Sunset on the Thar Desert in northwestern India, sixty miles outside Jodhpur, Rajasthan. The powdery brown sand , hot to our bare feet, lies undisturbed by the gentle breeze.Amid vibrant colors and textures, exotic, bejeweled women with faces covered, whisper but rarely admit the atrocities with which they live. Doing so would bring shame to the family making any daughter unmarriageable. Reportedly, historically and in current journalism , women and girls live with domestic violence, sexual violence, murder, honor killing, dowry killing, child marriage, sex trafficking, as well as domestic labor trafficking. And Infanticide. Femicide of newborn girls before they cry the first time is known but left uninvestigated, even by the midwife who scurries out of the home as soon as she sees the gender. In 2019, a survey carried out by the Thomson Reuters Foundation ranked India as the most dangerous country in the world for women. India beat out Afghanistan in this ranking.Dalit girls, of the lowest caste, who are allowed to live will do so in a significantly gender-imbalanced population. Poverty, depression, alcoholism and lack of education are common denominators within families of at-risk women and girls. Girls are an economic burden to the family as an additional mouth to feed, eventually to be married into another household requiring a costly dowry of gold as a traditional part of the marriage agreement. Conversely, boys offer economic strength AND will be responsibile for the sacred rituals performed at the deaths of their parents.According to a report in India Magazine describing the Jaisalmer District and its Bhati villagers, “For generations, female infants in the community are routinely killed before they see the light of day outside the mud hovels. The methods are as primitive as the tradition: A bagful of sand is used to suffocate the child, a heavy dose of opium does the trick in other cases or when the new-born is tough enough to resist both, she is simply strangulated. And all this is done by the mother while the other women goad her to do away with the unwanted sibling.”In Setrawa, a village in the harsh Thar Desert, we had the privilege of meeting and spending parts of four days with local women leaders. We saw many little girls dressed as boys, their hair cut to look like little boys’. All to deflect attention? Women community leaders demurred when asked directly about the practice. (Could they, of a higher caste, be unaware of the risk of trafficking for domestic labor ? ) Or, do they simply prefer to look the other way and do what they can?
Dressed in a skirt, but hair styled as a boy’s.At the end of each day on our compound, the family homeplace of our host and the founder of The Sambhali Trust, the extreme gender imbalance is strikingly obvious. Sarita, hides in clear view.She and her family are well known to the Sambhali Trust team. Her mother is the housekeeper for the family guest house as new guests are welcomed and others check out of the re-purposed spaces. Like her neighbors, Sarita is the only girl child in her family. And at age 9, she serves a distinct role.
Sarita escaped one fate only to be absorbed into another.She lives with her mother, Saguda, father and brother in a thatched mud hut on the property on which we are housed, raising goats and living off the land. On school days she goes to class late morning, after her chores, in her uniform.She feeds the goats, herds the neighbors’ animals away from her goats’ feeding and serves as domestic help for her family. Every family needs one girl. School comes second to her domestic labor.Invited into their home, I was honored by their generosity, and the front row seat as Sarita proudly gathered the wood, built the fire, then went outside to milk the goat for just enough milk for one Chai Tea. Mine. Saguda taught me how to grind cardamon using a smooth round stone atop a flat one. After the spicy brew boiled furiously, it was poured up into a plastic vessel. Dark was falling precipitously on the desert, except for a bright sliver of moon high in a clear sky. Slightly panicked, and unable to express myself due to our language barrier, I inched toward the gate, but the family would not let me leave before finishing the delicacy. To the LAST drop. I complied. Unexpectedly, with the blessing of her parents, Sarita took my hand and led me across the sand to the guest house by moonlight. We hugged good night. My heart was full.Sarita is one of many girls who wants to learn. Really learn. She was eager to show me she could write her name using my pen and notebook, although the task was burdensome and time-consuming. Education in India, like elsewhere around the globe, offers a path of opportunity breaking the tradition of child marriage, young motherhood and a life determined by the man to whom she is given for marriage. Love marriages are a shame to the family, committing the girl to a hellishly isolated future.What about the schools in rural India? The government dictates that girls are not excluded from public schools. Our Sambhali Trust Volunteers in the Government School, teaching English for two months, spoke directly with the teachers, who are ALL men as a national rule in rural India. The Volunteers asked the men why they did not devote similar attention to the girls as is given the boys. One man, speaking for the group, replied without hesitation, ” What is the point?”. Can this cycle EVER broken?There is hope. There is light. The Sambhali Trust began innocently, organically, to help women, starting with Reading. Sewing followed quickly , with women teaching women what mothers and sisters had taught them. These two skills have made growth and outreach possible.At the neighborhood Women’s Empowerment Center, women commit one year to learning their craft, taught by three women, community leaders, educators, mothers and seamstresses themselves.Camaraderie prevails; friendships are seeded and nurtured, and at the end of one year, each graduate is awarded a sewing machine by The Sambhali Trust with which women are able to work from home in exchange for rupees.
Then in the afternoon hours, those SAME three women teach the children of the sewing students English, Hindi, and Math.
Meera, the teacher and community leader with whom I spent time, has developed her own in-demand sewing business, meeting her clients in her snack and soft drink store where she keeps her sewing machine. Here she can sew, while minding the store, when she isn’t teaching sewing to local women or Hindi to their children. Her mother-in-law minds the store while Meera is meeting her other obligations.Her wedding attire business is literally paying off affording her income to support her family including her husband who has lost his job, and her elderly parents-in-law with whom she lives. Word of her skill and attention to detail spreads.Having needed funding to start her business, Meera was the first woman to receive a business loan from The Trust. Now she is the Director of the MicroFinance Program with 104 members who contribute monthly, borrowing at reasonable rates and fair terms.Meera proudly shows her recent purchase: Fabric valued at 25,000 rupees, ( approximately $325 USD) funded by the MicroFinance Program. This investment will keep her sewing machine humming for weeks.And what about those Government Schools? While the Volunteers from The Sambhali Trust are in country, some teach English with enthusiasm not previously seen by the students, both boys and girls. Irene, from Austria asked for, and was granted permission, to have a weekly two hour class for girls only. She described enthusiasm, focus, and rapid progress on the parts of these girls. The classes were so much fun for the young girls that a number of boys asked eagerly to join. Irene added an additional class with coed participation.And in Jodhpur? Urban needs are great where The Sambhali Trust began over a decade ago in the Blue City.Back in Jodhpur at the Sambhali Trust ‘s Boutique, graduates of the sewing program are hired to craft accessories and fashions offered for sale.The same spirit of support and camaraderie prevails throughout, here in the embroidery circle, where at least one of these women lived with severe and chronic domestic violence. Her alcoholic husband left her, and her six month old son, to marry another woman. Still grieving years later, she told me she would have preferred to be married to a violent man rather to bear the shame of divorce, of having to return to the home of her mother.Mentorship and new ideas give these women employment security in this job in addition to their private seamstress businesses.KiChoo, aged 38 years, a graduate of the Sewing Program and an employee of the Sambhali Trust’s Boutique.Across town at the Women’s Empowerment Center in a predominantly Muslim neighborhood, the same model exists: Morning sewing classes, where friends mentor friends, then children being taught Hindi, Math and English in the afternoons. Both of these women have experienced heinous domestic abuse, alcohol-related. One lives with it still, but sees her sewing skill as her way out.
Self-defense classes are available once weekly.And occasional presentations on topics of general interest and application.Peace. These women represent Hindu and Muslim; Sikh Caste and Dalit Caste. But who is who? To them, it no longer matters . Dressed in classic pink , the hallmark of The Gulabi Gang, these women have grown into sisterhood.They are INDEED stronger together.Daughters of The Thar Desert are taking care of their daughters, empowered by The Sambhali Trust.
