Relief Fund for the Badi Community
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I am starting a fundraiser to help the Badi community in Chainpur, Bajhang. Currently, I am sharing stories of the families I met there.
Our target is 8000 USD. If we meet the target, we will be able to provide need-based financial assistance to the families, provide for the education of the children who are not sent to school. We are also talking with the men in the community who clean septic tanks for a living about buying them a machine that can drain the waste for them without them entering the tank. When I visit the community again in the next few weeks, I will have more details of which I will keep you all posted.
It is believed that the community relied on ration given by the then kings in return for providing entertainment through singing and dancing and also by providing concubines. With the fall of these rulers, it is believed that to sustain their livelihood, many resorted to prostitution and hard labor. The community I visited was visibly deprived of the basic human needs and systematically neglected by the state and the ruling class.
The community of 12 families lived in tiny shelters made entirely of zinc sheets with a bed and some pots and pans. Some children go to school and some do not reasons being extreme poverty and severe discrimination from teachers and students who come from other castes.
I hope we can all come together again and make a difference in the lives of these beautiful humans.
STORIES
Rekha Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"Mother lost her mind when I was little. She would wander around whispering. I never could understand what she said. We feared her sometimes. What was she going to do next? What was she going to say next? The villagers gave their opinion. They said it was a 'bad god' that had taken hold of her. She was never cured. I had to take care of all the siblings. And with all the difficulties in our lives, we grew up. I was happy to get married but things are the same here too. My husband briefed you earlier. It is difficult to be happy and not worry. But I try. For my unborn child, I try to console my heart not to lose hope."
Amar Badi and Rekha Badi, Badi Tole, Jau Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"Mother became lonely after fathers death. So she eloped. I was 11 years old. My eldest sister took care of us. Since I was little, I cleaned septic tanks. But the money was never enough to feed our mouths so my sister had to rely on a 'bad occupation'. Men would come to visit her. Some would call her into the hotel rooms. Many sisters in our community have stopped relying on such things for money, but some still do. It is due to poverty, lack of food and lack of choices in life. It is only to fill their stomach and to fill their children's.
I work hard to ensure that the same situation does not arise in the family. I married two years ago at the suggestion of my sister. She said, 'Get married, start a family. Then you get government shelter.' So I did. And I am hopeful. We do not have to be afraid of the sun and the rain after we move to government housing. Our first child is also due soon. And we have been stressing a lot about what is going to happen. If it is a boy, what is he going to do? If it is a girl, what is her future going to be like? Sometimes, when there is a problem and no money, I hear her cry at night. She cannot hide her whimpers nor her tears. I tell her not to worry. That is all I can say. I do not know what else to say."
Deepak Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"I am the son of Rangay Badi. My name is Deepak Badi. I have had a little to drink this morning. There was a celebration in the town yesterday. And there was goat meat. They were generous to give me a little. So I thought I need some drink to swallow it. I only had 50 rupees so I packed the mutton in some paper and went and bought some local. I returned to the party and played the Maadal. I can also sing. I do everything. That is all. When I woke up this morning, I was feeling hungover. I started thinking if only I had a little to drink, I would feel just right. I walked on the river banks aimlessly. I remember I had 20 rupees in my pocket. My body was aching. So I climbed up to the Bus Park. I gave the 20 to the Sauni and told her to pour me a glass. I told her, “I am feeling discomfort so pour me a glass. The headache is starting, please give me some.” And I drank that glass. The pain has lessened. Maybe I can find some work later. A man had asked for me to clean his septic tank. It is a difficult job but the pay is good. One tank and it can feed my wife and children for five to six days. Oil, mustard, rice and some vegetables. You might feel sad for me but do not be. I have friends too who are in high places. Some of the kids I grew up with are lawyers in the district court. Some of them have done very well."
Mira Gandharbha, Chainpur, Bajhang
"In the old days, men in this community were busy collecting wives. My father married my mother because his first wife could not bear him children. We were 9 siblings. 2 of them were sons and that made Father and Mother happy. I am not sure who amongst us were lucky to see school. Not me. I remember living by the riverside was difficult and going to school for us daughters was a far-fetched dream.
Today, our men do not work much. They would choose alcohol to work. I have 2 sons. I bore one when I was 14. He is a grown up boy now. They are the only possessions to call my own. And I am worried about their future. I want them to continue with school and also understand the pain of their mother in raising them. I crush stones all day. Sometimes, I carry sand loads all day. I earn 80 rupees a katta. The money I make goes as it comes. The children demand dot pens and school bags. When I have nothing to give, I just sit alone and curse the life and cry. But crying never took away our sorrows so I get back to work. I get them the dot pens and I get them the bags.
Then there is the loan in our heads. A loan that we did not take. A loan that we were born with. We are told by the Sau that it is on us that we pay the loan that our ancestors, our great-grandfathers allegedly borrowed from them. How do we know? How do we pay? When the Sau comes around and lectures us, we all sit and listen. No one has the money to give him. No one has the bravery to deny him."
Dharma Badi & Laxmi Badi with their children. Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP, Bajhang
"Maybe the old times were better. At least, every occasion, every festival and every celebration we were invited to entertain the guests. We danced and we sang. Sometimes we received money and sometimes we received grains. But things have changed now. People opt for different forms of entertainment. They have their television, their mobile phones, their own instruments, and their own music. Our Sarangis, Madals, and folk songs have lost the audience. Also strangely, people are not welcoming of the Badis like they use to. Older folks had no problems inviting us into their homes but today, the younger ones look down upon us as 'untouchables'. We are landless but we are human. We might not have gold and silver but we have a beating heart. We might sleep on the floor but we have the same kind of love for our children. We need air, food, and water just like everybody else. But why aren’t we given our share even we work till our muscles turn to stone?
We are left with no options. If I am lucky I find labor work. The daily wage is not much. Maybe 400 or 500 rupees and work in not always available. You can imagine my struggle when I am the only earner. Even though the tuition in the government school is free, the burden of a large family is always heavy. My wife must have told you we are 7 in the family. Even though things are bleak and we live for the day, I try not to lose hope. Accepting defeat is also not an option. I work hard for my daughters and my son dreaming they will get to live a different life than the one we are living. Even though I come home tired, I still help my wife cook. I help her put the kids to bed. She also gets tired of running after the children all day. I know that we have to do this together."
Bamma Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"She must have met him at the bus park. Or in a hotel. I cannot talk about what I do not know of. She would come home after she walked out of the Tole. She would also bring money every day. One day she left and never returned. After she left, there was no one to look after my two daughters. After a day-long labor cleaning septic tanks, I would come home tired and my daughters would be waiting for me empty-stomach. And some of these days I would not have money so I would go to the market to ask for money with people to buy some grains to bring back home. With the generosity of strangers, my daughters go to a nearby boarding school. But I wish I could do more for them. I do not get work every day and I miss my woman. I am happy that my daughters are in school but I am not in a good place. The alcohol does not give any relief anymore. She came back once to visit me and her daughters and we were all very happy. But when I woke up, I realized I had a dream. I do not know whether to call its a good dream or a bad dream. I do not know the reasons for her to leave us. Was living here with us so difficult? Had I become unbearable? Was it because I could not buy her jewels? Or maybe it was because I could not earn a living for my family. There so many things I do not know."
Our target is 8000 USD. If we meet the target, we will be able to provide need-based financial assistance to the families, provide for the education of the children who are not sent to school. We are also talking with the men in the community who clean septic tanks for a living about buying them a machine that can drain the waste for them without them entering the tank. When I visit the community again in the next few weeks, I will have more details of which I will keep you all posted.
It is believed that the community relied on ration given by the then kings in return for providing entertainment through singing and dancing and also by providing concubines. With the fall of these rulers, it is believed that to sustain their livelihood, many resorted to prostitution and hard labor. The community I visited was visibly deprived of the basic human needs and systematically neglected by the state and the ruling class.
The community of 12 families lived in tiny shelters made entirely of zinc sheets with a bed and some pots and pans. Some children go to school and some do not reasons being extreme poverty and severe discrimination from teachers and students who come from other castes.
I hope we can all come together again and make a difference in the lives of these beautiful humans.
STORIES
Rekha Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"Mother lost her mind when I was little. She would wander around whispering. I never could understand what she said. We feared her sometimes. What was she going to do next? What was she going to say next? The villagers gave their opinion. They said it was a 'bad god' that had taken hold of her. She was never cured. I had to take care of all the siblings. And with all the difficulties in our lives, we grew up. I was happy to get married but things are the same here too. My husband briefed you earlier. It is difficult to be happy and not worry. But I try. For my unborn child, I try to console my heart not to lose hope."
Amar Badi and Rekha Badi, Badi Tole, Jau Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"Mother became lonely after fathers death. So she eloped. I was 11 years old. My eldest sister took care of us. Since I was little, I cleaned septic tanks. But the money was never enough to feed our mouths so my sister had to rely on a 'bad occupation'. Men would come to visit her. Some would call her into the hotel rooms. Many sisters in our community have stopped relying on such things for money, but some still do. It is due to poverty, lack of food and lack of choices in life. It is only to fill their stomach and to fill their children's.
I work hard to ensure that the same situation does not arise in the family. I married two years ago at the suggestion of my sister. She said, 'Get married, start a family. Then you get government shelter.' So I did. And I am hopeful. We do not have to be afraid of the sun and the rain after we move to government housing. Our first child is also due soon. And we have been stressing a lot about what is going to happen. If it is a boy, what is he going to do? If it is a girl, what is her future going to be like? Sometimes, when there is a problem and no money, I hear her cry at night. She cannot hide her whimpers nor her tears. I tell her not to worry. That is all I can say. I do not know what else to say."
Deepak Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"I am the son of Rangay Badi. My name is Deepak Badi. I have had a little to drink this morning. There was a celebration in the town yesterday. And there was goat meat. They were generous to give me a little. So I thought I need some drink to swallow it. I only had 50 rupees so I packed the mutton in some paper and went and bought some local. I returned to the party and played the Maadal. I can also sing. I do everything. That is all. When I woke up this morning, I was feeling hungover. I started thinking if only I had a little to drink, I would feel just right. I walked on the river banks aimlessly. I remember I had 20 rupees in my pocket. My body was aching. So I climbed up to the Bus Park. I gave the 20 to the Sauni and told her to pour me a glass. I told her, “I am feeling discomfort so pour me a glass. The headache is starting, please give me some.” And I drank that glass. The pain has lessened. Maybe I can find some work later. A man had asked for me to clean his septic tank. It is a difficult job but the pay is good. One tank and it can feed my wife and children for five to six days. Oil, mustard, rice and some vegetables. You might feel sad for me but do not be. I have friends too who are in high places. Some of the kids I grew up with are lawyers in the district court. Some of them have done very well."
Mira Gandharbha, Chainpur, Bajhang
"In the old days, men in this community were busy collecting wives. My father married my mother because his first wife could not bear him children. We were 9 siblings. 2 of them were sons and that made Father and Mother happy. I am not sure who amongst us were lucky to see school. Not me. I remember living by the riverside was difficult and going to school for us daughters was a far-fetched dream.
Today, our men do not work much. They would choose alcohol to work. I have 2 sons. I bore one when I was 14. He is a grown up boy now. They are the only possessions to call my own. And I am worried about their future. I want them to continue with school and also understand the pain of their mother in raising them. I crush stones all day. Sometimes, I carry sand loads all day. I earn 80 rupees a katta. The money I make goes as it comes. The children demand dot pens and school bags. When I have nothing to give, I just sit alone and curse the life and cry. But crying never took away our sorrows so I get back to work. I get them the dot pens and I get them the bags.
Then there is the loan in our heads. A loan that we did not take. A loan that we were born with. We are told by the Sau that it is on us that we pay the loan that our ancestors, our great-grandfathers allegedly borrowed from them. How do we know? How do we pay? When the Sau comes around and lectures us, we all sit and listen. No one has the money to give him. No one has the bravery to deny him."
Dharma Badi & Laxmi Badi with their children. Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP, Bajhang
"Maybe the old times were better. At least, every occasion, every festival and every celebration we were invited to entertain the guests. We danced and we sang. Sometimes we received money and sometimes we received grains. But things have changed now. People opt for different forms of entertainment. They have their television, their mobile phones, their own instruments, and their own music. Our Sarangis, Madals, and folk songs have lost the audience. Also strangely, people are not welcoming of the Badis like they use to. Older folks had no problems inviting us into their homes but today, the younger ones look down upon us as 'untouchables'. We are landless but we are human. We might not have gold and silver but we have a beating heart. We might sleep on the floor but we have the same kind of love for our children. We need air, food, and water just like everybody else. But why aren’t we given our share even we work till our muscles turn to stone?
We are left with no options. If I am lucky I find labor work. The daily wage is not much. Maybe 400 or 500 rupees and work in not always available. You can imagine my struggle when I am the only earner. Even though the tuition in the government school is free, the burden of a large family is always heavy. My wife must have told you we are 7 in the family. Even though things are bleak and we live for the day, I try not to lose hope. Accepting defeat is also not an option. I work hard for my daughters and my son dreaming they will get to live a different life than the one we are living. Even though I come home tired, I still help my wife cook. I help her put the kids to bed. She also gets tired of running after the children all day. I know that we have to do this together."
Bamma Badi, Badi Tole, Jay Prithvi NP 10, Bajhang
"She must have met him at the bus park. Or in a hotel. I cannot talk about what I do not know of. She would come home after she walked out of the Tole. She would also bring money every day. One day she left and never returned. After she left, there was no one to look after my two daughters. After a day-long labor cleaning septic tanks, I would come home tired and my daughters would be waiting for me empty-stomach. And some of these days I would not have money so I would go to the market to ask for money with people to buy some grains to bring back home. With the generosity of strangers, my daughters go to a nearby boarding school. But I wish I could do more for them. I do not get work every day and I miss my woman. I am happy that my daughters are in school but I am not in a good place. The alcohol does not give any relief anymore. She came back once to visit me and her daughters and we were all very happy. But when I woke up, I realized I had a dream. I do not know whether to call its a good dream or a bad dream. I do not know the reasons for her to leave us. Was living here with us so difficult? Had I become unbearable? Was it because I could not buy her jewels? Or maybe it was because I could not earn a living for my family. There so many things I do not know."
Co-organizers (2)
Jay Poudyal
Organizer
Sagun Rayamajhi
Co-organizer