He Worships the Ground I Walk On - Literally
on Margaret Campbell's Rambles (India), 22/May/2010 09:01, 34 days ago
 Not Jan :-). There is a man in Koraput who, when he sees me, gets down on his hands and knees to kiss the ground beneath my feet. If I am sitting in a shop he will come in and crawl underneath the counter to reach my feet. Can you imagine what that feels like? Did anyone know that people actually do this? What possible response would feel right for an American? For anyone? I try to understand this man's devotion. It must be because I am white, and a foreigner; he doesn't do it to anyone local. He doesn't know me or that I work for human rights here. He is worshipping something that I am a symbol of. But what? And why? I recently read Mulk Raj Anand's classic novelTheUntouchable, about a"sweeper" caste boy's life. When Anand was writing it, in the 1930's, sweepers, now called Dalits, untouchables ormanual scavengers, were indeed never touched and in fact had to call out"sweeper coming" when they walked along the road to make sure that no accidental contact, and thus contamination, occurred. Their role was to sweep out human waste from dry latrines in the morning, and there are many of them still working at this task in India (between 100,000 if you believe the government and over one million if you believe non-government agencies). The boy thinks about"respect" for higher castes and accepts the legacy of thousands of years of the feudal system: the conditioned belief that a person of higher social status knows better than you and owns your respect. Sweepers simply didn't challenge the system; a good decision perhaps because when they did the backlash from the powerful resulted in unspeakable cruelty. Much has changed since 1930, discrimination on the basis of caste in now illegal although Dalits still face social exclusion, but it seems to me today that Indians respect whom they perceive to have higher social status with heartfelt regard rather than fear.  In the view of some, the caste system had social advantages in times gone by, contributing to a very stable and cooperative society. It's true that Indians are the most cooperative people I have ever met, yielding right of way on the road (there is no such thing as"cutting someone off" in traffic), waiting endlessly in line, and tolerating unbelievable injustice and delays with impassivity and good humor. It seems completely appropriate to call it a society of mutual consent. That makes it a wonderful culture to live in. But why is the asymmetry of the social system so venerated still today? And why is fair skin so valued (just watch an hour of Indian television or peruse the matrimonials)? After all, white people have not been so kind to Indians. You'd think they'd be quite resentful, yet I seem to hold a very high rank. It's rare that I am not offered a seat on the bus and I go to the head of every line. Many school children touch my feet upon meeting me and taking leave, as do a few adults. When the student is ready the teacher appears. On Wednesday I attended a wedding at a village where I have visited many times - SPREAD has a field office there. My friend Anand introduced me to the elderly man who founded the village 30 years before and planted the magnificent mango and jackfruit trees that cool the yard. Anand said that this man is always curious about me when I visit and wants to know everything about me. Why? Because he believes that foreigners are like gods and that we should be worshipped for our wisdom and power. Ouch! That's not the answer I was looking for! I had to see it from his point of view, living with a wealth of natural resources and traditional wisdom but without the power to cure with penicillin and move mountains with machinery. To him, I represent technology and that makes perfect sense. Yet, I still have the problem with the guy who kisses the ground beneath my feet. A while ago I decided I'm not going to tolerate it. There may have been a time when it made sense to worship the fair but I'm here to say that time is over. I brush him away now and tell him sharply, no! It doesn't make any difference to him but it makes a difference to me. I'm an American and I'm just not going along. .