It's been a while since I posted the my last. Here's what kept me away:
attending the Dart center media fellowship in Bangkok, Speaking at the
Women Deliver maternal health conference in Malaysia and finally,
covering the 38th global conference of UN-FAO. And in between all these, I have been traveling across the conflict-ridden districts of central India, meeting women tribal village heads. And sharing here the first of my intended 10-story series on these women leaders.
You can also read the original article HERE
Kanker: Vasan Buiki,
sarpanch (head of village
council) of Malgaon village in central India's Chhattisgarh state wears
a permanent scowl: the 48-year old was elected the village head leader
three years ago, but still finds it difficult to manage the affairs of
her village council, known as '
panchayat'. "Being a
sarpanch
isn’t easy. There are too many decisions to take, too many people to
think of. I wish I had some training!" she says, sitting in a grocery
shop next to her house which is owned by her family, but she has to take
care of.
Vasan
Buiki, head of Malgaon village council in central India's Chhattisgarh
state finds it difficult to find time for her work as she is busy taking
care of the family-owned grocery store in her village.
Buiki—a Gond tribal woman—became a
sarpanch in 2010—the year
the government of her state decided to reserve 50 percent of village
council seats for women in order to encourage and promote women’s
participation in local politics and governance. While the decision
increased manifold the participation of women in political system, most
of them also came unprepared and inexperienced. To address this, the
state government organizes annual training workshops for the village
heads. Popularly known as “empowerment workshops,” the training help the
leaders acquire the much-needed skills of village administration.
Attending the workshop could have been hugely beneficial for Buiki, who
had never stepped out of her home alone, had never spoken to men outside
of her family and had no idea how a
panchayat worked, before she was elected one. But, running the grocery store and doing household chores keeps the
sarpanch
so busy, she couldn’t find time to attend the workshop. "The workshop
was in the capital town Raipur, which is four hours journey from here.
My family said, it was too far away," she says, lowering her voice into a
whisper as her husband and her son—both farmers—walk into the house.
Dulmat Netam, the
sarpanch of Pandarwahi, another tribal
village in Kanker district, has a similar story. The 30-year-old mother
of two says that her husband, a former village head, told her that the
training was “not that important” and therefore she need not leave her
house to attend one because he could help her run the
panchayat.
According to Netam, her day begins at five in the morning, but she can go to her
Panchayat office
only after finishing all the household chores. These include fetching
water from the community well, cooking, cleaning and sending her
children to schools. "I have to take care of the
panchayat, home, my two children. I have to cook, clean, wash, fetch water. Where is the time for anything else?" she asks.
Dulmat
Netam and Maya Kavde - women village heads in the former's office. 'It
is important for women to network. Together we can overcome many
challenges', says Kavde
Lack of administrative skills and freedom to take decisions on their own
is making women to be increasingly dependent on their male relatives
such as husband, elder brother or father in-law, preferring to stay
home. There are reports of ‘
Pati Panchayat' (meaning husband-run village councils) existing across the state.
Says Reena Ramteke, a local gender rights activist and journalist from Gariaband district of the state,
The
whole idea behind the 50 percent reservation was to encourage more
women to take part in governance and empower themselves. But while the
former is happening, the latter isn’t; with a non-cooperative
environment at home, women are meekly handing over their power to decide
to their husbands who then run the panchayat in proxy. The husbands
conducts all meetings, take all the decisions and the women leaders only
sign the papers
.
In Netam’s case this seems to a reality. The remedy, says Netam herself,
is to conduct the training workshops right in the village.
If the training is organized inside the village, nobody can stop me from attending it
, she says. However, she refuses to discuss this with her husband saying, "I don’t want a feud in the family."
Unlike Netam and Buiki, 38-year old Maya Kavde, of the neighboring
village of Makdi Khona has attended all the three workshops which she
says has built her administrative skills considerably. The reflection of
that is the development works she has carried out in the village: new
roads have been constructed, the community village ponds have been
de-silted and dug deeper solving the problem of water shortage, the
village school which offered only primary education, has been upgraded
to a secondary level school and above all, an emergency ambulance
service has been launched in the village as well.
However, despite her great performance as a
Sarpanch aside,
Kavde is far from being happy. Widowed in 2008, she was thrown out of
her husband’s house by her father in-law. Since then, she has been
fighting a battle to save herself and her family from an uncertain
future: "My father in-law and his sons do not want to share the property
with me. They say, 'You are a
sarpanch, so go fend for yourself.' But being a
sarpanch
doesn’t make one rich. Do they think I should start stealing public
money?" she asks, her voice shaking with anger and frustration.
The
house where Maya Kavde lives with her three daughters since her father
in law threw her out of her husband's house following the death of his
son four years ago
To get her share back, Kavde, who lives in a rundown mud hut, is now
talking to other female relatives—including two of her sister in- laws
who also have been denied their rights to property—and trying to get
their support.
It is important for us women to stay close. Together, we can have a chance to win many challenges
she says, looking hopeful.
Besides bias at home, the women village heads also complain about noncooperation from their male colleagues in the
panchayat.
Says Kavde, who heads one of the biggest village councils in the
district that has three villages under it with a combined population of
3,000.
I am tired of the way my male colleagues treat me. They do
not attend the meetings. When they do, they show little interest in the
village affairs. Some oppose everything I say. They are supposed to be
my allies, but they act like my opponents
she says.
Despite the difficulties she faces, Kavde wouldn’t name anyone. "I am
scared of being attacked," she says, "I have three teenage daughters and
don’t want anything to happen to them."
In India, there is a common perception that women in a tribal society
enjoy greater freedom and rights than those in a non-tribal community.
However, if the village leaders like Kavde, Buiki and Netam are any
proof, this turns out to be a mere myth.
The reporter is a fellow of the National Foundation of India
