Kolkata, 14.2.2012: The “First People” of India

The inadequacy of the term “the Indians” is highlighted by the fact that in the republic over 100 languages are spoken (and no-one is even able to count the number of dialects). Here in West Bengal and its capital Calcutta Bengali is, for example, the official language. It is the language of many newspapers and is also used by the local television and radio channels.
The most widespread language in India, however, is Hindi, which dominates the remaining northern territory of this vast country, while in the south Dravidian languages (such as Tamil) play a large role. The Indian Constitution recognises a total of 21 different languages – from Assami to Urdu.
And it also lists 645 “Scheduled Tribes” – of which 41 are to be found here in West Bengal. The Asur and Chakma, Gond and Karmali, Lepcha and Mahli, Munda, Subba and all the others are probably virtually unknown in Germany and Europe (except perhaps among the ethnologists in Tübingen). This will not change, nor is it really so important.
More important would be a growing awareness there of the existence of the “Adivasi”, the collective term used by these tribes to describe themselves. Translated from the Hindi, it means the “first people”, and it is a word scrupulously avoided by the Indian Constitution. No-one should get the impression that people lived here before the caste of the Hindus. Although this was the case - and the Adivasi regard themselves as India’s indigenous population.
Seven percent of Indian citizens are said to be Adivasi. Projected onto the famous 1.2 billion, that comes to 84 million – there are more Adivasi than Germans!
An Adivasi community also lives in the Sundarban National Park. Centuries ago, the threat of starvation forced them to flee from their original homelands in the district of Ranchi in what is now the state of Jharkand, created ten years ago, to the Ganges delta. There, at the edge of the jungle, they have preserved their ancient culture – which they still cultivate. Not only – but also – in the service of tourism.
The indigenous inhabitants expelled by German development aid
Anyone admiring their dances in the Sundurban Tiger Camp notices immediately that they still adhere to a natural religion. The drummer, for example, is equipped with a huge set of antlers. They still maintain their customs, and the Adivasi are proud of the fact that their women have always had more rights – and that the family has pride of place in their society.
The rights that the Constitution grants the “Scheduled Tribes” often exist only on paper for the Adivasi; they are widely regarded as “out-castes” (even though the caste system has officially been abolished). Nor has German development aid anything to be proud of here: during the Adenauer era it financed the building of the Rourkela Steel Plant, supported by companies such as AEG, Krupp and Siemens, as a result of which 16,000 indigenous inhabitants were simply driven out of the jungle. They waited in vain for the money, land and jobs that had been promised them.
In comparison, the Adivasi in the Sundarbans are really quite well off. They do live in humble circumstances, and yet their huts have solar energy. And they are needed. One can always be sure of seeing their folklore, which is hardly the case with the crocodiles, snakes and, in particular, the Bengali tigers – who are renowned for not appearing on schedule.
In contrast to the Adivasi. While they sing and dance, I don’t have the impression that they feel exploited. On the contrary: the tourists are usually generous. From this perspective, the Adivasi on the border to Bangladesh have drawn the best lot. They are far better off than their fellow tribesmen and women in the slums of the metropolises.
And for this reason, not least, they set off cheerfully, still wearing their costumes, en route for their home village. Barefoot. For one and a half hours.
Translated by Heather Moers.