Bringing It All Back Home

This past May I had the opportunity to visit Anandwan and Somnath, two project sites of the Maharogi Sewa Samiti, popularly known through the work, efforts, and dynamic personality of Baba Amte. Built and run by cured leprosy patients and others, the two places provided interesting examples of some of the uplifting work that has been going on by dedicated people under the radar of the mainstream. As my fellowship year comes to an end, and next week brings about the final Indicorps workshop, I hope all that I feel can be laid out there – the successes, the frustrations, and all these thoughts on the brain.

As I look forward to continuing my own pursuits of creative expression and social justice there are things that I have seen, and done, and been a part of over this year that I would like to firstly understand, and then begin to apply in my own life. For sure this work, this year has straight up been one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. From living and working alongside rural communities here in Kumaon, to the entire Indicorps experience and philosophy, this year has also undoubtedly been one of most enriching of my life.

Being a part of rural communities and understanding in a holistic way, what life is like in pahari villages has provoked a lot of critical thought on the lifestyles I have known. Being in an area where the overwhelming majority of people depend on agriculture for their own sustenance and livelihood has allowed me to witness a different type of society. Engaging with villagers, from grandmothers to Gram Pradhans has allowed me to build relationships with people from such radically different backgrounds, and still be able to make deep connections. Seeing how hard women have to work here, even those younger than me, without a moment of rest day after day. Struggling to understand this country from a different perspective, and building my own relationship with India outside of family visits and family privilege has changed how I see a lot of what I do.

This year I have tried to live simply, and learned what is actually necessary, and what really isn’t. I found myself capable of things I previously would never have even believed I could undertake. I fully understand now that process is as important as product and progress and development is a slow, and not always so pretty process, but it happens. I have seen the value of pushing yourself and stepping far away from any sort of comfort zone. I’ve learned that while there is much to be done, there is no better way of going about it, other than doing it. And all of this has re-sparked my own interest and commitment to creative, community organizing.

I think like my fellow Fellows finishing this year it’s still not entirely clear what exactly I have done or if I have had any significant impact at all in the long-term picture. But I am excited about the future and all there is to be gained from this past year. And as I sit back and reflect on a year past, and look to the future ahead, I am reminded of Dr. Vikas Amte’s words back in May in the unforgiving heat of Maharasthra.

“Our work begins now. Yesterday we were alone, but today we have some fellow travelers.”

Here is a man who has been a significant part of an incredible organization that has unarguably done incredible work for the past 60 years. Many would say what has been accomplished in that corner of Maharasthra is impossible, if they hadn’t seen it themselves. An organization that carries the name of one India’s great social visionaries, and at the same time stresses not the Amte name, but rightfully so the collective effort. With six decades of experience and projects all over the country the message was loud and clear: “Our work begins now.”

And so I’d like to extend this message to my fellow Fellows finishing up this Indicorps fellowship year of service, to the incoming fellowship class, and all those who organize alongside marginalized communities. It’s a message I’d like to pass along to my comrades from high school and college years that marched in the streets shoulder to shoulder with me, and stirred other classmates to question the status quo. I’d like to echo this for my friends wherever they may be in the world, for my friends’ parents who have watched me grow up, watched me make mistakes, and for my parents’ friends who left India a generation ago to settle on the shores and in the suburbs of the United States. To those who get the Bob Dylan title reference, and to those who don’t, “Our work begins now.”

From Bob Dylan to Baba Amte, I say, wherever the inspiration comes from, follow it. A long time ago I acknowledged that just as this year was not the beginning of my interest in working for social change and social justice, this year in rural India would not be the end either. Wherever we may find ourselves there are always ways to break out of whatever is simply prescribed, and more fully engage with our surroundings. Because the intangibles certainly are important, and while reflection too is important, so is staying on-point, and being ready to take those next steps.

Negotiating Departure

I leave Kumaon in less than ten days and I find myself with all of sorts of mixed feelings. No doubt, the future is exciting. The end of this month will bring about our last Indicorps workshop, and the opportunity to make sense of this year from the lenses of my comrades who have similarly been working with grassroots organizations across India. The chance to travel to other corners of this country that I have never seen before, now with a more rooted understanding of India. And to apply new learnings, every step of the way, including at the shock that will be returning back to the US in the not so far off future. But in these last days in Kumaon, I am torn in more than one way. It’s partly about leaving a place, this place, which has been the setting of an experience that has been absolutely unique in my life. An experience that has been tough, demanding, and invaluable.

It’s sort of strange, this last month – going to meetings in villages for the last time. Meeting people I have been working with for the better part of the last year and not knowing when we will meet next. Hearing their words of thanks, their questions about my return, and their half-joking demands that I stay. The amount I have walked, all of the cuts I have traversed, and how these villages have become familiar. The families I have lived with in Janjer and Simayal, feeling like I have a home there. And certain people I have worked with both in communities and the NGO, whom I have shared so much with. I have learned from, been enriched by, all of these people and different experiences. And whether they know it or not, they have watched me grow as well. Leaving is not something I feel sad about; I just don’t know what it actually means and how it should feel.

I’m also torn about the work. After one year, I realize that in some ways a year is not very much at all, yet I still feel some sense of achievement about what has been done in building the capacity of Gram Panchayats, and communities, to effectively organize on public and preventive health issues. I have learned many lessons about rural development and grown in the process. At the same time, even at this point, there is still bullshit to deal with and egos to manage. Wasted time and energies to battle that push me towards the infuriating brink of serious frustration. I am leaving in less than ten days, and while I feel that there is much potential in the work I have been doing and the project I have been working on, I feel torn on how to leave it. The uncertainty of not knowing what have I actually done, what has the impact been, at times brings an intense, burning sensation up from my gut into my chest. Not knowing what affect at all my efforts will have, not knowing what the hell I have just done, are hard thoughts to negotiate. And then just simply moving on from it all, it doesn’t all add up right. But maybe it’s sort of like one of those things you can’t really see cause you’re in the middle of it, and maybe that’s something perspective will bring.

And so it’s all a bit kind of strange. Up until now I’ve never had such a hard time saying goodbye, but maybe it’s because it doesn’t all make sense just yet. While I am ready for the next steps in my life, this past one is a huge one to digest. But in a way it’s just yet another new circumstance this year has unapologetically thrown me into. Just as arriving here was such a new experience, leaving has become one as well. The terms I leave Kumaon on, are only one part of what this has year has actually meant, and the rest may just depend on my own mindset.

Notes from a Gram Sabha

Last week I was asked to attend the Aam Sabha betek, that is, bi-yearly meeting of the Gram Panchayat, in the village of Suralgaon. I had never been to Suralgaon. In terms of preventive health organizing, it is not one of the villages where CHIRAG is active. Kundun da, the Gram Pradhan had asked me to come to help organize the health committee that the panchayat had formed on its own. I thought it was a pretty cool opportunity, even if it meant me going on my own, and subjecting the villagers of Suralgaon to my still rough Hindi.

After ten months however, of organizing with communities on public health issues, trying to build a culture of action and prevention, and struggling to try and make some impact, I felt that just maybe, whatever I could bring from my experiences could be of some possible benefit.

When I arrived, the meeting had already started and I sat and listened as several different issues were discussed. The room was full, with around 40 people sitting tightly on the floor of a village community center. The majority of discussion revolved around water, or rather the dangerously low amount of water available these days (see New World Water). The lack of water actually has been a huge problem here, with the monsoons already delayed by more than two weeks. The talk was of hand pumps, and setting pipelines, and trying to manage with what little water was available in the village.

The discussion moved to encompass certain government yoganas (schemes), including the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (NREGA), a legal guarantee of 100 days of employment doing public work. The act is aimed to benefit the rural poor through providing work at the fixed minimum wage. Government programs to assist local farmers were also introduced by the Gram Vikas Adhikari, a government representative from the block level. Different sorts of issues were raised, as well. One man brought up the fact that there was no footpath that goes to his house, and whether the panchayat would be able to help facilitate the construction of one.

After half an hour of listening Kundun da asked me to introduce myself and talk about the work I have been doing. Once more, in my imperfect Hindi, I jumped into the role of community organizer, rural India style. I explained who I was, the work that has been ongoing with health committees in neighboring villages, and the potential of communities coming to together to improve public health. It was a sort of all-in-one workshop, information, and planning session.

Afterwards, I facilitated the creation of a yearlong action plan to tackle health issues ranging from waterborne illnesses, to leucorrhea, to anemia, as community members discussed what should be done when. I’ve reached the point in my fellowship year, where I can at least do this much.

On the walk back from Suralgaon, it felt like one of those days that seemed to make some sense. And the days certainly alternate, often bringing sharp thoughts of what have I actually done here? But all of that is for another time (coming soon I reckon). For now, what is more interesting is thinking about the concept of democratic grassroots institutions, actively working for the improvement of their own community. To witness this process here, however imperfect – with problems of male dominance and money-driven plans, is still stimulating in a way that goes beyond politics and panchayats in rural India. It is the possibility of individuals, where ever they may be, working together towards civic engagement and social change.

It is from the results of such collective action and community ownership, through the vibrancy and creativity our lives inherently deserve, that we can shape our own realities and futures. And that can be translated across borders and languages, throughout communities, from rural India to wasteland suburbia.