Jess and I have worked in law offices and studied in libraries. We have suffered through finals and written memos. We have met clients and been to court. But, we have never seen anything like IRRAD’s legal literacy camps: not in America, not anywhere. We have now been to three legal literacy camps.
All of the camps kicked off the same way. Dignitaries gave speeches of varying degree, almost all praising IRRAD’S effort in the villages and emphasizing how important it is for villagers to interact with their government. It was very hot under the tents, so generally, the dignitaries kept their speeches short. Some local government officials also visited our camps. Some of them were not very popular with the villagers and suffered hours of complaints.
Interns sat at booths in the back of the tent handing out literature, taking complaints and giving advice. As you can imagine, the villagers were eager to tell us their problems. We have heard many of them before: The Anganwadi (free mid day meal for lactating mothers and pregnant women) is not functioning, charging women for their meal, making women cook the meal and charging them for it; the school is not functioning, is charging a fee, is being held at someone’s house; the Public Distribution Center is not giving out the proper ration, not giving out a ration at all, is charging more than allowed for rations; the school is not serving a mid day meal, charging for a meal, making the kids cook the meal and charging them to eat it. Over and over and over again. These are the most common complaints. Government does not provide the basic services guaranteed by law in Mewat. Often we can tell the villagers what they need to do and where they need to go. First the villager must file a complaint with the delinquent authority. Then, the villager must file a Right To Information request (RTI) to learn what, if anything, the agency is doing about the complaint. The government has up to the 30 days to respond. If the problem is with a national government agency, the state agency answering the complaint gets an extra 5 days to answer. If, the law says, the agency does not answer a RTI within the 30/35-day period, the official in charge is fined 250 rupees everyday it is late. Strong medicine. But, we are told it is not always enforced. Nevertheless, officials do take RTI’s seriously. They complain a lot that all villagers in their districts do is file RTI’s against them. :-)-
Some of the complaints are more complex. The power company is charging for electricity, but not providing the power. A man wins a judgment in a lok adelat court (a type of arbitration court where parties are “in the spirit of settlement”, held in the evenings and on weekends, presided over by retired judges, and lacking normal civil process) but cannot have it enforced by the police. The local city council takes land from a farmer without authority and without paying compensation. A father’s three sons have been in jail for more than a year, arrested for violating some “unlawful assembly” law; the lawyer wants 60,000 rupees – $1,363, just to file a bail petition. We take these complaints and begin the process of resolving them. What is striking about these tough issues is the number of years attached to them. Without any help, some of these issues, some of these people, live years without resolving their problem.
Jess and I try to help where we can. That usually means listening to a villager speak to us in Hindi, pretending to understand, and waiting for a break when we can say, “muja hindi nahe atti” (I do not speak Hinid). The villager usually looks confused and stumbles out “na, nahe? Attii??” We shrug and say, “no hindi”. So, we take pictures and hold important looking posses. We like to think that IRRAD can use the pictures, and we can add a novelty to the camp that will encourage the villagers to come back. We understand that we work best behind the scenes, in English.
We get a lot out of the camps, as well. Jindal Law students learn to work with clients, dissecting their complaint into legally relevant facts and giving the villagers guidance on the next steps in the process. Jess and I get to try and talk to people who are generally happy to see us. They seem proud that we are there, even though we can’t really communicate. We feel close to the problems the villagers face. And, we enjoy their hospitality. One man was so proud to be at the training camp that he invited all of us, including Professor Pandey and Navneet, back to his house for refreshments. Etiquette prevented us from declining, but it was so hot besides, we didn’t want too.
The man had a very nice house for the district. We sat in his bedroom, while members of his family set a small table with snacks. He gave us cool water to drink and “lemonade”. Jess immediately decided the drink was not to her liking. She described it as smelling like sweat and lemon with some black pepper in it.. The drink had a retreating oily taste, like pure lemon with water and some lite castor oil. I had never tasted anything like it. Jess quickly got her glass down on the table. I, however, took my time. Before I could finish my first glass the man’s daughter started pouring lemonade in my lap. I had to put my glass out to catch it. We sat in silence, sipping our drinks, and munching on odd snacks. I was trying to finish my drink without catching anyone’s eye but I was unsuccessful. Again lemonade flowed into my lap, and again, I had to put my cup out defensively to save whatever was left dry in my lap. I tried to keep drinking but I was too full. But I knew that if I didn’t finish it quick and put my cup down on the table I would get another splash of lemonade. So, I took a shot and smacked my cup down like domino mother &^*$#2! The pitcher was empty and it was time leave, anyway. So, I sloshed out of the house and back to the withering heat under the legal literacy tent.
Our camps and internship is finished. Jess and I presented our rural lawyer training manual and our memo arguing to repeal Indian Bar Council rule 49. We are packed and ready to come home.
