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There are a few momentous dates in history when we can remember
where we were or what we were doing, the assassination of J.F. Kennedy,
the death of the Princess of Wales or the events of 9/11. For the
Hindu fishing community of Alappard on the south-west coast of India
the 26th December 2004 was a normal day. The men were at sea in
their fishing vessels. It being a Sunday the children were off school
and their mothers or grandparents were looking after them. For those
in the community who had televisions, they were switched on with
India’s breakfast television broadcasting the usual mix of
entertainment. Then the normal programmes were broken into as news
flashes began to report an unfolding disaster on the other side
of the country. The news was confused. It seemed that some kind
of natural disaster had come from the sea and a picture of devastated
communities along the east coast of India began to emerge. At that
stage no one had heard of, let alone knew what a Tsunami was.
The people of Alappard gathered around their televisions and initially
watched and listened to the news about the unfolding events hundreds
of miles away. Eventually, after about an hour people began to drift
back to their normal chores and duties. A few minutes later shouts
and cries were heard coming from the beach and at the same time
a loud noise started to come from the sea. The people panicked.
They ran home for safety. For those who did make it home, their
doors and windows were smashed open as a deluge of water burst in
and quickly filled the rooms. It had been about 2 hours since the
Tsunami had hit the east coast of India. For some 15 minutes people
found themselves scrambling for their lives inside their own homes.
The water receded. People began to escape from the “safety”
of their homes. The panic remained, not only amongst the residents
but also among the police who arrived to help. Still no one knew
what exactly had happened. It was night fall before the population
were evacuated inland and it was only at that stage that people
began to realise that friends and relations were missing. The fishermen
from the community arrived home oblivious to what had happened.
It was 24 hours after the disaster before the people and relief
agencies were able to return to Alappard to commence a search.
India's Paradise Coast
Some 130 people, mostly women and children (the men were at sea)
were lost from Alappard. Miraculously, the bodies of all were recovered.
As we know, this is a story that was repeated in communities all
around the Indian Ocean following the Boxing Day 2004 earthquake
and resulting Tsunami. Many fishing communities were affected. The
aftermath witnessed a tremendous outpouring of sympathy and aid
from around the world, not least from the people of Northern Ireland.
Their affinity with the affected fishing communities led local fishermen
to start their own fund and during the first half of 2005 over £20,000-
was raised by the industry and friends of the industry in Kilkeel,
Annalong, Ardglass and Portavogie.
There has been much debate in the 2 ½ years since the catastrophe
as to how the vast amount of money raised globally was used. From
the outset the organisers of the Northern Ireland Fishing Industry
Tsunami Appeal gave a commitment that they would report as to how
the funds they had raised would be spent. And it was to help achieve
this that I travelled to Southern India in mid-May to see some of
the Tsunami affected areas there, meet the fishing industry and
visit Killai, the fishing community in Tamil Nadu, south-east India,
which was adopted by the local appeal.
Some of the facts about India are staggering. The population of
the country is over 1.1 Billion (nearly half as big again as the
entire continent of Africa) who are squeezed into a country of 11
million square km (less than a third of the size of Africa). Over
80% of the country’s population are Hindu and about 2% are
Christian. But amongst the fishing communities of south-west Indian
state of Kerala, some 48% of fishermen are Christian. This can be
partially attributed to the colonisation of India by Europeans,
which started in the early 1500s when for obvious reasons the adventurers
arriving from Europe on sailing trips, bringing with them Christianity,
confined their explorations to the coastal areas. India also has
a Christian tradition stretching back many centuries before the
Europeans arrived.
A night time approach into the airport at Trivandrum, Kerala’s
state capital was initially confusing. The in-flight map was showing
the aircraft over the sea, but looking out of the window the view
was composed of hundreds of lights against a pitch black background
as far as the eye could sea. Driving into the city from the airport
one of my first questions to Nalini Nayak, my host in India, was
to seek an answer to what I had seen from the aircraft. Nalini confirmed
that the in-flight map was correct – I had been over the sea
and seen some of the hundreds of small fishing vessels “light
fishing”. I would see these “vessels” up-close
the next morning.
Nalini herself is an enigma. Coming from a land-locked region of
India, she chose to follow a “career” with the fishing
industry before leaving university. Initially attracted to Kerala
to find out more about the world’s first democratically elected
Communist government, Nalini quickly discovered the injustices faced
by the region’s fishermen, even within the Communist system.
Nearly forty years later Nalini, with her colleague A.J. Vijayan,
continues her work with fishermen throughout India and other parts
of the world, as well as devoting much of her time to other important
causes, most notably women’s rights.
My hosts in India: A.J. Vijayan and Nalini
Trivandrum is near India’s southern tip and the area is fast
becoming a tourist destination. But away from the tourist compounds
and misleading headlines about India’s development, the staple
industry along the coast remains fishing, with traditional fishing
communities and villages strung out all along the coastline. One
such village is Vallakadavu, adjacent to Trivandrum’s airport.
A variety of vessels are launched from the beach. Increasing fuel
costs are encouraging a revival in traditional fishing vessels,
amongst the most popular of which is a craft built of four logs
tied together, on which 3-4 men will fish with hooks and lines.
Larger, motorised vessels allow fishermen to travel further out
to sea, while beach seine netting is popular all along the coast
and employs up to 40 men per team. Men and women are actively involved
in the fishing industry throughout India. Traditionally men catch
the fish, while the women buy and sell it.
Men and women working together
in the fishing industry
During my visit there were so many occasions when in conversation
with fishermen and fisherwomen I closed my eyes and imagined I was
back at home. The problems were just the same, with reduced catches
and marketing issues at the top of the agenda. The catching sector
is largely un-regulated. Seasonal spawning closures corresponding
with the monsoon season are welcomed by many fishermen, but apparently
abused by many others. The enforcement of any regulations that do
exist is practically non-existent. All the fishermen that I spoke
to were of the opinion that fisheries management was needed, but
the management process had to emanate from the industry. The over-arching
issue for the Indian Government is that fishing provides much needed
food and employment in a country of 1.1 billion plus people.
During the trip several days were spent travelling to and getting
acquainted with the fishing communities. Visits to different fishing
villages and harbours, fishing associations, ship yards and India’s
main fisheries laboratory were included in a hectic schedule. As
well as me finding out about the issues facing India’s fishermen,
fisherwomen and wider industry, everyone was keen to find out about
the fishing industry back in Europe. Indeed, they were aware of
many of our problems, which as I have mentioned mirrored their own.
A new 20 metre steel fishing vessel, built in
three months. Cost £37,000
A conscious decision had been made when organising the trip that
everything would be done the Indian way. For example, Indian hotels
were used in preference to western owned hotels and in temperatures
of 40’C+, cold showers became a welcome relief, which was
fortunate as hot water was not available most of the time. Practically
every form of transport was used, from motor scooters to the highly
efficient Indian railways. When it came to eating everyone was very
aware of the risks associated with India’s delicious, but
very spicy cuisine and while the fear of the dreaded “Delhi
Belly” was real, not once was a problem encountered, mainly
thanks to the dietary consideration of my hosts for their visitor.
One valuable lesson arose when with three of my new Indian friends
we visited a popular restaurant in Trivandrum where I bought dinner.
The shock came when the bill arrived and I had to pay the grand
total of £4- (including tips) for the entire feast, a cost
that typified all charges in the real India!
Throughout Indian society there is great deal of emphasis placed
upon education. During my stay in Trivandrum the results of the
state exams (the equivalent of our GCSEs) were announced. Sadly,
as well as reporting the success of the students, the headlines
in the local newspapers for the next few days announced the death
of several children, mainly girls, who having failed their exams
had committed suicide.
In some respects there was quite a bit of disquiet about the education
system that allegedly favoured the better-off in society. Children
from fishing families are generally speaking less well off and as
a result there was a tendency for them not to perform so well in
their exams. Better news came in the shape of the Sr. Rose Memorial
Education Resource Centre, which had been established to provide
after-school coaching to children from local fishing families. In
many ways the work of the institute is inspirational, not least
because it is largely funded through the efforts of Robert P who
comes from a fishing background himself. Boys and girls attend the
institute for 4-5 hours each day after school and are encouraged
to do so by their parents. The result of this extra tuition is impressive.
Two years ago the pass rate in the local main stream schools averaged
35%. In the same year 100% of students who had attended the institute
passed their exams, a feat that was repeated last year. The result
is that many children from the fishing families have been able to
progress to higher education, with one former student now practicing
medicine in England. It was nice to learn that many former students
express their appreciation for the Institute by making regular donations
to its running costs, although outside financial help continues
to be needed.
The 'fishing' children at the
Education Resource Centre
Twenty-first century politics, and what some might claim to be
progress in Indian society is having a tremendous impact upon the
fishing industry and this was brought home to me when I reached
Chennai, India’s fourth largest city, found on the east coast
of the country. Even in the city there is a large vibrant fishing
community, which for obvious reasons is based along the coast. Chennai
was on the front line when the Tsunami hit on the 26th December
2004 and with the fishing communities based along the shore, it
was these people who bore the brunt of the disaster.
In advance of the Tsunami the State Government in Tamil Nadu had
been trying to move the fishing community, not out of safety concerns,
but rather because they wanted to clear the slums in which the fishermen
were living to make way for re-development in the shape of new luxury
hotels and apartments. The fishermen resisted and on one day the
resistance cost the lives of eight fishermen who were shot by local
police.
Shortly after the tsunami hit, the states’ First Minister
was helicoptered into one of the affected communities to view the
devastation. She wasn’t there too long when an alert came
through that a second wave was approaching. As she made her way
back to the helicopter, the local fishermen allege that she and
some of her officials were laughing, because as she seen it, nature
succeeded in doing the work that the Government had failed to do.
Chennai, where a fishing vessel is shown
washed ashore by the Tsunami
The fishing communities in Chennai were devastated. The politics
of the situation discouraged charities from offering assistance
to these people. The State Government did offer to build replacement
homes, but on the condition that they would be 15 miles away from
the coast – something that for fishermen was going to be just
a little hard to cope with. So, after refusing the Government’s
help, the fishing communities were abandoned. Had it not been for
the assistance offered by their union and a few local activists
it seems they would have lost hope. Two years after the disaster
the union managed to raise sufficient funds to enable them to build
a few permanent homes. In Tamil Nadu the classification of a permanent
home is a building with four concrete walls, measuring 20 feet by
10 feet, with a tiled roof. As the new homes have been built to
the Government’s specification, they cannot be forcibly demolished.
These homes have no electrical or water supply, or sanitation. They
consist of one room and are often home to large family groups. However,
despite the conditions and lack of official support their owners
do have a pride in their homes, both inside and out.
As I walked through these areas people were extremely welcoming
to the “light skinned person”. The smiling children
were very keen to have their photographs taken and as soon as the
digital camera was produced groups of kids gathered around asking
for their pictures to be taken and then wanting to look at them
on the small screen, something that caused much amusement. At one
stage a mother came running with her nine year old daughter by the
arm and I automatically assumed she was wanting me to take a photo
of the girl. But she wasn’t. Instead, through the interpreter,
the mother asked if I would take her daughter home with me, to a
place where she thought her child would have a better life. This
was one of the very difficult circumstances I found myself in. How
do you reply in a situation like that?
A new permanent home for
fishing families in Chennai
A seven hour drive south brought us to the community of Killai,
the village that our local Fishing Industry Tsunami Appeal had agreed
to sponsor. Prior to the Tsunami Killai was a community of three
villages. The “mother” village was located a little
way inland along an estuary, while the other two villages were located
on the coast. When the Tsunami struck the community, the two outlying
villages were washed away with a substantial loss of life. The “mother”
village survived, mainly due to its location and the fact that the
natural mangrove forests that surrounded the village had not been
removed and so absorbed much of the wave’s energy. Around
the two coastal villages, like many other similar villages around
the Indian Ocean, the mangroves had been removed to make way for
development, including shrimp farms. The removal of this natural
breakwater allowed the Tsunami to hit these communities with its
full force. People from the mother village came to the assistance
of their friends and relations in the other two villages and there
are many stories of bravery to be told, bravery that saved many
lives.
Killai can be described as being true rural India. In many of these
villages people had never seen “light skinned” people
until the relief effort kicked in after the disaster. There is still
a degree of suspicion towards foreigners, not least because when
the “relief effort” arrived the locals consider that
they were not consulted by many aid workers as to what exactly was
needed, but rather were told what form any relief offered would
take. The population is very aware of the vast sums of money that
was raised in the UK, Ireland and throughout the world and they
are extremely grateful for it. They are also aware that for a whole
variety of reasons a lot of this money has never reached its intended
beneficiaries. Yet, as they point out a great deal of money did
get through and has made a positive difference.
Many of the families lost everything. I noted that some of the
women were wearing gold jewellery, while others were not. There
is no banking system in these parts of India, so if people save
any money they tend to buy gold, which they wear on very special
occasions. On a normal day the gold is left at home. ‘Boxing
Day’ 2004 was such a normal day, so when the wave devastated
the coastal villages many people’s life savings, their gold,
was washed away.
Killai is a fishing community and the fishermen there still favour
traditional fishing methods. Unlike many neighbouring communities
they prefer man-powered canoes over motor boats. As with fishing
communities in the other parts of India I visited, the men are in
charge of catching the fish, while the women are in charge of selling
the catch. Community decisions are still very much dominated by
the men and in the meeting I had with the community’s representatives
in the village hall, the women had to wait their turn before having
what was in effect a separate meeting.
Killai Village Centre
Something else that some might regard as being very similar to
home was that the women knew exactly what help they wanted. The
men did not. The women had their plans formulated and articulated
them well. Even during our meeting the men were still discussing
what exactly was needed.
The women were and are keen to pursue a long-term sustainable development
project. They had identified land in the village that they could
purchase. On that land they planned to build a centre, which would
incorporate a small factory that would employ up to 75 local women.
This factory would produce paper and paper products that they could
then sell to make more money to plough back into further community
development work. The women proposed that they be allowed to spend
some of our funds to buy the land. If this was approved the local
Government had agreed to match-fund the money and build the centre.
The equipment had already been sourced for the equipment needed
to make the paper and some training had been provided. Copies of
land deeds and other supporting documentation were produced to reinforce
their presentation. Everything had been well planned and co-ordinated.
After some hesitation, the men said they wanted fishing nets. Unfortunately,
as the conversation progressed it became obvious that they didn’t
know how many nets, or of what type. They didn’t know what
the nets would cost. Nor could they tell Nalini and myself how long
they would last. I found myself in a strange situation, trying to
explain to the Killai fishermen what Government officials back in
the UK would say to me if I asked them for a 100% grant to buy fishing
nets. I know it was a different situation, but with Nalini I told
the fishermen that if they wanted our help in purchasing nets, which
we were not ruling out, then they would have to present this as
part of a management plan designed to create an economically viable
and sustainable fishery. They protested that this could not be done
without the involvement of surrounding fishing communities (all
of this should sound very familiar to local fishermen). Our response
to that was to get on with it, something that was easy to say, but
greatly assisted by the involvement of the local union representative
who volunteered to co-ordinate the activity. The men have been given
until October to come up with this plan.
So in short, none of the funds raised by the Northern Ireland Fishing
Industry Tsunami Appeal has actually been spent and indeed most
of the money (£18,000-) remains in an account here. Some £6,000-
is in an account in India. No doubt this will come as a surprise
to many and indeed initially it proved to be very frustrating to
me, until I thought about it. Throughout my visit to India I heard
how funds meant for Tsunami relief had gone missing or had been
mis-spent. In Killai, while the community were very thankful for
much of the aid they had received, they were critical of the way
much of the money had been allocated, without their input.
Meeting with Killai Village Representatives
So far as our fund is concerned, which so many local people contributed
to, we know where all the money is and hopefully how it is going
to be spent. It will not be used on short-term fixes. It will not
be used on administration. It will not duplicate the efforts that
have already been made by others. Rather, by showing a lot of patience
and working directly with the affected people it will be used for
what the people in Killai want and that should result in the creation
of a legacy that will generate a long-term and sustainable income
for the people of this part of India. Who knows, maybe offices like
ours will be able to buy and use some of the paper products made
by the women in Killai? After our meeting in Killai with the village
representatives, Nalini and I were invited back to one of the homes
for Sunday lunch. There was a reason why this home had been chosen.
It was one of the very few houses in the village with four concrete
walls. Why was this family so lucky? The answer was because the
‘man of the house’ had spent several years away from
home working on a building site in Singapore. In fact, one week
after my visit he was returning to Singapore on another twelve month
contract. I suggested to him that this must be very hard on himself,
as well as his wife and young family. He agreed, but pointed out
that because of this sacrifice his family could enjoy a much better
standard of living and hopefully his children could look forward
to a better future. We enjoyed a sumptuous Sunday dinner sitting
on the floor of his home, having various fish dishes served to us
on a leaf from a banana plant. The “light skinned person”
was made to feel very much one of the family.
India is a fascinating country. There are many extremes. The mix
of poverty with many happy, smiling faces summed the situation up.
People knew that they were stuck in a situation where it is extremely
difficult to find a better standard of living. Life for tens of
millions is a daily struggle, but there is hope, that is typified
by the Institute in and the attitude of the women in Killai. It
is through the help of people like us that the Indian people can
have a better future. There final words to me were to please thank
everyone in Northern Ireland and especially our fishing communities
for everything they already done. Just be patient.
I am not the first person from Kilkeel to witness the “sights
and sounds” of India. I hope I can return to Killai in the
not too distant future to see the progress the people have made
there with your and my money. In the meantime I would like to say
a big thank you to all those who contributed to the Fishing Industry
Tsunami Fund, which allowed me the chance to have and share this
experience.
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