Rajasthani folk (click)

This is real.  These  photos  were  taken one and half years ago in  a village in Rajasthan  when  I was filming a documentary  on the way HIV and AIDS  touched the modern and traditional India. I had teamed up with Robert  Cornellier, one of Quebec’s best-known film makers ,  to make this 23-minute documentary. It was telecast by Tele Quebec. Robert, a self-taught film-maker,  taught me to think visually and helped me understand the basics of film-making. He  and I  co-directed the film. The plot was broadly   based  on a field report I had done for a Canadian agency earlier.  I wanted to explore  how  families and communities in this tradition-soaked, desert state  were coping with the onset of  HIV and AIDS  as growing numbers of young men  left  for Mumbai  and other big cities in India in search of work.  We  travelled to villages in the Shekhavati region — desperately poor behind its picture-post card,  guide book image, to red light areas of Mumbai crawling with Bangladeshi and Nepali sex-workers, to the squalid, cramped abodes of  Rajasthani migrant workers in Mumbai,  and finally to Montreal  for the final editing — all in all, an experience I will  never forget.  It also brought home to me the constant need to look beyond the 1,000  “cliches”  surrounding  each of these places.  It made me re-think my own ideas about what constituted  “traditional” and what was “modern” and the many myths we unconsciously absorb from promotional tourist literature, guides, glossy in-flight magazines and such like.  On  site, the village women wanted to “dress” me up. After some hesitation, I said ‘yes’ to the bright red, sequinned ensemble, the vermillion, the faux gold jewellery, anklets, the  crimson lipstick and  camouflaged  my extremely short hair with the veil.  They giggled at every stage as I undressed and dressed. This was how women bonded in the village — sharing their intimate moments,  injecting a spirit of “fun”  into the daily rituals of their  mundane lives behind the four walls and the veil.   When I stepped out into  the court yard, dressed like “one of them”, I knew the suspicions had melted away.   In  this conservative milieu, where women stay behind the veil, we managed to do interviews on thorny subjects,  and shoot scenes which otherwise would never have been possible. We were also lucky to have the local policeman’s wife with us. She and her sister were hugely enthusiastic about the film. She found my Canadian friends totally exotic, and me, just mildly less so. At the end, she and her friends had ensured none of the menfolk in the village  came in when we were shooting ( that would have meant trouble). The whole thing went smoothly and we had a wonderful meal in her house after the shoot was over. I also learnt that tradition-bound, veiled women, can have a really wicked sense of humour.  They showed me a Shekhavati which was a traveller’s delight,  which didnot fit the stereotype,  and which would have puzzled  package tourists.

———

Reproduced below is the news report which led to a monograph and eventually a film.

Poverty, Gender Imbalances A Lethal Mix for HIV/AIDS

Inter Press Service – July 5, 2004
Patralekha Chatterjee


HASAMPUR, India, Jul 5 (IPS) – In this village in India’s north-western state of Rajasthan, Kamla, a woman in a long and flowing sequined skirt and a bright pink headscarf speaks of the hurdles in spreading awareness HIV/AIDS among other village women.

It is not an easy task. Most women in Hasampur are illiterate. In a milieu that is unashamedly patriarchal, sex remains a taboo subject that cannot be discussed openly even though it is unsafe sex that drives India’s HIV/AIDS epidemic.

“We try our best, with what we know and the weapons we have — a smile, jokes. I have never brought up the subject directly — I point to my four children, look at him lovingly, and ask him (husband) to be careful when he is away from the family.” says 30-year-old Kamla, whose husband, a poor farmer, left the village to work as a loader in one of Delhi’s prosperous satellite towns.

The challenge of disseminating information that can shape sexual behaviour is compounded by the difficulty of sounding the alarm in a place like Rajasthan, a desert state officially classified as one with low HIV prevalence in this country of one billion-plus people. Some 5.1 million people are living with HIV in India, according to 2003 figures released this week.

Indeed, as the pandemic continues to spread from the cities to villages and beyond groups with typically high-risk behaviour to the general population in India — including monogamous married women — the real test in India’s battle against HIV/AIDS lies in what happens in villages like Hasampur, in the vast countryside where 70 percent of the population lives.

The number of sentinel surveillance sites – areas that are monitored by the government and are the source of official data on HIV/AIDS — has increased from 184 in 1998 to 455 in 2003. But government-run clinics on sexually transmitted diseases and antenatal centres do not always pick up information about the vulnerable.

“We do not really have data on HIV/AIDS in rural India, except what we get from sentinel surveys,” says Dr S N Mishra, an Indian public health analyst specialising in HIV/AIDS.

“There is better representation of such sites in rural areas today compared to the past. But a lot of patients (of sexually transmitted infections) go to private doctors and quacks and most village women deliver at home, sidestepping the antenatal centres,” Mishra adds. “The prevalence of HIV/AIDS is good for epidemiological purposes. But vulnerability and risk should form the basis of planning for prevention and care and support programmes.”

Migration, a traditional survival mechanism in much of rural India, is a crucial factor in understanding the unfolding epidemics in the country. Unable to eke out a living in the villages, more and more farmers with small landholdings are leaving the countryside and heading for the big cities.

A significant percentage of migrants come from Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and Orissa — states where HIV/AIDS is not perceived as a major problem. Many of them head for megacities like Mumbai, located in what India’s National AIDS Control Organisation (NACO) terms “states with high HIV prevalence”.

The Indian states classified as having high HIV prevalence – Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Maharashtra, Manipur and Nagaland — are given high priority in programmes and policies. They get the chunk of donor attention because they have prevalence rates exceeding five percent among groups with high-risk behaviour and one percent among women attending antenatal clinics in public hospitals. In states perceived to have moderate or low HIV prevalence, the general perception is that there is ‘no problem’ there.

Here in parched Rajasthan, a severe drought in the last four years has given new urgency to HIV/AIDS prevention measures. The village of Hasampur falls in Sikar district, which does not have a single sentinel surveillance site.

Hasampur’s health problems are not captured in official surveys. But the sleepy village encapsulates much of what makes India so vulnerable to HIV/AIDS. Like many villages in India, Hasampur is at high risk due to its lethal mix of glaring disparities between men and women, untreated sexually transmitted infections and low literacy, poverty and increasing migration.

In such a situation, outreach workers and peer educators like Kamla have to constantly innovate to convey the high risks villagers face in this desert state famed for forts, frescoes and magnificent mansions called ‘havelis’.

“It is not easy discussing diseases which cannot be talked about in our society. It is not easy being a migrant’s wife,” she tells IPS. “And it is certainly not easy asking your husband about other women when he comes home just for a few days every three to four months.”

Meetings among village women are held at homes when the men are away, at odd hours, and messages conveyed through brochures with graphic visuals of symptoms of sexually transmitted diseases.

But Kamla is optimistic. As a peer educator for the demonstration HIV/AIDS and Migrants of Rajasthan Project (HAMARA), an Indo-Canadian initiative, she is part of the change underway in Hasampur.

Jugnaswamy, an HAMARA outreach worker, says the project in partnership with the Rajasthan government has stepped up awareness about sexually transmitted diseases and HIV/AIDS among migrants, their spouses, and “potential migrants” in 133 villages in three districts of Rajasthan. When discussing sex-related topics in a conservative milieu, Jugnaswamy says, “The starting point has to be through conversations about general health. I began by going from door to door, meeting the village women and asking them about their day-to-day problems.”

“Then, we got to discussing the common ailments — common cold, tuberculosis. Initially, they were very shy. It was embarrassing to raise the issue of sexually transmitted diseases. But today, many of our peer workers can demonstrate the correct way of using the condom,” the outreach worker adds.

There are monthly meetings and health camps for migrants, potential migrants, and their spouses. Those who get converted to the mantra of condoms and caring can depend on the village barber or vegetable vendors for contraceptives, such as condoms, that they give free of charge.

Still, there are the hurdles. For Dr Ram Niwas Yadav, who manages the primary health centre in Hasampur, the biggest is the general reluctance, especially among women diagnosed with sexually transmitted diseases, to complete their treatment because they have more faith in traditional healers. Many are afraid to discuss sexually transmitted diseases with their husbands, so their wives have untreated infections.

NACO project director Meenakshi Datta Ghosh has herself said recently: “There is at least one STI (sexually transmitted infection) clinic in each district in the country, fewer than 20 percent of STI cases report to these clinics set up within government institutions. Most people seek treatment from private practitioners and private hospitals.”

The number of Indians living with HIV is .9 percent of India’s billion-plus population, making its prevalence rate less than sub-Saharan Africa’s and Asian countries like Thailand, Cambodia and Burma. But because of the size of India’s population, it constitutes almost 10 percent of the 40 million people living with HIV/AIDS globally and over 60 percent of the 7.4 million living with HIV/AIDS in the Asia-Pacific.

Rajasthan, Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and other states are not considered AIDS hotspots today, but it is the success of experiments like HAMARA that will show if the message of condoms and caring does get across to rural India.

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