SANE Newsletter

August 2003

Who are these Junglees?

by Denis Giles

The "Jarawa" is yet another negrito tribe, like those of the Andamanese, the Sentinelese, and the Onges etc. in the Andaman Islands. They are black like charcoal and locally known as "Jungli". Although Jungli in Hindi means "of the Jungle", the word is used by the local people to differentiate between themselves and the "uncultured, hostile Jarawa, awarding them the status of untouchables, like in some others parts of mainland India. "These Jarawas are not only uncultured and hostile but are dangerous to humans as their saliva is poisonous". This is yet another widely held belief of the settlers that perpetuated the fear psychosis discouraging anyone to learn about this unique tribe.

Being an 'islander', descendent of a pre-1942 settler, I held a similar picture of the Jarawa deeply engraved in my brain, until I started working for the Society for Andaman & Nicobar Ecology (SANE). SANE had opened my mind to a different world, where things are analyzed in depth and experienced before they are talked about. The Jarawa issue is one among the many issues which SANE deals with.

My First Interaction with the Jarawa

It was in February 2000, when I had a chance to drive on the Andaman Trunk Road (ATR) along with a few friends, on our way to Mayabunder. I surely had an idea of what a Jarawa looks like. I had seen their photographs and videos and most important of all, had been briefed by my elders and friends. Our vehicle was loaded with bananas and biscuit packets. This was for the Jarawa, as instructed by the "experienced" Drivers who frequently drove across ATR. It was also to get away from the hostile Junglees if at all they stopped our vehicle.

While driving, more than anything else, I had to be careful with the Jarawa, known to shoot arrows on men from amidst the dense vegetation on either side of the ATR. After about half an hour from Jirkatang Check Post, we saw three little Jarawa kids on the road, aged 3-5 years. Since there were no elders around, we took chance to touch them and if it would have been possible, capture them in our cameras. As the vehicle stopped with screeching sound of the brakes, a friend of mine got down and picked a Jarawa child in his hands. Unfortunately, we saw 5-6 Jarawa women in their traditional attire with baskets clinging on their shoulder and little else, running towards us carrying stones in their hand. We had no other choice but to leave the kids on the road and run for dear life. 

At Middle Strait Jetty, while waiting for the ferry, we saw a few of them again. There were men from the Jarawa Protection Police around us. This had given us some confidence. We went near them, and tried to touch them. The Jarawa never hesitated at being touched and stood staring at us for quite some time. The stud in my ear attracted a Jarawa girl. She felt the stud and confirmed to her friends, "Ladki, Ladki" (girl). She then touched my face and felt my unshaved cheeks. This time she was confused and in a feeble voice said… "Ladka… Ladki… ladka… (boy?…girl?) 

After this incident, I had a few more chances to see the Jarawa during my trips to Middle and North Andaman but never had a chance of meeting them, until recently, when the members of SANE accompanied Miss Richa Dhanju, a scholar from the Tata Institute of Social Science, Mumbai on her project "Survey of Traffic on ATR". This time I had a chance to talk to a few Jarawa children, touch them and feel them. 

This was followed by a couple of trips on the ATR and interactions with the Jarawa. By now the picture of Jarawa I had in my mind had taken a different shape. Jarawa now to me meant 'innocent children' being exploited by the civilized world. Begging for food, money, sukha (chewing tobacco), pan (betel leaf)… using filthy words without knowing its meaning. These are but a few examples of our contribution to the innocent Jarawa. 

Richa had done a good survey on the ATR and consequently a part of the Jarawa life. (SANE News April-May, 2003). She describes a Jarawa as, "fearless like a hero" and also "strong and demanding". She even calculated that "the Jarawa have studied us better than we have been able to study them". Quite true! Just like a child observes the elders and learns faster than the elders, so is the case with the Jarawa. No doubt, they have observed us better than we did but at the end they still remain innocent children, leaving room for further exploitation. If one gets a chance to pass through the ATR and observe the Jarawas, it would be shocking to note that the Jarawa, mentioned as "Hunter&endash;Gatherer" community in many books, are presently more skilled in begging and looting, especially the younger generation. This is our contribution to them.

Prayer before Birth 

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the
stoat or the club-footed ghoul come near me. 

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me. 

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me. 

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
when they speak to me, my thoughts when they think me,
my treason engenered by traitors beyond me,
my life when they murder by means of my
hands, my death when they live me. 

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
waves call me to folly and the desert calls
me to doom and the beggar refuses
my gift and my children curse me. 

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
Come near me. 

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
one face, a thing, and against all those
who would dissipate my entirety, would
blow me like thistledown hither and
thither or hither and thither
like water held in the
hands would spill me. 

Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.

 These are the words of poet Louis Mc. Neice. These could be the words of an innocent Jarawa, a prayer before his birth, if he were to be born today, in an alien world like ours, a blood-sucking clan who choose to call themselves civilized.

An interaction with En-may

I got a chance of talking to En-may, the Jarawa boy known to have acted as liaison between the Jarawa and the outside world. He had broken his leg and was brought to the GB Pant Hospital. He even met the Prime Minister of India Mr. Atal Bihari Vajpayee during the PM's trip to Andamans. En-may knows reasonably good Hindi and can describe his world better than most members of his community.

After seeing the outside world, En-may still feels that the Jungle is good. Not willing to dishearten the outsiders, he confirms that though the Medical is good, people are good, bus is good, road is good yet jungle is good. En-may now prefers to stay in the Jungle and comes out only if he has to visit a Doctor.

 He hates begging on the road. He explains this to the youngsters of his community but is helpless as the younger generation find the road more thrilling than the jungle (road: easy way of gathering food). Perhaps the younger generation is more influenced by us than the members of their own community. En-may even describes that the Jarawa used to attack people traveling on the road because they were scared of the outsiders. They were scared of the gun that made a big sound. Now they know that the outsiders are not like what they used to think and so there is no attack, no fight.

SANE Report of 1998 "The Jarawas were not always hostile. Old British records show reports by several officers that the Jarawa were quite indifferent to the outsiders and sometimes even friendly. The British officers in those days could not differentiate between the Jarawa and the Andamanese, who at that time were hostile because the British were grabbing their land, forests and particularly fresh water sources. But the British punitive expeditions sometimes targeted the Jarawa and over a period of time made them wary, suspicious and then hostile.  Even when the Jarawa turned hostile, they were not and still are not indiscriminate killers. If anyone trespasses into their territory, they usually keep him under observation by following him or at the most make their displeasure known by beating a buttress or putting an arrow near the person at the most. They shoot to kill only a habitual offender or one whom they have marked/branded as an enemy out of past experience.  Mr. M. P. Singh, a local old timer from Andaman Forests who is now the Divisional Forest Officer, Diglipur, told us that in 1970 when he was posted as a Forest Ranger at Borniel - 6 in what is today called as Kadamtala Forest Range in the Middle Andamans, he used to live in a stilted house deep inside the forest (in the Jarawa area). The Jarawa used to come and sit regularly under his house regularly on moonlit nights. They used to take fresh fruits from his two hectare forest garden and depart in peace. Although he used to have a twelve bore gun by his bed he never had to make even a blank fire. He confirmed that he and his workers used to take long walks from Kadamtala to Prolobjig - 15 regularly, but there never was any incident of the Jarawa attacking anyone among the forest workers.  He also told us that in 1971 a Bush Police Camp was attacked by the Jarawa. He was curious and made an enquiry. He found out that the Jarawa had hunted a wild boar and hung it on a tree nearby and had gone in search of further prey. In the meantime a Bush Police party found the hunted boar and took it away and had a feast. The Jarawa lookout spotted the party, followed it to the Bush Police Camp and being angered came back and attacked.  We keep hearing so many sob stories about how such and such a person was killed by the Jarawa. But we do not get to know about the motivation, the cause that otherwise lead the peaceful Jarawa to raise his arms in anger. While every killing by a Jarawa is recorded in a FIR, no one has ever attempted to keep a tally of the number of Jarawa killed, injured or maimed in their own territory by "civilised" trespassers. If such a tally was kept, the old timers believe that it will by far exceed the number of persons killed by the Jarawas."

Richa in her report mentions, "Puhu's engagement was on the verge of being called off because he was wasting too much of noticeable time on the road, while he was supposed to be hunting wild boars…" This is our generous contribution. Soon there may be a time when the Jarawa would have forgotten their own language and culture and depend on a world that has absolutely no idea as to what to do with the tribes, after they join the main stream i.e.: become totally dependent. 

En-may is now married to Chailla and has a girl child. It was also gathered from En-may that his sister Deo-ke got recently married to Puhu after Puhu mended his ways. Good news indeed! 

Having met En-may and a few more, I realized that they too are humans like us. And they are not animals in the national park. By now I was able to understand better what a Jarawa actually means. What their culture is and what they feel about the outside world (the road, the villages attached to their jungle, the hospital and Port Blair).

A visit to Tirur 

It was end of June 2003. SANE got information through reliable sources that a Jarawa lady was gang raped by the so called men from the "civilized world". The incident took place near Tirur and the matter was being hushed up by the concerned people. Gathering some more information about Tirur and the gang rape, I took a chance to visit Tirur to probe the matter. I learnt that three young Jarawa women who stayed away from their community near Tirur village in a shed constructed by the farmers as a shelter. The Jarawa women appropriated it and christened it iinen chadda (the shed of the fair-skinned). 

The Jarawa from the Tirur community are reputed for their hostility. There were incidents recorded, when the Jarawa had attacked and sometimes even killed the villagers. Equipped with some inside information, I took a bus to Tirur on 4th of July 2003. The bus reached Tushnabad and could not go further as a fallen tree had blocked the way. I had no other go and had to go back to Port Blair. I had a couple of hours in hand. Not willing to waste time, I decided to talk to the people around, what they felt and feel about the Jarawa. 

I made friends with the driver of the bus and a passenger held up in a similar situation like me. We had casual discussion inside the bus. Sensing that I was just an inoffensive but inquisitive local boy, they freely began to discuss things. The driver wanted to be the first one to describe his interaction with Jarawa since he was the most experienced. He used to be the driver of an Express bus to Rangat and regularly drove across ATR.

The driver narrates: 

"This was when I was returning from Rangat. It was the last trip. I reached Middle Strait and my bus broke down. I had to adjust my passengers in another bus and stayed back. I did not know what next. I had to reach the bus before morning to Port Blair for the next trip and inform my owner to return the tickets. I requested the Policemen at Middle Strait to allow me to cross the area. On continued persistence, the Policemen allowed me to go but warned that it would be at my own risk. I had a cleaner with me and a policeman as guard. We managed to start the bus and drove a few Kilometers. It was dark by then and to my ill-fate, the bus broke down again. We tried starting the bus but all efforts turned futile. I had to stay back in the bus but my cleaner was scared and followed the policeman to the barrack. I closed the doors and windows of the bus, went to the last seat and lied down. 

It was 8.00 pm. I was not able to sleep comfortably. I feared the Jarawa. Soon I heard a bang on the window. I lay still without making any noise. Again a bang and a voice, 'driver driver open the door'. I peeped through the window and found Puhu along with another Jarawa boy fully armed. I knew Puhu well. Mustering up all my courage, I opened the door and got down. Puhu invited me to his hut which was at a walkable distance. I hesitated first but was forced by Puhu. Locking the bus I walked with them. He took me inside a hut. There were a few other Jarawa. He gave me Vadas which were picked up from the shop at Baratang. Though it was dirty, I ate one not to sate my hunger but for the sake of Puhu. Offering the Vadas (food article) to me Puhu said, 'I know you are hungry but I have only this for you'. 

Puhu then insisted me to sleep in the hut. He sent a Jarawa girl to give me company. Somehow I managed to make Puhu understand that I had to stay back in the bus. Puhu then escorted me to the bus, waved his hand and went back. I locked the bus and went to sleep." 

After some time I heard a knock. I opened the door and found the same girl who was in Puhu's hut. She wanted to come inside and I had to allow her. She did not know Hindi well but was able to follow what I told her." I told her to go back but she did not agree. She sat on my lap and was trying to seduce me. Though I hesitated for some time but it all ended in having sex with her".

 Having described the incident, I could notice a smile on the driver's face. Digging a pan from inside his pocket he said

"What a night it was…"

He felt proud that he was the most experienced among the three of us in the bus. I had nothing to add. Just nothing…

 The passenger sitting besides me explained, "There are many such incidents where outsiders had sex with the Jarawa women. If you want to know anything more about the tribe, offer a Sukha/Khaini (chewing tobacco). They'll start talking about their family. Give them pan and they speak everything about their community." All these assertions forced me to speculate as to what was the so called 'protection' that the Administration had been boasting about - "The Jarawa Protection Police". My mind was full of questions, questions and questions. I had gone to learn about a gang rape at Tirur but after actually listening to the substantiated testimonies of the localites there, I was more than lost!!!

The author and editor of the SANE Newsletter, Denis Giles, at a Jarawa beauty parlour

6th July 2003

By now one thing was decided. I had to learn about such incidents, which were totally new to me if not to the anthropologists and the officials of AAJVS and the Andaman Administration. It surely would give a picture of the present status of the tribe. This time, I took my bike as I did not want to take a chance with the bus. I reached Tirur by 12.45 pm, met a villager who had promised to help me find out about the rape. He took me to the place from where a few Jarawa huts were visible. It is a vast stretch of paddy field. And behind it is dense forest. On a hillock one can see small huts. I was introduced to a farmer called Choto Sikdar who worked in the field adjacent to the Jarawa reserve. Sikdar, an old man, had been living in the area for the last 30 years. 

Sikdar describes the Jarawa: "They were very dangerous earlier. Had killed many of the villagers. For the past four years they are friendly and visit the village." On asking about his interaction with the Jarawa, Sikdar without any hesitation said, "I know these Jarawas by name. I talk to them. At times they come and sit with us when we are in the field." Earlier they used to disturb the villagers. Although they are harmless now, we do not allow them in our houses. "They are Junglees. What else can the Junglees do? We give them food whenever they ask." 

I asked Sikdar, whether he knew about the Jarawa women, probably three in number who stayed away from the community. I named one as per my information. Sikdar agreed that there are a few girls. He said, "Lapa is there, Lepu is there… Bali-em-o is there." As the conversation moved further, I could notice a suspicious look Sikdar's face. But I continued. On asking whether they stayed away from the community, Sikdar denied everything. He tried to wash his hands off by saying, "I do not know much about the community and we don't enter their area." Surprising! Isn't it? In the middle of our conversation, we saw three Jarawa girls on the road. They were carrying jackfruit and other eatables. I asked Sikdar, "Are they the three girls who stayed separate?" He replied, "No they are not the three. Without seeing them how can I confirm anything?" 

Leaving the farmer behind, I rushed towards them wanting to talk to them and know whether one of these girls were the victim of the beastly gang rape. My informers had told me that there was an enquiry conducted. The victim was present at the time to identify the people involved but had turned wild during the enquiry. I had to be careful. Going near one girl I asked, "What's your name?" "Lepu" she answered. She stopped for a while, stared at me and then smiled but did not stop. They were hurrying to their hut giving an impression that they were afraid. Pulling out my camera, I took a snap and immediately one of the three warned me not to do so by using filthy words. I could not make any enquiry that day as the girls had entered their territory, 'The Jarawa Reserve', where we outsiders are not allowed. In the mean time my friend who had accompanied me all along had a red scarf which I managed to gift it to Lepu. As the girls entered the woods, we could see Lepu waving the scarf from the hut situated up the hill. I could not violate the Law and had to turn back. But before I did so, I waited for some time, hoping that the girls would come and talk. I noticed that there were not just three girls in the hut. They were definitely more than five, including children. 

We returned from the field and saw a few villagers, young men sitting near the road side. I spoke to them and in order to impress, took a group photograph. I was getting desperate for information regarding the rape. After having a chit chat with my new friends, what I gathered was that the Jarawa although friendly with the villagers were more in contact with the Govt. staff which included the AAJVS staff and the Police. This was because I could read that the villagers still feared the Jarawa. They named one "Oma-ondu" a young Jarawa who threatens the villagers if his demands are not fulfilled. He is usually armed and is a notorious character. Even the Jarawa girls feared him. This was something new to me. The villagers even informed that the girls together manage to drive Oma-ondu away back into the jungle. The girls even help the villagers if they have any threat from men like Oma-ondu. Although the information gathered was useful but the rape enquiry remained.

Denis Giles among friends

7th July 2003

The next day returning to the same location at Tirur, I waited for a long time but could not see Lepu and her friends. I went back to a shop for refreshment. The shop owner, a lady became friendly after noticing a thick wallet that I carried, which basically was filled with torn papers and used telephone recharge card. She told her experience about the Jarawa. She is there for the past 18 years and has seen the Jarawa very closely. She describes, "The Jarawa is friendly now. They do not harm the villagers unlike earlier, even if the villagers enter the Jungle. But they have a fascination for iron equipment (Dah etc.) the villagers carry when they venture into the jungle. They snatch them away." On asking about the girls who stay away from the community near the village, the lady explained that the girls are orphans and do not have any one to support them. Some do not have father, some mother and so on. They now stay together to protect themselves from young Jarawa boys who misbehave with them. She further explained that the Jarawas earlier were more than 300 but have now reduced drastically in number. She believes that this is due to diseases caused by eating outside food from the village. 

After a long chat with the shopkeeper lady, I decided to take another chance. A surprising stroke of luck might just bring the Jarawa girls in the vicinity. After reaching the spot where we met those girls, I parked my bike and took a walk to have a closer look at the huts to sense life inside. It was drizzling. I could manage to see smoke from the hut and I thought to myself, "Have the Jarawa learnt cooking? Or is it the fire that burns continuously in their huts?" I have read in books and heard from anthropologists that the Jarawa carry fire with them, even if they shift their huts. 

Bali-em-o about to pick up Denis Gile's motor cycle helmet

With all these thoughts in my mind and the drizzle taking shape of rain, I was losing all my patience. All that I wanted to know was whether there was any rape in this area or not. Whether there was any enquiry and who were the beasts who found pleasure in doing this to an innocent girl? Not able to get any clue, I decided to go back, when to my surprise I saw three Jarawa girls moving around my bike, trying to start it. One of them took my helmet and wore it on her head. With a black helmet and a dark visor, the girl looked amusing. It was as if a Jarawa had a big head. I went near her and asked, "What's your name?" She slid the visor and said, "Bali-em-o". I confirmed the name with the villager standing beside me. He too pronounced it as Bali-em-o. I then asked the name of the second girl. She was staring in my eyes, confused and puzzled. Immediately Bali-em-o said, "Aa-uk-tha". Yes the second girl's name was "Aa-uk-tha". She even told the name of the third girl, knowing well, I would be asking for it. She said, "Bindu". Bindu, a Hindi name…? (These Hindi names have been given by the Policemen and the staff of the AAJVS for their convenience). I asked her where she stayed and she replied, "Chowki" (Police Outpost) and pointed out at the small huts visible from the road. The place where the huts are, used to be a Police Outpost once. 

I had lots to talk to them and I needed time. I had to make them wait. Their grasp of Hindi was more than poor and my basic method of communication to them was through universal signs. I told my friend who had accompanied me to show some biscuits first to attract them. As soon as the girls saw the biscuits, they started demanding. We had only one packet with us, so we had to share it. I had pan with me. I pulled out a pan from my pocket and offered. Bali-em-o staring into my eyes said, "Boys eat, girls don't". The answer brought a cheer on my face. I thought to myself, at least there is one group of Jarawa whom I met, who are not addicted to Pan. 

We had also brought balloons with us and two small packets of sugar crystals. My friend blew a balloon and gifted it to Bindu. I could notice hesitation and to prove that the balloon was not harmful, I myself had to hold it first, play with it and then gift it. With this incident, I learnt that the Jarawa are not easily attracted to new things, unless and until we try and attract them. The same thing happened when I took out a packet of sugar crystal. The girls were hesitant. I had to put a few in my mouth and then offer it to them. We took a note book and a pencil; drew pictures and even offered them to draw. This was exciting, not only for us, but for the girls too. While the girls were involved in drawing, I could notice something abnormal in Bali-em-o. She had a huge protruding tummy. It is definitely not due to over eating… but was she pregnant? Is Bali-em-o the girl who was gang raped? 

An old lady, a villager was coming out of the field. I requested the old lady to ask Bali-em-o whether she was pregnant. She obliged me and asked Bali-em-o, "Chota Bacha?" (Small child?) Bali-em-o nodded her head but did not confirm anything. Soon the outsiders including me outnumbered the Jarawa girls. And the girls decided to walk towards their hut. Before they did so, Bali-em-o mischievously wore my helmet and ran into the marshy field. There was no way, I could run as swift as the Jarawa and get my helmet. I tried pleading but in response heard the girls giggle. I even requested the old lady to ask for the helmet and she did. But, there was no way we could convince Bali-em-o. Then to everyone's surprise, Bindu took the helmet from Bali-em-o and brought it to me. I was grateful to Bindu because I did not wish to pay fine for not wearing one, if the cops stop me on my way back to Port Blair.  

It was past 12'O clock. I wanted to get back to Port Blair and wash myself, and in no way, would I enter into the marshy field again and walk like a dinosaur! We waited for a few minutes to decide what to do next. I could not conclude my investigation. Was Bali-em-o the victim or is there some other girl? My information said that the victim's name is Lapa… After all these thoughts, I made up my mind to follow them. Accompanied by my friend, I entered the field. We tried our best to follow the girls and reached the small hut. If my information was right, this was the place where the girls met fair-skinned boys. I took a snap of the shed for my satisfaction. 

It started raining heavily and we waited in the shed. Soon there came a lady and a farmer rushing inside the hut to take shelter. Another young boy followed the two. Starting a conversation, I asked in general about the girls living separately behind the farm. There was hesitation and silence. Addressing the farmer, I told him that I have noticed a Jarawa girl who seemed to be pregnant. Usually pregnant Jarawa girls prefer to stay with their husbands but in her case it was different. Why does this girl stay away? The farmer looked at me and in a yelling tone replied, "Who said they are not married? They are married and have husbands." Saying this he warned the lady not to speak. I tried asking the young boy but he did not respond. This was due to the man's warning, I guessed. 

I had to keep quiet but not for long. I spoke to the boy without bothering about the farmer. His name was Sanjay Roy. Somehow, Sanjay was convinced to talk. On asking whether he knew the girls, he said, "Yes I know them well. I even know their names. Ou-goi-la, Ou-og-da, Bali-em-o, Bindu, Lapa, Ur-pa-tha-le and remaining are children." On asking whether any one among them is pregnant, the boy casually responded, "Yes, men go away…" He said only this and there was a strong interruption by the farmer. It was definite that the man would not speak or let any one else speak. He was trying his best to mislead me. I had to be patient not wanting to indulge in any sort of argument with the villagers. 

Many scientists and researchers believe that the villagers speak more than they are asked to. And most of the time, their version is exaggerated. Although this was known to me, there was no other way. The Govt. officials were trying their best to hush up the matter. The Police, though meant for protection, act funny when they feel the truth may be revealed. The victim may not be able to speak due to language and cultural barrier. And therefore one has to depend on the villagers during such situation, even though they tend to exaggerate things. 

As the rain stopped, my friend who accompanied me followed the girls while I was talking to the boy. He had seen Lepu, the same girl who accepted the red scarf. She was along with Bindu. They were on their way to gather food. I met the girls after talking to Sanjay, had chitchat with them, more of sign language than words. They did not wait for long in spite of all my efforts to indulge them in talk. I observed that the Jarawa are punctual and maintain a routine as far as their daily duties are concerned. 

We spent almost an hour, standing and waiting for the girls to come down. I never knew how time passed. The atmosphere was mesmerizing. It had stopped raining; water dripping from the leaves. Mist all around and silence... 

I was away from the city and pollution. I could hear the birds chirp and far, far from the woods, I heard the girls sing, "Sunder Ladka… Ba Ba…" They were inviting us to their hut. Their voices were echoing from the hillock over which they had their hut. By now I had decided to take any kind of risk to meet the girls in their hut. 

My friend went ahead. I waited behind to caution him of any danger. After some time he called me. It was a steep hillock and a slippery path led to the hut. I was almost crawling on four limbs to maintain a balance, not wanting to come down the easy way. Immediately then to my surprise, I saw a Jarawa kid running down the slope. She was so swift, so flexible. I felt embarrassed but in no way could I compare myself with the kid. 

As I entered the hut, I was welcomed by the girls. They made me sit inside. It was small but sturdy. There were three huts and one among them was the main hut. A sort of community hut for the girls. Bali-em-o was lying down inside. She showed me the packet of sugar crystals that was gifted to her and smiled. All the girls including kids surrounded me. One tried to feel my hair, the other my stud. One of the girls came like a police man, stared at me and pulled my jacket. I stood still. She pulled my jacket up and felt my naval and then said something to her friends. I was then allowed to sit.

 One among them seemed to be a beautician. She was decorating her friends by painting their faces using mud. Her name is Nin-thi. Nin-thi came to me and painted my face. She had a broken plastic bottle in which she stored the mud paint. To make patterns she had a broken comb with her. After my face was decorated, Bali-em-o took a broken piece of mirror and showed me. It was a surprise for me. The tribes know about the mirror, comb and even found plastic to store. One girl was weaving a net using plastic thread and one was boiling food. One of them even offered me raw shell meat to eat.

 This was indeed a good interaction with the Jarawa. I learnt that the Jarawa are good hosts too. I thought to myself, are they the same Junglees about whom my elders had narrated stories? Everyone in the city had their own version about the Jarawas and here they are, so innocent, so loving, so caring… 

I am reminded of an incident where I heard a tour operator trying to attract customers for a trip to Mayabunder. "You can see the Jarawa, fully nude. They will come near you and you can take snaps." Today the Jarawa is considered as mere tourist attraction and a source of entertainment. 

We spent quite some time inside the hut with our hosts. Before leaving, I called Bali-em-o near me and asked, "Chota Baccha…?" She smiled and again nodded her head. I waved my hand and as I moved, Bali-em-o held my hand. She pulled me towards her. Leaning on me, she touched her lips on my cheeks. 

Was this a good bye kiss??? I have no idea. But yes, I could see the girls stand still like an innocent child, wanting us to spend some more time with them. 

On my way back to Port Blair, a thought came to my mind. Bali-em-o is pregnant. She stays away from the community. She has special attraction towards outsiders. The way she held my hand and kissed… What does all this indicate? Or is it that she is waiting for the child's father to return???

SANE Report of 1999 The Jarawa are a highly privileged community of our welfare state. The per capita expenditure incurred by the state out of taxpayers money works out to well over 300,000/- per annum. The money is well spent by responsible public servants and in accordance with the General Financial Rules, the Delegation of Financial Power Rules and so on…This money has so far bought a ship that the Jarawa have never sailed on board, a fleet of vehicles, they have never taken a ride in, computers that they do not know how to operate, faxes that do not bring them any message, air- conditioners that do not cool their environment, carpets that they have never stepped on, telephones that cannot communicate with anyone they wish to communicate with. The only money that goes for an expenditure that directly "benefits" the Jarawa is towards purchase of some cucumbers and bananas and coconuts that are presented to them every fortnight on a full moon day unless of course if a VIP desires to visit them in which case the day is arbitrarily changed to suit the convenience of the august visitor whose augustness the Jarawa do not recognise. In our eagerness to "protect" the disobedient, free, uncultured Jarawa , we bombard their habitat with specially dressed seeds and food plants from helicopters which do not reach the soil because of the dense canopy of the pristine forests that the Jarawa have not permitted us to degrade so far. Yet in our enthusiasm to "help" them we continue to implement many hare - brained schemes that the Jarawa neither want nor can appreciate. But the schemes act as a soothing balm to a pained conscience of us taxpayers who suffer from a mortifying feeling of guilt for what our democratic state has done to this primitive tribe and perhaps also for what it has not done so far.

Interview with Madhusree Mukherjee
about her book "The Land of the Naked People" 

Note: the printed issue of this SANE Newsletter also included a review of Madhusree Mukherjee's book - click on the underlined text to read it.

The author, who was a "Scientific American" Editor for many years, had rare access to the islands and others that make up the Andaman chain of the Bay of Bengal. Though she feels she could have had more opportunities to visit and meet the indigenous people, she is aware this is the first book of its kind &endash; part investigation into the misery of the Andamanese, part travelogue, part anthropology. 

Over seven years of visit and research in the islands, Ms. Mukherjee, a Guggenheim Fellow, was saddened and angry to discover other aboriginals abandoned their ancient ways for enticement such as plastic toys, aerated drinks and in some cases motor cycles. The price was dramatic; outsiders have taken tribal land, brought in several diseases, she writes, and left the aboriginal inhabitants, 'with a broken sense of self'. 

The following are excerpts of an interview with Ms. Mukheree by Arthur J. Pais from Frankfurt, Germany.  

Q: You went to Andamans several times on your own. Did your family not worry about it?

A: My mother went to the temple and prayed to Kali. It was interesting as my research continued, I began to think of Kali and see her in a very different light. 

Q: What was your earlier concept like?

A: I used to be terrified for a very long time. As a child I wondered why anybody would want to worship this frightening figure. 

Q: That has changed now?

A: Absolutely. When I see traditional pictures of Kali I see her on a tiger. I see skulls around her neck and they are of lighter colour. I remember we got the concept of Kali from the tribals. They have been hounded by lighter skinned people. She was naturally their protector.

 Q: How did this book come about?

A: The Andamans was a land of mystery and beauty to me. I read many enchanted things about the islands. I also read a snippet about the aboriginal people. Soon I discovered how they lived in utter poverty, exploited by the outside world. First there were the British, then the corrupt Indian Bureaucracy and so called social workers. Some of them are in reality criminals.

I was trained as a physicist but this book is far different from science stories I have written. I was very influenced by the book Savages focusing on Amazon Indians and their plight. It told with humour and compassion the story of their fight against oil companies. 

Q: What does this book offer?

A: It offers insights into the processes of colonization and modernization, the persistence of harmful myths about 'savages', and the continuing, disturbing relationship between light and dark skinned people. 

Q: What are some things you want people to take away from this book?

A: Let me first talk of one thing I want readers not to do: to join the tourists…..This book is much more than a glimpse into disappearing humanity. I expect readers to feel for the people of the Andamans, to care about them, to get involved and lend their voices to debate about these people. When they read the book, I want them to come away thinking of their responsibilities to people who had to suffer. 

Q: How about the readers in the West?

A: I want them - this is true for people everywhere - to think of older civilizations, tribal and aboriginal people who have been decimated. We have inherited their land, if not their culture. In many cases we have inherited their culture too. 

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