First published in Christianity magazine April 2009
The recent film Slumdog Millionaire drew the world’s attention to the slumdwellers and streetdwellers of Mumbai (Bombay), India. The film’s authenticity - and publicity - was helped by the fact that the roles of exploited children were played not by actors but by slum children. So what is the reality for people on the margins of survival in Mumbai, and what is the Christian community doing about it?
I had the opportunity of visiting Gyaneshwar Nagar slum in Bandra, Mumbai, while spending time with Christian charity Oasis India, researching a book on surviving stress. My first reaction, on visiting the Bandra slum, was surprise at its situation. The maze of tin-roofed shacks with its 25,000 inhabitants is a stone’s throw from luxury apartments, Bollywood stars’ homes and international banks in a thriving urban area.
Leaving the road and entering the network of 150 narrow passageways making up the square-mile area of slum was like entering another world. I felt conspicuously white and foreign, despite wearing the traditional shalwar kameez and a dupatta scarf lent by my Indian niece. Now entrepreneurs are offering ‘slum tours’, the sight of white faces may become more common.
I followed Oasis staff member Chandrakala down narrow alleys, the heat bouncing off the walls of rows of dwellings no more than arms’ width apart. Walking space was taken up by doorsteps, plastic barrels of water, pipes laid over the surface, and the narrow water channel – dark brown and bubbling, and buzzing with flies and mosquitoes. A little boy, asleep on the doorstep, had his hand trailing near the channel. Further on, a small child was using it as a toilet. Lines of clothes and bedding slung across every wall added a splash of colour to the brick and cement homes with their corrugated tin roofs. Some homes had doors; others, sheets of plastic. Few had windows.
Chandrakala dodged swiftly from side to side of the path, negotiating familiar obstacles and stopping to say hello to the women sitting on doorsteps. Children came out of the shacks to stare, including a little girl carrying a baby brother on her hip. I’d expected hostility, invading people’s privacy, but although a few women looked wary, the children enjoyed the novelty and accompanied us down the alleys, with adults following at a distance.
Some of the women and children looked troubled and uncared for; others were clean and smiling. Priya, an immaculately dressed gypsy lady, invited me into her home, which had a metal shutter door like a lock-up, making the one-room house – for six people – like an oven inside.
The concept of ‘community’ sounds beneficial but in practice overcrowded slum communities are intense concentrations of people from difficult backgrounds, fighting to survive. Bandra slum comprises people from three regions of India with different languages and culture, plus Moslems and gypsies. In every social system except the kingdom of God, they are outcasts. It’s essential, then, for Christians to put them first. Oasis’ policy is to empower people to help themselves, training the women in health care, teaching and other roles.
Priya said boredom - an often overlooked by-product of poverty – had been a major source of stress of life in the slum for her. Clearly intelligent, she is now a pre-natal care volunteer.
Roshni, 21, who now works in one of Oasis’ training centres, grew up in a slum and knows its problems. ‘Children are left outside, not cared for; they go hungry and have to beg. There are problems with neighbours fighting, and children don’t grow up well.’
For Roshni, turning up to work every day, clean and neatly dressed, is an achievement in itself. ‘We don’t have facilities or water.’
The makers of Slumdog Millionaire have defended their low payment of the film’s three child stars, saying they have enabled them to attend school, but Roshni explained that even with schooling, opportunities for slum children to rise above poverty and illiteracy are limited by their environment. Class sizes are typically 70-100 pupils and children take turns at half-day shifts in school, with heavy reliance on homework and parental help, ‘and it’s too difficult to study in the slum,’ Roshni said.
Like many girls, Roshni was taken out of school as soon as she reached puberty and was married at 14. Now with two children, she and her husband work full-time – he as a rickshaw driver and she as a workshop supervisor – and the family’s prospects are good. I asked if they aimed to move out of the slum, but Roshni shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s a good witness to Christ to live in the slum and live differently. People come to my door to fight, and when I listen to what they say and don’t fight with them, they go silent and go away.’
Slumdwellers are, at least in theory, better off than homeless street children, who mostly come from outside the city – from village families too poor to feed them, or from abusive homes. Desperate to make a living, they are easily exploited as rag-pickers, plastic collectors or, all too often, sex workers. Among the children rescued by Oasis’ workers was an emaciated two-year old boy in the sole care of his five-year old sister, a boy who fell into the path of a train and lost his leg, and a 14- year old girl working since the age of nine, illegally selling hair ornaments on local trains, to support parents and a young brother all with Aids.
One of the boys rescued from this life and now attending Oasis’ training centre, 16-year old Pranad, told me his history. ‘I lived with my family in a village in Andhra Pradesh but the family was very poor so I came with my aunty to the city near my home. She got me a job for one year, in a house.
‘When the job ended I moved to Bombay. It was four days by train, and two changes of train. I was 12. I didn’t know Hindi, or the local language, Marathi. My mother tongue was Telegu. I came out of the station with no job and no way to speak to anyone. So I lived on the station platform. I did jobs – I was porter, for tips, or I sweep the train compartments.
‘My friend and I, we did some work for the police. When there was an accident on the track we had to carry the dead bodies off the line. The police paid us 150 rupees (about £1.80) to carry one dead body.’ I asked him if that was the worst. ‘No. The worst thing was when there were no jobs and I had to go hungry.’
He was unsure about how long he lived on the station. ‘I moved on after a while. I got my own business: I sold lime juice on the roadside. But then I fell sick and I couldn’t work and I was back on the platform.’ His voice sank low at this point – the proud businessman with his barrow of limes going back to being a homeless street boy.
‘Then my friend and I got a job decorating a hall for weddings. But, with others, I got addicted to drink and I lost the job. Then I worked in a theatre and got a small rented place to live, together with friends. But I fell sick again and I was back to living on the station.
‘I was nearly 14 when I met the Oasis staff. For one year I went to Ashadeep (the drop-in centre for street children), then I came to the training centre. I liked all the activities, and I came to know that God cared for me and I felt my life could be much better. I pray for my family and I’ve been back home once or twice.’
It seemed important to ask all the street and slum dwellers if they had a dream. God listens not only to the cry of the poor but to their dreams. Pranad said, ‘Yes, I have a dream. When I get a proper job I want to give the money to my family.’
Rahul, now one of Oasis’ trainers helping children escape from destitution, dreamed of getting a job – any job. ‘I didn’t have a good beginning to my life. My whole family lived on the street, building roads. They worked very, very hard.’ I had seen these construction worker families, living in rubble beside a half-made road, carrying rocks on their heads all day, assisted by very young children. Living under plastic sheets, separate from the community, they were some of the thinnest people I saw in Mumbai.
‘We had very bad conditions in the home. We couldn’t get good food. My two older sisters had to beg. So my mum sent my younger sister and me to the government hostel (state-run children’s home). I was there from eight to 18.’
He was philosophical about the separation, though missing his mother. ‘We had food and an education. And I learned about Jesus. I was attracted by him because he was loving and I wanted to grow to be a good man.’
Slum children, even with the benefit of basic shelter and a community, have the odds stacked against them growing up to be good – in fact, against growing up at all. There’s too little to live on and too much to die from: malaria, TB, gastric and skin infections, HIV, poverty, alcoholism, a high rate of domestic and neighbourhood violence, child abuse, and the ever-present risk of abduction and human trafficking.
The former marshland site of Bandra slum, allocated to gypsies in the 1990s, is now prime building land sought after by developers who repeatedly request meetings with planning officials and reportedly offer substantial bribes. It’s common for homes to be bulldozed overnight, as happened to the family of one of Slumdog’s boy actors while the film was grossing its first millions in box office takings.
Oasis is one of a number of Christian charities, including IM Cares, working in Mumbai’s slums; other local Christian missions include International Justice Mission for anti-trafficking, Teen Challenge for drug rehab, and the Salvation Army for sex workers’ children. Charities rely heavily on volunteers from local churches.
Historically, John Nonhebel of Oasis says, the Catholic Church has been the most pro-active in caring for Mumbai’s poor. One organization, now registered as a charity with the Indian government, is the Sneha Sagar Society (meaning ‘Ocean of Love’) set up by the Helpers of Jesus religious order in 1999 with an open-door policy towards the poor.
Sister Martha said, ‘In practice, the need is so great we can take only the very poorest – orphans and destitute aged. Children from the slum come to study, and sometimes we have to give them shelter as well, but we already have 50 orphans and 20 seniors full-time. We need volunteers and finance.’
Even for paid staff, the work is sacrificial. Oasis’ pre-school teacher in the slum, a 24-year old psychology graduate, earns a fifth of her friends’ salaries - but even teaching infants to wash their hands can save lives.
The Oasis centre is described by residents of Bandra slum as ‘the big building’: two rooms high, with the upper storey reached by a ladder. It is in constant multiple use as a health clinic, office, nursery school, tailoring school, IT and language training centre, and meeting place for the Women’s Federation.
Handouts and loans foster a cycle of dependency but microfinance is proving a successful alternative. The Women’s Federation consists of small groups saving tiny amounts of their own money in a common bank account, to qualify for low interest loans for members’ work or family needs. A side-effect of the meetings, classes, shared finance and small businesses, is that women now talk to each other. ‘People used to keep their troubles to themselves,’ explained Priya. ‘Now we’re more like family.’
Kuldeep John, Bandra’s project director, explained, ‘We are aiming for 2,500 members and have identified 25 women leaders for training. Overseen by the local church which is our partner, the Federation will take over all the activities we are doing, and we will shift out to another slum where people have nothing.’
Talking about the early days of Oasis’ involvement, the staff member who oversees the Women’s Federation, Chandrakala, said, ‘Initially, it was a problem to people that we were Christians; people thought we came to convert them. Many used to stop others from coming to us. But we actually saw people who used to talk very harshly change and talk softly; now they trust us. It’s a very small change - but very big too.
‘I am here most of the time. I live very near the slum, so even after work I meet people from here in the market. It’s important to stay, to build trust. If I left after six months, people couldn’t trust us.’
I asked Madhu, who came to live in the slum before the charity intervened in 2002, what it was like then. ‘Don’t ask! People used plastic sheets to shelter them; there was no light, no water, no sanitation. We had to walk for ten minutes to get water; we were only allowed one pot a day and we had to pay ten rupees for it. Conditions are much better now.’
For Madhu, the worst problem is insecurity. ‘These houses are being taken down by developers; the posh area is very close and they want this land. The fear is there in everyone’s heart. People don’t bother to make their house more solid because it may go tomorrow.The government wants to send people to outer Bombay but our children attend schools here and people have jobs. I think we can bring changes if we work together and speak up with one voice.' An older woman disagreed: ‘No, because these people in power are corrupt and they only think about themselves.’
All this work by the charity and by Bandra’s inhabitants, all the micro-enterprise, the hard-won harmony and growing sense of community… and it could all be reduced to rubble tomorrow. I asked Kuldeep how he felt about that.
‘The government is planning to clear this city of slums and demolish the houses, but if they just put people somewhere else, it will also become a slum. ‘I personally feel that if we are his instruments, God will restore faith, hope and love. What is achieved here is not by our strength or power but by God’s spirit. And we are part of God’s plan, to restore what is lost.’
FACTS & FIGURES
• Mumbai’s official population is 10 million; actual population nearer 20 million
• 100,000 children live rough, mainly around the railway stations
• Children and young women are at risk of human trafficking
• 51% of Mumbai is slum • Bandra slum is home to 5,600 families – 25,000 people – in less than one square mile
• Bandra comprises five separate communities: local people; people from Uttar Pradesh; Andhra Pradesh; gypsies; Muslims
• 16 toilets are shared by the whole community; there is a charge to use them
• Water is piped to the slum but is frequently turned off
Slumdog Millionaire – the movie and the motives
The rags-to-riches movie which has won scores of awards and is estimated to have already made over $85 million, has sparked allegations from the parents of two of the leading child actors that UK director Danny Boyle underpaid them (reportedly $716 for Rubina Ali and $2,400 for Azharuddin Ismail, plus help with school expenses and a trust fund if they complete secondary education).
The film’s distributors say the children were paid more than three times the annual salary of the average adult in their slum, and Danny Boyle said plans were under way to pump "significant" profits back into the Mumbai slums.
The Mumbai Mirror reported that slum residents are also protesting against the ‘demeaning’ portrayal of their poverty, or its ‘glorification’ on screen.
The Times of India, in an article headed ‘Are we getting too touchy about India’s portrayal?’ included the comment, ‘The slum is both a condemnation and a celebration of who we are,’ and reminded readers that Indian film-makers have always made documentaries about poverty.
Opinions about the film-makers’ ethics, and versions of the facts, vary considerably. Boyle has also been accused of ‘peddling poverty porn’.
Interestingly, no one seems to be questioning the ethics of the film industry’s more common trend of ‘advocating affluence addiction.’
