October 2002
Issue - Essay # 7
Sighting
a Murky Vista
By Yumi Onishi
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Landscape
of green valleys and thick forests took turn repeatedly during a
five-hour journey. The bus was flying almost all the way; I cannot call
the technique driving. As the tourist industry calls this souther state
of India, Kerala, "God’s own country," the bus driver was
definitely heading towards heaven. After all, public and private bus
drivers race through hill stations for faster transport and in
competition to pick up as many passengers as possible. Near death
experience it may seem, as the bus speeds up around the steep slopes and
cliffs. But the sceneries out of the window were dazzling--especially
when tea plantations spread beyond the sight. Nevertheless, as the bus
reached Kumily, a town on the border of Kerala and neighboring state of
Tamil Nadu, a destructive reality was about to reveal itself which, for
the most part, is hidden by the natural beauty of this region. I have heard that Kumily village is facing problems with water supply. As my colleague, who accompanied me on this short trip, and I walked up a steep hill leading from the town to village, we noticed a line of water faucets sticking out from the ground every kilometer or so. It turns out that the local government has come up with a water scheme some years back, but these faucets never really worked. So where did the villagers get their water everyday? Our curiosity took us off the mountain highway and into a dirt road of the village in attempt to locate the villagers’ water source. As we strolled deeper into the village for about an hour, we began to encounter women and young girls carrying buckets here and there. Obviously, they were going somewhere to get their water. We followed a young girl who carried an empty bucket in her
hand. Soon we saw an open well next to a small shop and suspected the
girl was going to take the water from the well. But to our surprise, she
walked past the well and
followed a narrow path down. As we hung our heads into the well, we
realized that there was not even a half bucket full of water at the
bottom of the well. As we further proceeded, we came to another
open well. This one had some water in it, but muddy. How were these
villagers surviving with this water? My colleague queried some women
with buckets on their heads where they were getting their water. Apparently,
some got it from the stream down in the small valley and others from a fortunate neighbor who
had constructed a private well. Either way,
the village women had to go up and down the road in this hilly village
to get water everyday. That’s got to be a tough job, poof! Located
among the hills, Kumily is much cooler than rest of Kerala for its
tropical climate. Normally, whenever I come back from outside to this
part of the world I have a quick bath to refresh myself. This time, I
came back to my hotel room and wondered. This town, located just
outside Kumily village, had abundant water supply. Was it because the town
was located lower on the hill, or because we were staying at a hotel? From
the town to the village, there must have been hardly five kilometers.
And water disappeared like that. Kumily
itself is not really a tourist spot. But it is on the way to Thekkady
wildlife sanctuary, a tourist attraction of the district. The
interesting thing, though, is that this wildlife sanctuary is situated
on the banks of an artificial lake that came in existence upon the
construction of a hydro dam. So perhaps it is a typical dam story: a dam
is constructed to supply water for the people in the city far away, and
the people who have been displaced as a result of this project or people
who live close to the dam receive nil benefit. Matter of fact, a part of
Kumily village population is people who have been rehabilitated from
another part of the state for dam construction a few decades ago. Is
this an irony or what? Thekkady,
after all, didn’t make it to my favorite places list. Rather, I was
perplexed by the hardship hidden by the image of God’s own country.
The dense evergreen, moist deciduous forest astonishes travelers so that
their remembrance of this place always be pleasant. It is true for most
of the tourist destinations: beauty and joy are always part of a memorable
journey. But we must keep in mind that behind the curtain there are
scenes we have not seen. Some may decide not to see because it grows a sense
of guilt in us. Perhaps more so when we travel in so-called developing
nations; particularly because those of us who are from developed
nations most often travel in a car merely witnessing what lies on
the surface of people’s livelihood there. With
a bit of a bitter taste I set out of Kumily, on the flying bus again.
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Author's Biography Born in Japan in 1978, my family and I have lived in Thailand and the US. Completed Master's at Columbia University, New York, and now live in South India. |
Essay
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