Everyone is at the haat

India | Anno 2004

 

Monday, April 5 | Bhubaneswar – Taptapani

Tuesday, April 6 | Taptapani – Rayagada

Wednesday, April 7 | Rayagada – Jeypore

 

 

Monday, April 5 | Bhubaneswar – Taptapani

We leave Bhubaneswar, the capital of Orissa, behind us. We head into the hills of the interior in search of the ethnic groups living in the southwest of Orissa. What particularly interests us is to get acquainted with the culture and way of life of the Adivasi, the descendants of the original inhabitants of India – comparable to the Aboriginals of Australia, the Native Americans of the United States, or the First Nations of Canada.

What particularly interests us is to get acquainted with the culture and way of life of the Adivasi, the descendants of the original inhabitants of India

Olasingh

For now, the relatively flat road takes us directly southwest. After an hour and a half, we reach the silk village of Olasingh. Indeed, a silk village, as almost every house here has a loom to make some extra income. However, the silk weavers don't make much from it. They buy raw silk for about 1,800 rupees per kilogram, which is approximately 35 euros. A woven saree weighs about four hundred grams, so the material alone costs them 720 rupees. The finished product sells for a maximum of a thousand rupees. In the end, the weavers barely earn 280 rupees for about a week's work, which is equivalent to less than one euro per day. On the market in Bhubaneswar, customers easily pay 1,200 to 1,300 rupees for the same saree. In Delhi, that amount can even go up to two thousand rupees. Once again, tour guide Anup points out the sore spot: if the weavers were to collaborate in a cooperative, they could negotiate better prices. Currently, the big money goes to the middlemen.

In the end, the weavers barely earn 280 rupees for about a week's work, which is equivalent to less than one euro per day

Loom

We briefly walk through the village. A boy with pimples and yellow skin catches our attention. Tour guide Manoj doesn't rule out the possibility that the boy is infected with chickenpox. The treatment applied – smearing with turmeric or yellow root – aligns with traditional medicine as prescribed in Ayurveda.

Around one o'clock, we have lunch in Barkul, specifically on a boat on the vast Chilika Lake, the largest brackish water lake in Asia. The economic significance of this lake, seventy kilometres long and fifteen kilometres wide, cannot be overstated. On its own, it sustains the livelihood of around twenty thousand people. Fish, shrimp, and crabs are mainly harvested here. Nets are spread throughout the lake, sometimes exceeding a kilometre in length. Our boat occasionally gets entangled in these nets. It seems inevitable that a net may get damaged in the process, but nobody seems to mind.

The Irrawaddy dolphin, a threatened species, is said to have over a hundred individuals in Chilika Lake

Quite appropriately, our restaurant boat is named Irrawaddy, referring to the rare Irrawaddy dolphin. Over a hundred individuals of this endangered dolphin species, characterized by their compact body and a rather rounded head instead of the long snout we are familiar with, are believed to inhabit this lake.

 

Olasingh

Gradually, a dense layer of clouds moves over the lake. Above the mountains inland, we even discern flashes of lightning. We continue south-westward through the pouring rain. However, rain in April is more of an exception than the rule in the eastern states of India. Normally, the monsoon rains typically arrive from the Bay of Bengal only from June onward.

Rain in April is more of an exception than the rule in the eastern states of India. Normally, the monsoon rains typically arrive from the Bay of Bengal only from June onward

Meanwhile, driver Mahabatra reveals himself as the proverbial rock in the storm. Unperturbed, he gazes through the windshield of his bus, where rainwater flows in wide streams. The motionless windshield wipers serve a purely decorative purpose. The same applies, incidentally, to the speedometer. Here and there, water seeps through the bus roof.

 

Olasingh

At the height of Berhampur, we leave the coastal area definitively behind and head inland towards the Eastern Ghats. These form an uninterrupted mountain range along the east coast of India, from Orissa to the southernmost part of the subcontinent. At 1,762 m, the Deomali is the highest point in Orissa. However, we won't reach such heights. The area we will traverse is more comparable to the Belgian Ardennes, with mountains reaching at most six hundred meters.

Tropical rainforests cover the hills over an area about the size of Italy

Once we cross the first hills, the sun will shine, and the weather will improve, says Manoj with a gleam. We are willing to believe that. However, the road turns out to be progressively worse. The asphalt strip is barely three meters wide and is full of potholes.

Optimal preservation methods have their own local interpretations. On every property, there are small clay mounds under which unhusked rice can be stored for a year. Rice straw is placed on a layer of bamboo, followed by the unhusked rice, and then rice straw again. The whole thing is covered with clay that can withstand even the relentless monsoon rains. According to local belief, no rice tastes better than the rice that has undergone this process, as this practice is unique to this district.

 

 

It costs us fifteen rupees to cross the brand-new bridge over the Ghodahada in Moulabhnja. That's not much. However, Anup muses whether the local government will recover the toll collection costs over a ten-year period, considering the scarce traffic in the area.

Darkness falls quickly now, but our destination is not far. In some places, the road is barely paved. The dry, desolate surroundings gradually give way to dense forest growth on both sides of the road. Even a jackal hops through the headlights' glow. The lush forests thrive here due to the annual monsoon rains from the Bay of Bengal, covering hills over an area about the size of Italy.

Two light bulbs cast a faint glow on the entrance gate. That's a relief – there is electricity available

Our bus climbs slowly through hairpin bends, searching for an inconspicuous spot on the map called Taptapani, situated about 420 m above sea level. Finally, in complete darkness, we reach what is announced as the Panthanivas Tourist Bungalow. It turns out to be an establishment of the OTDC, the Orissa Tourism Development Corporation – a government hotel.

Two light bulbs cast a faint glow on the entrance gate. That's a relief – there is electricity available. Tucked away among the foliage, we discover a few bungalows, totalling eight rooms. That's just not enough, and Anup and Manoj will have to find accommodation elsewhere, while Mahabatra will sleep in his trusted spot – his bus.

It must be said that the exterior of the bungalows raises high expectations. However, it turns out to be nothing more than a facade. A mosquito net hangs like an ostentatious canopy over the bed, but large holes in the net render it utterly useless. The shower and toilet exist in a permanent symbiosis – the toilet water flows into the shower, and if you leave the shower, you find yourself in front of the toilet before you realize it. Yet, that is also reassuring because it means there is running water available.

A mosquito net hangs like an ostentatious canopy over the bed, but large holes in the net render it utterly useless

Two rooms are even designated as luxury rooms. They are equipped with air conditioning and have a bathtub connected to the sulphur-rich hot springs for which Taptapani is famous. Although there is no water in the baths and the air conditioning does not work, it's the principle that counts, isn't it?

Meanwhile, Anup and Manoj go on foot to find their accommodation, a small kilometre downhill. The guesthouse they can stay in has precisely one room, but the man who holds the key to that room is nowhere to be found. Forced to do so, they return to Panthanivas and settle on a mattress on the floor.

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Tuesday, April 6 | Taptapani – Rayagada

Flowing water requires a water pump. A water pump, in turn, requires electricity. And that's precisely what is not available this morning. No problem, a friendly young man brings a bucket of water to the rooms. However, he wants his bucket back right away because he only has one, and he needs to provide water for eight rooms. No problem, we immediately pour the water into the sink. In theory, at least, because in practice, the sink turns out to lack a drain stopper. Ironically, today's local newspaper reports that the government intends to privatize Panthanivas Tourist Bungalow.

The Parvati temple is quite popular, especially for those seeking to have children, particularly sons

Taptapani – Sulphur-rich hot springs

Shortly after eight, we continue our journey through the wooded hills, not without taking a brief stop at the famous sulphur-rich hot springs – a place revered by both Hindus and animists. In the water around the spring, there are natural stones adorned with flowers. Close to the spring stands a Parvati temple, and a bit further, a Shiva temple. The Parvati temple is quite popular, especially for those seeking to have children, particularly sons. A priest applies sandalwood powder to statues representing the nine planets.

They do not practice agriculture but sustain themselves through hunting and forest resources

Jupasingh – Saora

We will miss such Hindu rituals in the coming days because Hindu Orissa is gradually giving way to tribal, animistic Orissa. The village of Jupasingh becomes the setting for our first encounter with the Adivasi. The people living here belong to the Saora, an ethnic group of hunter-gatherers. They do not practice agriculture but sustain themselves through hunting and forest resources. Preferably, they live in small communities of 15 to 20 families.

 

Jupasingh – The drying of mahua flowers

Jupasingh has at most around fifteen huts. Mahua flowers are drying on the ground between the huts. The yellow ones are still fresh, the dark brown ones are almost completely dry, and the light brown ones are somewhere in between. They will later use the dried flowers to produce alcohol. Unfortunately, alcohol plays a relatively significant role among the Adivasi. This is a commonality they share with indigenous peoples in Australia and America.

Headhunting was reportedly a favourite activity of these Saora in the not-so-distant past

Jupasingh

Headhunting was reportedly a favourite activity of these Saora in the not-so-distant past. However, they have since left that practice behind. No form of threat emanates from these gentle people. Our presence rather induces a mild form of stiffness, a spontaneous mix of curiosity and reservation. Just as we observe them, they observe those strange white beings that have suddenly appeared in their village.

A woman on her knees spreads fresh cow dung with her bare hands over the sidewalk in front of her house

Jupasingh

The huts are constructed with wooden sticks driven into the ground, and between them, plaster made of dried mud is applied. With her bare hands, a woman on her knees spreads fresh cow dung over the sidewalk in front of her house. Soon, this smear will dry, and the odour will disappear. The entrance to her house will then not only be clean but also deter insects. Red clay provides the necessary firmness to her sidewalk. Others have mixed the clay with coal dust, creating a beautiful black terrace. Medicinal herbs play a significant role here. Turmeric is used for various purposes.

 

Jupasingh

We continue to bounce along the pockmarked road through the hilly landscape. Nukubeda is our next destination, but it turns out to be a letdown – everyone is at the haat, the weekly market in Mandimera. These markets play an important role in this society. Everyone wants to be there, even if it means walking 15 to 20 km.

The unsightly corrugated iron sheets are a coveted status symbol; they are expensive, and not everyone can afford them

 

That one of the houses in Nukubeda has a roof made of corrugated iron sheets, while all the other houses have a traditional roof, does not escape our notice. We find it unsightly, almost automatically associating it with impoverished shantytowns. However, the perspective here is entirely different. Corrugated iron sheets are a coveted status symbol; they are expensive, and not everyone can afford them. The fact that the noise of the monsoon rains on those sheets is deafening and the leaden heat during the dry season under those sheets is almost unbearable doesn't matter when you can derive so much prestige from them.

 

Mandimera – Market – Saora

So, Mandimera is the place to be. It's not much more than a few stalls along the village's only street. Still, it's a lively scene where women in colourful attire, adorned with beautiful piercings and dazzling jewellery, take centre stage.

He forges tools in the same way as his ancestors did for millennia

Snack bar				Blacksmith
		Dried fish

Dried fish come in various sizes, and a primitive snack bar offers fried treats. Women sell jewellery, sanitary products, and various fabrics. Under a banyan tree at the edge of the village, a blacksmith is at work. He forges tools in the same way as his ancestors did for millennia.

 

Mandimera – Saora

 

For lunch, we choose a dhaba, one of the typical roadside restaurants found along major highways in India and Pakistan. Tour guide Anup took the precaution of calling ahead to inquire about the hygiene of the preparations. Not that we disdain local food, but Western stomachs, accustomed to different conditions, tend to be a bit less resistant. However, it turns out to be much ado about nothing. We enjoy an excellent thali, a collection of small dishes served in metal bowls on a metal plate – the thali.

 

Potters

In Gumuda, we cross the bridge over the Vamsadhara. Large ceramic pots by the roadside catch our attention. This is the residence of potters. They have displayed their smaller products on a charpai, a simple traditional bed. Tamarind fruits and millet grains are drying on the ground. Under a shelter, one of the potters is at work. Enthralled, we watch as a spherical vessel with openings at both ends takes shape from clay on the rapidly spinning potter's wheel. He then seals one of the ends with lumps of clay.

 

Through a policy of positive discrimination, Orissa indeed ensures that the tribes are not left behind

 

Back in the bus, Manoj responds somewhat curtly to the question about plans to establish a separate tribal state. Not necessary, he asserts briefly, as Orissa indeed caters to the tribes through a policy of positive discrimination. Anup supports his statement. The concept of Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes – castes and tribes officially recognized as disadvantaged socio-economically – is enshrined in the Indian Constitution, he explains. Orissa has 62 such tribes, and there are over a thousand across India. Depending on the needs of their region, they can claim privileges in terms of employment, education, or communal facilities. Currently, for example, 22 % of teaching positions are reserved for tribal people. The official lists on which these castes and tribes are registered can vary significantly from region to region. For instance, it's not uncommon for Brahmins, theoretically the highest caste, to be classified as Scheduled Castes in some areas.

Recognizing a village of the Kondh doesn't require a seasoned anthropologist

Ramanaguda – Kondh

Shortly after three, we approach Ramanaguda. Here, we will predominantly encounter the Kondh. Recognizing a village of the Kondh doesn't require a seasoned anthropologist. On either side of a broad, long, and straight street, you find a row of interconnected huts. Such villages are typically quite large and can consist of up to a hundred families.

Traditionally, they practice a form of shifting cultivation known as slash-and-burn.

Ramanaguda – Kondh

Unlike the Saora, the Kondh are oriented towards agriculture, although they also engage in hunting and gathering. Traditionally, they practice a form of shifting cultivation known as slash-and-burn. To clear a densely forested area, they make deep incisions in the tree trunks, causing them to die. They usually do this at the beginning of the dry season. Months later, they burn the dead trees so that the land can be used for agriculture for several years. When the land is eventually overgrown with weeds again, they move on to the next piece of land.

 

The sun and the forest also play a significant role in the animistic beliefs of the Kondh

Ramanaguda – Kondh

A thick layer of concrete with primitive but efficient drainage on either side covers the main street. It may not be aesthetically pleasing, but during the heavy monsoon rains, the Kondh likely appreciate it. Other signs of progress include a robust water pump providing clear water, solar panels powering a telephone connection, and a tiny post office managing to encourage villagers to save. In the middle of the street, a primitive stone structure is erected where Mother Earth is worshipped. The sun and the forest also play a significant role in the animistic beliefs of the Kondh.

 

 

Then, a dozen flashy young men on motorcycles appear in the village. National elections are taking place in India from April 20 to May 10. These youngsters are here to explain to the villagers whom they should vote for. They clearly don't appreciate onlookers like us, giving us challenging looks and tolerating our presence only reluctantly.

 

Lingaguda – Kondh

It gradually becomes apparent that the people here seem noticeably poorer

 

About twenty kilometres away, the Kondh village of Lingaguda seems, at first glance, little different from Ramanaguda. It is slightly smaller, and the concrete main street is shorter. However, it gradually becomes apparent that the people here seem noticeably poorer. A glance into the narrow alleys branching off the main street tells the story. No water pump or solar panels here. The women observe us somewhat timidly, and the children hesitate to wave back. Two older men manage to break the ice. Just outside the village, a few buffaloes graze.

 

Lingaguda – Kondh

Perhaps this village has never had such tourist visits, suggests Manoj. Only four travel agencies in Bhubaneswar offer tribal trips. For Manoj's company, this is the third and final trip this year. Moreover, Manoj tries to spread visits to different villages as much as possible, minimizing pressure on the vulnerable populations. He assumes that other tour operators do the same. Thus, these villages do not receive many tourists.

 

 

Lingaguda – Kondh

At quarter to six, our bus manoeuvers through the overly narrow gate of Hotel Sai International. We are now in Rayagada, an industrial city with around sixty thousand inhabitants, situated at an elevation of 220 m in the Nagavali Valley. A life-size photo of Sai Baba, a popular but controversial Indian guru who claims to have millions of followers worldwide, adorns the lobby of the hotel.

 

Lingaguda

Throughout the week, only business travellers frequent this hotel. However, Tuesday night is an exception, as tourists flood the hotel who have the Wednesday market of Chatikona on their itinerary.

Towels are absent from the rooms – a classic trick. Upon a simple request, the hotel staff is more than willing to bring towels and then graciously accept a suitable tip. Directly under the showerhead in the bathroom, two light switches and a 220 V electrical outlet challenge our sense of safety. The mere sight sends shivers down our spines.

Throughout the week, only business travellers frequent this hotel. However, Tuesday night is an exception

This hotel won't have a long life ahead, sneers Anup. The owner has handed over the business to his two daughters. His sons-in-law take turns playing the role of manager for three days at a time and then make off with the contents of the cash register.

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Wednesday, April 7 | Rayagada – Jeypore

The Chatikona weekly market, or haat, is a fairly bustling affair. It serves as the focal point of economic activity for a wide region with a radius of 12 to 15 km. However, it's almost exclusively the Desia Kondh and Dongria Kondh who come here to buy and sell.

From 1994 to 1998, not a single tourist was allowed to enter tribal Orissa

The authenticity still shines through. All women and many men are traditionally dressed, making it a vibrant scene

Chatikona – Market

Our fear that Western jeans and T-shirts might have flooded this traditional market over the years proves completely unfounded. The authenticity still shines through. All women and many men are traditionally dressed. Fortunately, tourists are also absent, except for a French couple.

 

Chatikona – Snack bar
		Kondh

The Desia Kondh live in the immediate vicinity, Manoj explains. Their women are dressed in colourful attire and wear a limited number of gold-coloured jewels. On the other hand, the Dongria Kondh lead a secluded life in the hills and are apparently much less prosperous than the Desia. They don't eat rice but consume fruits such as pineapple, papaya, and banana, along with maize. Their women dress in grey-white attire, often with a red border. They wear a lot of jewellery – in their nose, ears, hair, around their neck. Their men often wear hairpins in their long hair. Some women have tiny tattoos on their foreheads or forearms. Even the smallest children are adorable, sometimes adorned only with jewellery on their ears, nose, neck, wrists, and ankles.

 

Chatikona

The languages of the tribes in Orissa differ so much that they can't understand each other. For example, the Kondh speak Kui. Nevertheless, a kind of lingua franca has developed, namely Desia, which takes Oriya as its base and adds words from various tribes.

 

Chatikona – Kondh

For us, the villages of the Dongria are off-limits, says Manoj. But he doesn't consider it a loss because Dongria men are drunk every afternoon. For safety reasons, the government only allows tourists on specific roads, in certain villages, and at designated markets. From 1994 to 1998, not a single tourist was allowed to enter tribal Orissa.

In the dormitory, adolescents from different villages of the Dongria Kondh talk, sing, dance, and sleep together

Chatikona – Kondh

In the centre of a Dongria village, there is always a building that Manoj calls a dormitory. This can be translated as a dormitory, a cultural centre, a dance school, or a music school, but in fact, it is a combination of all these functions. Adolescents from different villages meet there. Dongria, after all, are exogamous, meaning they must marry a partner from outside their own village. In the dormitory, they talk, sing, dance, and sleep together. If a child results from this, it's not a problem. If the relationship between the parents unexpectedly goes sour later on, the child goes with the mother. If the girl later marries another man, he will readily accept the pre-marital child. The Kui language doesn't even have a word for the concept of a bastard.

The Kui language doesn't even have a word for the concept of a bastard

Chatikona

Dongria Kondh – Young couple

If the young couple is interested in each other, then the parents come into the picture. Among the Dongria, determining the size of the dowry is one of the tasks of the parents. However, in the Dongria community, the dowry does not go to the groom's family, as is the case in Hindu culture, but rather to the bride's family. A dowry may include things like sacks of rice, a few cows, and some money. If the family cannot afford this, the young man may choose to work for his future in-laws for two to three years.

 

A dowry may include things like sacks of rice, a few cows, and some money

Chatikona – Kondh

Bhatpur is a classic village of the Desia Kondh. Cheerful faces greet us everywhere – both children and adults. We are about to visit the school, but the students are just coming out, the lessons are over. Maybe next time. A car stops, a broadly smiling man gets out, shakes a few hands, and disappears again. Anup is impressed: this was a politician with national fame. For us, it was a bit of a farce.

 

Alcohol will be distilled from the mahua flowers later – it's the season for it

Bhatpur – Desia Kondh – Drying mahua flowers

Bhatpur – Desia Kondh

As in many villages, the Kondh are drying mahua flowers on their concrete street, from which alcohol will be distilled later – it's the season for it. Some women are already picking the petals. In a few weeks, everything here will revolve around mangoes, while in the fields, tobacco will be ripening. After that, rice will come into play, followed by millet and corn in the spring.

 

Bhatpur – Desia Kondh – School children
Bhatpur – Desia Kondh

Three shrines keep the worship of Mother Earth lively. A girl of about eight allows us to visit her parental home while her mother is away. Clumsily, we even stick our heads into the kitchen, unaware that it is taboo. It's remarkably cool inside the huts.

The Naxalites are armed Maoist groups that manage to challenge the Indian government

 

Then we head to Jeypore. It doesn't take long before a squad from the CRSP, the Central Reserve Security Police, sets their sights on us. There are eight armed young men, of which only three are in uniform. They are searching for terrorists, rebels, and other criminals. For now, we seem to be the only ones matching that profile. To quickly get rid of them, Anup agrees to let them enter the bus and search our hand luggage. But that's not enough; they also want to rummage through our main luggage.

 

 

Anup and Manoj promptly resist, but the CRSP stands firm. Along with one of the reservists, Manoj goes on a quest for a telephone and manages to get the police commissioner of Rayagada on the line. He succeeds in convincing the overzealous soldier to leave the tourists alone. Manoj is beaming – the main luggage remains closed. But it's not over yet. Now, the papers of Mahabatra and Manoj himself are under scrutiny. Manoj puffs and sweats, and rushes up and down, but manages to get us released after three-quarters of an hour of irritation. Later, we will learn that three Americans ended up in the same situation but were less fortunate. They had to go all the way back to Rayagada for the correct documents and only arrived in Jeypore at nine o'clock in the evening.

 

 

All this nervousness must be seen in the light of the activities of the Naxalites. They are a collection of armed Maoist groups that manage to challenge the Indian government. Their rural rebellion began in 1967 in Naxalbari, West Bengal – hence their name. The Red Corridor, as it is called, is the area where the Naxalites are strong, mainly tribal and rural areas, often with rich deposits of coal, bauxite, and iron. Foreign companies are eager to get their hands on these resources, and the Indian government gladly complies, encouraged by the large amounts of money flowing in under the table. According to their claims, the Naxalites are defending themselves against these practices and fighting for improved land rights and more jobs for the poor and neglected farm labourers. However justified their grievances may be, the Naxalites are not always free from armed banditry and ordinary crime.

However justified their grievances may be, the Naxalites are not always free from armed banditry and ordinary crime

Minapai – Kondh

Minapai – Drying mahua flowers on the roofs

A half-hour later, we reach Minapai, where two communities live in close proximity. On one side, there is a village of bamboo weavers who try to make a living by weaving mats, baskets, and other handmade goods. On the other side, there is a traditional village of the Kondh. It does not turn out to be a pleasant introduction. Two bamboo weavers immediately greet us with enthusiastic drumming. Both are visibly drunk. Even with tips, we can't silence their drums. An equally inebriated woman welcomes us by sprinkling wet rice grains as a form of greeting. We make our way as quickly as possible and climb up to the village of the Kondh.

 

Minapai – Kondh

Growing cash crops like tobacco and selling them at the market to earn some money is nearly impossible here

Minapai – Kondh

Hand mill for the production of flour

The people and the environment here appear poorer and less healthy than in the other villages. The reason for this is not hard to find. The village is situated on a slope against the hill, and the soil is less fertile. Growing cash crops like tobacco and selling them at the market to earn some money is nearly impossible here. Nevertheless, quite a few houses have brick walls, and we can see some roofs made of corrugated sheets. They make these bricks themselves using clay from the river. Despite their difficult situation, they welcome us warmly and with smiles. The children, curious, seek contact with the strange visitors to their village.

 

 

Minapai – Kondh

 

It's already dark when we reach Jeypore, a little after seven in the evening. With over 70,000 inhabitants, it's one of the largest cities in the surrounding area, situated six hundred meters above sea level.

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Jaak Palmans
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A sense of community across the hills