SAMUBEN SOWS AN IDEA !

It was in early 1986 that the Aga Khan Rural Support Programme-India (AKRSPI) started working on renovating the Sapar percolation tank (for conserving rainwater) in Surendranagar district of Gujarat. I had joined this team towards the end of 1985. Surendranagar was an arid area and often suffered from drought. Agriculture was certainly not an assured source of income. In fact, more often than not, people depended on the state government sponsored drought relief works for employment. Working conditions used to be terrible, payments irregular, corruption rampant and worse, such works caused disputes within the village, among families, between people of different caste or social groups….well, just about everyone, and for just about everything. If nothing worked, migration to the far off southern districts of Gujarat was the only way out.

AKRSPI had initiated this work in consultation with the local community. ‘Participation’ was still a new concept and certainly on government funded works which were ‘technical’ in nature. We had got commitment for most of the funds from the state government and had agreed to put in some resources of our own. However, it was clear from the beginning and especially to the government, that AKRSPI would do this work using its own methodologies, and hence, in many ways, would be ‘different’.

It was with great curiosity and a great deal of amusement that the women heard it from their men folks that the AKRSPI team wanted them too to be in the meeting. “How could they come for these meetings”? the men wondered. “They have work at home, they need to cook and take care of the children. How would they find time to come for meetings”? one of the men asked. “Even if they come, they won’t be able to say anything, as their men folk would be there. Most of them would be their relatives and elders of the village and hence would observe the ‘laaj’ (meaning, would cover their faces). It is meaningless and rather uncalled for”, said one of the elders who couldn’t understand this fuss being made about meeting and involving women! “Why don’t you tell us when the work will start and how much will you pay and how many people you want on the worksite”? asked one of the younger men. “We will ensure that there is adequate number of people to do your work”.

It took a great deal of Anilbhai’s (the first Chief Executive of AKRSPI and a retired officer from the Gujarat cadre of the Indian Administrative Service) patience and persuasion to explain that this was a different work and it was ‘their’ work. It was something on which they had to develop a stake, take pride in and ensure technical excellence. This was for a long term good as renovating the reservoir would mean plenty of water for the village, for irrigation, for the cattle for several years to come. It would mean recharging of wells and better productivity. It would mean women wouldn’t have to trudge long distances to fetch water or fuel or fodder. And more importantly, since women’s stakes were also involved, it was important that women also took part in all the decisions being made on this work.

The women too were admittedly baffled. Never had anyone sought their opinion even on matters concerning themselves or their own families. No one asked them if they were ready for marriage. No one asked if they wanted to bear children. No one asked them if they wanted to go to school. No one asked them if they were being paid wages for their labour. No one asked if they had their meal. No one asked if they need to take a break from long hours of working. No one just about asked them anything. Just because, they were only meant to do what was expected of them - no questions asked ! Oh well, they did ask them if the food was ready. Their husbands and sons did ask them for that extra bit of cash. They did ask them if they had milked the cows and sold the milk. But that was it.

“What value can we add to these discussions”, they asked innocently. “After all, our men folk know everything that needs to be done. And moreover, we have so much of work to do at home”! “With the older men sitting in these meetings, how do you expect us to talk”, one of the younger women asked. “We will be observing ‘laaj’ or else we will be severely reprimanded by our in-laws and others in the village”. It certainly did not help us that we did not have any woman on our team. (Till a few months later, when Sonal joined, by which time the work on the Sapar reservoir had started. Seeing Sonal as part of our team seemed to boost the confidence of the women, who then seemed to be more relaxed in our presence).

When the work started, it was clear to the people that they would earn more in wages than what they would otherwise have earned, had this been done through a contractor or even directly by the government department. Moreover the process would be very transparent. Anilbhai was therefore keen that a part of the wages, roughly amounting to 10% was set aside as savings. This idea certainly did not appeal to the men. The women, though not very sure, seemed to be willing to consider. Over a period of time, it was clear that the 10% did not really pinch, especially since it was being set aside for some use in future. They were happy that in a drought year, they were earning decent wages, which was much higher than what they had ever earned before with the unscrupulous contractors siphoning off huge amounts from their earnings, or straightaway refusing to pay them for their work ! The working conditions were something that they had probably never experienced before, with a place for people to relax during the hot summer afternoons, regular supply of good drinking water, and more importantly for the women, an ‘ayah’ to take care of their children – an onsite crèche, which was absolutely unheard of. Not that Bharatbhai, our engineer supervising the work was happy about. On deputation from the state government, he often wondered why AKRSPI was hell bent on breaking the norms and spoiling the 'labourers' ! The extreme weather conditions which made him dash every now and then to gulp down a pitcher of cool water was not reason enough for him to consider that those working in the hot merciless summer straining every single muscle of their body may also need a relief. "They are resilient, and are just used to working in these conditions", was his constant refrain, much to my colleague, Shashi's annoyance !

The hectic pace of work during the hot summer months which involved over 500 people saw the work completed by the first week of June 1986, just in time for receiving the fresh monsoon waters. There was an animated expectation among the villagers to see their reservoir fill with water, the first time in several years, which, they knew, would last till the next monsoon. Infact, most people in the village had not seen the reservoir full. Built under state government's drought relief programme to poor technical specifications and implemented by corrupt but influential contractors whom the government officials dared not confront or challenge, each time the reservoir was renovated, it would last only till the following monsoon season before being breached at several places, thus rendering it utterly useless. With the monsoon now approaching and a change in the air the we detected, we decided to have a meeting to discuss how we could use the money saved, which, by then, had amounted to thousands of rupees.

“Distribute it equally among us. We will use it for something, maybe we will buy something”, said Nanjibhai. Most of the men seemed to nod in agreement. The women however did not seem convinced. There was a murmur among them but when asked, they just laughed. The discussion kept moving along the lines of ‘distribute it equally’. And we kept on asking them to consider better options. Sonal moved closer to the women, encouraging them too to think of options. One of the women said “As the men say, distribute the money among us and we will buy utensils”. The other women laughed again. They were quite amused at the idea of getting all the cash to get those beautiful brass and steel vessels they always wanted! But the men weren’t amused. “What a waste”, one of them said. That was enough to shut the women. But Sonal persisted.

Rather hesitantly, Samuben, one of the most active women on the worksite stood up. She said, “Get us seeds with that money”, she said, hesitantly. There was a sudden quiet among the crowd. She looked around, unsure of what the reaction of the others would be, rather diffidently. But one could see the resolve on her face. Turning back to us, she said, ”Yes, give us seeds”. She continued, “You see, it is the sowing season now, but most of us do not have seeds. As soon as the first rains come, our men will run around for seeds, but we wouldn’t have enough money. They will then buy seeds on credit from the local traders, which invariably will not be of good quality, as all the good quality seeds would have been bought by the richer farmers prior to the arrival of the rains. We end up getting poor quality seeds at high rates of interest, and that also, late. How can you expect us to reap a good harvest”?

We heard her speak, in amazement. This was a very sensible and relevant suggestion. Anilbhai, listening with rapt attention to what Samuben had to say, smiled. He was delighted. What a productive way on using this money! Samuben had just explained an economic reality so simply, which, if addressed effectively, would provide a very sustainable source of livelihood, year after year. He looked at us and said, “Did you hear what she said? It is very significant. Note it down”, which we promptly did!

He then turned to her and said, “Samuben, you have made an extremely good suggestion”. Samuben blushed. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on her. She was even embarrassed. Pulling her saree over her head consciously and partly covering her face, she sat down hurriedly, wanting to escape from the peering eyes. There was a smile on her face. That one moment of attention meant like a lifetime achievement for her. But she was also apprehensive. Did she say something wrong? Forget the others, but will her husband reprimand her? She darted a glance at Popatbhai, her husband. Popatbhai was smiling. And why not ? The thought of enough money for seeds at the time of rains was something that they could possibly never have dreamed about. We could trace a shade of pride in Popatbhai’s smile. After all, it was his wife’s idea and for once, it seemed he was content for his wife to grab the limelight.

Anilbhai turned back to those assembled and said, “I have an additional suggestion. We will organize to buy the seeds jointly. We will get good quality seeds from Gandhinagar (the capital of Gujarat state), from the State Seeds Corporation. These will be certified seeds which will yield a good harvest”. Everyone nodded in agreement. Samuben’s suggestion had gone down well and so had Anilbhai’s.

“But”, Anilbhai continued, “you will have to pay back the cost of seeds after the harvest”, he said. The group was surprised. Why should they pay back for something which was bought with their own money? “As Samuben said, you need seeds year after year, season after season. If you repay the cost of seeds, we will buy more seeds for the next season. That way, you will have a fund which will be replenished with your own money. Once you are comfortable with the idea, you may even want to charge a nominal interest, so that your fund grows to meet your growing needs. And your money will remain in your own village”.

This seemed to be an interesting suggestion, but not a very convincing one. (Mind you, this was at a time when micro-credit or micro-finance had not yet become popular, nor had the concept of self-help groups emerged). The crowd was quiet. Samuben got up again and this time, with a greater degree of confidence, she said, “Anilbhai, you are very right. We need money for seeds every season, every year. We must create this fund with repayments for the cost of seeds. However, if some people don’t refund, they will not be eligible for this scheme the following season”.

Slowly, there seemed to be a consensus emerging. Little did Anilbhai or we realize that the seeds of a savings and credit scheme which would grow into several millions of rupees over the years across hundreds of villages, had been sown. Samuben had sown the seeds of an idea which was a small revolution for AKRSPI, but a huge step forward for the hundreds of families we worked with!