ANALYSIS:THE PEN, it's sometimes said, is mightier than the sword. For these women, it's also a ticket to respect. The Khabar Lehariya, or News Waves, is India's first newspaper written, read and run by tribal women or those from the Dalit, or so-called untouchable, caste. While most readers only know of the politics, crime, or education news in the eight-page weekly, each of the writers has a story of her own about struggling against life's harsh challenges that remains out of the publication, writes MARK MAGNIER
Many of the dozen or so women on the staff were beaten or sexually abused as children, married off young, endured abusive marriages and fought mightily for an education and a divorce. Often, the newspaper provides them with a voice on important issues for the first time in their lives along with a sense of confidence and purpose.
The paper is also a labour of love. Not only do they write the stories, which appear in a local minority language, they also edit, handle layout, proofread and solicit ads for its two editions. Staff members, paid between about €40 and €95 a month, spend several days each week lugging copies to distant villages, some only accessible by hiking trails.
“We take buses, cars, motorcycles until the road stops, then we walk,” said Meera (23), who like many Indians only uses one name, while sitting beside a whiteboard with the week’s stories mapped out. “It’s hard enough to reach many of these remote areas. Then you have to stay and sell the papers.”
While in remote communities, they pick up stories from readers or from exploited residents petitioning for justice in front of courts and government offices. Thus armed, they return to their weekly editorial meeting with a minimum of five ideas and hash out among themselves what should be published.
Recent stories included bribery at health clinics, a bureaucrat siphoning off money meant for widows and a piece on the brother of a powerful politician who built a house, blocking all water that had gone to Dalit farmers nearby, destroying their livelihood.
A few years ago, the paper did a story on a groom who refused to marry his fiancee because her family wouldn’t give him an appliance he wanted. Their story – under the headline “Do you want a wife or a TV?” – got huge attention. Today, the two are happily married and joke about it.
The four-cent cover price for Khabar Lehariyamay seem like a pittance. But here in rural Uttar Pradesh state, this often represents a huge sum. Sometimes the staff members barter copies of the newspaper for food or firewood. They might even give away free copies if someone is impoverished but seems particularly interested.
Those who work at the paper, which was established in 2002, estimate that each of the 4,000 weekly copies is read to or by at least 10 other people, a function of the area’s limited literacy and extreme poverty.
The news-stand price covers less than 20 per cent of the operation’s €45,000 annual operating budget. The difference is covered by Nirantar, a New Delhi-based civic group specialising in gender, literacy and development issues that conceived of the project and believes it can serve as a model for other communities in India. A few weeks ago, the project won a Unesco literacy prize.
Meera (38), another co-editor with the same name, said the staff faced huge resistance in 2002. Local feudal kingpins long used to subjugating their workers, landlords who didn’t want their exploitative practices revealed, corrupt officials, journalists who are often part of the local boys’ club, all resented their appearance on the scene.
The younger Meera said she argued extensively with her father and husband before they let her earn a master’s degree in political science and take the newspaper job.
The women say the newsroom structure remains loose and titles are often trumped by a system of respect among equals.
A key point in many of the women’s lives came when they realised, usually at some point in primary or middle school, that as Dalits they’d been born into a caste at the bottom of India’s social pyramid.
For the younger Meera, the painful awareness came when she realised the teacher in her remote village never drank the water she offered him, accepting it only from higher caste members.
Reporter Mithlesh (44) remembers noticing that her primary school teacher segregated the “sweeper” or lower caste, children from the rest, encouraging the higher-caste kids to wash their clothes if a sweeper’s child touched them.
Shanti, another staffer, said her family was so poor and of such a low status that she never attended school. At 32, she divorced an alcoholic husband who regularly beat her, left with their five children and started her education from scratch. Now 40, she’s supporting the family with her newspaper job and ensuring her children are educated.
“Now I can read, and people don’t cheat me any more,” she said.
Caste is a social institution, and it’s probably here to stay, the women said. But if you’re educated and know your rights, people are more respectful. As Indian society changes, affected by migration, a more liberalised economy and political shifts, the grip of this restrictive system is weakening.
Dalit women say they can be their own worst enemies given that caste distinctions are ingrained from birth. Then there’s the prevalent belief that individuals somehow deserve their fate because of good or bad karma carrying over from the last life.
Disha Mullick, a New Delhi-based Nirantar programme co-ordinator who helps train reporters, said the social pressure to “stay in your place” extends to those holding staff jobs. Despite the opportunities that come with working at the newspaper, they have a huge turnover and many women leave after a few weeks or months, uncomfortable with taking a more assertive role.
Khabar Lehariyafocuses its articles on issues of importance to Dalit, tribal or other underprivileged communities not covered elsewhere. When Dalits are featured in mainstream media, reporters said, the approach is often sensational and superficial.
At core, the women seek to help their readers know their rights, understand what government programmes are available and teach them how to apply for assistance.
For many of the women, the very act of doing a job where you’re asking challenging questions of high officials, rich locals and derisive politicians is empowering. Learning how to use technology is also useful, they said.
“This job has really helped me stand up and be independent, said Kavita (30), another co-editor. “A year ago, I never even imagined something like a computer or the internet existed. This Google is amazing. You can read other newspapers just like that.” Readers have responded and their circulation is growing, up from 2,500 a few years ago.
“Other papers aren’t printed in our language and don’t write about local news we’re most interested in,” said Balbir Singh (36), owner of a small shop in Jauharpur. “This really feels like our own. I just wish it were more than eight pages so I’d have more to read.” – (Los Angeles Times)
A series of photographs about India’s Dalit people may be viewed via http://www.nishantlalwani.co.uk/index.htm. The site also contains information about the Dalit Foundation which is dedicated to helping Dalit people