Gaining Insight

Heera Lal Sharma comes from a small rural village near the town of Bhindar. Throughout his youth he worked with his family in the fields. Agriculture in his village, as in most other Rajasthani villages, is the main source of food security and income generation. He attended primary school in his village, and secondary school in the nearby town of Bhindar. He excelled academically, and was presented with the opportunity to attend university in Udaipur. His parents told him that they would pay for his schooling only if he studied to become a doctor. They realized that the income from practicing medicine would be greatly needed, as agriculture was becoming increasingly unreliable due to frequent droughts. He had no choice, so he accepted. They deposited the money and enrolled him in medical school. However much he wanted to please them, he felt that something was not right as he began medical school. He felt the need to give his services back to his community first and foremost. After searching Udaipur, he discovered a school for rural development. He secretly dropped out of medical school, and without the knowledge of his family, proceeded to matriculate with a degree in rural development. His family discovered his deception, and were initially very displeased. However, he pushed on, and graduated with a masters degree in political science.

He went to work as the secretary for a prominent NGO in Rahasthan. He worked there for close to 10 years, and throughout his time was disappointed by the way they approached rural development. Their traditional approach failed ti build the capacity of the people. They undertook projects that kept funds flowing (as all NGOs do), but they failed to consult the affected villages. The projects weren't collaborations with the people and the result was a lack of sustainability. Most importantly, the people were not empowered and valued enough to learn and think for themselves in finding solutions. Instead, they were simply instructed and subsequently followed direction like servants. Finally, in 1985, Heera Lal broke from the organization and began to formulate plans of starting his own NGO. He traveled Rajasthan for a year, talking to villagers and gathering ideas about how rural development should be properly carried out. In 1988, with a few friends, he registered Sahyog Sansthan as an official NGO in Udaipur.

Heera Lal’s vision for Sahyog was one of a completely participatory process on the part of the community. His goal was for Sahyog to merely play the role of a facilitator, in order for the people to be in charge of their projects, and build their capacities. He belives that “social and economic transformation among the poor is possible only with their own initiative and leadership and the role of the external agency is to assist this process in a sensitive and competent manner”. Sahyog works with villages in the extremely poor, mostly tribal, area of Rajasthan where Heera Lal grew up. They have been quite successful since inception, forming nearly 300 self help groups, and linking nearly 200 of these with banks. The remarkable thing about the number of groups Sahyong has helped to form is that they have not created a single one of these groups. Heera Lal merely traveled to different areas to introduce the concept of the self help group. He waited for villagers to come to him if they desired to form an SHG, and then helped them to get it organized. He is adamant that forcing the villagers to think and act outside of their element is crucial to developing sustainable practices that raise their living standards. This insight of his, which stems from being born and raised in a rural community like those with which he now works, is the key to the success of the Sahyog method.

The thing about Heera Lal that is most admirable is his work ethic. It can be said that Sahyog is severely understaffed, with only about 8 permanent workers. When I suggested to Heera Lal that Sahyog could do with a few more staff members to ease the current burden on him and the other workers, he scoffed at this suggestion. His reasoning was that he is working only for the people. The villagers work incredibly hard, long days, toiling in the fields. In order for them to respect him and listen to his ideas, he must show them that he is working just as hard as them. If he were to be making money off the poor, but yet going about his work in a leisurely way, he feels he would be cheating the people whom he tries so hard to help. His ethic of equality between village and NGO can be seen in his interactions in the field. As well as being the lone secretary in the Udaipur office, he takes the time to go to all of the project villages and speak with each any every villager who approaches him. He always listens to what they have to say, and formulates his plans according to their ideas. Heera Lal embodies the spirit that all development initiatives must possess if they are to be successful and sustainable. He is one with the people, and devotes his entire livelihood to working with them to better themselves.

Making Peace with a Cruel Hierarchy

Going into my internship, I was completely unclear as to what rural development entailed. In retrospect, not only was my vision unclear, but what I imagined to be the proper way to conduct this sort of work was completely wrong. My pre-departure vision was one of me (and of my fellow interns) heroically entering remote villages, and after briefly surveying the problems, rapidly coming up with schemes to better the lives of the villagers. I did not understand the challenge of such a task. I also did not realize how crucial it was, for the sustainability of any project, that the villagers be the ones planning their own schemes, and not the “development experts”. However, my first shock in India did not appear in the working environment, but rather in the first night of my homestay.

My host family, only 2 parents and a son, radiated warmth as they greeted me for the first time in the Rangiwas Hotel. We arrived at the house, and I was surprised to see who I thought was their younger son (pictured with me), as I had read that they had only 1 son in the preparatory email that FSD sent me. Prakash (as I soon found out was his name after hearing it screamed in the house approximately every 2 minutes), could not have been older than 10 or 11 years old. We were never formally introduced as I entered the house, but he grabbed my bags, made my bed, and brought me a glass of water and snacks. I offered to help in all of these activities, as it felt incredibly strange having a little boy (who I still thought was the younger brother) do everything for me, tasks that would require such little effort of me. Yet for the first few days, whenever I offered to intervene, in order to slightly ease Prakash’ workload (by now I had realized he was the live in child servant of my family), both my host parents and Prakash himself refused my help. I came to learn that Prakash was one of 6 children who were all indentured servants in households around Udaipur. His father had passed away when he was a baby, and his mother had no money to support her children, so she sent them to work with families. Only once in the 9 weeks that I was living with my family did Prakash mother come to the house, and that was only briefly to pick up the payment from my family for the services of Prakash.

The issue of Prakash constantly weighed heavily on my conscience. This was especially so since he was such a good kid. He was always smiling, even though he worked 7 days a week, all day long, basically doing everything for my family. He was also incredibly bright, as could be seen when he figured out how to use my digital camera 5 minutes within picking it up, something my parents in the United States are incapable of doing. He cleaned, cooked, and provided butler service for my family at all times. Yet even though he did his utmost to please them, they treated him as something less than human. He ate his meals on the kitchen floor away from everyone else, he slept on the wood floor of the dining room with only a thin blanket as his cushioning, and he never had the chance to interact with other children of his age or go to school.

The way my family treated Prakash was made even more amazing to me because they treated me like a king. They were constantly going out of their way to make life for me in Udaipur as comfortable as possible. My host mother made a point of noting my favorite foods and cooking them more often, and my host father always took the time to play the Indian board game “carrom” with me. This paradoxical behavior of my family seems to represent a general trend I noticed while living in Udaipur. Middle to upper class Indians are incredibly kind to those in their social sphere, but when it comes to those of lower caste or lesser financial standing, they treat them very poorly.

Seeking Answers in the Right Places

Five weeks into my internship, I embarked upon my first field stay of more than one night. My assignment being to liaison with the Sahyog field staff in the village of Kun (100 person population), located about 100 km from Udaipur. My boss informed me that I would not be needing a translator as the Kun staff spoke decent English, and that it would be a good chance for me to practice my Hindi as well. Upon arrival I realized I had overestimated the amount of English that the Kun staff knew, and with my Chicago accent and the unintended rapidity of my speech it was quite difficult at times to communicate. My assignment was to meet with 10 self help groups in 3 or 4 days, and prepare case studies on their progress since inception. As we rode, 3 of us jammed together with bags on a small motor bike, through the unpopulated, and terribly degenerated, rural areas of Rajasthan, I was hoping that translation would be the only major obstacle to conducting these interviews; however this did not prove to be the case.

As we sat down next to a family of cows to begin our interview with the Nahar Sing Mahila Gram Vikas Samiti Women’s SHG, I noticed that close to half of the 15 (out of 20 members) women in attendance had their backs partially or fully turned to me, and all but 2 were completely veiled. They completely distrusted me, rightfully so, as a white person had not been to their village in a generation. As the interview went on, and I told them about myself, they gradually began to open up, with many removing their veils and turning to face me by the end. However, throughout the interview, it was very difficult to get a feel for what was going on in the group, as only the president and one other woman was answering questions. The rest were too shy to speak, especially so since the men, alerted to my presence, had gathered in the backdrop to keep tabs over proceedings. The women were giggling and whispering to each other throughout, and it seemed as if no one took much of an interest in the dynamics of the group besides the head member.

The challenge of establishing even a minimal level of trust with the women of these groups mirrored itself in all of my meetings with female SHG’s. My supervisor, Heera Lal Sharma, emphasized to me throughout that the major challenge of any development initiative was to cultivate the mindset of the villagers. Some of these SHG’s had been functioning for 5 years and still the members did not all confer on an equal level, or take an active interest in planning development initiatives for the village. There were some women and men who took initiative, and were adamant on mobilizing their entire village to undertake development projects and climb out of poverty. Regardless, there was a great empathy among the majority; something that if changed could be the catalyst for a major change in the livelihoods of the people.

To attempt to illustrate better what I am trying to say, I will give an example that I witnessed in one of the villages, that sums up what I feel to be the major challenge, and the potential of development. Many of the self help groups I worked with struggled to come together to save 20 rupees ($.40) per month, never mind come together to be the catalysts of change in their communities. This struggle was not due to lack of ability, but merely a lack of willingness. My boss had emphasized this point many times, but I did not truly believe him until I witnessed the temple that the villagers of Man Puria Guda were building. Without any external assistance or prompting, the villagers convened and decided to rebuild and expand the existing temple. Every family had agreed to commit 1000 rupees and 11 days guaranteed labor towards the project. At the site, there was a high level of organization. Records were being kept on how much each family had contributed and worked. Men and women were working diligently together hauling stones up the hill. The entire project was scheduled to be completed within a month. And yet this is the same village whose SHG’s have defaulted on their bank loans, virtually fallen apart, and cannot manage to meet together once a month to save 20 rupees. If only there was the mindset that building the foundations for development (such as constructing water harvesting structures, managing scarce natural resources, or investing in good breed animals for future dairy profits) was of equal importance to that of the temple, then rapid changes in the livelihoods of the people could happen.

The 4 days spent in the Kun area were absolutely magical, simply because I felt like I was living in a dream. Traveling by motor bike to villages in the most remote of areas, interacting with people of cultures that seemed to exist on a different planet as mine, and always being received in the most welcoming manner by the inhabitants – some who had not seen an outsider enter for over 20 years. It was surreal. It was during this time that I realized the true challenge of development. A challenge that no matter how much aid money, or how much external assistance is provided, change will only occur when the motivation for development comes from the villagers themselves. It is an issue of empowerment. This is the root of sustainable development.

Seeing Results

The primary project I undertook showed me what happens when a motivated village works together to improve their livelihoods. I combined a $500 grant from FSD, $333 from the community, and an additional $500 raised from my own community, for the construction of an anicut in the village of Varanoda. When I was previously in the village, they expressed the desire, unprompted by me or the Sahyog staff, for an additional anicut in their village, to further improve their agricultural yields through year round irrigation. I asked them to plan the project themselves and did not inform them that funding could be secured. It was a great surprise to me that almost all of the members of both the male and female Self Help Groups were present in the bamboo hut where the meeting took place to discuss the community project. Together, they completely planned the project, including the site, all materials and labor needed, and time estimates. They had a firm understanding of what was needed to sustain the project as well. This was evident when the men and women together described their vision of the village as one with 100% year round irrigation. Bountiful agricultural yields would then create opportunities for improved education, healthcare, and other income generating opportunities.

In the end, I left India with a major boost of hope for the future prospects of the marginalized tribal villages with whom I worked. The potential exists. It just needs to be empowered and nourished. The villagers of Varanoda provided a firm example of this potential through their intense desire and commitment to ascend out of poverty.