Photos

I've used the word widow as a verb in the title of this image because visibly and socially that is exactly what this woman is doing. Oblivious to and encased from everything around her she just sat unmoving during the whole of this (first) visit to the village. A complete contrast to our friend Ramiben who inevitably was all over our children!

The widow is a relative of Ramiben and both are tribal Rabari living at the edge of the Vankar weaving community in the village of Bhujodi - a village badly destroyed in the earthquake that hit here a few years ago.

Bhujodi has four different social groups:
Vankar families- 225 families
Rabari - 117 families
Koli - 15 families
Muslims - 6 families.

Other groups present in the village are Barot families, and the Suthar, Ahir and Darbar with one 1 family each. The total population the village is around 2,200 .

The major occupations of the villagers are: Weaving,Embroidery, Poultry farming, Agricultural labour, Wood cutting, Tailoring, Animal husbandry.


These words written by 14 year old Kelly Dhru after the earthquake could have been written perhaps for the old woman - or perhaps the picture of the woman I will post tomorrow.

Change

So, she somehow survived...
But she thought she had better died.
Everything gone in a minute,
God has finally showed the human limit.

She remembers the people, of yesterday
She misses them.
She remembers the laughs, of yesterday
She misses them.

She remembers the smile,
Where is it now?
She remembers the prosperity,
Where is it now?
She remembers herself
full of cheers,
And now… These memories are just
drops of tears...

She misses the world,
She has lived in once...
She misses the jokes,
She laughed at, once,
She misses the song,
She sang once.

But now…. She looks at the new world,
Full of terrors...
She looks at the faces,
Full of fears...
She looks at herself,
Full of tears.

But suddenly, something strikes her mind,
And she tries to leave all the tears behind,
She thanks god for every bit of her life,
And she resolves to use every bit of her life.

Yes, she'll create the new world,
Into what she lived in once,
She'll crack the jokes,
She has laughed at, once,
She'll compose the song,
She had sung once;
And yes… She'll fight the battle,
She had won once...

I haven't been to Kutch since the earthquake but my heart is very much with these people.