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By Rashme Arora One million women in the newly-formed state of Chhattisgarh have formed 76,000 self-help groups and are now running the weekly bazaars, the fisheries and even the stone quarries
The statistics are awesome. One million women in the newly-formed state of Chhattisgarh – most of them adivasis, dalits and people below the poverty line -- are members of 76,000 self-help groups with assets exceeding Rs 13 crore. These women, largely illiterate, are running mines and fisheries, farming land and selling their produce at the weekly haat (markets). In fact, no challenge is beyond them. They are willing to take over the male-dominated tasks of road construction, building of houses, toilets, office complexes and even the laying of milestones. Rajnandgaon district in Chhattisgarh is a showcase for women-power. Phatkan Bai, gram panchayat (village governing body) leader of Dhagaon village in this district, sums up the popular mood by saying, “We've succeeded in sidelining most of the contractors in this area and are now running the limestone and stone quarries, the weekly haats, fisheries and even the local bicycle stands. We've become a force to reckon with.” The self-help groups in Rajnandgaon work under the umbrella organisation called Maa Bambaleshwari. Maa Bambaleshwari is the local deity and she certainly seems to have bestowed her blessings on this vociferous and vibrant group, for this one district alone boasts over 5,000 collectives. Members of the self-help groups greet each other with a “Maa Bambaleshwari!” The self-help groups are organised entirely on an individual's initiative and receive little state support (in terms of finances). Some of them are ten years old while others have mushroomed in the last two years. The contributions vary. Some groups are contributing as little as Rs 8 per member while in other groups, the contributions go up to Rs 100 per member per month. “We have proved to everyone that we are good managers,” says Sukulaya from Bagdai village. And manage they certainly do. Two years ago, when these women's groups first made a bid to run the weekly haat, the local men were aghast. How could these women run a haat profitably for an entire year? They threatened to beat up the women and kidnap them. When the women refused to be intimidated, the men complained to the district collector. But since the women had made the highest bid at the auction, there was no way their claim could be overruled and the collector supported them. “Not only did we return the Rs 35,000 taken from the bank to pay for the deposit amount, we also succeeded in earning a profit from the haat within four months of taking it over,” points out the feisty Sukulaya, a grandmother of three, who learned to ride a bike at age 64. “Last year when it was auction time, the local contractors outbid them by forking up five times more than the Rs 35,000 we had paid in 2001. We realised we could not outbid them so we just looked around for another haat,” Sukulaya explains. Not all bids go so high. Godavari Bai in Margan village put in a Rs 4,000 annual bid for a Sunday haat on behalf of her group. The investment is returned in a fairly intricate fashion. “Every goat sold fetches us a commission of Rs 5, every cow sold gets us Rs 10, a pair of oxen gets us Rs 30. From the hotelwallahs we earn Rs 50 per week, the fishmonger must pay a rent of Rs 3 and anyone selling with a tarazu (weighing scale) must pay up Rs 5 per week,” Godavari Bai explains. She herself is illiterate. The most ambitious project undertaken by these women so far was the bid of Rs 5 lakh to take over 4,000 acres of land being auctioned by the Rajgamai Sampada Trust three years ago. The State Bank declined to give them such a big loan. The women were forced to go on a dharna (sit-in) outside the bank. The adverse publicity in the local newspapers forced the bank officials to change their minds. Not only have the women made a success of this project, they have ensured that each village in their area first collects a buffer stock of rice for its own needs before selling the rest to local traders. The profits vary from venture to venture. Since most groups depend on bank loans, their first effort is to repay the loan. After that, the majority begin setting aside a large percentage of their earnings to ensure that they can raise enough capital for the next auction. The profits are divided evenly amongst each member but the majority of women pointed out how their entire effort is to make sure their kitty gets larger and larger. Several groups are now in the business of lending money at much lower interest than local banks and of course money lenders. The profits from this money lending exercise is also shared by the women. That is why women who can read and write generally end up as treasurers of these samoohs (self-help groups) . Where we do not succeed in finding a literate woman, the group turns to the local panchayat (local self-government institution) or sarpanch(village head) to help them keep daily, weekly and monthly accounts.
BL Aggarwal, Secretary, Ministry of Women and Child Development in Raipur, points out, “Women have traditionally enjoyed a high status in Chhattisgarh and the literacy rate in this state is over 52%, only slightly lower than the national average of 54%. Rajnandgaon district boasts a literacy rate of 68%. Initially the banks were reluctant to give loans to women but the recovery rate in the state has been almost 100%. Today, over 44,000 of these self-help groups have their own bank accounts.” Women have proved their managerial skills in running fisheries and even in the tough world of quarrying. A mining certificate is generally given by the local panchayats and these were not at all happy to see women emerging as such a strident and cash-rich group. When they applied to run a mine, the women sought the help of the local collector Dinesh Srivastava who supported them.
“Of course the menfolk are not happy. They complain we have snatched their jobs from under their noses. What they find difficult to accept is that we are very diligent. We work hard, we don't drink and we spend our earnings on our families,” points our Chanda Barmati who, along with members of her collective, has been running a fishery for the last three years. In the first year she returned the bank loan of Rs 31,000 and still had a profit of Rs 6,000. In the second year, she used good fish seed which saw her profits zoom to Rs 80,000. She is now waiting for this year's crop of fish, and the profits will be even higher, she claims. Not all the men are critical of their efforts. Basanti Bai from Margan village says, “More and more of the men are turning to us for loans. We charge 3% interest as against the 10% charged by banks. So each time some villager wants a loan to build a house or buy a buffalo, he comes to us.” One of the key reasons for the proliferation of so many self-help groups was the state government's decision to reduce the registration fee of a samooh from Rs 1,000 to Rs 250, making it more affordable for the poorer women. One of the biggest problems, especially in the tribal belt, is rampant alcoholism amongst the men. These samoohs are in the forefront in launching an anti-alcohol movement and have ensured that 63 villages in this area are not allowed to sell alcohol. A simple methodology being adopted by them is to ensure that men take their meals by 6 pm in the evening. “Once they have eaten, they tend to drink less,” is the opinion of Devika Sahu of Dhangaon village. These collectives are also working hard to ensure that most homes follow basic rainwater harvesting techniques (what they call Jal Devta). This involves digging a small trench outside their home in which water is allowed to collect. This year, the women point out, the monsoon has been good but the last three years saw a terrible drought. The collectives are being extended to cover adolescent girls between the ages of 15-18. Each girl member is expected to contribute Rs 10 per month. The money is given to her at the time of her marriage. The most difficult fight launched by these women was to take over the jobs of the local PWD contractors. “They are an entrenched lot with strong vested interests,” says Phatan Bai, also from Dhangaon village.
“Our first job was to get ourselves registered with the Public Works Department. The next step was to raise Rs 1.3 lakh in order to get the contract to run 50 mines. We have done a good job of running these mines from which we are earning a monthly profit of between Rs 1,000 and 3,000. Unfortunately, we cannot fight these vested interests. Today we have entered into a compromise and have sub-let some of these mines to these contractors. At least now, everyone is at peace.” (Rashme Arora is a Delhi-based journalist) InfoChange News & Features, September 2003
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