Rebuilding lives

In the midst of disaster, hope thrives. S. ANANDALAKSHMY writes on the resilience of the children of quake-hit Gujarat.

IT was barely three weeks since the earth beneath them had shaken, shattering houses, shattering dreams. For some, their closest family members had perished, for almost all, their houses had turned to rubble, their livelihoods destroyed. All this is known, part of contemporary history that can never be forgotten. And yet there are the pages of history that follow, less dramatic, but needing to be read and remembered.

The date was February 20. I was with the team from SEWA Child Care, visiting Surendranagar district, an area adjoining Kutch. In this area, the loss of life was minimal, as all houses were on ground level and people had time to run out into the open. Even though the place was several kilometres away from the epicentre, there was considerable damage. The damage was extensive not only to the houses, but also to the schools and creches. In a large pile of rubble that once was a school, we saw heaps of broken brick and plaster, in the middle of which was the word "friend" in English. It was intriguing, until we realised that schools often had mottoes or sayings written up on the walls, to impress upon children moral and ethical precepts. I guessed that the saying, "A friend in need is a friend indeed" must have been on the wall before it collapsed. A poignant moment! When in distress, one does need a friend, many friends. And that is all of us, I guess!

Most of the schools, we noticed when we were driving past, were holding classes in the open, many under the direct sun, which in February was beginning to be sharp. The building that housed the Child Care Centre of SEWA, in village Ajithgarh, had also become unsafe, with large cracks on the sides of the building and a bit of the roof open to the sky. The parents were too scared to send their children, and our visit was to reassure them that we would use tarpaulin tents for the centres and start functioning shortly. As usual, we soon had a large following of children, curious, enthusiastic and keen to talk with us. When they found out that we were planning for the care of the child under six years of age, many of the older children asked to be included. They wanted toys, books, play materials and things to do.

Before the trip and on the long road journey, I asked the SEWA organisers about their experiences in the community soon after the earthquake. On January 27, the teams from SEWA had left for Kutch and the adjoining district, fanning out to each individual household in villages that had their members. Dealing with human suffering and pain on that scale was a tremendous strain on many of the workers, but they held on with fortitude, breaking down only when they reached the safe precincts of the SEWA office in Ahmedabad. They reported that mothers were just holding their children very close, for fear that another earthquake may take them away. Children slept badly, they said, and would wake up crying. But the women were all keen for normalcy to be restored and wanted very much to go back to work and to have a place they could send the young ones.

There were different ways in which the people coped with the aftermath of the quake. Boys of age 10 or so had in one village invented a game where they would be playing around and intermittently they would set up a chorus, aougayo (which means "it's come") and watch people as they looked up in fear or huddled together. Children had worked out their own modes of catharsis, uniquely their own. In another village where truckloads of drinking water in plastic pouches had been delivered, clearly there were larger numbers than were required for a while. The children had improvised a catching game, using the water-pouch as a ball. In the city of Ahmedabad, people had the surreal experience of seeing high rise buildings collapse like a pack of cards. The poorer homes and areas were not so badly affected. But fear was pervasive and mothers would not send their children to the creche. The Creche workers of SEWA made a decision that if the children did not come to them, they would go to the children, to ensure they had their daily nutrition. The teachers (as they are called in the programme) cooked the hot meal (khichdi) and took it to the homes of the children so that they did not starve. The mothers were touched by this act and within the week, the children were back at the centres.

We reached the village called Teekar (which we were told was the village from which Sam Pitroda's family had come). We found that there was extensive damage to the houses. The entire population of the village had moved to tents pitched in the open field, carrying with them whatever household effects that could be saved and their camels. SEWA had a Women's Savings Group there, and we were able to contact a SEWA member. She gathered the other women in an informal group and we found that all of them were keen that we should initiate some activities for their children. They offered us some tarpaulin-roofed space for the creche. It was decided that as soon as existing creches were restored and fully functional, the focus could shift on setting up a creche and children's play centre, which would include children from infancy to 12 years of age.

As we walked back to the jeep, about 15 to 20 children accompanied us. One child whom I can recall in every detail was Fatima, a nine-year-old girl. I was delighted because she could speak Hindi fluently. She mentioned that she picked it up when she went to visit her grandparents in Delhi the previous year. She cursorily dismissed the very idea of being afraid of earthquakes occurring again, saying that she had trust in Allah and feared nothing. As we walked, she pointed out to the Mosque which was intact and had not been damaged at all. She said that she felt good when she attended prayers there. If we started a school, she wanted to attend it, and made us promise that we would take her in.

We left with a feeling of hope, even though we were aware of the time-lag between intention and action. How many Fatimas, Ramlals, Manekbhais, Paruls must be languishing in distant parts of the rural world, longing for mental stimulation, information, knowledge and a window to the world outside. If I could have had a class for those 15 children for only two hours, I could have taught them, in its entirety, the Pythagorus theorem or a verse from the "Tirukkural", so keen were they to learn! Perhaps one could have arrived at the same conclusion in any part of the country, any time over the last five decades, but in the context of a quake-devastated landscape, the deprivation of educational input to a large majority of children, rankled all the more.

Exactly four weeks later, I returned to Surendranagar again, with the SEWA Child Care team. As we walked around the villages, we realised that a substantial part of the rubble had been sorted out. There were roof tiles of terracotta, neatly stacked up. Long wooden poles were kept apart in a pile, broken bricks sorted by size. Quietly, the people had started rebuilding their lives, saving what could be saved. It was March 20 and already the people had closed the chapter on the January disaster and were planning for the months ahead. We saw no tears, confronted no selfpity.

By that time, about six of the Child Care Centres had been restarted in the district. The blue plastic tents that had become the symbol of SEWA's presence in the ravaged districts, also served as the creches. Children from the ages of two to six sat in groups, a little subdued, but quite alert. All the play material that was intended for the creche, had not yet reached. Nevertheless, the teachers were managing with songs and stories, using the presence of older children out of school to entertain the young ones. A meal was being cooked, which would be the main meal, and for most children, the only substantial meal of the day. Mothers came to watch, standing in the sun, at the entrance of the tent. The child-care worker's accountability to the community was automatically ensured.

In Surendranagar district, salt-making is the major occupation. The work has to be done under the most arduous conditions. The few men and women who could get any employment after the earthquake were considered by all to be the lucky ones. The rest did not want handouts or charity, just the opportunity to earn a living by working hard, a safe place for their children, and a person they could trust to look after them. SEWA was beginning to extend such a service to other villages in the district, and for the women, nothing could have been more welcome.

The writer is consultant in Child Development and Education.

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