Society
	A Small Push Goes a Long Way
		
	
	How much does it cost to        change the life of one poor, illiterate village woman, and through her the        lives of several others in her community?
In the case of Sonabai, it was Rs 99 (1US$=Rs49). Less than what a        government employee at the lowest grade would earn in a day. And this        probably includes bus fare from her village to the state capital        (Bangalore) and back. For three days in the city she attended a seminar on        gender and governance, for women elected to the panchayats (village        councils) in the four southern states of Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Tamil        Nadu and Kerala. The seminar was organized by the Institute of Social        Studies Trust, a non-governmental organization working in Bangalore and        New 
Delhi.
Like most elected women representatives (EWRs) who came into panchayat        posts in the wake of the 73rd and 74th constitutional amendment reserving        one-third of the seats for women, Sonabai too is a quintessentially rustic        woman, illiterate and poor, thrust into administration because the post        had to be filled by a woman. And like most other EWRs, she too floundered        at first, was diffident and intimidated by male hostility and        administrative jargon (quorum, audit, memorandum and minutes).
But all that changed after she attended the seminar in the metropolis, as        part of a longer training program. It was her first ride in a long        distance bus, and the first time she had ever traveled out of her village        on her own. Invited to speak about her experiences as an EWR before a        roomful of participants including city people, she stood in front of the        microphone petrified and wordless, till another rural EWR participant        gently urged her on with a couple of casual questions about her village.        Sonabai slowly mustered courage, and within minutes her words were        tumbling out faster than she could articulate them, as she realized that        she was among women who shared and understood her problems and handicaps.
It was fascinating to watch the transformation, akin to watching a        juggernaut that takes off, unstoppable, after an initial push, showing        what women like Sonabai lack is not so much capability as confidence and        reassurance. A day later, when Siddavva from Bellary district of Karnataka        was overcome with shyness on being asked to speak, it was Sonabai who        piped up loudly, "Avva (sister), yesterday I too felt nervous, just like        you, but I got over it. You can too, just tell us about your work, go on!"
And for good measure, at the closing session Sonabai also promised that        she would, from now on, "insist that all the women of her village should        not only attend every gram sabha meeting but also speak up boldly". The        cost of making women's voices heard in community decision-making? Rs 99.
Muniratnamma. Venkatalakshmi. Mercy. Janakamma. Gangamma. As each        panchayat representative recalled her initial diffidence and how she went        on to muster the confidence to undertake road construction, set up a        veterinary hospital, or get widows' pensions sanctioned, the synergistic        confidence that built up in the congregation became almost palpable. The        new awareness was unmistakable in their body language, their movements,        the way they gathered for a session and took centre stage instead of        slinking into a corner as they did on the first day.
As Lakshmidevamma of Mugali panchayat confessed later, "I was afraid that        I would stand out as an uncouth rustic, in the midst of all the educated        city people." The chance to network and interact with other EWRs reassured        her that there were other women, just like her, facing the same issues and        problems.
Networking on a more formal basis seemed to be the next logical step, and        so the EWRs have now formed federations for greater effectiveness, and for        sharing information, strategies and experiences. Known as 'okkutta' (from        the Kannada word 'okkattu' meaning togetherness) these panchayat women's        associations in Karnataka are becoming pressure groups for joint action        for gender empowerment where individual EWRs earlier found themselves        unable to make a dent.
Faced with alcoholism-related domestic violence, irrespective of caste        differences, the women in the Navalakal area of Raichur district in north        Karnataka have successfully protested before the district commissioner and        the police. They also organized a Rasta Roko (traffic blockade)        with 2,000 women participating till the officials got the liquor shops        closed. The women hired two tractors, carried food and camped at the        commissioner's office till nightfall, to make their point, and now        domestic violence has decreased significantly in recent months.
"We can -- and we will -- win, through the okkuttas," declares Aswathamma,        president of the federation in Anekal taluk near Bangalore, who won the        Best Gram Panchayat leader award recently.
The Tamil Nadu Federation of Women Presidents of Panchayats (which        represents over 38,500 EWRs in the state, including 4,264 women        presidents) has likewise sent a resolution to the state government        demanding "prompt responses" to their representations, and imposed a        10-day limit for 
government orders to reach villages. The Federation is also demanding a 50        per cent share of the revenue for panchayats instead of the eight per cent        that they currently get.
Barely 18 months old, the Federation spearheaded by Rani, president of the        Vanduvancherry panchayat, has also launched a spirited battle against an        illegal sand mining operation in the district that was endangering the        livelihoods of thousands of residents. In spite of political support for        the offending contractor, the women finally managed to get the department        of mines to take action and ban the quarrying.
The benefits to the community, in terms of environmental protection and        safeguards against widespread unemployment, are considerable. And what        made it all possible was not just the election of women to panchayat posts        but the facilitation of their networking -- as decision-makers in the        larger interests of the community. This was possible through small-fund        sponsorships to cover costs that the indigent women cannot pay from their        own earnings as daily-wage workers.
Says Ponni Kailasam, general secretary of the Tamil Nadu Federation, "We        are only claiming our rights. We may be poor, unlettered, village women,        but we now have over 200 women panchayat presidents networking under the        Federation, and that makes us a force that the authorities cannot ignore,        even if they ignore EWRs individually. We are now going to mount a        campaign against corruption, and demand a greater say in our development        plans."
Barely three or four years ago, the EWRs were derisively being written        about as ineffective "rubber stamp" functionaries or "proxy" candidates        for men. Now, through activities like the okkuttas and the Federation of        EWRs, they are confident that they can do a good job and contribute to        good governance.    
	
	21-Jul-2002
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		 Sakuntala Narsimhan					
		
		
	 
	
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