India (roughly) in numbers:
·
8 states (Jammu & Kashmir, Uttarakhand, Punjab, Maharashtra,
Andra Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Uttar Pradesh, and West Bengal)
·
4 domestic flights = 10 hours
·
11 trains = 120 hours (~5 days)
·
14 buses = 46 hours (~2 days)
·
15 homestays (including 7 farming families)
·
7 assorted accommodations (temple, NGOs/research institutions,
hotel, hostel etc.)
·
24 farm visits/farmer interviews
·
15 NGO visits with 22 interviews
·
6 ag. university, technical college, and secondary school
interviews
·
4 government departments/farms/politician interviews
·
3 “other” interviews (ag. tour company, civil engineer/inventor,
farmer activist)
·
2 farmer groups/cooperative interviews
·
1 international conference on agriculture
Three months and one week since I arrived and it’s been a
whirlwind to say the least. I can say
with certainty that I am not ready to leave, as there is so much more to see
and do here. However, my visa expires on
December 12th and of course, the next destination (Bhutan) is
calling. I’m looking forward to see
mountains again and maybe even some snow.
But before I get ahead of myself, I thought I would just leave you with
some miscellaneous final reflections on this incredible country.
India is a country of extremes.
Extreme wealth juxtaposed with extreme poverty. Impressive cleanliness of affluent commercial
spaces against revolting filth in most public places. Tremendous hospitality of new acquaintances,
hosts, and friends contrasts with intense impoliteness (bordering on
disrespect) of many strangers. I have
been overwhelmed in a number of occasions while in India but most seem to be
somehow related to public transportation.
I thought international airports were stressful – forget that, train
stations in India command a new level of anxiety, crowds, and disorder. At one point, I found myself trying to board
an express train from Hyderabad to Nagpur, a minuscule ten hour journey compared
to most train trips in India. Things
went quite smoothly as I effortlessly identified and made my way to platform
six, despite most signs being in either Telegu or Hindi. However, when the platform was announced to
have changed from 6 to 10, chaos quickly ensued. The announcement was made in Hindi and all I
heard was “Gorakhpur Express.” When
people started to move, I had an inkling that the platform had changed but I
had to confirm several times with multiple people in order to get a straight answer. Mostly, I strongly dislike how India makes me
feel discourteous. People don’t know how
to form lines in this country and there is no such thing as letting someone go
in front of you. In this particular
situation, if you literally did not push and shove your way, you would probably
get trampled by the impending crowd. I
found myself having to take deep breaths, occasionally close my eyes, and
quietly recite calming mantras.
Otherwise, it is too easy to burst into tears of defeat. I even tripped and face planted while finally
boarding the train and the man standing in the door way just looked at me with
a mix of curiosity and disinterest. In
the U.S., if that happened, most people would immediately help you up, ask if
you are all right, and generally express concern. Here, many people don’t care, which is
understandable if so many are battling with their own fight for survival. I don’t like the way men look at me when I am
alone. And when I boarded this train and
saw that it was oriented like a sleeper car instead of chair car, memories of
that horrible Indian man trying to kiss me flooded back. The mostly passive and vacant, though
sometimes threatening, stares of men are unwelcome. Yes, I know I am a woman struggling with many
bags traveling without accompaniment and no, this does not give you the right
to stare at me until your eyes pop out.
In situations such as this, however, I am grateful to be ethnically
Chinese. I have been told that I look
like I could be from any of the northeast states of India such as Nagaland,
Assam, or Arunachal Pradesh. Perhaps
this wards off the many more potential stares that would materialize if I were
blonde haired and blue eyed, though I cannot be certain. Perhaps my gender alone renders me a
vulnerable target to visual attack. I
have thought about my ethnic identity many times before but continue to reflect
on it as my Watson year progresses. What
are the implications of being a Chinese-born American? I constantly find myself deluged by questions
of where I am originally from when I say I am based in the U.S. I know people are curious and perplexed. I find myself defending my confusing
situation, always the same story: I was born in China but adopted when I was
nine months old. My parents are white
Americans and I grew up in Massachusetts. No I haven’t been back to China and no, I
don’t know (nor really care to know) my birth parents, yada yada. I am sure the questions are well-intentioned,
but sometimes they are plain exhausting.
On a completely unrelated note, during my time in India, I have
also further realized the distinction between horticulture and agriculture,
especially as Indians have asked me what farming is like in America. I
find this question challenging because it really depends on geographical
location. For example, in the Midwest and Plains, it’s mainly large-scale
chemical/conventional monoculture of corn, soy, and wheat, which I’ve never
actually seen. But where I come from in Western Massachusetts and where I
attended college in central New York, more people seem to be practicing
horticulture (fruits and vegetables), especially organic. So the
cultivation of cereals and grains, which most of the world is doing, is quite
new to me and redefining my own understanding of farming and global food
security.
And I have been reflecting more on the skewed gender ratio and
dynamics in India. For example, I’ve learned more about the culture of
arranged marriage, dowry, preference for boy children, and the need to “import”
brides from other parts of India to marry men in communities where there are
only something like 850 women to every 1,000 men. I witnessed a similar
gender discrepancy in my research. During the model farm tours in
Vidarbha region, there were only about 5 women to 50 men. The organic
farming training at the Centre for Sustainable Agriculture in Yavatmal was all
men. For the World Agricultural Forum Congress, it was probably 50 women
to 400 men. How we can collectively promote increased participation from
women? Given that women make up the majority of labor in agriculture
worldwide and thus the backbone of the rural economy, I feel that their engagement
in the dialogue alongside men is of paramount importance. I have been
told that women are too occupied with household chores and other domestic labor
to participate in social programs, which makes me sad and angry. Aside
from women-only self-help groups, there must be some kind of gender-specific
outreach could help facilitate equitable representation.
One of the reasons I felt compelled to come to India to conduct my
Watson research has to do with the prevalence and controversy surrounding
genetically modified crops. As I finish
up in India and especially after spending time in BT Cotton country, it seems
that GMOs seem to be more problematic from a policy, regulatory, knowledge,
biosafety, oversight, precaution and awareness issue than the actual science
standpoint. That is, I don’t think it’s about people discrediting or
dismissing the science behind GE but critiquing the implementation (e.g. lack
of transparency, exploitative nature of corporations trying to profit off small
farmers by monopolizing and commercializing the seed industry). I think
we (industry, farmers, government, civil society, activists, NGOs etc.)
all ultimately want the same thing: food security and nutritious crops that can
tolerate climate change and give more yield without environmental degradation,
though some sources say that “GM technology is presently crude, imprecise, and
unpredictable” (CSA publication), where is where the risks of contamination,
human health, environment and seed sovereignty come into play. I was not
formerly aware of this, but 99% of GMO crops have BT technology or roundup
ready genes (and the majority is planted in the U.S., Brazil, Argentina, and
Canada). My time at the MS Swaminathan
Research Foundation, however, emphasized the point that we should not
prematurely dismiss a new technology or science without properly assessing it
(independently using public funds) for its potential benefit, as well as
environmental, health, and safety ramifications. More often than not, when people don’t
understand a technology, this generates fear, and GMOs in particular are an
issue heavily saturated with emotion.
Moreover, for a final reflection on the farmer suicide issue, I
had come into the Watson year only really knowing what I had heard from
documentary films. I falsely assumed and oversimplified the issue in my
head, thinking that Monsanto’s BT-cotton was failing farmers, trapping them in
debt, and driving them to kill themselves. While this is true on a very
basic level, I have come to understand that it is much more complicated.
The Executive Director of the Centre for Sustainable Agriculture told me, “Cotton
is a classic example – if you look at the large number of farmer suicides in
Andra Pradesh, Maharashtra, Karantaka, and Madya Pradesh – 18 districts which
recorded large number of farmer suicides and are growing cotton. There is
a large correlation, but cotton itself is not the issue; the issue is
increasing production costs and decreasing prices. And farmers become
dependent on technology in this ‘treadmill effect’ of using more and more.”
So more than just BT cotton, it has to do with the simple equation that input
is exceeding output (which was confirmed in all of my farmer interviews these
past three months). Furthermore is the fact that farmers are not getting
remunerative prices for their crops and more often than not, they are relying
on expensive inputs from the markets (e.g. hybrid seed, fertilizer, pesticide,
tractors etc.). They often have to take out loans to cover the initial
cost, compounded by the fact that the cost of living in villages is going up
and like everyone else, farmers have to pay for weddings, dowry to marry off
their daughters etc. These often require loans, which usually involves
getting into business with a moneylender, who is often also the pesticide
dealer and will charge exorbitant interest rates (up to 40-60%)! Thus, it
becomes in the interest of the moneylender for the farmer to go into the red
since it increases his profit. This is when farmers really find
themselves in a debt trap. Improved cultivars such as hybrid and GM seeds
(i.e. BT-cotton) are not the main cause of the suicides, but rather
contributing factors that exacerbate the situation since they require high
inputs to perform well, which are expensive. In contrast, traditional
cultivars of the past did not require expensive inputs. An increase in
monoculture cropping (which is often the case with cash crops like cotton,
wheat, rice etc.) adds to pest vulnerability, increasing the chances of crop
failure (an extreme, whereas low production is more often the case). More
specifically, BT-cotton hasn’t helped the situation because it was initially
only supposed to protect against bollworm, which has since developed resistance
and other pests (sucking pests like mealy bug) are gaining traction, which
demand pesticide application (so the original claim that BT cotton would be
environmentally friendly by requiring less chemical spraying has not proven
true). As one farmer told me, it’s also about planting crops that are
geographically/agro-climatically unsuitable – e.g. many parts of the country are
not suitable for BT-cotton (which demands irrigation, chemicals etc.) – Eastern
Maharashtra is dryland/rain-fed agriculture, so they should be growing sorghum
and millet (or traditional cotton varieties which can withstand dry
conditions). The birthplace of cotton, however, is in Vidarbha region and
it has been planted for many generations here. And as I’ve seen over the
last two weeks, dryland farmers suffer the most because they have no irrigation
to fix the situation if there is crop loss (unlike irrigated farmers in Punjab
and Haryana in the north). These vulnerable and marginal farmers only
have water during the monsoon season but even this is becoming more
unpredictable. And trusty Wikipedia also explains that the farmer
suicides involve “the 1991 liberalizing economic reforms, lack of government
support for agriculture, insufficient or risky credit systems, the difficulty
of farming semi-arid regions, poor agricultural income, absence of alternative
income opportunities, a downturn in the urban economy which forced non-farmers
into farming, the absence of suitable counseling services, difficulty of
accessing quality groundwater, lack of affordable cooperative credit and low
cost bank loans because of World Bank conditionalities.” So through my experiences,
it seems that the same combination of solutions will address a multitude of
these interrelated problems (e.g. farmer suicides, youth not wanting to farm
etc.) and this will entail increasing incomes through both on and off-farm
sources (which further involves government policy support, capacity building,
market linkages etc.). This is where zero budget/low external input
farming comes into play because it promotes the use of on-farm inputs made from
locally available materials, so farmers are not dependent on expensive market
inputs. And although chemical-free farming (i.e. organic) may have
slightly less yield (though this has show to stabilize over a few seasons as
soil health and fertility builds up), the overall net profit is usually higher
than conventional agriculture because of the savings. The income may be
even higher if farmers establish good market linkages and can acquire a price
premium for their organic produce (though this is not guaranteed).
Similarly, diversified and integrated farming (e.g. intercropping) that also
involve allied industries such as poultry, dairy, fisheries, sheep,
horticulture etc. would supplement incomes and thus act as shock absorbers if
the main crop fails. Farmers also need access to good credit with affordable
interest rates, which will help ameliorate the debt trap problem. So in
short, the farmer suicide issue is a very complicated one and is a poignant
lens through which to analyze the agrarian crisis as a whole.
As I finish my time in India, I am also realizing that in Ladakh,
it was more about the place itself, whereas in the rest of India, it has been
more about the people. Ladakh is used to tourists and foreigners coming
through for trekking and Buddhist monastery tours. I found myself in love
with the dramatic landscape: the rugged mountains, blue skies, and gentle
people, yet I did not connect with individuals and families in the same way I
have in the rest of India. However, I
also deeply miss the relative sense of autonomy I had in Ladakh. I didn’t realize it fully at the time, but
being able to move around alone at night, walk to various destinations or
hitchhike through town safely was an incredible privilege. I could wake, eat meals, and sleep when I wanted. I didn’t have to depend on others to get
things done (mostly). However, in the
rest of India, I have felt over-reliant on other people, which to some degree
feels necessary. Women I encounter are
shocked that I am traveling alone and comment on how unsafe it is, which only
confirms my internal proclivity towards reliance on others. I am so grateful for the generosity and
hospitality of both my hosts and my unplanned acquaintances (such as Prameela,
who let me stay in her home for five days after having just met me) and also
the fact that they help combat any loneliness, yet it is a little bit
suffocating and certainly exhausting.
Homestays definitely have their pros and cons. For instance, the knowledge of local people
in terms of language, the layout of the village or city, and willingness to
help with logistics, as well as providing food and shelter often free of charge
is an incredible asset. Yet it is tiring
always being at the hand of someone else’s whim. Since Dehradun or maybe even Ladakh, I feel
like I haven’t had a second to rest or properly reflect. That I have just been running around like a
chicken with my head cut off, from homestay to interview to NGO visit. For the first time in months, I found myself
not staying with a family and finally have “free time.” And to be honest,
I don’t know what to do with myself.
This contrasts significantly with the relative down time and inactivity
of Tanzania. I found myself reading
crappy novels on my kindle in Tanzania because I didn’t “have things to
do.” In retrospect, this was both good
for my mental health, self-care, and overall well-being, but I probably could
have used my time more effectively.
Again though, language and lack of internet was limiting, as well as
staying with Helen and Kosmos. Because
they were only slightly allied with and understanding of my research goals, I
only could derive so much intellectual benefit from staying with them. If I had stayed with a farmer, perhaps I
would have occupied my time by learning practical farm things. I should have spent more time with her master
gardener, but he did not speak English, which made skill sharing and knowledge
transfer virtually impossible. I do not
dwell on it though and am only eager to maximize, enjoy, and live in the future
moments. That being said, I have been
going non-stop since I came to India and realize that I am seriously neglecting
self-care. I have been focusing on my project 24/7 and don’t want to burn
out. I realize that I need to have fun too. I remember sitting in
Ginny’s office a year ago and her reminding me that it is unrealistic to think
that fellows will be doing their projects all day long, everyday, but somehow
this has become my reality. Frankly, I am not surprised given my
work-a-holic, perfectionist, and control freak tendencies. That being
said, I want to focus more on self-care in the future. I want to settle
down in a place and get to know it intimately.
Thus, I am trying to determine the best way to conduct my research
and live out my fellowship in terms of moving around versus staying put. Again, each has its costs and benefits. I think one reason why I loved Ladakh so much
is because I was settled – I could actually call it home for more than a month. I grew to really know, understand, and love
the culture. Maybe this had to do with
staying with an ex-pat but I also had plenty of local interactions. This contrasts heavily with the rest of my
time in India during which I have been catching countless trains from city to
city to explore different parts of the country.
From Delhi to Dehradun to Delhi to Punjab to Delhi to Pune to Hyderabad
to Nagpur to Chennai to Varanasi and finally to Darjeeling before Bhutan. It’s exhausting traveling so much, though of
course educational. On the one hand, I
feel like I haven’t been able to intimately know a place, yet my knowledge has
been really enriched. But even staying
in Tanzania in one place for almost two months did not feel as much at home as
Ladakh. Again, I bounced from
organization to organization with confusion and a lack of focus and
clarity. If anything, India has both
further convoluted my research by raising many, many questions. Much of me wants to stay in one place for a
longer period of time (maybe one month) and stay with one organization or
project. I yearn to deeply understand a
problem and LEARN a practical solution, that is the actual knowledge and skills
to address the specific issue. I hope
that Bhutan will help with this, as I will be there for nearly one month working
with the National Organic Program.
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