They work, but are neglected

Though tribal women of Orissa have done better in politics than their counterparts from the general castes, they are given a raw deal at the time of ticket allotment. Political parties need to do a re-think on their ticket distribution strategy, writes Manipadma Jena

FOR a decade, Mukta Jhodia (49), hitching a ride on her husband's bicycle, would go into remote tribal villages of Kashipur in Orissa's Rayagada district to dissuade people from giving up their farmland for bauxite mining. Mukta received the Chingari Award instituted for women fighting corporate crime.

Traumatised by continued violence in Orissa’s tribal areas, women still come out in large numbers to vote Photo: WFS

Then there is Sumoni Jhodia (60), who was the unofficial adviser on tribal development to the erstwhile Chief Minister, Biju Patnaik. That's not all. Among the 12 tribals killed in police firing at Kalinganagar in Jajpur district recently, two were women.

Mukta, Sumoni and those killed in the firing are from the Scheduled Tribes (ST), which make up 22.21 per cent of Orissa's population. It is women like them who form the backbone of people's movements. In terms of leadership qualities, they generally do better than their more economically prosperous counterparts from the general castes. Yet, they do not get equal opportunities to contest elections and be a part of the law-making process, so crucial for their communities.

Even the nomination of Padma Shri Tulasi Munda (61) to the Rajya Sabha was blocked by the Adivasi Mahasabha comprising several tribal organisations. It was a surprising case of tribals pitting themselves against other tribals, but it reinforced the fact that when it comes to political power sharing, the deeply entrenched G-factor, or gender factor, kicks in.

The G-factor has clipped the wings of many women interested in contesting elections. Only a minuscule percentage has made it, and the fact that the Women's Reservation Bill has remained in a limbo since 1997 has not helped. So what one has here is gender disempowerment within the larger disempowerment of tribals as a community. Of the 157 candidates who contested the Lok Sabha elections this time, only 6 per cent were women. The situation was replicated in the polls to the Orissa legislative assembly. Only 10 per cent of the total 1,397 contestants were women.

Orissa has 33 seats out of the 147 in the legislative assembly reserved for tribals. At the parliament level, five of the total 21 seats are reserved for ST candidates. Historically, political parties have never fielded more than an insignificant number of women from these seats. But when women candidates have been given a chance, they have won—not just once, but twice and thrice.

Saraswati Hembrum (60), who started as a sarpanch, went on to represent the Congress from Kuliana in Mayurbhanj for three terms in the state assembly. She was also the first tribal woman to be given ministerial charge. Frida Topno (84), a gazetted state government officer, won the LS seat twice from Sundargarh district. Sushila Tiriya (52) went to the Rajya Sabha twice (in 1994 and 2006) from Mayurbhanj and once to the Lok Sabha. Interestingly, Frida and Sushila, both graduates, are deeply committed to social work and have chosen to remain single.

Two high profile women from tribal communities who contested the elections from Orissa this time (LS and assembly elections in the state were held simultaneously in two phases on April 16 and 23) are Draupadi Murmu and Hema Gamang. Draupadi (50), a Santhal and a graduate, is a two-time BJP MLA from Rairakhol, Mayurbhanj. This time round she contested the LS seat from Mayurbhanj. She started her career as part of the government clerical staff, and went on to become a minister.

Hema (48) from the Saura tribe of Rayagada was the youngest entrant in this lot. She was only 38 when she entered the Lok Sabha from Koraput district on a Congress ticket. Although there were local politicians in her family, it was her husband, Giridhar Gamang, who was instrumental in opening the portals to mainstream politics to her. He was the Orissa Chief Minister at that time and had won in six consecutive Lok Sabha elections. He needed Hema to keep his seat safe, while he dominated state politics. Hema readily acknowledges this. "I was acquainted with politics and knew grassroots party workers well, having campaigned for my husband. But I was not keen to jump into the thick of the fray at that point," she said.

What does it take for a woman from a tribal community to get a foothold in national politics? "Family political background, personal qualities, exposure to the world outside one's own community, education and adequate funds—in that order," says Hema promptly.

In sharp contrast to Hema, Draupadi Murmu does not come from a political background. Today, after eight years as a legislator and after heading two ministries, her nomination affidavit reveals that she has no house to her name—only a modest bank balance and some land. What works for her? "Showing results," Draupadi quips. She concedes, however, that being in the right place at the right time and having access to the right people helps, although that did not get her the Lok Sabha ticket in 2004, which she had badly desired.

Laments Tapasi Praharaj, a Bhubaneswar-based activist from the Left-leaning All India Democratic Women's Association (AIDWA): "Women participate more in the election process in every way. But they are given a raw deal at the time of ticket selection." This despite the fact that women figure high among voters. It was the women of Malkangiri and Koraput this time who bravely exercised their franchise despite boycott calls given by Naxal groups.

If the status of women in these neglected tribal communities is to change for the better, political parties in tribal-dominated states like Orissa will have to do a serious re-think on their ticket distribution strategy.
— WFS

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