s collective fields, a young Maratha man offered us water. The Dalits said that last year these Marathas were destroying their crops and now they were offering them water.
These collectivized Dalits have been claiming seats in local government (which were always reserved for them – it’s in the Constitution – but they were always kept out through the caste subjugation system), and through their louder voice in regional politics, Oxfam discovered them. Oxfam is the farming NGO, famous for their slogan “Make Trade Fair” that can usually be seen written on the hand of the lead singer of Coldplay, Chris Martin. Oxfam has taught the Dalit collective farmers methods of organic farming and ways to sculpt the land to conserve water in this drought-prone region. The big farmers are using wells. The Dalits haven’t been able to dig any yet.
Conclusions (And Eric’s public singing debut)
I’ve heard repeatedly on the BBC and read in the Wall Street Journal and the Economist that poverty is grinding in the Indian countryside. So I roll through on a celebrity tour through one tiny part of the Indian countryside where 24 years of work and the aid of multiple NGOs have made life a little better for those who used to be even more miserable. It was heartening, and these people’s pride and determination made me smile.
But I know this was a superficial picture. I’m sure I was spared seeing misery that was probably not far from my eyes. I’m sure also that there are villages all throughout India where life is much worse than it is for these 65 villages outside of Latur.
And these villages were in particularly high spirits because foreigners were visiting. People were especially honored by my presence, the American. All of the funding for this CRY project came from CRY America. Plus I’m white anyway, and that would make me a guest of honor even if I weren’t in CRY America. Oh, I’m also a lawyer, and this really impresses people.
I was asked to give an impromptu speech at the school. These children don’t speak English, so Melissa and the CRY partner, Dalit leader guy translated. Melissa told me they wanted me to speak about education in the U.S., and her advice was that I should throw something in there about how there should be no discrimination in education. So I got up and gave my speech to a school assembly of over 100 kids. I said education was of the highest value in the U.S., and some of us liked education so much, we’re studying for 25 years. In the U.S. anyone can become whatever they want to be: lawyer, doctor, pilot, teacher, astronaut. I said this only works because there is equal opportunity for all. Yes, I know that there are access problems in the U.S., and the high financial price keeps people out, but I just skipped that part. Truthfully, I winged this speech and I don’t even remember everything I said.
After my speech, the headmaster of the school added a story he knew about America. He said that President Woodrow Wilson was riding down the road where he saw someone trying to lift something heavy. Woodrow got out and helped the man lift the thing. The headmaster said this is why America is such a great place – even the President will stop to help the common man.
Anyway, the verdict was that I gave a good speech. I like public speaking.
I also like singing. When we were saying our goodbyes at the community center (where the village Dalit leaders come to meet – rent paid by Oxfam), we were treated to one last round of songs about asserting guaranteed rights. After these songs, the people wanted to hear some American songs. Moments earlier people had been asking about American Independence Day, so the first song that came to my mind was the Star Spangled Banner. Man, I was so nervous. I explained to the people (through our ad-hoc translators) that when we say the Banner in the U.S. we put our hands on our hearts but they didn’t have to because they’re not American. So I put my hand on my heart, and I could feel my heart just pounding in my chest, and I sang, and I thankfully remembered all the lyrics. Alvin recorded it on a digital camera. He said he was trying so hard not too laugh. The Star Spangled banner requires quite a singing range, and my range is, um, erratic. I hit quite a flat note when I got to “… the land of the free,” and lots of other places too.
Feeling emboldened and because I love singing so much, I then sang “Redemption Song” by Bob Marley. I said it was a Jamaican song about the Jamaican’s people’s struggle for independence. After the first verse, I drew a blank on the second, so I just ended the song early. In the original version, the second verse is sung twice, so I sort of skipped two verses, so most of the song, and I was so bummed because the second verse is my favorite: “…how long shall they kill our profits, while we stand aside and look. Hoo. Some say it’s just a part of it, we’ve got to fulfill the book…”
I toyed with the idea of some gangsta rap: “I fuck these hos, after our shows…” But don’t worry, I didn’t do any rapping. My Singapore friends declined to sing anything.
All weekend I had been the number one guest of honor anyway. We went to a total of 4 villages, and in every village, garlands of marigolds were put around our necks, and in one village, pretty blankets were draped around our necks. And these blankets were ours to keep. Red dots of powder were put at the center of the girls’ foreheads, and on the guys’, red lines. Once when there was an extra garland, it was put on my neck. Maybe I’ve mentioned before that Indian men hold hands as symbol of friendship, and some guy wearing sunglasses held my elbow while we walked to the school. He didn’t speak English. Indians sort of love white people. Plus, I’m a lawyer and in CRY America. I kind of like being treated as a celebrity. Melissa said that never before has she gone on a project visit and been treated as such a dignitary. I, probably unsurprisingly, took a lot of criticism from my fellow travelers about my white-person celebrity status.
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