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The Mahila Samakhya was a pilot project that was started in U.P., Gujarat, and Karnataka to improve the status of women in rural areas, reports ARUNA PRASAD.
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ON A cold night in Anekal, seven-months- pregnant Uma Kulkarni lay on the floor after a hard day's work at the local anganwadi. When she woke up next morning, she found Gowramma, the daughter of a cobbler who worked at the anganwadi, lying curled. Except for what she was wearing she had nothing else to keep her warm.
Gowramma, an orphan from Sarjapur, earned Rs. 125 a month of which she had to give Rs. 25 to the local official who had helped her get the job. The remaining Rs. 100 was all she took home to her grandmother. She was just too poor to be able to afford a sheet to cover herself. Uma forced Gowramma to set side some money every month. Over three months, Uma made sure that she had a sheet, a glass, and a plate.
Uma was so shaken by this incident that she realised she had to do much more than discharge her duties between 9 a.m. and 1 p.m. at the anganwadi. And that is how Uma first joined Search, where she received training, and then the Mahila Samakhya, Karnataka. The Mahila Samakhya was a pilot project that was started in UP, Gujarat, and Karnataka to improve the status of women in rural areas.
Integral to the whole project was educating women. But Uma and other workers met with opposition from women themselves when they visited the villages. Says Uma: "The women said education only meant trouble. The problem was mainly of their children, school dropouts, who were unwilling to work in the fields because they now thought it was menial work. As a result many of them started loitering around wasting time."
The Mahila Samakhya had to take a fresh look at their approach. It was imperative for them to connect education to the realities of their life and so they decided that they would get the women themselves to admit that they needed to be literate. During several meetings with the women, Mahila Samakhya workers asked them what their wages were. Many said they did not know how much the landlords were paying them or what they were entitled to. They finally admitted that they were totally ignorant, because they were illiterate and unaware. This proved to be a major breakthrough because they were now open to the idea of becoming literate — at least for their own sakes.
"Seventy-year-old Sundaramma of Bardapur village was vehemently opposed to our literacy campaign. But she joined a Mahila Sangha. At the meetings she realised that local officials had been cheating her of her widow's pension and palming it off to somebody else. Once this realisation dawned on her, there was no stopping. She not only learned to read and write, but also educated 120 other women in her village," says Uma with pride. "Her ultimate ambition was to learn to read and write English before she died," adds Uma.
The Mahila Samakhya developed a learning kit that cost them a mere Rs. 50. The kit helped women develop their cognitive skills. Armed with this knowledge they have been able to keep accounts and find solutions to their problems. "I definitely do not believe that you need large funds to develop study material," says Uma.
Literacy is only a tool to bring about a change in the lives of these women. There is the equally important issue of social, economic, and gender equality.
The Mahila Samakhya throughout made a conscious effort not to adopt a position of confrontation. She says some feminist groups visited the villages they worked in and asked the women why they could watch a film without their husbands' consent. "But those are not the issues that we have to address. There are certain ground realities and one has to work around them to make change possible," says a visibly agitated Uma.
Uma narrates an incident where a landlord in Bhairanahalli village had a skin disease for almost 30 years. The Mahila Samakhya, as part of its programme, imparted training to women to make herbal medicines with locally available plants. The landlord's wife called Janabai, who was one of those trained, to her house and asked her if she would treat her husband. Janabai said that since it was the landlord who needed to be treated it was best that he came to her. There was no news for almost a week because the landlord's wife had a tough time convincing her husband. One morning when Janabai opened her door, she found the landlord and his wife outside. She cured the man of his ailment. "Today Janabai enters the landlord's house through the front door, sits with him as an equal, and has a cup of coffee with him," says Uma with a big smile on her face. She adds, "Now that landlord has become the biggest PR for the Mahila Sangha and invites villagers from neighbouring areas to get treated by them!"
During the Mahila Samakhya's meetings with the women, the majority who were Dalit, said they needed to include more women in their fold and expand. It was they who suggested that women from the higher castes be included in the Sanghas.
They said that while these women were economically strong, in terms of gender equality they were worse off. In fact, the Dalit women themselves admitted that they enjoyed greater freedom than the upper caste women, as they could go out and work. What they were thus doing was going beyond caste, and identifying with each other on the basis of gender. "This approach was a real eye opener for us," says Uma. The coming together of all these women was very subtly bringing about a change in the social order.
The Mahila Samakhya educated the women on whom to approach for loans. The women had been prompt in returning the loans they had taken from banks and especially from NABARD and their sanghas. Local government officials were amazed at the recovery rate because their experience had been quite the opposite. It was discovered that loans under the Development of Women and Children in Rural Areas (DWACRA) scheme were given in instalments to groups of 15 women. These instalments were insufficient to start any kind of enterprise and so the women often squandered it away. Finally, they would not get the remaining amount because they had nothing to show for the money they had received. The Mahila Samakhya helped the women identify what enterprises would be suitable. "This awareness created a rather unusual situation for officials in one instance. The district administration offered the members of a Mahila Sangha loans to start enterprises like agarbatti making and beedi rolling.
The women amazed the officials by declining the offer and said that it was not lucrative enough and had other plans," says Uma. This forced government officials to draw up a new list. Thus opening up new possibilities for women.
The Mahila Samakhya organised get-togethers at the district and taluk levels at which there was a great exchange of thoughts, procedures, and ideas. With so much information being exchanged the women would follow up with officials in their areas on various developmental programmes.
"So as you can see, we have to address the issue of empowering women at various levels. Literacy is only the tip of the iceberg," says Uma.
Uma rose to become project director of the Mahila Samakhya, Karnataka. She says her greatest joy was to see so many of the illiterate women that she and her colleagues educated becoming resource persons and instruments of change in their communities.
But talk about her sacrifices, and Uma retreats into a shell. All she will say is that her family has made tremendous adjustments for her. "But at the end of the day it has been worth all the punishment transfers and months away from my family, because I know I have been able to change the lives of so many women for the better. And I in turn have learnt a lot from them. It has been a fulfilling experience," Uma says nostalgically. She is currently programme manager at
Actionaid, India.
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