On the Road to the Sundarbans
Trip Start
Oct 09, 2007
1
32
45
Trip End
Mar 10, 2008
Kolkata (Calcutta),
West Bengal,
India
Sunday, February 8, 2009
The Sundarbans are the Gangetic delta regions, where the Ganga (Ganges) breaks off into many, many large rivers that feed into northern Bay of Bengal, creating a network of islands and crisscrossing rivers from the Gangetic soil deposits formed over the eons. The topography and landscapes are similar and right next to Bangladesh.
The Journey
We drove south from South Kolkata, passing miles of picturesque, flat fields being cultivated with beets, cauliflower, and other vegetables and flowers on both sides. The roadside was littered with clusters of dusty and crumbling storefronts pretty much all along the way. About every 5 to 10 miles there is a major rural marketing town (one is wholesale fish market town, another a wholesale vegetable market town, farther out, a general market town), all gritty, with their rusting garage door like store-fronts pulled up for the business day (which lasts until around 11 at night).
As always, the roads were teaming with life: bicyclists, women in saris walking with babies or large, round water jugs on their hips, bundles or baskets on their heads, incredibly bent old men and women, van rickshaws (old motorbikes converted with a platform behind the driver, that carry loads of people, or cargo up to 20 feet high that tips a bit to one side). Sometimes young men sit on top of the high loads.
All the while men and women are working the fields, squatting, or bending at the hip, or working the irrigation hoses are pumping water. Ponds are everywhere, dirtier than you can imagine, but people are in them working, nonetheless.
Of course there are always the screaming, honking buses and trucks, careening to one side, coming at you full tilt, mostly on your side of the road. It's like being forced into game after game of chicken, but the smaller vehicle inevitably just gets hell out of the way. You are definitely left believing in God, when you see so much traffic barreling so recklessly at each other , or trying to get around the myriad goats, cows, stray dogs, ducks, children, the old men who amble and linger in the road, or vehicles that are just parked in the road for no good reason. (We passed a large SUV yesterday -- just stopped in the road being washed with the door open into the only other lane for traffic to pass). Everyone has their horns blaring. You simply have to get out of their way of all of it, and that so many people manage to do it without getting killed is a miracle in itself. Add to that the housewives who are laying out coconut husks or sheaths of rice in the road to be pummeled down by traffic, or the already separated rice on the road to dry out in the sun, and it makes for quite the adventurous ride.
We passed through the brick manufacturing district with its tall smoke stacks, and acres of bricks and crumbling brick buildings on their factory compounds, that are set back among huge fish ponds marked off by earthen dike type walls. All of the fish ponds have been dug out by hand, and all that mud has been stacked to create boundaries that also serve a paths between the ponds for people and animals. We passed from the fishery district to the rice districts. God how I love the rice paddies - their brilliant emerald green so fresh and vibrant it makes your heart sing, in their various stages of fullness. Most of them at this point are newly planted, with the rows and the water between them visible. My favorite scenes are the ones of the women working together - still in colorful saris, clustered together setting the new rice shoots.
It is all a very picturesque, one with too many dimensions to write about. But yesterday, we were in a hurry, so I couldn't stop to take a lot of photos. I am tempted to hire a driver to take me out that road for one day, just to take photos before I leave.
About 100 km from Kolkata, we literally reached the end of the road at a village market town for boat traffic. Baba and the Amalendu negotiated for a locked and guarded parking garage. About 10 Gosaba villagers, 8 women from the Mission's Self Help Group and 2 men, came to greet us and carry our bags to our waiting boat. We all climbed aboard and the boat engine built to a gentle, muffled, easy sputter to carry us across the intersection of 4 rivers to the one heading to Gosaba and the Bengal tiger conservation forest. The air was cool, wonderfully pleasant and fresh. I estimated the river we were traveling on to be about the size of the Columbia...not small by any means. The women covered a platform with a pad and fresh sheet for Baba to sit on, and there were plastic chairs for me, Amalendu and Babai.
The banks of the river are slick grey beige, almost clay-like earth. The banks to the East are falling away from erosion, while those to the west are building up with freshly deposited soil. The thatched roofs of mud houses and of rice hay stacks peak over the earthen levee walkways that are set back from the riverbank. Fisherman are casting their nets from the shore, or working on their boats, women and children walking the levees. A quiet and beautiful, clean, fresh and simple rural life is going on all along these riverbanks. At one point, I hear a very loud chorus of voices coming from a nearby village. It is a very familiar tune, but it is being sung in Bengali, so it takes me a few minutes to realize that the song is "We Shall Overcome"!
Stories of the LDLM Microcredit Self Help Group
The women sit on the floor of the boat facing Baba, beaming with excitement, telling us stories about their Self Help Groups.
Binodini, tells us about a woman in Gosaba who was recently taken seriously ill, very suddenly. She had to go to the hospital in the city and needed Rs. 30,000, immediately. (Hospitals will not treat you or even admit you without prepayment here). The woman wasn't even an SHG member. There was no time to make other financial arrangements. The family was going to have to sell their land, their only means of survival, for her to receive treatment.
The SHG convened an emergency meeting and decided to lend the money to the woman and her family. Rs. 30,000 is a VERY big deal for these poor rural villagers. (Baba said it would be equivalent to about $300,000 to us in a city in terms of its ratio to our income and our ability to pay it back.) At the meeting, the members had to seriously grapple with the question of what would happen if the family couldn't pay the money back. Since this loan would be made outside of the SHG rules, failure to recover the amount would effectively end the SHG's ability to function). Who would be responsible for this huge amount? Binodini, who has been leading the group since 1997, and another SHG member, volunteered to be jointly and personally responsible for paying the loan over time, if the woman couldn't. (Fortunately, the family was able to get the money elsewhere and paid back the money in only two months. The woman is well, and at home with her family again.)
This story is particularly telling, illustrating the difference the SHGs are making at a human level, how the SHGs are benefiting the whole community, why the SHG women are becoming such forceful and well respected leaders in their villages, as well as the depth of their concern for their neighbors, and the sense of family they are creating in their villages. (Rs, 30,000 is probably the equivalent to many families entire yearly income. Whom among us westerners has that deep a connection to our neighbors that we would even consider taking on that kind of financial responsibility, must less actually do it?)
As we continued along the river, Binodini points out where their SHG group mounted a tree planting campaign to line the far side of the levee. We can see the bush sized greenery peeking over the walkway. They chose expensive trees, trees that are used for making fine furniture, so that if they ever have to harvest any, they can earn good money for their efforts. They planted thousands of trees, which will help preserve the levee in the rainy season, beautify the walkway and provide cooling shade for everyone from the relentless Indian sun during the hot months, and which can serve as an economic resource in years to come if necessary. The whole village got involved and helped with the planting - men, women and children, and not just SHG members. So SHGs are building the sense of ownership in the entire community, wherever they operate. "The feeling is so strong among SHG members, not just our own SHG group, but all SHG members, that we are all family, real family." Binodini tells us.
The stories then turn to tigers. The Tiger forest sits directly across the river from Gosaba, and it is not uncommon for a tiger to swim the entire breadth of the river and come into the village. If you have never seen a Bengal tiger, imagine a head that is at least twice as big as any other tiger's. These are massive, terrifying creatures. And they are among the most intelligent animals known to man, according to research. They hunt human beings. Sundarbans village men are often forced by economic necessity to go up the rivers, deep into tiger territory, to fish and to gather honey in this forest, with fatal results.
One woman tells the story of how 2 tigers came and sat on the roof of her house to sun themselves while she and her family were inside. On another occasion, knowing a tiger was in the area, the villagers started hunting it (rather than waiting for someone to be eaten for lunch). In fear, trying to get away from the menacing crowd, the tiger dashed into a local home and shoved the woman of the house aside as he took refuge. Needless to say, she ran like the devil and left him for the villagers to deal with.
Apparently everyone in the village has a tiger story or two of their own to tell. Thankfully, I have none to personally report.
Next/Soon: The Village Festival
