Dendwa Baiga Tola & A Trekk into the Jungle
Set around 25 kilometers south-west from the center of Baihar, and adjacent to Aana Hills, Dendwa Baiga Tola can be found across sprawling plains of dry grass and dirt paths. Isolated from all other villages, it would be natural to assume that they would have little access to resources. Yet one secret they hold is access to their inherited supply of bamboo. Certainly quite traditional in their dress and habits, far off from the afflictions of modernity they manage to persevere. With no lights, no roads, and no water in this locality they subsist what would seem to outsiders as the bare minimum.
Most of the adults and children remained completely silent and wary to make eye contact as we sat together trying to communicate. One outgoing young women, Basantiby Marawi, generously offered her sentiments. Her smiling face seemed without a hint of burden as she sat casually at the side of a cracked and crumbling clay house, whose bamboo skeleton had begun to peak out to greet the elements. The houses here are said to not last more than 3 years, true to Baigan habit of carelessness about house building, being from nomadic heritage.
Almost all of the adults were off in the woods to collect bamboo in the mountains that could be seen from where we sat. At the time of our visit, she and perhaps three others were the only adults in the village, yet amongst the small huts that dotted the landscape ran twenty to thirty small children. In appearance most of the children are extremely unkempt, with matted hair bleached amber brown from the sun, dressed in raged ripped and dirty clothing. All had ashy, dusty skin from many scrapes and no oil to protect it. Some of the youngest children run around revelerous without a stitch of clothing.
The adults generally keep themselves neater, hair combed back remaining black from hair oils or protective scarfs. The adults will naturally have more awareness of their appearance but not so far that they seem overly concerned. I propose the stark difference between the appearance of the children and the adults is that many of them will be staying home whole days with no one to attend to brushing their hair or teaching them to maintain hygiene, because their parents will be most likely out collecting bamboo from morning until dusk. Also it may say something about which children are in school or not. There were quite a few girls and boys wearing relatively clean and kept clothing, and these were the ones who spoke openly about attending school.
The adults generally keep themselves neater, hair combed back remaining black from hair oils or protective scarfs. The adults will naturally have more awareness of their appearance but not so far that they seem overly concerned. I propose the stark difference between the appearance of the children and the adults is that many of them will be staying home whole days with no one to attend to brushing their hair or teaching them to maintain hygiene, because their parents will be most likely out collecting bamboo from morning until dusk. Also it may say something about which children are in school or not. There were quite a few girls and boys wearing relatively clean and kept clothing, and these were the ones who spoke openly about attending school.
Games consisted of various uses of marbles including one that resembled golf. Generally a game that only boys play where they use their thumb to snap the marble into a hole in the dirt, and also will try knock others away from the hole. Another game played is where each player takes turns throwing 5 marbles onto the ground and then the gets to try and hit the closest one to gain points. Everyone contributes to the game by bringing 1 marble of their own. The girls of the village play a game called Daya, in which each person takes turns throwing up rocks, catching one before the other one falls until all 5 are collected. There are varying levels of difficulty involving different combinations, many of which only the most practiced can reach.
Entertainment was also found in the form of percussion playing with found objects such as rusted out kerosene tanks and dented plastic tubs. These kids don’t have expensive instruments, but they sure do have rhythm. Before I walked in on a yard full of kids jamming out I caught a glimpse of the girl children dancing and swirling. They became shy when I approached but the boys let me get in on the drum playing.
Trekk into the Forest
Early the next morning after meeting some residents of Dendwa Village I returned back to accept an invite to join them on an excursion to collect bamboo. Walking through barren patty fields towards the forest with a tight group with sickles held in hand and hung over shoulders, one woman moved swiftly with baby wrapped up in her gear. The infant slept undisturbed and hung limp from her hip. These babies do not make any noise, not a cry, not a tear; they will get their milk when mother takes a break along the way, and wait patiently in sleepy states.
Before leaving civilization all stop to fill their hollow gords canteens, and dusty plastic containers. Slowly the group separates as everyone has their own pace, just to meet again at deginated clearings. Ten kilometers up and down dry, fire charred hillside forests, sooty black stones and huge rocks as white as clouds dot the earth- toned landscape, and the Baigas remain in line.
After nearly 7 km the forest begins to take on a soft green hue as we step into thick growths of bamboo offspring, not anyway near adulthood. Sometime later a few of the lesser traveled hold hands and ascend a steep embankment, often slipping and grabbing for dear life at disobliging brush and roots. A 6 year old with a newleyborn rapped around her frame just like her mother, laughs at us and gleefully pummels down the hillside. In another flat landing we finally come to our destination, a trickling forest oasis at the feet of the union of a dumar and pipal tree. All around us and up above the walls surround the south side of the valley is an abundance of ripe bamboo bushes. The air smells of fresh grass and cardamom. Here most take a moment of rest.
Laying still and comfortably in a fresh patch of jungle dirt after filling our bellies with water tasting of cucumbers, we are free. Across a stretch of leafy jungle plants a mother nurses her twins. Two men weave fans from thin strips after fetching a bamboo shoot 3 meters long. Out of a shoot as thick as a fist, a young man widdles a percussion instrument which will soon make sounds of a xylophone. A woman wales a signal into the jungle to tribe members who have not wasted any time with rest.
Cutting their produce in the knolls above they response with an assurance that they are within ears reach. As solid as the earth from which it grows, the pipal and dumal stand intertwined as a symbol of the tribes unity. Both laced together and around each other, they become one entity. If given the choice, no one would leave this sanctuary that provides all their needs, but alas each day they must make their way back past wildfires and barren patty fields to sip mahua wine and eat their rice and chillies, and sleep looking forward to another day spent working near their forest haven.
Cutting their produce in the knolls above they response with an assurance that they are within ears reach. As solid as the earth from which it grows, the pipal and dumal stand intertwined as a symbol of the tribes unity. Both laced together and around each other, they become one entity. If given the choice, no one would leave this sanctuary that provides all their needs, but alas each day they must make their way back past wildfires and barren patty fields to sip mahua wine and eat their rice and chillies, and sleep looking forward to another day spent working near their forest haven.