Growing up on a coffee plantation in Karnataka in the late sixties, I have been watching and observing adivasi communities from childhood. They used to live next to the forest. Theirs was a simple life, and they seemed happy and satisfied with what they had.
Later, in 1984, I had the opportunity to work with them when some adivasis approached us to help them organise themselves and educate their children. When we went to their hadi (village), we found children with swollen bellies, very high miscarriage rates among the women, and people dying as a result of eating roasted mud to kill their hunger.
This was the Soliga community from the Kanakapura area, near Bengaluru. Contractors had hired them to cut trees and prepare charcoal. Later they were used to plant eucalyptus trees.
We tried to organise them and formed the Budakattu Krishikara Sangha (BKS) — the Tribal Cultivators’ Association. We mobilised some support and helped them get 20 heads of cattle. They said they could use the cattle for ploughing the land, for milk, and later, when they delivered calves, they would have more cattle.
Soon, by ploughing the 60 acres of land they had, they cultivated ragi (millet) and vegetables. Thanks to the income from this, they enrolled 45 children in school for the first time.
They met us again soon after and said that their people are still sleeping; they should be awakened. This would increase their collective bargaining power.
So on their own they started moving from one hadi to another, reaching out to fellow adivasis. Within one year, 18 hadis were brought together and they started taking up common issues. This built up their self-confidence and they lost their fear of the police, government officials and landlords. They took up bigger issues like access to land, protection from eviction, and successfully campaigned against projects like the Taj resort inside the eco-sensitive Nagarahole National Park, or the World Bank-funded Global Environment Facility (GEF) projects like the India Eco Development Project.
This mobilisation brought together different adivasi communities, which helped us understand their different languages, different religious practices, their dances, cultures and values systems — all of which were different from the mainstream society, which only knew how to dominate, exploit, harass and cheat them.
Traditionally, the Jenu Kuruba, Betta Kuruba and Yeravas used to be named after vegetables, trees, animals, colours, and shape of the body. Non-tribal school teachers found this strange and instead named them after film actors and Hindu gods and goddesses. Today, even young adivasis think changing their name will mean personal development and acceptance in the society at large.
Adivasis living inside the forest and on its fringes still keep their traditional practices and values intact. Adivasis who worship nature and their ancestors’ souls are not Hindu, Christian, or Muslim and have their own religion called Adi Dharma. Unfortunately, they are forced to categorise themselves as Hindu in official documents, often without their informed consent and knowledge about the implications.
They have a system called kuduvali, which means to join together. Under this, if a boy and a girl like each other, they can elope to the forest and stay there for three days. When they come back they are accepted as husband and wife. We did not find a puritanical attitude towards sex among adivasis. Sex education starts at an early age.
The kuduvali system is part of adivasi culture, but today it is a crime under the law. As a result, many young boys are booked under the Protection of Children From Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act and sent to jail. Thanks to the awareness generated by Childline 1098, the Labour Department and the Women and Child Welfare department, the problem has reduced.
They celebrate a festival called Kudrehabba or Kunde Habba, which literally means ‘Bum’ festival. On this day they wear fancy dresses, with men often dressing like women, and curse their oppressors. They don’t spare even highly-placed officials like the district collector, superintendent of police or the local landlords.
Adivasis do not believe in private property, so there is no concept of private ownership, no concept of fences, of profits or hoarding. They believe in common ownership, and in sharing and caring. Even if a family has one kilogramme of rice, they will share with a neighbour if he has no food. If a child is left with someone in the community, the women will look after her like their own, even breastfeeding the child if required.
Adivasi society is equal. Both husband and wife go to the forest to collect firewood or other minor forest products. They both go to the weekly farmers’ markets. When women get their periods, during that one week the washing, cooking, cleaning and household chores are done by the husband.
When adivasis collect honey from the forest they do not take away every bit of it, but leave some for the bears and the birds. When they collect roots they ensure a piece is left for rejuvenation.
Adivasis have a vast knowledge of traditional medicines, and treat illnesses using herbs, roots and tree barks. They are peace-loving, nature-loving, happy people. They used to hunt small animals and collect food from the forest. They do not hunt anymore since it is prohibited by law. But they say their brothers and sisters will provide for them; they mean the portion left behind by big predators after a hunt — this is considered minor forest produce, which the adivasis can take.
Today most of the forest has been cut and replaced with teak, eucalyptus, and acacia plantations, which do not bear any fruit for birds and animals, nor fodder, and do not contribute to biodiversity. Plantations cannot be considered forests. But the forest department spends a lot of money to protect plantations by putting up solar fencing and digging elephant trenches. They also keep the adivasis away from the forest and animals. The forest department sees the forest as a money-making commodity. Recent changes in law and policy favour growing commercial forests, and making money by diverting forest lands for mining — all in the name of development. As a result, in spite of Constitutional provisions and laws to protect their forests, land, water, traditions and culture, adivasi communities are unable to earn a livelihood.
Adivasis are not enthused by classroom education as they like to roam free and learn from their parents and elders. The government and others concerned should seriously consider teaching them in their mother tongue subjects like biodiversity and conservation.
Grassroots-level democracy can be planned and implemented by adivasis through their Gram Sabhas.
The conversion of some adivasis to Christianity is a matter of concern to some. Those who have converted have done so of their own volition and not due to force or inducement. When faced with adverse situations like sickness, domestic violence and alcoholism, at times some have prayed at a church, and if their problems were solved, they embraced Christianity.
A lot of young adivasis are aping the trappings of mainstream lifestyles like motorcycles, latest mobile phones, and fancy hairstyles. These make them feel that the traditional way of life does not earn them enough money to afford these gadgets. Further, a lot of non-adivasis manage to procure an adivasi certificate, because of benefits like free education, job opportunities, reservations and grants. Real adivasis lose out in the process. For example, the Betta Kuruba certificate is now issued as Kadu Kuruba, which is a generic term that was used in the olden days for those who lived in the forest.
The rich traditional and cultural values of adivasis needs to be protected, sustained and nurtured. The adivasis’ simple way of life is the only way the world can be saved. If adivasis are forcibly evicted from their homelands, if their culture is destroyed, the forests cannot be saved. There will not be any biodiversity left for future generations and the world will collapse.
I do not think the measure of a civilization is how tall its buildings of concrete are, but rather how well its people have learned to relate to their environment and fellow man.
– Sun Bear, a sacred teacher of the Chippewa descent. Chippewa people are a tribe in southern Canada and the northern midwestern United States.
(Vijaysingh Ronald David is an Adivasi rights activist. Courtesy: Countercurrents.org.)
