Untouched Untouchability – The Balmiki of Arrah
How can you define yourself being a worthy member of society? How does society determine whether you are a worthy part of it? What if the final judgment has already been spoken, based on what others have been taught about your kinds of people since generations. What if this judgment sticks to you for your whole life, influencing virtually every aspect of it?
The Indian caste system and with it “Untouchability”, stigmatizing millions of people, pushing them to the brink of society, leaving them poor, uneducated and with little or no representation was officially abolished in 1950. By then, even within the lowest layer of society, diversifications based on occupation had developed; Balmiki, Dom, Mehater, people manually cleaning latrines and toilets, outcasts among outcasts; Mahadalit.
Many things have undergone a positive development in India but still, being born into the lowest sub-
caste of the Dalits will usually define your position in society, your whole life. Especially in the country’s rural areas, where the lack of basic education and social awareness correlates with low income and decaying housing structures, not much has changed for decades. In a village and a nearby by town in the state Bihar, the invisible chains restraining the Balmiki remain unbroken and their burden weighs as heavy as ever before.Their daily work consists of the manual removal of human feces from pit and bucket toilets, which were forbidden by law many years ago in a government effort to improve India’s sanitary facilities. Yet, these toilets are still prevailing. The pits or buckets are usually hard to reach, and the stench of the feces which accumulates over several months before the pit needs to be emptied, is overwhelming. Nevertheless, the workers’ job is to empty the pits or buckets by hand and fill them in edible oil canisters. Later they will carry these up to 16kg heavy canisters on top of their heads or on their shoulders to the village outskirts where the feces are simply dumped into the open fields or existing drains.
Besides the physiological problems like skin diseases, diarrhea, respiratory system infections, insect bites and even infestation through larvae, the psychological impact is hard to comprehend for an outsider. Doing the worst work possible, facing gestures and actions of disgust and objection everywhere, not only at work, being often underpaid and in rare cases not paid at all and having to deal with all these issues day in day out for the rest of their life is something no person on earth should have to endure. Because of this mistreatment by society, the abuse of alcohol and drugs amongst both, male and female workers, is quite common.
Their children, already collecting resalable refuse from the town to create a small but much needed additional income, will sooner or later face the same fate as their parents. Being born into the sub caste of Balmiki leaves them with almost no choice. Even if their parents would somehow manage to save the dowry for their daughter’s wedding they still could only marry amongst their caste. Any appeal or attempt to break this vicious circle can be life-threatening and hate crimes convicted by members of higher castes are not uncommon.
In India only a few organizations put in any effort to support the Balmiki, and for many of those who do, it’s a fight against windmills. The suffering of these people can not only be solved by improving the sanitary facilities in villages and cities. A sense of understanding, awareness and compassion must eventually lead to the eradication of an antiquated way of thinking which is still prevailing in the minds of the larger society. These are the major keys that could unlock a new way of life, a new place in society, a new world, for the Balmiki of India.
-
-
Written by Enrico Fabian
June 10th, 2011 at 9:48 pm
Death for 50 Rupees
“I smoked heroin for a long, long time but since two years I only inject. It’s cheaper and somehow the same”, said Darminder, his clothes and body marked by an endless seeming life on the street, his eyes sad and tired by years of constant pharmaceutical drug abuse. A few hours later the 17-year-old boy from Bihar was dead. In an argument about money for more drugs he was brutally beaten by false friends and was left to die in a dirty alley next to a waste picker colony. The police later had him dumped at the local hospital’s morgue and he, as many others, disappeared far before his time. Eventually Darminder became a victim of a medicine actually produced for a different purpose; to ease pain, to heal, to help people.
While worldwide the numbers of heroin users is constantly increasing, another even much more disturbing form of drug abuse is growing steadily yet largely unrecognized. Pharmaceuticals, especially opium derivatives, meant for a totally different clientele are on their rise to dominate the drug market in 3rd world- and threshold countries. Either the medicine is copied from the original product and reproduced in underground labs or dubious agents of certain pharmacy companies strike deals they were never supposed to. At the end the offered product is meant for one purpose only, to earn money through the users’ addiction.
In the India of the 21st century this kind of drug abuse has become a disturbing phenomenon and has lead and still leads to catastrophic consequences. While the homeless people of every age tranquilize their daily struggle other clients have entered the stage a long time ago: from simple day laborers earning a small living for their families while working at the nearby, gigantic, vegetable and fruit wholesale market, to municipal employees easing their responsibilities in the job with a little injection here and there. What was once unimaginable, especially in a life full of social and religious responsibility, has become a sad reality.
The choice of drugs available is vast and offers everything, for everybody, for every circumstance of life. Purchasing these drugs is as easy as buying cough syrup at the supermarket and one just has to pass by at one of the many pharmacies spread all over the big cities and small villages to purchase whatever one feels like. The medicine, not supposed to be given to anyone without prescription from a doctor, is sold for a price even the poor can afford. An ampule Buprenorphine (a semi-synthetic opioid actually used to treat opioid addiction), an ampule Diazepam (a benzodiazepine derivative drug also known as Valium), an ampule Avil (a antihistamine which lessens the side effects of the two other drugs) and two disposable syringes are sold for 50 Rupees, a little less than 1 USD. Depending on the customer’s relation to the pharmacy owner, an additional strong antidepressant tablet or extra morphine is handed out for free.
The consequences of this irresponsible, shameless business dealing with people’s lives and fate are devastating. Faces, once full of enthusiasm and vitality slowly turn into lifeless masks trying to hide their unquenchable need for more and more and more. Bodies once full of power and strength become only a hull carrying blood borne diseases like AIDS, caused by the exchange of needles. Loosing ones job, families or children are only a few examples out of a chain of actions being as long as terrifying.
Besides all these difficulties they face in their everyday lives, or even because of them, the level of constant psychological and physical violence is very high. Especially for the rising number of drug abusing children and teenagers, the situation is as bad as it could get. The alliances between them and the older, more experienced users result in twisted friendships based on their addiction. Although the kids can rely on a certain protection by the older ones, at the same time they are constantly endangered to be misused in any way imaginable.
The addicts’ minds are so much occupied by their addiction that they barely recognize the destructive exploitation of their bodies and minds. Their daily habit is essential to them – even though it already destroyed their former lives.
Amongst all the people trapped in this vicious circle of poverty, addiction, violence and lost dreams, 17 year old Darminder’s life took a very wrong turn. Like that of many others before him…and like that of many more to come.
-
-
-
To get another insight into the story please have a look at the following link provided by THE CARAVAN, India
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/Story/819/The-Needle-and-the-Damage-Done.html
written by: Dave Besseling
Written by Enrico Fabian
April 27th, 2011 at 1:16 am
Death for 50 Rupees – Getting Closer
From the age of 15 up to 58…
From working government employees to convicted murderers…
From the ones still well of to the ones struggling day in day out to stay alive…
…
These people seeming to be so different share something…
They share a past of constant abuse of alcohol, dilution, weed and heroin…
They share a presence in which new drugs took control over their life…
Drugs which are cheap, effective and constantly available…
…
Semi-synthetic opioids
Benzodiazepine derivatives…
Antihistamine…
…
Pharmaceutical drugs only available on prescription, officially…
…
They have a different story to tell…
-
-
Written by Enrico Fabian
March 23rd, 2011 at 12:56 pm
Death for 50 Rupees – Opener
Wasim, Balbir, Jeetu, Saud, Vishal, Kalu, Bantu, Dinesh and Amrit…
All these persons, all these faces are a symbol for something hard to imagine…
Something that happens every day on the outskirts of the centre of Delhi…
…
Far off from the fancy stores of India’s capital another kind of business is done…
A business not only highly illegal but also a business playing with other people’s lives…
The ones making a loss in this trade are the clients…
A loss that cannot be repaid…
A loss that cannot be undone…-
-
During the next days I will continue telling their stories of living a life on the edge, and beyond…
Written by Enrico Fabian
March 18th, 2011 at 6:10 pm
A Glimpse of Daily Life – Srinagar…
Since the end of the British colonial rule in 1947, and the following first territorial war between India and
Pakistan ending in 1949, the civilians of Kashmir live under constant tension. For decades different groups,
following their political aims, were and are responsible for a countless number of forcible occupations or
burning of private property, house raids, fake encounters, unnecessary detentions and many other kinds of
physical or psychological abuse, of men and women, of young and old.Not much has changed since 1947…
The following photographs are part of a long term project…
Not only for the photographer but sadly so also for the inhabitants of Kashmir…
-
-
Written by Enrico Fabian
September 28th, 2010 at 1:26 pm
Little Wolf’s Big Dream…
All over the world people have wishes, hopes, dreams…
Sometimes they allow you to dream alongside with them for a little while…
And after short time you begin to understand why they do what they do…
Why they have this dream…
And why it is so important for them…Watch the video presentation…
-
-
Or the single photographs…
-
-
Additional video material and further background information will be published soon…
Written by Enrico Fabian
August 24th, 2010 at 9:09 pm
Something in Common…
Different faces…
Different origins…
Different age…
Different stories to tell….
But all of them have something in common…
They managed to crush the curse of nasha…The full story online in a few days at www.enrico-fabian.com
-
-
Written by Enrico Fabian
June 13th, 2010 at 12:11 pm
Feels Like Floating…
Written by Enrico Fabian
May 29th, 2010 at 11:51 pm
Posted in news
Tagged with black&white
Dhuhr…
45 degress outside…
3 people inside…
1 prayer…
Dhuhr…
-
-
Written by Enrico Fabian
May 24th, 2010 at 10:56 pm
One Week Later…
One week later…
A small taxi bus reached the slum settlement in Ghazipur…
Inside this vehicle…
Bags, boxes, sacks…
Inside these repositories…
T- shirts, shirts, skirts, trousers, socks…
Shoes, boots…
Pots, pans, plates, cups…
Buckets, blankets, hats…
Toys…
Around 700 items within 7 days had been donated and distributed…
-
-
I am grateful for all the people who tried to make a difference…
And spent time and effort to support the waste pickers of Delhi…
Written by Enrico Fabian
April 25th, 2010 at 9:47 pm
2011-08-25
Enrico Fabian Photography Blog
