A sweet solution for India’s farmers

Monsoon is Somar Devji Maghi’s favourite time of year. An iridescent green has swept across the ground and for the next four months, Somar will plant, turn soil and watch his farm grow.

The 26-year-old lives in Dandwal, a small village in Gujarat, in India’s South. Somar wishes he could spend his whole year here but he can’t grow enough to support the family. When monsoon ends he works on other people’s farms making just 60 Rupees – or one Euro – a day.

As India pushes forward with its quest for development, small farmers like Somar are getting left behind, according to Vijaya Pastala.

“Gujarat is the fastest growing state but there are still many tribal villages that don’t have electricity. Not many finish school, not many go to college, women are married early. A lot of them are loan-dependent, money-lender-dependent.”

A sustainable solution

Vijaya Pastala is the CEO of Under the Mango Tree (UTMT), a company that links organic small farms to a national market.

After witnessing tribal life in Gujarat, Vijaya was determined to help. In March 2009 she launched the not-for-profit Bees For Poverty Reduction Program.

Farmers buy a starter kit of two bright blue bee boxes at 2,500 Rupees or 42 Euros. They then undergo an intensive training program, where they learn how to find, capture, box and care for the indigenous bee – Apis cerena.

Beekeeping in India is not like beekeeping in the West. There is no protective suit, it’s just your bare skin up against thousands of potentially angry bees. It takes patience, persistence and courage.

“I’ve been stung up to 100 times in a single day when boxing hives,” UTMT’s bee expert Atar Singh said. However, as Jhula Mahado found out, the pain pays off when you hit pay dirt for the first time.

For months, Jhula has been carefully tending his hive. Every two days he checks the combs making sure that they are sheltered from the wind and rain.

Each day he watched as swarms of black and gold entered the box carrying packs of pollen.

As Atar opens the box to show, more than 45 thousands bees swarm around rich yellow combs, oozing with honey. The combs are cut and the honey extracted.

Jhula will make 16 Euros from this batch. He should be able to collect honey every 15 to 20 days for the next four months. It’s a huge boost to his average annual income, which is less than 170 Euros per year.

More than just honey

According to Atar, the rewards of beekeeping go even further.

“Honey is just a by product or direct advantage to the beekeepers. The indirect advantages are much more, even in terms of monetary benefits. Having bees helps to increase their agricultural productivity through pollination. Bees are responsible for 80 percent pollination for the crop, which increases about 35 to 40 percent of yield,” he explained.

More importantly, Atar said, beekeeping is helping his favourite bee, Apis cerena, make a long- needed comeback.

The Cerena is an indigenous Indian bee – famous for its small size and ability to crawl into delicate flowers. But their population is dwindling due to loss of habitat and disease.

One of the worst health scares, Atar explained, started in 1972 with the introduction of Apis mellifera – a European bee.

“Apis mellifera could actually produce 75 to 85 kilos of honey versus Apis cerena which could only produce 5 to 7 kilos of honey. But within six months a viral disease known as sad brood had been introduced and it caused a lot of harm to the indigenous bee population.”

The other threat has been India’s tradition of honey hunting.

Searching for gold

Somu Sotru is a traditional honey hunter. He goes into the forest, finds a hive, smokes it until the bees leave and then crushes it to get the honey.

“We go into the forest with an axe and cut the honey comb. We squeeze the honey and throw the combs away. We collect it into plastic bags and then sell it,” Somu said.

Somu has two bee boxes on his farm, but when Atar opens them, the hives are empty and covered in white webs, created by wax moths. Somu lacks the patience required to care for bees, and still views honey hunting as a quick fix.

Although some older farmers like Somu remain unconvinced of the benefits of beekeeping, others like Somar Devji Maghi have embraced the opportunity.

The program has trained 600 farmers, out of which 100 are master trainers like Somar. They help farmers catch, keep and care for the bees.

“Now it’s just seven people who have taken up this activity. I want more people to take up this activity, as well as the landless. I want the activities to be so good that you take the name of our village everywhere you go,” Somar said.

Somar has already noticed an increase of productivity this year. He has collected cucumbers every three days, compared to every six and hopes to have eight to ten bee boxes on his farm by the end of next year.

Published on Deutshce Welle Online,  December 23, 2010

India’s Parsis Fight for Survival

Parsis have played an important cultural and economic role in India’s development. They are behind the giant multinational Tata Group, the national airline Air India and Mumbai’s famous Taj Palace Hotel. But despite their prosperity, the Parsis are facing extinction.

More than 1000 years before the birth of Christ, followers of the Zoroastrian faith were worshipping fire and preaching free will. But when their homeland Iran was attacked in the seventh century by Muslim invaders, they were massacred and persecuted. Many fled in search of religious freedom – and most landed on India’s shores, where they became known as Parsis.

Yet India’s last census in 2001 reported that there were less than 70,000 Parsis left.

Listen to my report on the Parsis’ fight for survival and why their demise is creating rifts within their community.

Story aired on Deutsche Welle Radio World in Progress on November 17, 2010

Also aired on KBR68H’s Asia Calling on October 30, 2010

Vandana Shiva: Growing new ideas on India’s farms

Indian environmental activist and author Dr Vandana Shiva is this year’s winner of the Sydney Peace Prize.

For decades, Dr Shiva has been fighting for the rights of small farmers across India. And while supporters of India’s 1960s Green Revolution, have trumpeted fertilisers, pesticides and modified crops like BT Cotton for saving India – Dr Shiva has a different approach.

She believes that the future of Indian agriculture is in small, organic farms.

I caught up with Dr Shiva in Sydney, to find out how she is changing India’s farming industry, one seed at a time.

Interview aired on Asia Calling, November 14, 2010

Mumbai’s deadly trains

Each day approximately 10 people die on Mumbai’s suburban train system. Some get hit while crossing the tracks, while others die from falling off or being electrocuted by overhead wires. Despite the alarming figures, the Indian government has done little to prevent this loss of life.

It’s peak hour in Mumbai and millions of commuters are pushing their way into trains.

To successfully get on board, you must employ a number of tactics. First, there’s yelling to intimidate your fellow traveler. Then comes the shoving, pushing and elbowing. If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself inside a carriage, sandwiched against thousands of sweaty bodies.

Six million Mumbaiites use the suburban network each day, with most funneling back and forth from the city’s commercial district in the south.

It’s survival of the fittest here on the train and there’s simply not enough room for everybody.

There’s an old saying in Mumbai – “Survive the trains, survive anything”. I was interested in doing a story before I left about the daily experience of the city’s commuters. Listen to my story on what makes Mumbai’s trains so deadly.

Mumbai’s Trains – a risky business by Lauren_Farrow

Aired on Asia Calling on October 17, 2010

Battling opium addiction in India’s wild west

Opium is big business in India. In 2007 alone, India produced almost 350 tones of raw, legal opium for the international pharmaceutical industry. Despite strict monitoring of poppy farms, some of the opium always makes its way to the black market.

Opium’s ready availability coupled with its use in traditional ceremonies has led to high levels of addiction in the Western state of Rajasthan. At the frontline of this battle is a small detoxification centre. For almost three decades the centre has been helping addicts using unique and sometimes controversial methods.

Opium Treatment in Rajasthan by Lauren_Farrow

Aired on Deutsche Welle‘s World in Progress, September 15, 2010

Sitting on the sand under the relentless desert sun, twenty men are stretching into mountain and lotus poses.

It’s day six of a detox program, at the Opium De-Addiction Treatment Centre in Rajasthan, in India’s west. The men are battling serious addictions but little strain shows on their faces as they follow the directions of their instructor, Narendra Singh Chouhan.

Chouhan says yoga helps ease the men’s withdrawal symptoms, which include muscle spasms, vomiting and insomnia.

“Yoga increases first the mental concentration and gives him peace of mind. It also relaxes the body physically.”

Among the men is 31-year-old Subhash who comes from Haryana – Rajasthan’s neighbouring state. Subhash received no drug education during school and never knew that opium was addictive.

“Most of the labourers in the rice mill where I work are addicted to opium. They started giving me little bits here and there and I started taking it. I didn’t think there would be a problem.”

Two years later Subhash was spending four out of every five dollars he earned to support his habit.

Listen to the full story here

A sunny solution to India’s energy woes

In India’s desert state of Rajasthan summer temperatures can soar up to 50 degrees centigrade. Here electricity can be as elusive as rain. Blackouts are an everyday experience for most. While in some villages, electricity is non-existent. Now, the government and NGOs are looking to the sky to solve the state’s electricity woes.

Aired on Asia Calling, September 4, 2010

Aired on Deutsche Welle Radio’s Living Planet, October 29, 2010

Sandhya Rai is married with three children, and lives in a small village in Bihar, in Central India. Her family often live on less than one US dollar a day and they have no access to electricity.

“In my village there is no electricity. To see electricity we have to walk 20 to 30 kilometres to the nearest town.”

Almost 20 per cent of India’s villages have no electricity.

And Rajasthan, according to the Indian Government’s Central Electricity Authority, is one of the ten states which is lagging behind the national average.

Bunker Roy is the founder of Barefoot College, which is training women on how to install and repair solar panels in India’s villages.

“The electricity situation in Rajasthan is grim. Power cuts galore, these conventional grid systems are expensive, wasteful and they spike a lot and usually you have bulbs bursting because of the spiking.”

However, Rajasthan does have one distinct advantage over other Indian states, says Professor Vijay who is the Director of the Centre for Non Conventional Energy Resources, at the University of Rajasthan. He says that the desert state just needs to start thinking creatively about energy.

“We are lucky in Rajasthan that throughout the year more than 10 hours a day we get a very bright sunshine…If we plan to have a solar plant in big cities then at least 20 to 30 percent of their electricity need can be supplemented with the solar energy technology.”

But, he admits, there is still a while to go before solar energy is both affordable and effective enough to be used on a large scale.

“The city like Jaipur which has a population nearing about .5 million, so it is very difficult to make a solar plant to justify the need for the whole city. However, a small plant can be built in an area of about five kilometers square and which can justify the needs of about .01 million people.”

The Barefoot College in Rajasthan has adopted an even more localised approach to solar energy. They are taking solar panels straight to the homes in India’s villages where there is no electricity. At the college, women undergo an intensive six-month training course, during which they learn how to install and maintain solar panels.

“We are hoping to have technically and financially self-sufficient villages, which are not dependant on anybody from outside.”

Once they have finished their training, the women will be able to install simple solar packs that can charge a lantern, as well as a mobile phone.

The packs, which costs less than 130 US dollars each, aren’t powerful enough to run a computer or television – but they will drastically improve village life.

“For the first time you are delivering babies through traditional midwives using solar lanterns instead of candles and instead of torches and batteries. You also have communication channels opening up. The first time you have a solar lantern in a village and women have started gossiping otherwise you will be spending a night in the dark.”

Sandhya Rai is among the women learning at the college. When she returns to her village in three months, Sandhya will introduce electricity. It will change their lives forever, she says.

“These solar lamps they will really help the children, because they can have night schools. We won’t have to worry now about spending a lot of money on kerosene for lamps at night, so we will be able to afford to give our children an education. I want my children to learn English, so they can have better lives.”

At the Barefoot College, Roy believes they have proven that solar energy is a viable and affordable alternative for Rajasthan’s villages.

“We have shown that with 2.5 million dollars you can train about 140 grandmothers, you can solar electrify 10,000 houses, you can save about 100,000 litres of kerosene a month.”

Now he is just waiting for the rest of India to catch on.

“There are over a 100,000 villages in India today, which will never have conventional grid. You have to go alternative.”

Building a better future for India’s slums

In the Indian city of Pune, architects and NGOs have adopted a revolutionary approach to the country’s slum problem. Instead of demolishing houses and re-settling slum dwellers, they are working with residents to improve what is already there – one home at a time.

Photographs by Pär Olsson

Anjana Kamble stands in the doorway of her single-room, tin home in one of Pune’s slums. Inside, the brightly painted turquoise home is bursting with life. On one wall lies a single bed where the family gathers to watch Bollywood movies and cricket. While opposite, cooking pots and photographs crowd wooden shelves.

With just 68 square feet to live in, the Kambles have learnt to be creative with space. In the morning a small slate slab near the door doubles as a cleaning and bathing area. At night the family eat daal and rice on the floor. A few hours later this dining table is converted into a bedroom.

Anjana’s husband Ashok has spent his entire life within these tin walls. He grew up here, married Anjana and had three children. Their daughter has left home, but their two sons – who are now in their early twenties – still live with them. Now more than ever, Anjana says, the house feels crowded.

“We have arguments about the types of things they want to do in the house – one persons wants to do one thing, while another wants to sleep,” Anjana explains. “There is a lack of privacy and it’s hard sharing a space together.”

Redeveloping India’s slums

In India, poverty and mass migration has driven more than 170 million people into slums, the UK charity, Homeless International estimates. These slums range from solid brick structures to haphazard dwellings made of recycled tin, tarp and other materials.

Many families like the Kambles live in confined spaces, without running water or private toilets. In India’s largest slum, Dharavi there is just one toilet per 1,440 people.

In 2009, the Indian Government promised to tackle this housing nightmare. Through a series of redevelopment schemes, it vowed to eradicate all slums within five years. The government’s promise sprouted plans like Mumbai’s Slum Rehabilitation Scheme – a strategy, which demolishes slums and relocates residents into high-rise apartment buildings.

Since the scheme’s inception, however, critics have argued that it often leaves people worse off. The scheme, they say, fails to provide proper community consultation and leaves people disconnected from their communities, businesses and in improper housing without electricity and water.

India’s urban poor had rarely been consulted about their housing future.

Creating new ideas

In late 2008, architects Filipe Balestra and Sara Göransson from the Swedish firm Urban Nouveau were invited to India to challenge the status quo.

They were asked to draw-up a slum redevelopment scheme that built on what was already there and made residents planning partners. The work began in Netaji Nagar a slum in the heart of the Pune – a rapidly expanding city just three hours out of India’s financial capital Mumbai.

“It was a very poor place with many shacks. At the same time it was very active with commercial activity and informal marketplaces,” Filipe recalls. “People would gather in the narrow lanes between the houses to do their laundry, to wash the dishes or just to talk to their neighbors.”

For seven months, the Urban Nouveau team, with the help of the Indian housing organisation SPARC (Society for the Promotion of Area Resource Centers) and the community organisation Mahila Milan, ran resident meetings to draw up blueprints for the slum’s redevelopment.

Three designs for a better future

The result was three basic house designs that look like several square lego blocks stacked upon each other. One showed a three-storey home with a vacant ground floor, which could be used as a shop, laundry or parking area. Another design, allowed for a void in the middle floor that could be converted into a veranda.

All three designs were based on a ‘four column technique’, which Filipe says, was vital to the concept’s success.

“The majority of the footprints of the houses in urban villages are not square, nor rectangular, but a collection of irregular trapezoids,” Filipe explains. “With four columns we could stretch and contract the placement of each column to adapt each new home to the current irregular plot size.”

Sara and Filipe had helped form the starting blocks for a new way to develop India’s slums, but with the average household wage being just 5,000 rupees or approximately 87 Euros/836 SEK per month, serious money was needed to bring the vision to life.

Funding a vision

Fortunately, those working at the national infrastructure program, Jawaharlal Nehru National Urban Renewal Mission (JNNURM) were impressed. Under JNNURM, more than 1,200 families in Pune’s slums were allotted 300,000 rupees (5,279 Euros, 50,390 SEK) to build new homes in the city. Ninety per cent of the money would be provided by the government, with the rest to be contributed by the homeowner.

“Sara and Filipe were working on it when it was a basic and experimental project, and then it became a commissioned project. That’s when my firm took it over,” Indian architect Desai Prasanna explains.

Following on from Sara and Filipe’s work, the architects designed a plan that would transform not just a single house but the whole slum. Individual homes would be reduced slightly to create open space, allow for greater air ventilation and let in sunlight. To the architects, it seemed like a perfect vision.

But it wasn’t long before Desai and his team realised that what they imagined and what residents wanted where very different.

Back to the drawing board

“We wanted to reduce the footprint of individuals houses by two to three feet so the area could have larger alleyways and contribute to the overall amenity of the area,” recalls Vedang Bagwe, an architect from Desai Prasanna’s firm.

“But one of the primary concerns [of residents] was that their lot of land should not be reduced. The majority will not let go of their footprint.”

Height restrictions and building costs also meant that Urban Nouveau’s original designs needed reworking. New small-scale models were built, more sheets of paper were rolled out and architects sat down with residents once again to discuss design plans.

These consultations were vital to the success of the strategy. They not only garnered community support but allowed residents to offer design suggestions, which the architects, who were unfamiliar with slum living, wouldn’t have thought of.

“In some slum areas water is only available on outside taps in the morning and afternoons, so people were asking for underground water tanks to be included in the house designs. This enables people to store water in the house during the day,” Vedang adds.

“They also said they wanted toilets outside their house, rather than inside, and others opted for porches or small verandas . . . So community consultation was vital in bringing this about.”

Two basic designs took shape. The first, is a two-storey block which includes an outside toilet, bathroom and allows for a small veranda or porch area. While the second is a combined apartment style dwelling, which allows adjoining families or neighbours to share footprints.

Seperating pukkas from kachhas

The designs are being carried out in Yerawada – a suburb in Pune, which is home to seven high-density slums. Some families have been living in Yerawada’s slums for more than 50 years. Single rooms are home to five to six people, on average. It’s crowded outside too.

In Mother Teresa slum there are 444 houses per 12,500 square metres – that’s just over 140 houses squeezed into every acre. This concentration of life creates a strong communal atmosphere. Women gather on pavements to wash saris, sheets and tin dishes and kids have turned narrow alleys into cricket pitches.

It’s a place saturated in colour. Exteriors range from bright blues, pinks and greens to yellows and oranges. Houses are connected by a series of narrow alleyways, which to an outsider, seem to form a giant, impenetrable maze.

In Yerwada houses can be divided into two distinct groups. Pukka houses are permanent concrete structures, while kachha homes are temporary dwellings made either partially or completely of tin. Due to the number of homes and families in Yerwada’s slums, at present JNNURM is only providing funding for the most needy or those living in Kachhas. Out of this funding seperation, Vedang explains, a unique set of challenges grew.

Assembling jigsaws

In the slums, houses can share up to three walls with neighbouring dwellings, which means that if you have a kaccha dwelling nestled among a cluster of pukka homes, demolition and building is extremely difficult. Kachha houses are often irregular shapes and some don’t meet the minimum requirement when it comes to the size of the home’s footprint.

Instead of being able to demolish and re-work a block from scratch, architects had to finish the jigsaw with what felt like incorrectly cut puzzle pieces. To make it work, architects have spent the past year getting lost in Yerawada’s narrow lanes, drinking cups of sugary chai and talking to each family.

“We had to go to each person and explain how the house would be designed. This process was very tedious. Each beneficiary had to submit documents that prove residency and then they have to provide money to the government,” Vedang says.

Working on this individual basis has allowed residents to create a home tailored to their needs.

“There might be handicapped or old people in the family, so we would try and incorporate their needs into the design, like providing a bathroom on the ground floor instead of on the first.”

What’s happening now

More than a year after the project began, Jon Rainbow, a supervisor with SPARC, says there is a swelling feeling of optimism and excitement in the slums. Building has began at 16 sites and another 20 homes have been demolished throughout Yerwada.

Residents are cutting costs by demolishing their own homes and are running wheelbarrows full of buildings material through narrow lanes. Kids sit in deck chairs amid the mounds of tin, brick and concrete, while paintings of Hindu deities hang on broken down walls. A lone door stands where a house used to be – now all it leads to is air.

“There were points when I wondered if it was ever going to happen, so it’s incredible to finally see all this,” Jon comments. “It’s really going to change people’s lives.”

Looking forward

The Pune project is the first of its kind in India and many are watching to see whether it will be a success.

“It’s the first time that the Government of India has come in a big way to support government housing. It’s an experiment for them,” President of the National Slum Dwellers Federation, A. Jockin says.

Jockin has been working on the strategy since it began and believes it is a sustainable solution for slum redevelopment in smaller cities, where high rises are not necessary. Of more significance, Jockin says, is the scheme’s ability to nurture broader social changes through empowering slum dwellers.

“The most important thing is how to make people start to believe they can bring about change. It’s not the politicians, it’s not the government, it’s not an outsider, but them,” Jockin asserts.

“They need to believe they can bring about changes. The moment people realise that, change will occur that is sustainable. You are not changing because someone is forcing you. You are changing because you want to.”

Families build a better tomorrow

In a few months the Kamble’s will be part of this transformation. Their weathered home will be torn down to make way for a solid concrete house. For the first time they will have a bathroom, a toilet and two rooms instead of one. The new home will mean no more floods during monsoon rains or visits to the public toilet block.

“I’m putting 10 per cent of the money in, and in return I am getting a good house, I am getting a roof. I won’t have the sense any longer that something bad might happen – that the roof might blow away,” Anjana says.

Now, like any new homeowner to be, Anjana is dreaming of how she will decorate.

“I feel like I should buy everything new for my house.”

Published in Spana! Magazine – an online art publication for Riksutställningar Swedish Travelling Exhibitions – on August 19, 2010

Blowing away Bombay’s art scene

India’s lack of exhibition space hasn’t deterred two young photographers, who’ve discovered that city walls make the perfect gallery.

Photographs by Pär Olsson

Kapil Das and Akshay Mahajan stand at the centre of a dirt field, surveying their exhibition space. At the left stands the decrepit shell of a concrete building, filled with rubble. While on the right a marauding cow stares at a handful of cops who are threatening to shut the whole thing down.

It’s May 22 in India’s financial capital, Mumbai, and the opening of ‘BlowUp Bombay’ – a one-day exhibition which aims to invigorate the country’s photography scene by inviting amateur and professional shutterbugs to display their work. All they need is a handful of cheap A3 prints, double-sided tape and an original idea.

“The photographers’ pictures don’t need to be very technically strong, but they need to say something unique and new,” BlowUp Bombay’s co-creator, Mahajan explains.

Blind boys tackle India’s photographic scene

BlowUp Bombay is the most recent attempt by Das (30) and Mahajan (24) to open up India’s exclusive photography scene. Mahajan, a freelance photojournalist, says there is a shortage of new and original talent coming out of India.

“There are not so many immerging photographers because there is no mentoring, there are no schools and there is no interaction between photographers,” Mahajan observes. “Most exhibition spaces are very small and you need to be established or have a lot of money to exhibit.”

In July 2009, Mahajan and Das tackled the problem by creating blindboys.org – an online community that encourages immerging photographers to share and discuss their work.

“India has a great cinematic culture and is usually rich in the visual narrative but there hasn’t been a lot of photographers that have been able to create that visual language,” says Das.

The website promotes storytelling by showcasing unique photo essays. Since its establishment, more than 40 artists have joined, exploring subjects ranging from the ongoing conflict in Kashmir to a young couple’s intimate relationship.

Bringing art out in the open

By August 2009, however, Mahajan and Das were eager to take Blindboys out of the virtual world and into India’s public spaces. Their first BlowUp event was staged in India’s I.T hub, Bangalore. This was followed by the collaborative event ‘Wideyed’ in Newcastle, England, as well as an unplanned, guerilla art show on the Pont des Arts bridge in Paris.

Events are promoted through social networking sites, such as Facebook, so photographers only pay for printing costs – making it accessible for young artists. BlowUp’s street tradition also allows people access to art who wouldn’t otherwise go to a gallery.

When BlowUp visited India’s capital Delhi in November last year, Das estimates more than 50,000 people saw the exhibition. Garbage collectors, beggars and street children where among the spectators.

“When it’s out in the street it’s very different – surprising things start to happen. Works get stolen and people say hilarious things,” Das recalls.

“You hear people judge a work not by the way it looks technically but by saying, ‘That guy in the photograph is hot’.”

Guerilla art

BlowUp’s guerilla style is crucial to its success.

Das and Mahajan do not apply for official permission before staging an exhibit, rather they ask residents and shop owners for access to their walls. Although this can lead to confusion with local police, the pair says it prevents creative interference, avoids India’s notorious red tape and nurtures strong community involvement.

“In Delhi a paanwala [bettle nut vendor] adopted whatever exhibition was based on his wall,” Mahajan recalls. “If pictures fell off, he would stick them back up. He would talk to people about the pictures as if he was a tour guide.”

Blowing away expectations in Bombay

At 3pm on the day of BlowUp Bombay, volunteers and photographers trickle into the winding alleys of the suburb Bandra, just north of the city. Photographs are pinned up in an abandoned building and surrounding walls.

It’s not long before the unusual activity lures onlookers. Local children point at photographs of camels roaming through the Mongolian desert, while nearby, one photographer’s nostalgic take on the trusty Indian bicycle is attracting a crowd.

More than 1,000 prints from various photographers tell an array of stories – from the bittersweet experience of moving house to farmer suicides in rural India.

In the midst of the activity, 26-year-old Baya Agarwal carefully pins up her photo essay ‘Small Town Diary’ on bamboo screens. Agarwal has captured the life of a rural town in Orissa, snapping scenes from the local fish market to an old woman applying makeup.

“I lived in a small town and I wanted to show what life is like, how people here live like they are in the 17^th Century,” Agarwal explains.

‘Small Town Diary’ is a labour of love, taking Argarwal three months to complete. Due to the high costs of gallery shows, however, Argarwal has not exhibited her work. She says BlowUp Bombay provided the perfect opportunity.

Taking art home and looking to the future

As the sun goes down across Bombay and the exhibition comes to a close, hundreds of spectators begin to scramble for prints, ripping their favourite works off the walls. For the artists whose prints are taken it’s an affirmation that their work has struck a chord.

For Mahajan and Das, the ultimate endorsement of Blindboy’s photographic street experiment will happen when people start staging their own BlowUp events.

“People ask, ‘When are you coming to Pune? When are you coming to Kolkata?’” Das comments. “It would be nice if we could let it go viral and people just took the initiative and organised something like this themselves.”

“It’s not so difficult to do.”

Published in Spana! Magazine – an online art publication for Riksutställningar Swedish Travelling Exhibitions – on July 5, 2010

Mumbai’s ragpickers clean-up city’s act

Everyday India’s financial capital, Mumbai, produces 8,000 tonnes of waste. Much of this rubbish ends up on the city’s streets – where women and children spend their days collecting plastics, glass and paper to then sell. The rest is transported to large dumping grounds. But after years of rapid population growth and no formal recycling system, Mumbai’s rubbish heaps are overflowing.

Now, a women’s organisation is trying to reduce Mumbai’s waste and improve the lives of its female waste collectors.

I’m in one of Mumbai’s sorting sheds, which is stacked to the roof with mountains of rubbish. The air is stale and smells of wet cardboard, old milk and food. Here, women are picking through plastics, paper and glass, one item at a time.

“All this is created by people who have money to pamper themselves. So, one packing over another packing and cardboard and what not to make it more presentable. And look who’s suffering. I feel bad.”

Kalpana Andhare is a volunteer with Stree Mukti Sanghatana – an organisation dedicated to improving the lives of Mumbai’s waste pickers. Each day thousands of the city’s poor can be seen trawling through rubbish on street corners and outside restaurants. They look for anything they can sell, from plastic bottles to tin cans.

“Working conditions are very bad. All mixed waste gets thrown on the roads, and people working in the waste have to put their hands in that. It’s a very dirty job.”

That was Jyoti Mhapsekar, the brains behind Stree Mukti Sanghatana. She’s been working with the women for more than ten years, and says they also suffer from social and economic problems.

“They are poorest of the poor in Mumbai. Most of them are single parent families. They’re either widows or they’re deserted by their husbands or they are the wives of alcoholic husbands. So economic conditions are very poor.”

Through the organisation’s program Parisar Vikas – which means Environment Development, Jyoti seeks to empower female rag pickers by getting them off the streets and providing education and training. Women learn how to compost and form business cooperatives, as well as read and write. They can also access health care, micro-credit and family counseling services.

Jyoti believes that through proper training and education, these women can solve Mumbai’s waste problem.

According to Jyoti, Mumbai produces approximately 8,000 tonnes of waste each day. Twenty per cent of this is dry recyclable waste, while 40 percent is wet or biodegradable waste. But despite the obvious opportunities for recycling, Jyoti says it is not being done.

“The municipality at present doesn’t have any program for segregation at source, so naturally everything gets sent to dumping ground.”

Jyoti believes that by segregating, recycling and composting rubbish at apartment complexes throughout Mumbai, the city could ultimately produce little to no waste.

I’m at a large apartment complex, where women from Parisar Vikas are putting Jyoti’s theory to the test. They are putting all biodegradable waste from resident’s rubbish into large concrete tubs, volunteer Kalpana Andhare explains.

“You can get 35 to 40 kgs compost manure in one pit. The gardener takes it and then he uses it for their own gardens.”

The women are recycling and composting in 40 housing colonies across Mumbai, with the ultimate goal of producing zero waste. While dry waste is sold to a private contractor, who deals in recyclable materials. Although the women haven’t hit the target of zero waste yet, Jyoti says they are doing well.

“They collect all the waste. They compost biodegradable waste and they take away dry waste. Only 10 or 15 percent remains for the municipal corporation.”

While this is good news for the city’s environment – for the women the most important aspect has been how the program improves their lives. Today the women are singing an ode to Savithri Bai Phule who was a pioneer in women’s education in India during the mid 1800s.

One of the voices belongs to Shuseela Sabre. Shuseela used to scour Mumbai’s roadside for rubbish every morning. She would then sell the waste to a middleman, making a maximum of 60 rupees a day – or little over one US dollar. As a single mother with one son, she was forced to borrow money from a lender to make ends meet. This quickly led to a cycle of debt.

“He would come to my house everyday and the amount you have to return is from 12 to 30 rupees. Every day you have to give it to them, otherwise they will threaten to lock you out of the house, to throw you out. You beg or borrow from someone else to pay.”

With Parisar Vikas, Shuseela is now a supervisor and makes 150 rupees per day or just over three US dollars. She now lives debt free. But she says, it’s not just about the money.

“Money isn’t everything in life, what knowledge I got what dignity I got. I now get to work with clean clothes and a bag on my shoulder. That is what is important. It is like a rebirth for me.”

For Shuseela, the highlight came last year when she went to the Copenhagen climate summit to discuss Parisar Vikas’ waste management programs in Mumbai.

“When I used to pick up the waste I used to wander near the airport site. I always wondered whether I would get a chance to one-day sit in an aeroplane. When I did get in an aeroplane I could recognise the site where I used to collect rubbish. That was a very important moment in my life.”

Played on Asia Calling on June 19, 2010

Photos by Michael Atkin

Bhopal court issues soft verdict for corporate polluters

When it comes to corporate pollution, Indian activists say that last week’s verdict in Bhopal proves that there’s one rule for the west and another for developing countries.

 

Last Monday, victims of the world’s worst industrial disaster stood outside their local court in Bhopal, India in a state of apprehension.

Just metres away, inside the courtroom, seven former executives of the pesticide giant Union Carbide of India Ltd (UCIL) awaited the verdict. They were reminded how, on December 3, 1984, nearly 40 tonnes of poisonous gas leaked from their local factory and swept across the city, killing the loved ones of those waiting outside.

The seven men stood accused of criminal negligence that led to the death of more than 15,000 people and continues to affect the health of more than 500,000.

The sentence was two years imprisonment. Two hours later they were released on bail.

When news of the verdict broke, US Assistant Secretary of State for South Asia Robert Blake told reporters, “Obviously this was one of the greatest industrial tragedies and industrial accidents in human history.

“We hope that this verdict helps to bring some closure to the victims and their families.”

Meanwhile in the US, President Obama was vowing to make heads roll. Those responsible at BP, he declared would be held to bear for the estimated 89 million gallons of oil that was spewing into the gulf of New Mexico. He would not rest until the oil was cleaned up and people could go back to their lives.

The difference in these responses, argues Rachna Dhingra, from International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal, demonstrates that when it comes to companies polluting the environment and endangering citizens, there’s one rule for the West and another for the developing world.

Kids in a Bhopal slum

“Obama cannot have double standards on this issue. He is holding BP accountable and is going to ‘kick their ass’ and get every cent. He cannot have a double standard for companies operating in India,” Dhingra insists.

“As to our Prime Minister [Manmohan Singh], he also needs to take a cue from Obama and stand up for his own people.”

Last week’s verdict in Bhopal whipped the Indian media into a frenzy. Pages of print and hours of television were dedicated to the condemnation of the trial’s outcome. ‘Rich people always get away’, headlines decried. ‘Justice was buried’.

But as Dhingra says, justice was pushed six feet under more than a decade ago. In 1996 the Supreme Court of India watered down the charges against UCIL executives, placing the blame with its American-based parent Union Carbide Corporation (UCC). Bhopal’s local court gave the maximum sentence possible.

“Noone is saying that it’s not an injustice, but this court couldn’t have done anything else,” Dhingra points out.

The ongoing injustice, according to Dhingra, is the lack of political will from America and India to hold UCC and its former chairman Warren Anderson to account.

When the disaster in Bhopal occurred UCC was the majority shareholder of UCIL. Consequently, in February 1989, India’s Supreme Court ordered UCC to pay $470 million in compensation to the Bhopal gas victims.

By paying the compensation, UCC says it has washed its hands of any responsibility in Bhopal. All claims, its states, were settled 18 years ago. In 1994 UCC severed the umbilical chord further, by selling its majority share of UCIL and becoming a subsidiary of Dow Chemicals. Soon after the Indian government took control of the UCC site in Bhopal. UCC now says it has “no interest in or liability for the Bhopal site”.

UCC's abandoned factory site

Despite this, Anderson still faces criminal charges in India and last week’s verdict only served to renew calls for his extradition to India.

But activists are skeptical.

There’s ample evidence to support Anderson’s extradition, Dhingra says, but no political will.

“The problem is that the Indian Government is more concerned about foreign investment than its people.”

This attitude has left the people of Bhopal with a continuing legacy of pollution and crippling health problems. I visited the dusty city last year to find out how its people were coping 25 years after the disaster.

Those I met had all, in one way or another, been affected. Some simply had parents battling manageable respiratory problems but many had stories like Kumru Nisha, who lived a kilometer away from the factory. Her two sisters have since died from gas-related illnesses and she suffers from depression and tuberculosis. Others I spoke with witnessed their whole families wiped out in a single night.

The new generation of Bhopal victims

However, the most devastating aspect is that the disaster continues. Two new generations have been born bearing the burden of the toxic legacy. Thousands have been born with twisted limbs, abnormal brain development and respiratory disorders. At the Chingari Trust’s clinic, physiotherapists placed children into specially designed chairs that strengthened their back muscles – in the hopes that they might one day be able to sit upright without assistance.

With hundreds of tonnes of toxic waste remaining at the factory site and people continuing to drink contaminated ground water, the legacy is set to continue.

Twenty-five years on, activists, victims and health workers are still fighting for proper compensation and a cleanup of the factory site. No comprehensive testing of the factory and the surrounding area has been completed, so noone knows just how far the contamination has spread.

Activists continue to call on UCC to provide genuine research, monitoring and long term medical care of the victims, as well as to release the medical information on the leaked gases.

“One of the biggest challenges survivors and these new generations face has been the lack of information both with regard to the composition of the leaked gases and the chemicals people are being exposed to in a routine manner because of ground water contamination. We also do not have information on the health effects of these chemicals because UCC continues to withhold it as trade secrets,” Satinath Sarangi, the managing trustee of the Sambhavna Clinic in Bhopal, told me last year.

Satinath Sarangi

Dhingra says it’s vital that the US and Indian governments force UCC and UCIL to bear the full responsibility of what happened in Bhopal more than 25 years ago – not just for victims but for the development of India.

“It’s very important that we get justice in Bhopal so it doesn’t set a precedence that overseas companies can come, kill, pollute and leave without any consequences.”

On June 7, UCC released a statement claiming that “Union Carbide and its officials are not subject to the jurisdiction of the Indian court since they did not have any involvement in the operation of the plant, which was owned and operated by UCIL.”

Published in newmatilda.com on June 15, 2010