Jenu Kuruba: looking forward, looking back
Distinguished speakers, community members and guests gathered to celebrate the grand opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony of a Jenu Kuruba-owned store selling handicrafts, various foods, herbs, honey, cane furniture and other goods produced and marketed by the tribal women’s cooperative.
On a beautiful day in late April, I traveled to the Hosahalli area of South India with Dr. Ramaswami Balasubramaniam (Balu), an international development scholar, public policy activist and former Frank Rhodes Professor at Cornell University, to meet with Jenu Kuruba, and also Betta Kuruba, tribal people of Karnataka with whom he has closely worked and lived for decades.
Originally forest dwellers, the Kuruba tribes are among the oldest in the region. Beginning in the early 1970’s and continuing through the 80’s, their families were uprooted and moved out of their ancestral forest homes due to the construction of the Kabini Dam reservoir in Karnataka, and the assignment of protected park status to Bandipur and Nagarahole forests as a result of the Forest Conservation Act. Lands the Kuruba had called home for centuries were suddenly off limits — submerged in dam waters and guarded by officers — their way of life and traditions, irreversibly changed.
Dr. Ramaswami Balasubramaniam (Balu), an international development scholar and public policy activist based in Karnataka, India
As a trained medical doctor, Balu had initially gone into the area in the 80’s to help the tribes with health related matters, but upon seeing the extent to which they struggled to survive and acculturate, and the way they were excluded by officials from discussions impacting their future, he embraced a path of activism to mobilize support and legal aid. Balu has since dedicated his life to alleviating poverty and innovating the livelihoods, health and education of the tribal communities in South India. His vision and expertise have made and continue to make a positive difference through organizations he has founded and directs, such as the Vivekananda Institute for Leadership Development (V-LEAD), Vivekananda Institute of Indian Studies, Swami Vivekananda Youth Movement (SVYM), and Grassroots Research and Advocacy Movement (GRAAM). The 2015 India NGO Award given to SVYM by Resource Alliance, a global network for fundraising and philanthropy, is among the many endorsements Balu's organizations have received for their broad impact on tribal development.
Decades later, Kuruba tribals are still transitioning from the forest to mainstream culture. Today some colonies live within Nagarahole's borders; those who moved out make their living as farmers in the Kabini backwaters area and surrounding lands outside the parks. Balu said that many of the tribals are past the point of nostalgia for “what was” and are working to shape sustainable livelihood solutions for their children and future generations.
Malathi Holenarasipur Divakar (left), principal of the Viveka Tribal Learning Center of Hosahalli in Karnataka, teaches local Jenu Kuraba children and engages with their families and other tribals who live in the area.
“There’s no going back,” he said. “By extinguishing the rights and connections the people had to the forest, the State created a situation where the tribals cannot look back or duplicate the life they once had, even if they wanted to. One generation has been completely disenfranchised. These people have grown up with the challenge of coping with modern pressures that the State created for them and, by default, must adjust.”
Balu arranged for me to meet with some of the tribals to learn about their livelihood, life in the forest prior to displacement, encounters with tigers and other wild animals then and now, and how tiger conservation has impacted their lives. I interviewed several groups of people over the course of our two-day trip. My arrival was timed to the grand opening of a Jenu Kuruba-owned store selling handicrafts, various foods, herbs, honey, cane furniture and other goods produced and marketed by the tribal women’s cooperative, and micro-financed by Balu and other investors. The mood was festive as community members and guests gathered in celebration for the ribbon cutting and puja (worship) blessing, announcements and food. Balu beamed with pride at the women behind the event for their passion to prevail in spite of obstacles, and for galvanizing women of all ages and skills to participate.
Grand opening and ribbon-cutting ceremony of a Jenu Kuruba-owned store selling handicrafts, various foods, herbs, honey, cane furniture and other goods produced and marketed by the tribal women’s cooperative, and micro-financed by Balu and other investors.
The cooperative enterprise is among many initiatives set in motion to preserve tribal knowledge and increase self-sufficiency and financial wellbeing. Still, life is not easy. High rates of alcoholism, depression, domestic abuse, early pregnancy, and poor school attendance are constant challenges, typical to people who have experienced traumatic, life changing events that threaten to erode a healthy social infrastructure. Nevertheless, the tide is turning. People are thriving and are optimistic for new ventures and partnerships. Those outside the park are sharing their experiences of improved living conditions with those inside, and there is a newfound interest among the park families, led primarily by the younger generations, to make the move and embrace a new way of life.
In asking the tribals if they experienced conflicts with tigers, leopards or other wild animals, I learned that tiger sightings are infrequent, but that conflicts do occur since the people live in a high-density, tiger populated area. Both tigers and leopards prey on livestock, such as cows and goats, and, in some cases, humans. Elephants, boar and deer sometimes destroy crops grown close to or on forest lands. Like many others living in lands surrounding tiger reserves in South India, the Kuruba view prayer and devotional offerings as a means to prevent and mediate loss of livestock or loved ones, but monetary compensation by forest officials for loss goes a long way in keeping the peace. State regulated reimbursement is mandatory, but people said that, more often than not, it takes years to be reimbursed, if at all. It depends on the officer. If a humane officer is on call, the process could go more quickly. Timely compensation is critical. Reimbursement for loss of a milk cow to a tiger, say, can make a big difference to a family’s financial wellbeing. It can also make a big difference to the tiger’s wellbeing, for if the money doesn’t come, frustration builds, not only toward the Forest Department, but toward the tiger. In April a tiger was found shot and injured in nearby forest and was transferred to a rehabilitation center in Mysore. It is unknown whether or not the cat’s injury was due to a retaliatory act, but it would not be uncommon.
Balu and two tribals said the irony is that more conflicts happen now as a result of people being out of the forest then when they were in the forest. Back then they were tuned to the animals’ ways, and the animals to theirs. They refuted a general concern that they used to poach animals for meat or money. On the contrary, they said, the forest gave them plenty of food to eat, and they lived peaceably among the animals.
“The tribals didn’t use to have a problem with the animals because they saw the animals as part of the ecosystem,” Balu said. “But the Forest Department brought them out of the forest and said, in effect, ‘You don’t belong to the ecosystem; that ecosystem is separate from you.’ They created a sense of separateness, and yet they expect the tribals to be tolerant of nature when that ‘separateness’ challenges them and grazes their lands or kills their cattle. And then the State doesn’t compensate them or take responsibility for the conflict. So now you have a situation where the tribals hate not only the forest officers, but the symbol of the animal under their protection. And they wonder why they should take care of the forest or be its custodians. The challenge is to get the people to respect the forest and at the same time create new opportunities for them to subsist economically."
Through negotiations with the State of Karnataka, young tribal adults are being hired to work with the Forest Department as firewatchers and anti-poaching guards. Hiring tribals to work inside the system is one tactical approach to increase participation and ease tension. And there are basic safety precautions villagers can take to minimize conflict with their wild neighbors. Keeping yards free of trash is one strategy. Trash outside the home attracts stray dogs, which, in turn, attracts leopards and tigers and puts human lives at risk of attack. State subsidies for cooking gas are given so that people won't have to collect wood in or near the forests and, thereby, further minimize conflict. Forest signs saying “Do Not Pass Urin” are reminders that attacks occur when people are vulnerable, a precaution that may seem farcical to Westerners, but not for poor Indian villagers who live and work outdoors. These and other measures are intended to give villagers strategies for living in co-existence with animals. Easier said than done. Improved habits depend, in part, on improved facilities and a robust State infrastructure, such as trash collection and waste management services. It's a complicated dance of players and parts. And old habits, like memories, die hard, especially for the older generations.
Basamma, an elder woman, recounted her memories of living in the forest as a child and young women. She said that the animals, including deer and leopard, would graze and prey near to where she and her family lived and worked, and that people and animals were mindful of each other’s presence.
"We did not bother each other," she said. "Our people would say 'Hi' to the animals and continue on our way. Not even elephants disturbed us."
Now she laments they would likely get hurt if they returned to the forest because the animals no longer know them. She also said how much healthier everyone was when they lived inside the forest — the forest provided all the foods and plants they needed for sustenance and nutrition, from honey and roots to jackfruit and medicinal plants.
Devamma, another elder woman, got emotional when recounting the prayers and songs her family used to sing to the spirits of the forest. She said the ancient traditions and fundamental values are no longer being followed, and that the spirits have been marginalized, like her people.
"The Forest Department won’t allow our families back to the forest to the places where we used to worship," she said, "and the spirits don’t visit us anymore, so it is useless for us to call to them or sing the old songs."
Balu said the younger generations have embraced a future outside the forest, but that those who remember the old ways are at a crossroads of what to do and believe. Education is a way forward.
Some months back I spent a week at the Viveka Tribal Learning Center of Hosahalli engaging Jenu Kuruba and other tribal students in digital media storytelling exercises about their relationship to nature. (Read More.) This school is also the brainchild of Balu’s. Nestled in a forest setting, the honeycomb compound of open-air buildings is designed to invigorate young minds, grades K-12, and kindle a connection to nature. The curriculum provides exceptional educational standards while underscoring reverence for nature, Indian values, culture and traditions, and new avenues of enterprise. The children are thriving thanks to Balu and the dedicated care of director Malathi H.D. and her team of teachers and administrators.
“How can the tribals symbolically live the older values learned from the forest?” Balu asked. “That’s the purpose of education. That’s what our efforts in the schools are doing.”
The children are the hope — the future leaders — the generational bridge linking past to future.
Read more:
(Photo captions and video to be integrated.)
