|
|
Society
Women Discover Veggies That Were Born Free
by Aparna Pallavi
What is, or
should be, the staple food of human beings? Grain, right? Wrong! If
septuagenarian Bayabai Bhoyar of Mandva village in the Yavatmal district
of Maharashtra is consulted on this subject, she will tell you clearly
enough that even 30 years ago, the natural staple food of her people was
not grains, but 'bhaji' - vegetables. "The typical grain and
pulse-dominated meal was a four-months-a-year luxury," she says. "For
the remaining eight months, it was mostly vast quantities of greens and
other vegetables, cooked with some broken grain or 'besan' (gram
flour)." She adds wryly, "And we were a lot healthier and stronger than
the grain-eating young ones of today, who have to be taken to doctors
every month!"
Looking at Bayabai's proud and erect bearing, even at her age, one can
well believe her. Bayabai is part of a group of dalit and tribal women
from 12 villages in the Yavatmal district who have started making a
data-base on a rather unusual subject: uncultivated or wild vegetables.
These are plant species, which grow wild on farms and in forests -
leaves, fruits, roots and flowers that were traditionally consumed as
vegetables by the indigenous tribal population. With modernization, the
nutrition practices of these groups have changed in favor of
'mainstream' fare. In the process, the consumption of the vegetables of
yesteryear has dwindled sharply.
The process of collecting this information began three years ago when,
during a casual conversation, women talked to Madhukar Dhas of a local
NGO, Dilasa, about the disappearance of traditional eating practices.
The women eagerly accepted Dhas's suggestion that they start collecting
information on the old vegetable varieties. Till date, with technical
support from Dilasa, the women have collected a data on 76 different
varieties of vegetables and are trying to resurrect consumption
practices that have nearly been lost by creating awareness among the
younger generation.
Talking about the veggies, Bayabai's eyes grow contemplative. "Now there
is 'tarota'," says she, "It has to be eaten seven times in a season at
least. Keeps off 'vaata' (body heat). Then there is 'ikdodi', very
bitter, but once a year its fruit has to be cooked. It drives away
fevers, chills and worms. As for 'chyur', it tastes very good with 'besan'."
She carries on and on in this manner.
In the Vasari, Anusuyabai Meshram, 35, who lives outside the village
with her family, has preserved a lot of information simply by not
following the mainstream. A wide variety of wild vegetables figure on
her table. She rattles off their names: 'kukuda', 'sheo', 'phetra', 'umbar',
'ghodkakdi', 'ghusran', 'gophan', 'vasan', 'chuchu'... "Most of these
vegetables grow wild on our land. And I go into the forest regularly on
alternate days during the rains and in winter to get various 'bhaji'."
But in the village, she says, trends have changed. The loss of
indigenous knowledge and the prohibitive cost of the marketed stuff have
together undermined the diet of ordinary people. Today, she says, it's
mainly 'bhakhar' (jowar bread) and 'dal' (lentil), with potatoes and
brinjals, the two cheapest vegetables, thrown in sometimes."
In Warsephoda village, a very old woman bent over and blind with age -
known to the local people only as the 'buddi' (old woman) recalls how in
the 1940s, the residents of the village had survived a 12-year drought
on a diet of the leaves of the 'vasan' vine. "'Vasan' has great
strength," she says, "It can survive 14 years of drought, and it is a
complete food in itself."
But why has the practice of eating wild vegetables declined so
drastically? Villagers have different answers, but a mainstream
lifestyle and the commercialization of agriculture appear to be the most
important factors. Today, even the plants are not to be seen. Bahinabai
Narnavre, a knowledgeable matriarch from Mandva, says, "The animals on
the farms have disappeared. Earlier, animals like bullocks and goats
used to eat the plants and spread the seeds."
In Rajurwadi village, Lalita Dethe, 50, blames the increased
cash-dependent lifestyle, which forces farmers to favour cash crops over
wild foods. "The vegetables are uprooted as weeds even before they can
drop their seeds. Or farmers kill them with weed-killers," she observes.
Individual species, say villagers, are also getting lost due to similar
reasons. Tembhra, the 'chikoo'-like fruit of the tendu tree, which was
once a great favorite in these areas, does not grow at all because the
leaves of young trees are plucked for commercial purposes. Masala paan,
another universal favorite, is disappearing with the rise in milk trade
(traditionally, tribals here did not sell milk), as its roots are
considered good for milch cows.
But this documentation exercise has raised awareness to a certain
extent. "The greatest inducement came in the form of nutritional
awareness," says Dhas. "Women in this region are suffering from anemia
due to their altered diets. When they were told that eating wild greens
helps, they were eager to try it out."
In Rajurwadi, the case of Rekha Jilte, 30, proved to be a trigger. "I
used to suffer from anemia and was very weak," says Rekha, now a picture
of health and beauty, "But after I started cooking and eating green
'umber' (a local variety of fig, rich in iron) regularly, my health
improved so visibly that now everyone here eats 'umber'."
In other villages, too, consumption is visibly higher. Shashikala Kusram
of Warsephoda, says, "While weeding on the farm, I keep the vegetables
aside, and bring them home in the afternoon. Earlier I used to throw
them away."
But things are still far from ideal. Most people below-45 find these
vegetables unpalatable. "We are too used to conventional food," admits
Rekha, "It took me several months to get used to the taste of 'umber'."
Children, especially, say mothers, are unwilling to try out traditional
fare. "They have bread-butter and chocolates in their heads," rues the
elderly Vitthal Bhoyar.
The acquired habit of eating grain-based food is the main reason.
Bayabai says, "My sons used to eat 'bhaji' with gusto as children, but
now they have to have their 'rotis' and 'dal'."
Dilasa has helped the women organize two cookery camps where lost
recipes were resurrected and new ones created. "The recipes helped to an
extent, but the problem was that the most popular recipes were always
the oiliest and spiciest ones," says Dhas, laughing.
The complete resurrection of these lost food practices is going to be an
uphill task and these women know it. Quite a few have lost hope and
believe that it is too late. But there are the optimists. Like Bayabai.
"It will mean resurrecting an entire lifestyle - right from agricultural
practices to education to environment - everything. I know it will not
happen in my lifetime. But if I keep working, maybe my grandchildren
will eat some more greens than they used to, and be healthier. What more
can I hope for?" she asks with a smile.
July 20,
2008
By arrangement with
WFS
Top
|
Society
|
|
