Undermining education in Orissa's mining heartland

By Ranjan K. Panda Feb 13, 2007, 8:49 GMT

Sambalpur (Orissa), Feb 13 (IANS) Janhavi Bhoi, 25, is illiterate, but she knows how important education is for her kids. There is a 'school' up to Class 5 in her village in Orissa. In normal circumstances she would have been happy that her kids are going to a school not far from her home. But she sports a deeply worried look.

'My son goes to a school which is no better than a cowshed,' laments Janhavi. 'About 100 children of 10 classes are being forced inside a dingy one-room community centre building.'

Janhavi's village, Matulu camp, had a nice school building till three years ago. It had five classrooms, adequately spacious for children. Things changed after the Hindalco aluminium company was leased out their village land as its captive coalmine. It was their second displacement in less than 50 years, reports Grassroots Features.

They were first forced to vacate their land and houses because of the Hirakud reservoir in the mid 1950's. As their village name suggests, this is a resettled habitation. The villagers who were just about settling in with new livelihood options were subjected to fresh involuntary resettlement.

This time, however, they did not have to shift far from their original habitation area. 'That's the only solace. Things otherwise have worsened for us,' rues Saudagar Rohidas.

The villagers now stare at permanent loss of livelihood. The 144 displaced families of Matulu Camp village, in Sambalpur district's Rengali block, mostly belong to dalit and tribal communities. Against a meagre compensation or none, the villagers have once again lost their sole sources of livelihood - the land and forests.

With the progress of the coalmines began the regress of education in the village. 'The company acquired our lands and started mining the fields and forests for coal three years ago. But the primary school was still running. As the waste dump grew bigger and started spreading till the school, we feared mishaps and stopped sending children to schools,' says Ramapati Gadtia, a villager.

They had a tough time in pleading for a 'safe' school building. 'Since the last three years we are requesting government officials for a school building,' complains Gadtia.

Only about six months ago, when 'after consistent pleadings and agitations, in a meeting of the Rehabilitation Advisory Committee (RAC), it was decided that a school building will be built for the children', he adds.

'But nobody cares. Displaced people are always taken for a ride. It is no exception this time too,' complains Rajkumar Munda. Though six months have passed since the RAC's decision, there are no signs of its implementation.

Like everything else, the school building too has become a mirage for the villagers. Adding insult to the injuries, the old school building is now occupied by security guards of the mining company.

'They (security guards) have made it their barrack,' complains Ashok Dash, a social activist.

A building that should have housed plenty of pen-pencil holding kids now has gun totting security personnel. The administration conveniently chose the easier way out. They 'relocated' the school to the community hall, which was being used as the Education Guarantee Scheme (EGS) School.

In the chaos of about 100 students from class I to IV jostling for space in the tiny 'class room', voices of teacher Daitari Rout and headmaster Rudrani Padhi are hardly heard. Padhi says they had been shifted with an assurance that they would be provided with a new school building.

Says Janhavi: 'Sometimes we plan to send our kids to the other nearest primary school, which is two km away in Khinda.'

But parents are scared of doing so. 'Heavy, speeding Volvo trucks ply through that road day and night. Life is far more precious than education,' adds a concerned Janhavi.

In these circumstances, the fate of hundreds of children are sealed as education eludes them. An apathetic administration and absent infrastructure has forced children belonging to 10 classes of two schools to study in a 20/15 ft 'class room'. Mockingly children term their 'school' as '10 in one'.

Urgrasen Mahananda, a marginal landholder now reduced to a daily wage labourer, feels the administration is hand-in-glove with the mining firm.

'The administration is conniving with the company to force our eviction from here through indirect measures like depriving our kids of good education,' he complains.

Adds Dash: 'Had the school been functioning from the original building, it would have been receiving grants from DPEP (District Primary Education Programme). As there is no school building, the village is not getting any grant.'

'The company makes profit at our cost,' alleges Satyanarayan Rohidas, who is yet to receive any compensation.

'My brothers missed out on education because we were forced to vacate for the Hirakud reservoir and our children are now no less unfortunate even when the government is making tall claims of giving education for all,' says an illiterate Satyanarayan. 'We may loose the fight this time too and like us our children will be missing education.'

Warns Dash: 'This is leading to a dangerous trend. Some parents have made the absence of a proper schooling environment as a prelude to engage their kids in domestic work.'

Bhika Sahis, 55, was an infant when their family was evicted to make way for the Hirakud reservoir.

'We should be feeling proud that we are suffering for the cause of the nation. But we are again made to suffer and this time not for the nation but to fill the coffers of millionaires!' exclaims an angry Sahis.

In short, in villages like Matulu Camp, coal is gold and children's education can be dumped!

© 2007 Indo-Asian News Service