Last week the mother of two of the tuition class children shared a rather accurate comment: “We’re a small village of happy people.” This is a community that keeps its doors open; neighborhood children (who have become like siblings) claim the road for games of cricket or badminton, and adults spend their evenings perched on rock walls talking together. This has created a space of vibrant energy and sincere friendliness. Whenever I walk down the road into the Dalit Community, I arrive to screams of Chechi (older sister) and waves or handshakes - usually from adults who speak no English at all.
Most of the adults who live in the Dalit Community are auto-rickshaw drivers, laborers, cooks, or cleaning ladies . . . When I opt for a rickshaw ride into town, it is often the father of one of the tuition class students who drives me. And the woman who cleans my room at Chacko Homes also hosted the tuition class on her porch last year. Their children attend government-funded schools, all of which use the Kerala state syllabus and conduct classes in Malayalam. This community is predominately Hindu, and most families designate a corner of their homes as shrines to favorite Gods and Goddesses. Their religious affiliation, I’m sure, is mostly a product of tradition and devotion. However, it may also be a result of legal consequence: with conversion, Dalit people lose recognition as members of a scheduled caste and, with it, all the benefits of affirmative action by the government, associated with their deprived caste status.
The material poverty in which my friends in the Dalit Community live is shocking to Western eyes; when I first walked into their homes in September it was impossible to overlook the size and relative emptiness of their concrete block houses. I think these tangible factors are easy for us to fixate on as the most identifiable signs of economic injustice. But the real tragedy of the Dalit people’s situation lies not in a lack of material possessions, but in a lack of opportunity, especially in terms of education. The children I tutor use state-issued textbooks rife with grammatical errors that keep them grade-levels behind their peers at private institutions (like Christava Mahilalayam). And, while Union Christian College holds seats for them upon their completion of secondary school, most will not matriculate due to insufficient knowledge of the English language. It has been my hope that the supplementary English practice will better equip them to pursue a college education, but I am also realizing a need for resources . . .
We are creating a library for the children of the Dalit Community. I will purchase a metal wardrobe to house the books, and have gone shopping with the children for some necessary items (such as an English-Malayalam Dictionary). But I also need your help! . . . I am requesting English books to contribute to this ‘community bookshelf.’ The tuition class children range from grades 4 – 12, but because of their current reading levels, I think books geared toward children from Kindergarten to 8th Grade would be the most useful. Additionally, because of the sensitivity surrounding religion, I ask that these be secular stories. If you are interested in sending along a book or two, please leave a comment on my own blog and I will email you the mailing address.
As always, I am so grateful for your continuous support in all its various forms.
By Sudie
Also published at www.sudieniesen.com
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