Fazeeha AzmiWomen Tea puckers of Sri Lanka
I planted five trees, nurtured a beautiful garden.
Though the garden flourished,
yet my throat remains dry.
The lyrics written by Arivarasan for the song “Enjoy En jaami” (enjoy my dear)” based on his grandmother Valliammas’s experience as a plantation worker in Ceylon, clearly shows how the capitalist system exploits the wealth created by the working class. Moreover, this song explains the turbulent life and struggles of many indentured labourers who moved out of India.
The luxury of being a geographer is the privilege of engaging in fieldwork, which is the hallmark of geographical scholarship. If you are a qualitative human geographer, it would add more to this privilege. However, during the past couple of years, due to the COVID-19 pandemic and currently, due to the economic crisis in Sri Lanka, my fieldwork plans related to two main research projects were severely affected. Although I was able to overcome the challenge through virtual platforms, it was like eating your favourite chocolate with the wrapper. However, I was fortunate enough to engage in face-to-face fieldwork early this year related to one of my projects which focuses on “Unsafe migration and Trafficking in the tea plantation sector of Sri Lanka”. As part of this research, three tea plantation districts of Sri Lanka were selected as field sites. Influenced by my epistemological position on reality, I used research methods involving extensive in-depth interviews and Focus Group Discussions to achieve my research objectives. This piece of writing comes as an offshoot of my research in Nuwara Eliya, known as ‘little England’. Elaborating on a single case study, I draw upon my research experience to bring the voice of marginalised tea plantation sector women in Sri Lanka who are carving out a niche in an uncertain everyday life.
I set out to Nuwara Eliya, which is just 60 Km away from my home, on a bright sunny day. On my way, I stopped at several stunning places to capture the picturesque mountains covered with tea. Nuwara Eliya is the place where the lush tea of our country grows. The spectacular tea plantation of Nuwara Eliya offered a soothing therapy to my mind before I immersed myself in the fieldwork. I saw women tea pluckers carrying plastic and cane tea baskets on their backs, plucking the flush to fill their baskets, and climbing uphill. The Kangani (supervisors), an icon of the management system of the tea estates, was supervising the women tea pluckers with a stick in his hand, which is the symbol of the power hierarchy. Enjoying the panoramic views of Nuwara Eliya tea plantations and thinking about the women tea pluckers through my gender lenses, I was finally able to reach the field site. Before I share the story of Meenakshi, let me give a very short account of the context of the tea plantation.
The ‘Malayaha Tamils’ (Hill country Tamils), from which the labour force for tea plantation is drawn, are descendants of indentured labourers from India who were brought by the British to work in the coffee and tea plantations of the Kandyan highlands of Ceylon during the 19th century. Since they were brought, they have been experiencing the worst forms of marginalisation and exclusions in various spheres of their socio-economic lives. They were promised better living conditions, job opportunities and good salaries. Moving to another land seemed to be a better option considering the countless sufferings they experienced in their home country due to various dimensions of poverty and caste and class identities. Initially, men were brought as labourers and later brought their families. Many landed in Ceylon, undertaking a perilous journey looking for greener pastures. However, with the elapse of time, they realised that their expectations were turning into despair and as they were lured by false promises. The terms and conditions of their work in the estates reflected an indentured labour system that ties the workers to plantations. The workers were bound to work in the estates until they had settled their exorbitant travel expenditures to Sri Lanka.
Further, the houses they were provided with were barely enough for a family. Their housing was barrack-type single-roomed houses with limited facilities. They were isolated from the rest of the communities in Sri Lanka due to the geographically remote location of their housing units. They had to work long hours in a harsh physical environment. When Sri Lanka gained its independence in 1948, the tea plantation estate workers were denied citizenship and treated by the Sri Lankan government as temporary immigrant workers. This decision worsened their plights. Finally, they were granted citizenship nearly after a century and a half. At present, they are identified as a separate ethnic group in Sri Lanka’s census report.
It is within the above historical and socio-economic context the plantation sector of Sri Lanka survives. The story that I will share here is not only the story of Meenakshi, but it is the story of many women in the tea plantations of Sri Lanka. Meenakshi is a 56 years old tea plucker working as a casual labourer in the estate. As a casual labourer, her salary is lower than the other regular tea pluckers, and she is not entitled to many other benefits that the regular workers receive, such as social security benefits. I met her in her line room as requested by her. When I asked her why she is working as a casual labourer, she started to share her story with tears falling from her sunken eye sockets:
My mother always told me it is our fate that brought us to this land. She was also a tea plucker and her mother too. But I did not want my children to work in the estate. I was not sent to school, as my mother could not afford to educate all five children. Our father left us when my mother had her fifth child. I was the second child in our family and all my other siblings are males. We were having a very hard life, and there were days when we did not have anything to eat. I have watched my mother weeping every single night.
Wiping her tears, she continued:
When my mother told me that she had made arrangements through a broker in our estate to send me as a housemaid to Colombo, I cried a lot. I did not want to go to Colombo. I told my mother that I couldn’t leave her and my brothers. Even at the age of 11, I was doing all the household work when my mother went to the thottam (tea estate). I told her she would miss me a lot if she sent me to Colombo. She cried a lot and explained to me why I had to go. We did not have enough food. We went to bed on an empty stomach for many days. We did not have proper clothes. My mother told me that if I go to Colombo, I could eat three meals a day and I will get good clothes. I said I don’t want them and I wanted to stay with the family. Although I repeatedly told her I do not want to go, my mother forced me. Finally, I made up my mind to go to Colombo.
She started to shed tears again:
Yes, I still remember the day the broker from our estate came to pick me up from my home. I cried a lot. He gave me some toffees, and I refused to eat. My mother convinced me and accompanied me to the Nuwara Eliya bus stand. The broker was taking a few more girls with him to Colombo. Some were around my age, and others were older than I was. I had never gone to Colombo. On the way, I started to throw up. When we reached Colombo, he took us to a hotel and bought us lunch. I could not eat, I was still weeping. I remember he was telling fancy stories about living in Colombo on our way. Finally, he took me to the home where I worked later. I was introduced to the family. They looked at me as if they had not seen a girl like me. I was given tea and some biscuits, and the lady at home showed me a small room next to the kitchen and told me I had to sleep in that room. I took my bag to the room and sat down. I started crying again, and I told her I wanted to go home. She told me I would only be allowed to go home after three months. While the lady was talking to me, the broker left home. I understood that there would not be anyone to help me.
She shared her memories further:
Although I have cooked, cleaned and washed clothes at my home, I did not know how to cook the food that they ate or how to clean the big house and their garden. There were piles of clothes and school shoes that I had to wash. It was too much for me. The lady taught me how to cook their food, and I learnt that quickly. Washing clothes was extremely difficult. But I had to do it. Unlike now, they did not have a machine. None of the children at home spoke to me, though they were around my age. They talked to me only if they wanted my help to do their work.
Time passed. I did not know how much salary I got. It was given to the broker, who handed over the money to my mother. One day I asked my boss if I could go home, and she said I had to wait for another two months to go home. I was disappointed. I was always thinking about my family and going home every single day. One day my boss told me that the broker would come to take me home. I felt so happy, and he came to take me home the following day. Finally, I met my family and felt so pleased, as I met them after nearly three months. The broker told me that he would come within ten days to take me back to Colombo. I was not bothered about that as I had already decided not to go with him. I shared my experience of working in Colombo with my family and friends. After a few weeks, the broker came and reminded my mother that he would be coming to take me within a couple of days. When the broker came to pick me up, I refused to go and then my mother and brothers convinced me to go. During that time, I felt angry with them. I had no choice but to go. This is my first experience in Colombo, and since then, I have spent eight years there and worked in three homes. I went through a hard time during those eight years, and I do not want to share everything with you. When I was 19, my mother asked me to come to the estate as they had arranged marriage to me. I had no choice, but my only hope was that I could return to the estate and my husband would look after me. I decided to come. Within one week of my return, I married a person whom I had never met before.
When I asked, ‘were your expectations fulfilled after marriage?’ She told:
It is my fate. I wish I had stayed in Colombo. My marriage life was happy only during the first three months. My husband was an alcoholic, and he spent his salary on alcohol. After that, I became pregnant and could not find a job in the estate. After giving birth to my first son, I worked in a home in a nearby town. My husband’s torture continued. He came to the house I was working and shouted at me. Because of that, I was chased away by my employer. I returned to the estate. I worked in the estate for a few years. The income was not sufficient. Finally, after having my third child, I decided to go to Kuwait as a housemaid. Then I was 30 years. An agent from the estate did everything from getting the passport to signing the contract. I had to leave my children under the care of my sister-in-law.
I spent 20 years in other countries as a housemaid. I was in Kuwait, Saudi and Lebanon. When I was in Kuwait, I had a very bad boss. I was not given my salary or enough food to eat. They did not allow me to call home. They had a three-storied home, and I had to work like a slave. Once my work was over, they also asked me to work in their relatives’ homes. But they do not give a single cent. I had to get up around four in the morning and work until the middle of the night on some days. I met a housemaid from Kerala, working in one of the houses on the same street where I lived. I met her when I went to throw garbage. She knew Tamil. After a few days, I told her my problems. Then she gave me food whenever I went to throw garbage. Finally, she helped me to escape from that house. I reached out to the embassy. I was sent back to Sri Lanka by the embassy in Kuwait. Later, I went to Lebanon.
As I knew the language a little bit, I was able to survive. I worked there for nearly five years in two homes and returned. Then I decided to go to Saudi Arabia through one of the sub-agents in our area. Actually, I was not given the salary I was promised. But there was less work in that house, and the people were good. I worked there until I permanently returned home. Now I am 56 and can’t go back. The sub-agents who come to our estate tell me they can help me get a passport showing my age as 50 years, and I can go abroad again. I do not want to do that. I don’t have any major responsibilities towards my family now. All my children are educated up to Advanced Level and two of them are doing government jobs. All of them are married and live in a nearby town. I am so happy about it. But I had to work hard to bring them to this situation. The only support I got was from my sister-in-law, who helped me to take of my children well. My children visit me whenever they have time.
I am living alone in my house. I now work as a casual labourer in the same estate where I was born and brought up. If you go and talk with the women of my age in this estate, you will be able to listen to many stories that will bring tears to your eyes. At least I was able to educate my children. But many women who went abroad could not educate their children or bring them up as good children as their husbands wasted the money on alcohol and other unnecessary things. Many did not have others to bring their children up with when they went abroad. Now, with Covid and the country’s current problems, the casual labourers are not getting regular work in the estate. Many men who worked in other parts of the country have returned home. Families have many problems like divorce, drug usage, theft, and dropping out of school. People do not have money to buy food. They skip one or two meals….you know how much a kilogram of flour is….Roti is the main food for us. We cannot eat roti now ……the estate people are pushed to the wall….. We do not know when we will get a promising future…every time we try to stand on our feet, something pulls us to the ground. How can I expect the future of my grandchildren to be better?
The narrative of Meenakshi is an example of many women in the tea plantation sector who are chronically suffering from various social and economic issues despite their contribution to the household, national and global economies. The exploitative nature of work in the tea plantations has provided them with few opportunities for upward mobility. Hence, migrating for work outside the plantation has always been a feature of plantation life, whether the destinations are domestic or international. The children from the plantation sector have been working as domestic workers in wealthy households for a long time, though several measures have been taken to control it. Most of the migrant children who work as domestic workers are girls. They are ripped off of their rights to enjoy their childhood. Their right to education, health and a decent life is denied and has long-lasting impacts on their future.
At the same time, with the continuing uncertainty of jobs in the plantation sector, women started to migrate to the Gulf countries during the last two to three decades. Migration of women to the Gulf is much more profitable in terms of cost and profit for the recruitment agencies as well as the migrants. If the labour migrants are women, they get their salary advance through the recruitment agents. However, most of the time, the advanced money is not paid in full for the migrant women. Further, the feminised nature of the global labour markets demands more female labour force, which serves as a pull factor for migration. Caught up in poverty, landlessness, wage disparities, vulnerability, marginalisation and historical discrimination in the plantation sector, women continue to manure the dangerous spaces in domestic and international labour markets to make ends meet. In this journey, they undergo tremendous hardships, as narrated by Meenakshi. They work in spaces that are not visible to the outside world in wealthy homes in Sri Lanka or abroad. They undergo psychological trauma during their time in those homes. Their lives are limited to the four walls. They are physically and verbally abused during their work. However, most of them tolerate all these hardships for the well-being of their families. They hoped they could re-integrate with the community socially and economically.
Though, as a single mother with the help of an in-law, Meenakshi could provide a decent life and education for her children. However, it is not the same for many other women migrants. Although migration has helped many plantation families, it is insufficient to lift them out of poverty. The accompanying social cost of migration on left-behind families, especially children and the migrants themselves, is not realised much. However, the remittances the international migrants bring to the country have been crucial for foreign exchange. Most of these stories are hidden behind the statistics. The women in tea plantations continue to contribute through their work in the estates and the Gulf countries to sustain the country’s income. Thus they are the uncrowned queens of little England and continue to be exploited by capitalism.
