First published in Greenford Baptist Church magazine
I was interested to see the film Slumdog Millionaire recently, as I’d had the opportunity of visiting Gyaneshwar Nagar slum in Mumbai, while spending time with the Christian charity my nephew John works for, Oasis India, as research for a book on surviving stress.
John’s wife Charmaine, who is Indian, took me to buy a shalwar kameez before going to the slum, as people living there are not used to Westerners and my below-knee-length summer dress would be seen as indecent. Even kitted out in the traditional tunic, capacious trousers and draped dupatta scarf I felt conspicuously white and foreign going into the slum with one of the Oasis workers. Being followed by an ever-growing crowd of curious children didn’t help me blend in either!
Entering the slum was like going into another world. It was just across the road from some of the most expensive office buildings and apartment blocks in Mumbai: on your left, international banks; on your right, a network of 150 narrow passageways between rows of tiny concrete shacks. 25,000 people were living there, on less than a square mile of land - so close to each other that privacy and health were luxuries no one could afford.
The concept of ‘community’ sounds good but in practice the overcrowded slum communities are intense concentrations of people from difficult backgrounds, fighting to survive. From diverse ethnic origins - local or from other Indian provinces, Muslim, Hindu, gypsy - the one thing the slumdwellers have in common is that they count for nothing in mainstream society.
Part of Oasis’ work is empowering people to speak up for themselves as a group and work for changes. A group of women is now negotiating with the local MP for immunisation for children. They also want a children’s toilet: there are only 16 proper toilets for 25,000 people. The children can’t wait and are forced to use the narrow water channel running between the houses, which is embarrassing for them and an obvious health hazard.
I visited in the daytime and the men were mostly out at work. Some of the women and children in the alleyways looked troubled and uncared for; others were clean and smiling. One gypsy lady, Priya, was as poised and immaculately dressed as if she had just stepped off the front page of Vogue. She invited me into her home - one small room about 2 by 4 metres, for six people, with no windows and a metal shutter door like a lock-up. It was like sitting in an oven. The only furniture was a plastic barrel of water and some metal cooking pots. Three babies lay asleep on the concrete floor, which had been meticulously tiled in an intricate mosaic design.
Priya obviously took as much care with her home as with her own appearance. I asked her, through an interpreter, what it was like living here. She shrugged, smiled and said it was difficult. I asked her what was the most stressful part of slum living. I’d expected her to say the dirt, mosquitoes, violence or overcrowding, but she said for her the worst thing was boredom. Once her domestic work was done, there was nothing to do.
When Oasis first came to the slum people boycotted them because they were Christian, but Priya had been one of the first to go to the centre, send her children to the pre-school and ask for medicines for her son when he was ill. She encouraged her neighbours to follow her example, and Oasis’ staff asked her if she’d like to help with the health care work, and trained her as a volunteer pre-natal assistant. Now her time was occupied, she said, visiting the pregnant women, checking their health and keeping records. She was enjoying the work, and the women were starting to confide in her and each other instead of keeping their worries to themselves.
The aim of Oasis’ work in the slum is not to make people dependent but to build a self-reliant community. Health care and education, savings schemes and support for small businesses are priorities. Even if children attend school, one of the young mothers told me, it’s too difficult for them to study in the evenings in unlit and crowded homes and illiterate parents can’t help children with their homework.
Like most charities, Oasis India struggles to operate on donations but has some very dedicated staff who not only bring skills and motivation to their work but a living faith. They admit they couldn’t cope with the physical environment, hostility from outsiders and aggression from some of the residents, without God’s grace. Every policy decision and every relationship stems from constant prayer. On one level, they are broaching insurmountable problems with impossibly small resources. But on another level, they have the whole kingdom of heaven working with them.
It’s not so surprising then, that some of the world’s discarded people, living in the hopeless Mumbai slums, are such hopeful signs of life.
