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** * * ** ** ** I Witnessed a Witch Hunt in Jharkhand Region Witch hunting is a huge issue in the eastern states of India, such as Bihar, Jharkhand, Chattisgarh, Orissa and the neighboring areas of Maharashtra, which have large tribal populations with traditional beliefs about witches. Indian newspapers periodically publish reports about women who, after being accused of witchcraft, have been beaten to death, had their houses expropriated, their heads shaved or had strings of shoes hung around their necks. Yet, nothing seems to stop these abuses. Not even the pressure of NGOs, such as the Free Legal Aid Committee (FLAC),based in Jamshedpur (the steel city of Jharkhand) whose efforts prompted one state –Jharkhand- to pass an Anti-Witch Hunting Act in 1999, has fully eradicated the problem. In the last 15 years, more than 2500 Indian women have been killed in the name of witchcraft. According to FLAC, 670 of these women were murdered between 2004 and 2005. It wasn't until 2005, when I witnessed the persecution of Budhaniya Majhi, that the true horror and injustice of this modern-day witch hunt really hit me. Here's the story. Body: As a journalist for the past ten years, I thought I had seen it all - from corruption to cast wars, until one day a chance visit to a remote village in Angara Block, on the suburbs of Ranchi, the capital of the Indian state of Jharkhand, made me realize I wasn't done learning about the human capacity for evil. I went there along my friend and research scholar Ganga Nath Jha. He had heard that a witch hunting trial would take place and the journalist in me was very curious to witness that. The morning mist was just lifting as our jeep bumped along the muddy trails of Angara, a suburban area of Ranchi, the capital city of Jharkhand, home to over 30 ethnic tribes, such as the Santhals, Mundas, Oraons, Ho, Kharia and Kharwar. Superstitions and tribal practices amongst the villagers abound in Jharkhand. Women are still not free to pursue a basic education, resulting in deep-rooted fears and ignorance in the society. The air was cold and penetrating, as if it were anticipating what Ganga and I were about to experience. We arrived just on time for the "jan adalat" or "public meeting." Slowly, the village center filled up with men. There were no women around. People gathered in small groups and talked among themselves in their own dialect. After a while a middle-aged man who looked like an important person in the village called everyone to attention. Suddenly, there was a hushed silence and everyone turned to stare at a woman who was being dragged in by two men. I couldn't help but stare a woman who I would come to know as Budhaniya Majhi. She appeared extremely fragile and far from looking evil, a simple village girl. Her face was bruised and bloated from beatings; she had been dragged stark naked through the village the previous evening. Even from a distance I could see the welt marks where the sticks had fallen mercilessly on her slender frame. The arms, her waist and her back were visible above the "sari," a garment worn by Indian women, wrapped and pleated around the body, or sometimes like a sarong as worn by some tribes. Tears, blood and mucus had dried on her face and she looked lifeless. Two men of the village threw the woman like a bundle of rags in the middle of the gathering. "This woman is a witch!" the two men announced to the villagers. "A witch?" I whispered in disbelief. One or two young boys poked her with twigs, spitting and demanding she show her powers to the multitude. "Hey Dyan (witch), get up, get up. Show us what you can do!" they shouted over and over again. They finally gave up. The village headman, who acted as the presiding judge, asked a man standing near him: "Do you have proof that this woman is a witch?" The man said that a few days back, his father had fallen ill and died after consuming food she gave him. "When my father died," he added, "a black cat crossed the threshold of our house. It was black magic what killed my father." The entire gathering nodded gravely on hearing this. The village's verdict was clear. The man who was acting as the judge in the trial signaled to a villager who brought a cup filled with a liquid the woman should drink. We didn't know what it was, but we were taken back by her reaction. Was it poison? Why was she screaming and begging everybody not to make her drink it? Three men were holding her roughly: one held her feet, another one held her hands and the third one poured the liquid down her throat. "That is cow urine," a spectator whispered to me. "If she is witch, harm will come to her." I watched in horror as Budhaniya was made to drink the urine. She gagged. Budhaniya was being condemned as "Dyan" in front of my eyes and I felt powerless. The village council sentenced her to leave the village in two days. Nobody was allowed to offer her or the baby, who were being looked after by an old woman from the village at the time of the trial, any kind of assistance, not even food or water. She was also forced to give her land and the few animals she had -- a cow and two goats -- and her house as compensation to the man whose father had died. She was left with nothing. It seemed we had traveled to another age, another time. I felt so helpless because I could not stop her from being humiliated. Her life, health and especially her self-esteem were in complete tatters. If I ask myself the question, "could I have helped her at that point of time?" the answer is "no." It was not possible for me, a single woman and outsider, to defend Budhaniya in front of the gathering. It was clear that had I or Ganga tried, the poor woman would have been killed on the basis that she used her powers to have "foreigners" coming to rescue her! Clearly, we were barely tolerated. Our only safeguard was that Ganga Nath Jha had been to the village a couple of times for research work. Since I was with him, I was not asked questions, but the look on the faces of most of the villagers reflected that they were not happy with our presence. The meeting was over. Everybody left after the verdict except Ganga and I. Ganga brought a bottle of water and I slowly encouraged Budhaniya to take a sip. She started sobbing. Incoherent sentences came out, a mixture of pain and hatred. There were so many things that I wanted to ask, but the moment was not right. "What will you do now? Where will you go?" were the only things I dared to ask her then. She was silent for what seemed a long time, and then softly she said, "I don't know. I have a sister in Ranchi, but I don't know whether her in-laws will let her help me, especially if they know about this incident." Ganga asked Budhaniya where her parents lived and if she would go there. She shook her head vehemently. "No, no. I cannot go there either. If the villagers hear about what just happened here, they will make my parents social outcasts. My baby and I have no place to go." And she burst into tears. Ganga and I looked at each other. We didn't know what to do next. We had not come prepared to be a rescue team, but we couldn't leave her in the village either. We decided to take mother and child with us to Ranchi. In the course of his research on tribes Ganga had meet people who he thought would be able to give her some kind of help. We set out not knowing if they would help Budhaniya or take her in. It took us three hours to reach Ranchi from the small village. During the trip, Budhaniya told us she married her husband, Somra Majhi, when she was eighteen. When he died last year her brother-in-law asked Budhaniya to marry him, so that she would not have trouble looking after the land and the house. But she refused him. Immediately, she said, her brother-in-law started spreading rumors against her, that she practiced black magic and that was why her husband had died. Slowly the villagers started fearing her. To make things worse, Budhaniya's father-in-law died recently, just two days after he ate a meat dish she had cooked. Somehow, everyone jumped to the conclusion that Budhaniya, a 22-year-old widow and mother of a one-month-old girl, was indeed a witch and she had used black magic to kill her father-in-law. In a week, a village meeting was called and the results were as I've described. I found out the truth about her father-in-law's death when Ganga Nath Jha went back to the village to do more research. He interviewed the village "witchdoctor" who said that the old man had a drinking problem and that death was due to the fact he consumed poisonous drink - called hooch -- with the meat. In India, members of a tribe usually drink "hadiya," a fermented rice beer. The drink can get poisonous if the brew is not of good quality. And this was the most logical theory to explain Budhaniya's father-in-law's death. It's been a few months since I witnessed the trial and I still wonder how, in 2006, this can happen. Despite our nation's economic progress too many women remain powerless - vulnerable to accusations of witchcraft, leveled so unscrupulous people can take over their land, settle scores and family rivalries, penalize them for spurning their sexual advances, or even punish those brave enough to question social norms. The modus operandi is simple: Often the witch-doctor or "Ojha" of the village is bribed and asked to single out a woman as a witch. This wasn't exactly what happened to Budhaniya, but - certainly -- her innocence could have been easily established. In Budhaniya's case, her brother-in-law presented his story is such a manner that the illiterate villagers believed him. Budhaniya has started a new life, working as a maid to support herself and her daughter in Ranchi. Budhaniya never wanted to be a domestic help; she wanted her own life in her village. But that was not to be. She is still a bewildered woman who shudders every time she relives her nightmare. Today there is some hope. There are organizations, such as The Free Legal Aid Committee, who are campaigning against the witch-hunt in Jharkhand. They provide free legal aid to women and spread awareness against this social evil through street plays in remote villages. Awareness is coming slowly but surely into the rural landscape of Jharkhand. In fact, in April 2006, the women in Ranchi launched a campaign against their victimization in the name of "stopping witchcraft" in the tribal society of the State. This was the first-ever major initiative against these abuses and I hope Budhaniya's story will help awareness to grow strong. Pullquote: In the last 15 years, more than 2500 Indian women have been killed in the name of witchcraft. According to FLAC, 670 of these women were murdered between 2004 and 2005. Source URL: http://www.orato.com/lifestyles/2006/05/27/i-witnessed-witch-hunt-india Subject Line by Jharkhand Blog ** <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/contact.htm> . * News TV <http://www.indian-tv.blogspot.com/> Blog <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/blog> Photo <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/photo> Music <http://www.jharkhandi.org/music.htm> Video <http://www.jharkhandi.org/video.htm> Live Chat <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/live> Directory <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/directory> Testimonials <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/directory> Forum <http://yahoogroups.com/group/jharkhand> Contact <http://www.jharkhand.org.in/contact.htm> . * -- Jharkhand Blog [EMAIL PROTECTED] Jharkhand Online Network www.jharkhand.org.in/blog
