Chapter Eleven, Section *** I.
The 1965 "dry" season truly had lived up to its name. It had been a hard time for the farmers in Bihar, particularly those in the north, where the wheat, barley, legume and vegetable crops had been almost a total failure. As Keith and I travelled by rail through the scorched, dusty plains, the mercury rose to 125 deg. F. in the all-metal coaches whenever we halted for long periods at a siding.
Famine stalks the land.
Gaunt figures of skin and bone would gradually make their way towards us, in the hope of scrounging a crust or two. These were the ones who had the strength to walk the several hundred yards from the villages, bordering the railroad tracks. The scene was one of utter desolation and we felt so helpless. They had another month to wait even for the clouds to start appearing in the brazen sky and, following the first showers; it would take another three months before any crops' could be harvested.
Reports were reaching us of families who, in their desperate struggle to survive, had eaten all their seed. For them, their fate probably would be that of the many bloated animals we could see in the fields - mainly cows and bullocks - being devoured by vultures, crows, jackals and dogs. With nothing we could do to mitigate this spectacle of abject misery, we just longed for the light of day to end, that darkness might hide the suffering from our view. By the time we reached Lucknow station, around 9 p.m., the temperature had dropped to ninety degrees F., giving us some hope of a few winks of sleep before reaching Dehra Dun, at the foot of the Himalayas, next morning.
Our six weeks' vacation in Mussoorie was always a time of wonderful physical, mental and spiritual refreshment. Daily, we would listen to All India Radio for reports on the progress of the monsoons. That which affected the Bombay area originated in the Arabian Sea but we were interested in the southern monsoon that made its way up the Bay of Bengal, reaching Calcutta about a week before the scheduled date of it arrival in South Bihar & Surgapam - 15th. June.
We always had to be back in Daulatapur by that date to be sure of getting across the unbridged Komela River before the initial flash flood. In the early stages, the rains did look good and promised a fine harvest. Even though many didn't have the strength to work in the fields, it was either sweat and toil or starve. What a joy it was to see the once-parched and cracked fields yielding to the plough and the seedbeds thick with young rice plants. At this stage, there was still no food, but there was hope and if only that hope could be maintained, the farmers and their families might survive.
During those days, all manner of vegetable and animal matter was ingested in the hope that some nourishment might be derived. Even some poisonous tubers became a "delicacy", but not until they first had been boiled, sliced and mashed, wrapped in grass matting, soaked in the river overnight to leach out all the toxins, then finally boiled again.
This was only possible if there was a flowing stream. The time would come when the rivers and streams would dry up and with them, the fish, water-snakes, frogs, crabs and any other aquatic creatures and plants that might provide some sort of nourishment.
In more ways than one, famines are a blessing in disguise for they serve to limit the rat population. Baby rats, when cooked in the proper way, are a succulent morsel. Many village boys survived because of their adroitness in searching out and catching any form of rodent.
The Adivasi tribals, in particular, were most adept in knowing just what plants, leaves, flowers, roots and berries could sustain life. This knowledge, learned in the school of survival, during the famines of previous years, or perhaps centuries, had been passed on through oral tradition. Seldom did one hear of Adivasis starving to death in the jungle.
Because of their innate propensity to remain alive, somehow also they could maintain a jovial spirit when others had lost the will to fight for life. It seemed so incongruous to see these lovely people drumming, singing and dancing the night away, not knowing where tomorrow's meal might be found. There was so much to be learned from these simple folk who had captured our hearts. But the days were fast approaching when, in spite of all their determination to endure the crisis, some of their kin would actually die.
Following the first rains, there were two weeks of "dry", in spite of which most of the rice seedlings survived. For about two weeks in August, the monsoon was fairly strong, enabling the transplanting of seedlings and then tragedy struck. After August 17, for almost another year, there wasn't a shower that was helpful to the crops. It did rain occasionally, but it was either too early or too late. At least we had enough water for drinking. The animals, however, were not so fortunate and many died before we were able to construct earthen dams or sink wells. The sun burned down without mercy and, within a few weeks, the fields were dry and cracked. Roaming cows, bullocks, buffaloes and goats, frantically in search of fodder, soon ate the immature crops until there wasn't even a trace of stubble.
By the end of September, many families were so hungry that, although they had some hope of realizing a harvest, they couldn't wait for it to mature. But it was for more than one reason that people were forced to eat their crops, even when they were only just beginning to seed. They were only eating husks with little, if any nourishment, but it was either eat that or have it stolen in the field. And there was much stealing in those days.
With the situation now most critical, the "panchayats" (village councils) sent urgent appeals to the District Collector in Aranchalganj, asking for Government help. Famine had already been declared over the border, in Bihar, where a "Fair Price Ration Shop Scheme" was being implemented. In our district of Surgapam, however, where conditions were actually far worse, reports reaching the provincial capital, Bhopal, indicated that all was "normal" for a year of drought!
It should be remembered that our mission operated in both the provinces of Bihar and Madhya Pradesh and, more particularly, their adjacent districts of Palamghat and Surgapam, respectively. Bordering these two provinces, is another - Uttar Pradesh (UP) - where the "Famine Code" also had been brought into force, particularly in Mirzapur District.
For reasons that we need not go into, Surgapam District and most of M.P., reported "reasonably good crops"! We on the spot, however, knew that most of the crops had been a total failure.
From very reliable sources, we had learned that the District Land Officers (Patwaris), in one of their monthly meetings, had reported falsely to their higher authorities that all was well. This was in cruel disregard of the needs of starving people, just to give a "good impression" and create a favourable political climate.
The provincial authorities in Bhopal and the national authorities in New Delhi were heavily dependent upon such local Land Officers for a true appraisal of the situation. It seemed that nothing less than a miracle could cut through the administrative red tape to bring food to the people of M.P., now threatened by starvation.
As in relation to many nations, there is little real interest in their indigenous "tribal" folk. It so happened, that the worst affected areas of M.P., including Surgapam, were those inhabited by tribals or Adivasis. Some high caste people, with an Apartheid-like attitude, simply could not understand why we should be so concerned about those who didn't even qualify to be low caste - those who were stigmatised as "inferior to the untouchables". They were "animals", to some, who referred to our Adivasi friends as "Bandars" (Monkeys).
Bihar already had become a household word among concerned people throughout the world. The media gave excellent coverage and, almost daily, on short-wave radio, reports were reaching us from various countries of efforts on the other side of the border, to avert further starvation. This was because so many voluntary organizations were involved, under the dynamic leadership of Shri Jayaprakash Narayan and the Chief Minister, also The Bihar Relief Committee, CARE and UNICEF, to name just a few who cooperated in a splendid way to bring relief. All that was in Bihar. But in Surgapam? - NOTHING!.
What about the people of M.P.? Our hearts bled for the living corpses on our doorsteps. Yes, with no apparent official concern on our side of the border, it would surely take a miracle, even to get our local needs recognized in Bhopal and New Delhi. What does one do in such a critical situation? We had learned that when one reaches the end of the road, when all human resources are exhausted, we turn to the Lord in prayer and that's what we did. We just asked God to work his miracle. It's as simple as that!
The fulfilment of this Impossible Dream began in a very small way. For many years, with the help of the Christian Food & Relief Agency (CFRA), we had been conducting a food supplement program to provide a little extra nourishment for our many leprosy and tuberculosis patients, as well as other indigents and also our mission school children. In fact, Keith was the CFRA "Contact Person" for this program in Bhavnagar and Surgapam. In that capacity, he appealed to the Director of CFRA, which was the relief and development arm of the All-India-Christian Federation (AICF).
The CFRA's Associate Director was Dr. Donald E.
Rutherglen, who had been seconded to the AICF by
Keith's proposal placed before CFRA, called for the regular supplement-feeding program (leprosy-TB-schools) to be enhanced to cater for up to one thousand indigents. In this way, relief could be provided for the desperately needy, even though we did not qualify to be part of the famine relief scheme because the M.P. Government had implemented no “Famine Code”.
This was approved by CFRA (New Delhi), which sent a telex message to its Calcutta office, to dispatch wheat to Daulatapur. We still had no assurance that we would be able to move this wheat across the border, but the agreement we had with CFRA was that if we found it impossible to utilize this food in Surgapam, then it should be transferred to the Bihar program being jointly worked out between Lionel Burton and our new English colleagues, Geoff and Anthea Saunders.
With a real tangible proposal to offer the Surgapam authorities, Keith wrote to the Surgapam District Collector in Aranchalganj, but received no reply. In desperation, he felt constrained to make the arduous trip to the Collectorate to offer immediate help for up to one thousand of the worst affected victims. However, the Collector, who was an elderly man, almost ready to retire, was not enthusiastic. "Your ideas are noble", he told Keith, "but your plans are too small. To provide for only one thousand people is not at all. I need to feed twenty thousand!"
This was the first intimation we had received from an official source in M.P., that there was a critical food shortage in that state. Keith pointed out to the Collector that any real relief for the Champapur area would have to come through Bihar, posing possible border problems relating to the movement of food grains and heavy vehicles from one province to another.
The Collector seemed to take cognisance of this and raised no objection. It seemed to Keith that he was even giving verbal approval to move food in from the Daulatapur railhead. The nearest rail facility to Champapur, M.P., is at Raigur, a distance of over two hundred miles and then it would be most difficult to get heavy food vehicles across the Kanahari River, even in the dry season.
During the earlier persecutions, James Russell also had received verbal permission to move food grains, but he ended up being arrested. Could we take that chance? The risk was very great. People's lives now depended on whether or not Keith had the courage to take the risk and move in relief food without a written border permit. It would take several weeks for the first consignment of CFRA wheat to reach Daulatapur railhead and, during that time, Keith had to make up his mind whether to take the risk or just let the people die.
During the months of October through December, things became progressively more desperate. People continued to eat leaves, sap from trees, roots, berries, rodents and any birds that had survived. They combed even the rice fields in the hope of finding an odd grain or two. They scraped up the dirt where the grass had seeded and the lucky ones gathered up a handful of grass seed for a whole day's toil in the blazing sun.
By Christmas, the nights had turned bitterly cold and clothes were scarce, along with money to buy them. At least there was the jungle. So long as strength remained, the locals could gather firewood to help sustain what life they could hold on to until February brought warmer temperatures. It was only their jungle wisdom that kept many families alive. Daily, the crisis grew more intense until Keith felt constrained to make a trip to New Delhi to meet personally with CFRA officials in the hope that they could convince the Central Government of the gravity of the situation in Surgapam.
At that time, our good friend, Dr. Dunhill, was visiting India as a delegate to the National Medical Conference at Dhanbad, South Bihar. He also wanted to see, first hand, the famine conditions, in the hope of stimulating interest and concern in Australia. What he saw left him stunned.
He was keen that Keith should visit Karigiri to learn some of the latest techniques in leprosy diagnosis and treatment at the Leprosy Research Centre, near Vellore. We could never have afforded the plane fare all the way from Ranitola to Madras. Thanks to Dr. Dunhill, this trip gave Keith the opportunity to get hydrocortisone injections for his painful "Tennis Elbows", which often left him sleepless and in agony.
It was while at Vellore, that Dr. Dunhill drafted a very important letter to Mrs. Indira Gandhi, Prime Minister of India and Head of the Famine Emergency Flying Squad. He related just what he had seen in Surgapam with his own eyes and to further emphasize the point, he introduced himself as a very personal friend of the Australian Prime Minister, whom Indira Gandhi also knew well.
It was a compassionate, friendly appeal, which probably worked wonders for us in the months to follow, because it made the Indian Prime Minister familiar with our work. Along with his own personal letter, the good doctor forwarded a number of desperate petitions he had received from several village councils in Surgapam. For Keith, this trip south was all part of the making of the next miracle.
Chapter Eleven, Section ***II
While Keith was away in South India with Dr. Dunhill, two important things happened that had a considerable bearing on our efforts to stave off further suffering. Kevin Marlin, Director of the GRACE organization in M.P., was operating a school-feeding program, which included a project to help pregnant women and nursing mothers. The distribution of GRACE commodities, such as powdered milk, edible oil, "Bulgur" (crushed wheat par-boiled in vegetable oil) wheat and various baby foods, was handled by government school teachers who were required to submit a monthly inventory to the GRACE Head Office at Bhopal, capital of M.P.. Copies of the reports were sent also to the Ministry of Food. So many of these teachers sent off letters of appeal, along with their regular documents, that Kevin and his wife, Mavis, decided to visit our area to see for themselves.
After inspecting many of the school distribution centres, they realized that what they had thought of the GRACE program as being large and extensive, was, in fact, just a drop in the ocean, caring only for a few children who attended school. Word had spread that we were keen and ready to launch a relief program and this prompted the village folk to direct these two Americans to our Mission, at Nawapara.
As soon as Mavis saw me, she flew into a rage. She screamed at me like a wild cat and, through bitter tears flowing down her cheeks, castigated me for not doing anything to alleviate the hunger of those who obviously had tom at her heartstrings. Perhaps she associated me with those evangelical fundamentalists who often regard famine relief as "mere social work"! Although I felt sorry for her, not being in her right mind, I just had to yell back, but could not get a word in. "What sort of people are you?" she stormed. "Haven't you got a heart at all? Are you going to let these people die? You ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. How can you remain here and be so indifferent to the needs of others?"
"What do you expect me to do?" I screamed back. "Go over the head of the District Collector? Don't you think that I, too, have feelings? Don't you think that I, too, feel frustrated?
Kevin, obviously was very embarrassed over his wife's behaviour, but both of us knew that a combination of over-tiredness due to the long Jeep ride from Bhopal and the magnitude of the sufferings of thousands of hungry, dying people, had affected her ability to think rationally. She was suffering from shock. After resting up a while and enjoying a cup of tea, Kevin, Mavis and I talked of ways to fight the famine. We parted the very best of friends, each with the mutual belief that we were doing all that was humanly possible, under the circumstances.
That was all we saw of Kevin and Mavis at the time. Meanwhile, our sons, Paul, now sixteen and Bruce thirteen years old, had arrived home for their winter school holidays. They were to playa significant role in the famine relief program during Keith's absence.
By "Bush Telegraph", I learned that a high-powered CFRA team had flown down to Ranitola, from Delhi, to initiate the relief schemes in South Bihar. The whole operation in our part of Bihar (Palamghat District) was under the personal direction of Dr. Khrishna Surapati Singh, the dynamic Palamghat District Deputy Commissioner, who had set up a rather elaborate radio-linked "Control Centre" adjacent to his chambers in the court compound, at Daulatapur. I heard that the CFRA officials were planning to visit Bhavnagar to launch the relief program there.
Anticipating that they would receive no encouragement on the Bihar side of the border to come on the further twenty miles to Surgapam, I sent two men to Bhavnagar with strict instructions to give my letter of appeal only to the important visitors from outside.
They were ordered, if not "threatened", to return in front of the Mission compound gate; at least one of them must stay there, night and day, to be sure that the team received my letter. The two men waited a full three days, but neither of them was at the gate when Dr. Donald E. Rutherglen and the others of the team arrived, even though I had paid them very well for their troubles.
When no word reached me, Paul and Bruce decided to cycle through to Bhavnagar to see for themselves. They found that the CFRA team had arrived but had not received my urgent message. Paul went directly to the team and talked down all opposition to their travelling to Surgapam. He was shocked by the apathy so manifest on the Bihar side of the border. Even those who had some compassionate concern for the needs of Surgapam's starving, were afraid to get involved. No one wanted to take any risk.
There were thousands of lives at stake, not only in Surgapam, but also in other parts of M.P. Many of these people are alive today because of our son, Paul, helped by his brother, Bruce. Paul had many friends in Surgapam and was in no mood to be put off by those who thought him to be a cheeky teen-ager. He would not be silenced by such statements as "Your father is not there" or "Famine has not been officially declared in Surgapam" or "Your mother will not be expecting so many visitors". Paul, who had seen with his own eyes, the enormity of the starvation conditions in Surgapam, far greater than anything we had seen in Palamghat, would not take "No" for an answer. He insisted, if not demanded, that at least half the CFRA team should visit Surgapam.
Dr. Rutherglen, CFRA's Associate Director from New Delhi, also Calcutta Representative, Mr. P .C. Joslin, along with their driver, had to yield. To quote Dr. Rutherglen, the break down of the CFRA Jeep near Karchand, was a "blessing in disguise" for, while the team waited for a replacement part to be sent from the Mission at Nawapara, they had time to make a close investigation in this ravaged village, which had no chance of staging an appearance of food shortage.
When they could not find a grain of any sort, in a village of over one thousand population, Dr. Donald Rutherglen broke down and cried. Again, in Nawapara, the team met with local village leaders who presented petitions, making a desperate last-minute appeal for help. Already God was at work in the hearts of our visitors from Delhi. All were convinced that something had to be done, in Surgapam and, although nothing could be put in writing at this stage, tacit approval was given for a mammoth "Food-For-Work" (FFW) relief program also in our part of M.P.
One of approximately 400 food for work (FFW) projects -- digging a 25 ft. diameter well 30 ft. deep.
We immediately faced several insurmountable problems. Border permits were required for the movement of heavy vehicles across the border, either way. "Totally impossible," I said to myself. Special permission also had to be secured to move food, which, in a famine situation would be an impossible dream. However, because we had leprosy & TB patients on both sides of the border, at least we could move into Surgapam the food required for these indigents and their families. That CFRA food was stored on the Mission compound at Bhavnagar. I was determined that, before Keith arrived back from South India, at least I would have some of the wheat for his regular program brought through from Bhavnagar. Someone had to start bringing in the grain and I had to strike while the iron was hot - and before they appointed a "lady policeman!"
Even a few bags would give hope and the news would soon spread throughout the district, to generate more hope. Hope, above all else, was needed at this critical stage. But how much could be carted in with only a small Jeep and trailer? It seemed such a crazy idea, like feeding the Five Thousand out of a few small baskets! And who would do the carting? At that time, while Keith was away, I was the only one in our part of the district with a driving license. As I thought over the problem and prayed about it, I found myself asking the question, "Who, me?" "Yes, you!", came back the answer.
Surely the Lord did not expect me to do the carting. I had travelled hundreds of times on the precarious twenty-mile track between Nawapara and Bhavnagar and had never enjoyed the trip, especially when Keith had an overloaded trailer. Often we had bogged down heavily in the loose sand of the Khulaban and Cherraban Rivers, even with four-wheel drive engaged. I shall never forget one trip we made after a heavy shower, which reduced the road to a quagmire.
To make matters worse, because of insufficient funds, we always seemed to travel on dangerously bald tires. As we climbed a steep rise, all four wheels started to spin and then the Jeep not only stopped, but actually started to slide backwards, being pulled down by the heavily loaded trailer. Had it not been for Keith's dexterity at the wheel, we would have gone crashing over an embankment, twenty feet to the paddy field below.
Ably assisted by Paul and Bruce, and with fear and trepidation, I drove to Bhavnagar to fetch our first load of wheat! At Bhavnagar, we received neither encouragement nor help. After all, the M.P. Govt. had not initiated the "Famine Code", so what we were doing was considered "illegal" by those who thought it too risky to get involved. But, again, this was a crisis requiring "situational ethics"!
Paul inquired as to which "godam" (store-shed) contained our food-grains and found where the key was kept. Together, the two boys skilfully backed the Jeep and trailer up the narrow lane leading to the shed and loaded those heavy bags themselves, one hundred Kg’s. each, as many as could be loaded into Jeep and trailer.
That is how the stream of food started to flow, culminating in a massive relief effort that, eventually, was to keep thirty-two thousand people alive. And that was a Miracle!.
As with the Leprosy work, so with the relief program, Suresh Khamal became our right-hand man. Without his help, it would have been most difficult to augment the food-for-work (FFW) schemes in such a way that maximum long-term and short-term benefits might be derived from the program. We had to think not only of alleviating the immediate hunger, but also of developing a more viable local economy, less vulnerable to the vagaries of nature.
Because we launched the famine relief in Surgapam without official government approval, our CFRA program was unique throughout the whole of India. In all the other affected areas, the various provincial governments took the initiative in relief through their Relief Commissioners, down through the District Magistrates and their immediate subordinates, the Sub-Divisional Officers and, finally, the "patwaris" on the local level.
Voluntary donor agencies, such as CFRA, UNICEF, OXFAM, RED CROSS etc., provided the food supplies and received back, from the state governments, the distribution records to clear their imports through Customs at Calcutta, Bombay and Madras ports. The agencies had to ensure impartiality in work opportunities and that supplies be utilized irrespective of caste, creed and race.
It was the responsibility of the governments to draw up the schemes, provide the technical expertise to design the wells, dams, roads, canals etc., and give the administrative oversight involved in such a massive undertaking, using all manual labour. The provincial governments also had to carry out the schemes on their own lands. However, in our case, all the "Food-For- Work" (FFW) schemes had to be executed on private land and in such a strictly impartial manner that no individual, family, tribe or community be advantaged disproportionately.
In order to avoid any possible inequity, we formed a "Local Relief Committee" often members, representative of all sections of the public - Hindus, Muslims, Animists and Christians. It was nothing less than a miracle that we brought together these four groups with such divergent philosophies and cultures. Keith, personally, made the selection of the representatives from among those villagers who manifested some practical concern for others less fortunate. Members of the public were invited to submit, before the Committee, proposals for FFW schemes.
Where possible, contingent upon the availability of a favourable water table, wells were sunk on the boundaries of two, three or four different families. All beneficiaries were required to sign publicly, with witnesses, an agreement allowing their neighbours to utilize water for irrigation and drinking purposes. Special emphasis was given to constructing earthen dams at the top of a line of rice paddy fields. Farmers who possessed such high lands in a suitable catchment area, were encouraged to make their lands available for the construction of "percolation tanks", in return for which, their neighbours offered them land in the lower, more arable area. It was a beautiful example of cooperation.
Such water storage irrigation facilities were designed to contain enough monsoon rain-water to assure not only a mature crop of rice in the fields below, but also to keep the soil moist enough to permit a winter crop of wheat. Never before had wheat been grown in the area. For this reason, we had to plant out demonstration plots to convince the local farmers of the feasibility of using these paddy fields for other than rice cultivation.
Over one hundred of these percolating tanks were constructed during the famine year. The average dimensions of such dams were around two hundred feet long, one hundred feet wide and ten feet deep. Such a dam, in the course of its construction, would provide relief work for one hundred people for a month. The rate of payment for work was one kilo of wheat for every one hundred cubic feet of earth dug are carried to the site of deposit.
Obviously, to move in all the wheat and other foods necessary to maintain such a colossal FFW scheme, we would require more than a small jeep and trailer. CFRA did allocate two ten-ton Mercedes trucks, with drivers, to handle the cartage for both our programs, including that of mission colleagues at Bhavnagar. The Field Officer overseeing the government related CFRA program in our Bihar area had fears that the authorities, either in Bihar or M.P., would obstruct the movement of the heavy truck and food grains across the provincial border.
For this reason, it always was a struggle for Keith when he had to move in supplies so he decided to "win-over" the driver of one of the trucks, Tilamai, an Adivasi Uraon who, being excited about the relief we were trying to bring to Surgapam, had the courage enough to drive his big truck over the provincial border -permit or no permit!
However, there were times when Driver Tilamai was taken off the Daulatapur - Bhavnagar transport runs, threatening to bring our program to a halt. Keith decided, therefore, to have his own driving license endorsed to cover heavy vehicle operation and this solved our problem for a time. After that, when he needed the use of a CFRA truck, he just hi-jacked it!
Driver Tilamai made no objections when he lost his Mercedes, in fact, he enjoyed a holiday when Keith had his vehicle plying between the Daulatapur railhead and Nawapara, Surgapam. All this was a very great strain on Keith who, by nature, is not violent and loathes riding roughshod over the feelings of others. But, so long as he had that truck, he drove it night and day to get in supplies before the monsoon, hauling a load of one hundred large bags of wheat per trip in the excessive heat and over bone-rattling jungle tracks, until he was nearly exhausted.
This tough action on Keith's part could not continue much longer; it may have been saving lives, but it was also causing strained relationships. CFRA then gave us a new one-ton Jeep truck with heavier tires and a specially lengthened and strengthened chassis to operate between Bhavnagar and Surgapam. Not being classified as a "heavy vehicle", meant that we would have no fear of it being confiscated at the border. Unfortunately, CFRA gave us a truck without a driver. Who would drive? "Who, me?" "Yes, you," came back the same answer, every time.
Sadly, the truck was far too small and the engine so grossly underpowered that, obviously, it would be worn out before we could move in all the food supplies necessary to maintain the size of a program we had envisaged.