My
alarm rings at 6am and, like any self-respecting NGO worker who is always on
the clock, I snooze for the next 30 minutes planning in the deep recesses of my
mind how the day ahead will pan out. Today was the day. The day to head out
into the hinterland and deliver out concepts of Gender (definitions/ stereotypes/clichés). Our team assembled, I was joined by Suresh, CSR's driver/entertainer,
someone with a deep understanding of the needs of rural Indians who is always willing
and ready to share his views. To round out our team was Vikram, our webmaster/gifted
Athenian orator, hailing from Haryana, a state infamous for gender-based
violence, and a living example of how one can change mindsets.
We
were on our way to Moradabad (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moradabad ), a
city which retains a proud brass industry heritage as one of the country's largest
exporters of brass handicrafts. As reported by the latest census, literacy
rates are around 70% in men and 60% in women (rather high compared to the rest
of Uttar Pradesh ), the sex ratio is 908 women per 1000 men. Altogether I went
into this latest round of gender trainings with a positive and optimistic viewpoint
of the city and its people, and assumed that our Gender Trainings would run
smoothly. Basic concepts explained to straightforward people.
Upon our arrival in Moradabad we were met by our local partner organization SARD : Society for All Round Development, who piloted us through the city, driving through narrow lanes and what felt like a series of never-ending vegetable markets. We eventually arrived to the point where I had to leave the comforts of our air-conditioned car and face the reality of the blaring summer sun as I meandered through lanes, which just happened to be the exact size of my shoulder span.
The
500 meter walk was surely not intended for anyone with a sensitive olfactory
system or with particularly high standards of hygiene. The small distance was
dotted with twenty butcher stalls casual about waste disposal to say the least
selecting the little drainage canals outside their shops while the heat and
humidity ensured the flesh remains were colonized upon arrival. Finally, after
ducking and diving my way through the lane I arrived at the training venue. I
was relieved and tired. Damping down my sweaty brow, I looked up and realized
that I was at the local madrasa. As I shook my head and stepped in, there was a
power cut. Ominous you say?
Immediately
upon entering the room, I noticed a pile of Qurans stacked high in the corner
and a blackboard with sinuous Arabic lettering. The power cut on arrival meant no
electricity leaving us in complete darkness in the room with the only source of
light and ventilation being the little door through which I entered. Thankfully,
the power cut did not seem to dissuade any of our participants and the room slowly
filled up with a very diverse group ranging from dewy-eyed ten-year old boys to
seventy-year old ‘maulanas' with many years experience as teachers of Islam. I soon looked up and our little 20 sq meter
room was filled to capacity with over seventy people with one door and no
electricity.
When
preparing to speak in front of large crowds there are only so many variables
you can take into consideration. Did I know there was going to be a power cut?
No. So I pressed on with my introduction to the group while beads of sweat
trickled down my forehead leaving me after 10 minutes of cursory remarks in a
pool of my own sweat. Setting the physical difficulties aside, we delved into
the topic of 'Gender'. I must admit that
the group was very attentive and participated with great enthusiasm. We
conducted a healthy discussion filled with smiles, laughter and agreement that
there are different opportunities and expectations which come with being a man
or woman and that these parameters are created, established and prolonged by
all members of society. However, when the discussion turned to the topic of ‘Equality'
the whole group suddenly turned silent craning their necks towards the elders
sitting at the back, ‘the community elders', the ones with the final say. I had
just been introduced to the judges of Moradabad's very own Kangaroo Court.
You
could have heard a pin drop in those first few minutes. The shock over the
concept of gender equality was enough to drive these boys and men stone cold
silent. The elders were gracious enough to smile, enquire after my name but
then ordered me to continue. When a
trainer loses his authority it’s hard to conduct a training, however I made a
light-hearted joke at the elders and did my best to continue. The training
atmosphere had surely turned hostile but often one needs to make a point. So I
continued on the topic of equality putting a simple question to the group:
"What did they think about women having a job". Again a series of
hushed conversations, silences and murmurs ensued when finally a young boy aged
around sixteen answered, "Sir my Quran says women should always be dressed
from head to toe otherwise it is a sin, since most jobs nowadays require them
to wear western clothes they can’t do those jobs."
I was
about to involve others in the discussion when one of the elders sitting at the
back interjected and warned me that "You should watch what you say, you
are in a room where we teach our kids about Islam, a word against the Quran and
you won’t leave this training on your own two feet". Shocked and dismayed,
I thought to myself "Wow, this hundred-year old bloke half my size,
actually threatened me". So I used the finest and only weapon available to
me, humor, to break the ice quoting the famous Bollywood saying ‘Gabbar singh
yeh keh gaya, Jo darr gaya wo maar gaya' (no guts no glory). The group broke into fits
of indulgent laughter and congratulated my defensive move with a round of
applause. Realizing we had all reached our boundaries of tolerance both
mentally and physically for the day I concluded the training.
Afterwards,
our host organization was kind enough to serve us a generous spread of cold
drinks and snacks while we exchanged stories of our experiences from a truly
challenging day. I decided to take a stroll back to where I had left my
normality. Walking back through the narrow path I was overwhelmed by a sense of
hypocrisy. The group of men I had just spoken to had never experienced
equality, did not know of rights because they had never exercised their own and
live in an India where government provisions are a myth. Their battles are for survival, their worries
for how to feed their families and the only glimmer of hope they have in this
battle, which they will eventually lose, is religion.
All
the big words used in proposals sent to UN agencies are good and great for
those who are fortunate enough to live in the comfort of air conditioned
conference halls with purified/ ozonified/ reverse osmosis-treated bottled
water. But for the majority of my country these so-called 'necessities' bear no
meaning as their struggle is for survival not for class not for justice but the
basic instinct to stay alive. As a result they will align themselves with
anyone who shares, ensures and prioritizes that same basic ambition.
They
did not sit in that crowded, hot room because they cared about Gender. They sat
there because they knew they would be provided with a meal at the end. Trainings
are a valuable exercise but I sometimes think we forget why some people choose
to attend. Vast amounts of money is spent inviting trainers from the big cities
and on refreshments for a huge gathered crowd, which is often unaware of the
topic but is very aware that they will be served a meal if they stay until the
end. It is a common practice I have seen across the NGO sector in India and it
is a reality we must come to terms with.
Perhaps
we ought to entertain the thought that maybe we need to spend more time and
money on what people need and want rather than telling them how to behave.
Also, if UN bosses spend more time in the field they would realize that it's
not a lack of capacity but lack of opportunity that is the main barrier. They
should invest this money in hospitals, schools and nutrition. I realize that
'our bosses' sit in their beautiful offices and are chauffeured from one
strategy meeting to another while expecting that a new version of social change
will automatically take place every year but the reality on the ground is more
complex, nuanced and demanding. This reality is certainly worth looking into.
