Riders on the storms

SUBEDAR Jaspal Singh’s family is now smaller by two members. While his wife died for want of medical facilities at the Civil Hospital in Car Nicobar, his son is still missing. ‘‘The tsunami snatched him from me. My little child is gone forever. What had I done to deserve such a shock? Why did God do this,’’ he asks this correspondent in a choked voice.

There are thousands across the Andaman and Nicobar Islands who are yet to come to terms with the devastation wrought by Tsunami Sunday. Even as the Centre struggles to assess the extent of damage in these most vulnerable parts of the country, the Department of Tribal Affairs is busy tracing the fate of the original inhabitants of the islands. Interest in the aborigines—for centuries a subject of study for anthropologists and researchers—is at fever-pitch post the killer tsunami.

The stuff of nightmare for Victorian imaginations, as author Madhusree Mukerjee described them in her widely acclaimed book The Land of Naked People, the tribals of the Andaman and Nicobar Islands are broadly categorised into two groups: primitive and non-primitive. While the Nicobarese are the sole non-primitive tribe, the primitive group comprises the Great Andamanese, the near-‘mainstreamised’ Ongese, the warring Sentinels, the moody Jarawas and the Shompens.

All together, they numbered around 30,000, according to pre-tsunami official estimates. The majority of them were the Nicobarese, who added up to around 28,653; this is also the group suspected to have suffered the highest casualties. A detailed post-tsunami assessment of their status is yet to be completed.

While talking to The Sunday Express, Assistant Commissioner (Tribal Welfare) Andaman and Nicobar Administration K C Ghoshal appears relaxed. ‘‘While there is no disputing the fact that the tsunami has completely devastated the islands and caused widespread destruction both in terms of life and property, our initial reports suggest that the tribals are safe.

‘‘However, we are extremely concerned about their welfare and the Joint Director in the Ministry of Tribal affairs is here to assess their exact status,’’ he said.

Here’s how some of India oldest residents rode out the storm:

THE GREAT ANDAMANESE
HAIL THE KING
STATUS: SAFE
‘‘AROUND the middle of the 19th century, the Great Andaman islands (around the South Andaman of today) were inhabited by 10 tribes, together numbering around 7,000. They were the Aka-Cari, Aka-Cora, Aka-Bo, Aka-Jeru, Aka-Kede, Aka-Kol, Oku-Juwoi, Aka-Pucikwar, Aka-Bale and Aka-Bea. Survivors of those tribes are now known by the generic term of Great Andamanese,’’ notes A Justin, head of the Anthropological Survey of India office and museum at Post Blair.

This 50-member tribe, whose strongest physical characteristics are distinctly negroid, is headed by a king (Jarike) and his wife (Surmai). They are, incidentally, the first tribes to have come in contact with the British.

As late as 1925, a paper published in Man, a journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, described them as a new human species, Homo mincopoeus (after Minicopie, a word that 18th century traveller Colebrooke mistakenly used for the Andamanese), writes Mukerjee.

‘‘After coming in contact with the colonisers, the Great Andamanese were ravaged by various diseases. By 1971, only 19 of them were alive. They were rehabilitated at Strait Island in the Middle Andaman,’’ says Justin.

Though the peace-loving tribe has taken to the mainstream rather well—many youngsters are contracted with government services like Forests and Police in Port Blair—the elders prefer to stick to age-old crafts like making drums and dholaks in the sprawling greens of Strait Island. Marriage outside the community is discouraged; only one person has defied convention.

According to Tribal Welfare Officer Shabnam, who was working in her laboratory at Strait Island on December 26, if the tribe survived, it was because of the leadership.

‘‘Though the present king is old and the youngsters don’t pay much heed to him, everyone on the island lived through the day by listening to him and other elders. The moment the earth started shaking, everyone moved out of their homes, only to be hit by the waves—not once, but twice. As soon as the waters started receding, the king screamed at everyone to make a dash for the coconut tree at the edge of the beach. Fourteen of them, some with babies on their backs, climbed up the tree. When the waters receded, they all ran to a nearby hilltop, where they stayed for the next four days,’’ recounts Shabnam.

Two weeks ago today, 29 Great Andamanese were at Strait Island, along with seven government officials, while the rest were at Port Blair. Thirteen of their children are studying at Vivekananda School in Port Blair.

‘‘We brought all of them to Port Blair on December 30; they’re currently staying at Adi Basera, a 1000 sq m tribal reserve near the busy Aberdeen Market. They are all safe and sound and no disease outbreak has been reported. However, there has been heavy salt water ingression in Strait Island and food and water supply has been completely damaged,’’ says Ghoshal.

THE ONGESE
JUNGLE RULES
STATUS: SPOTTED IN AERIAL SURVEYS
THE Ongese of Little Andaman are divided into a number of bands, each comprising several families. All members of a band live together as a social unit in a berya (community hut). At present the Ongese, estimated to be 98 in all, have been settled by the district administration at two places, Dugong Creek and South Bay.

‘‘‘Ongese’ is the name given to them by the Great Andamanese. They call themselves Unge. A school of thought says that the Sentinels are offshoots of the Ongese. However, it’s still a mystery how negroid people came to inhabit these islands,’’ says Justin.

Noted environmental activist Samir Acharya of the Society for Andaman and Nicobar Ecology offers two probable theories. One, they might have come from the South Asian mainland during the Ice Age, when the water level fell by about 100 m, and two, their origins were in East Africa. ‘‘But their genetic analysis puts them closest to Bushmen,’’ he says.

Ghoshal assures the world that the killer tsunami has been able to do little damage to the Ongese. ‘‘We conducted an aerial survey and observed no damage to their settlements. All Ongese have been evacuated to spots relatively untouched by the tidal waves. In the South Bay area, the Ongese had taken shelter deep inside the jungle and a search party was sent to escort them back to a safe place. The local Nicobarese have seen all Ongese and we can therefore assume that they are all safe,’’ he says.

While two Ongese are currently living with Nicobarese families at Harbunder, 10 are still in the jungles, as per reports available with the local UT administration. Three of them are in G B Pant Hospital at Port Blair since mid-December.

THE JARAWAS
BLOWN IN THE WIND
STATUS: REPORTED SAFE
A NAME synonymous with the Emerald Islands—as the Andaman and Nicobar archipelago is lovingly called—the Jarawas continue to lord over the dense evergreen forests dotting the western coast of the Middle and South Andaman. Official estimates put their number at 266.

‘‘The Jarawas comprise a major chunk of the primitive tribe population in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands and have fascinated people across the globe for generations. Until recently, they avoided contact with others, because of which we knew very little of them.

‘‘However, they have recently come out of their relative isolation and the Anthropological Survey of India has started collecting information about them. Some anthropologists are of the view that both the Jarawas and Sentinelese migrated from the Little Andaman island to the Great Andaman group of islands,’’ says Justin.

Semi-nomadic in nature, this hunter-gatherer tribe is dependent solely on nature for livelihood. Extremely intuitive and responsive to the slightest change in the environment, the Jarawas were reportedly prepared for the tsunami.

‘‘The reason why they are all safe is because they live together in clusters as an extended family. As soon as a warning signal is issued by a member of the tribe, the others respond immediately. Our staff rushed to the Jarawa-inhabited areas inside the jungles to see their position. No casualty or any type of injury could be found. Those living at Middle State area were in their hilltop chaddha, far away from the western coast. The killer waves, therefore, did not touch them at all. Two young Jarawas came the day after the catastrophe and reported that they were all safe,’’ says Ghoshal.

A third group living at Tirur was shifting from the Jhowkana area near the western coast to a place called Badabalu when the earth shook. ‘‘We were very concerned about them and finally heaved a sigh of relief when some of their tribe reported to us that everybody was safe. They said that the road from Jhowkana to Badabalu ran deep in the jungle, far from the seashore,’’ adds Ghoshal.

Justin and his colleague, assistant anthropologist S S Barik, feel that what really saved the Jarawas was their internal warning system. ‘‘They look at heavenly bodies and can decipher what is to come. Also, ways and means to deal with spirits and earthquakes is passed on to them orally from one generation to the next. This traditional knowledge is what helped them survive the disaster,’’ they say.

We heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. Kan, a young Jarawa boy, whom we met on the way to Rangat told us: ‘‘Zamin hila. Hum bhaga. Upar. Boahut pani…’’

THE SENTINELESE
STILL ON GUARD
STATUS: SAFE ON BASIS OF BODY LANGUAGE
NO one knows exactly how many Sentinelese inhabit North Sentinel Island, though a rough estimate pegs their figure at anywhere between 50 and 100. The reason is that while officials have been able to establish some degree of contact with the other primitive tribes of Andaman and Nicobar group of islands, the hostile Sentinelese—originally from the Little Andaman group of islands—have thwarted all outsiders with their bows and arrows till date.

The local district administration, though, has been assured of their safety in the wake of the tsunami. ‘‘We despatched a team to Sentinel Island headed by the secretary to the Lieutenant-Governor Udipta Ray on December 30. They counted 32 Sentinelese in three places, but didn’t spot any dead bodies. We assume that that they are safe,’’ says Ghoshal.

The team did spot a change, however, in the geography of the island. Following the earthquake, small islands situated near the Sentinel Island appear to have merged together. ‘‘North Sentinel Island, therefore, has become bigger,’’ reasons Ghoshal.

Acharya has stronger reasons to believe that the Sentinelese are safe. ‘‘I have gathered from the Defence people who flew sorties over the island that the Sentinelese shot arrows at them. Since they retain their earlier hostile and aggressive stance, we can assume that they are safe. Had tragedy befallen them, their body language would have definitely changed. They would have become much softer,’’ he says.

THE SHOMPENS
GOOD FOR THE TREES
STATUS: ALL CLEAR IN SURVEY
THE only primitive tribe of the islands with Mongoloid features is the Shompen. Their head count is believed to be about 398. Though eight Shompens living at Chingan village have been moved to Campbell Bay, little is known about the others.

Residents of the Great Nicobar Island, the Shompens are semi-nomadic people. ‘‘They wander in their forest and coastal habitat in search of fruits and game. There are two territorial groups among the Shompens—those who live closer to the west coast of the island call themselves Kalay while those living near the east coast are the Keyet,’’ says Justin.

Their semi-nomadic nature explains why they live in 17 areas of Great Nicobar Island, including Ranganath Bay, Lawful, Trinket Bay and Budhan among others. Sixteen of these villages are nestled deep inside the jungle while only one village—Chingan—is connected by road.

‘‘All but eight Shompens are in the jungle. There is no possibility they have been hit by the tsunami. An aerial survey of the island, too, did not discover any casualties or injuries. We’ll be conducting more aerial surveys to know their whereabouts,” says Ghoshal.

THE NICOBARESE
BURNT OF THE LOSS
STATUS: CASUALTIES EXPECTED, NO FIGURES YET
UNLIKE the five primitive tribes, Nicobarese are intrinsically woven into the social and economic fabric of the island. Though there is no Census figure of their number in the 2001 Census, the district administration says that their figure stands at 28,653.

It’s another story that their post-tsunami headcount might be far below that. No one is still certain of the exact number of Nicobarese who may have been either sucked into the tempestuous sea or have gone missing. Permutations and combinations are on to assess the exact extent of loss.

Lying directly in the line of the killer waves that lashed out on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands on December 26, the Nicobar group of islands—home to the Nicobarese—stands a silent testimony to the wrath of the sea.

Broach this topic and Ghoshal begins to fidget with his hands. ‘‘There is no doubt that they have been adversely affected. It’s difficult to rattle off figures at present,’’ he says in a subdued tone.

Justin, himself a member of the tribe, says the scenario is grim. ‘‘There was a massive washout,’’ he admits. What adds to the concern is that the Nicobarese—mainly fishermen, horticulturists and sailors—prefer to live near the coastline.

Though the literacy rate is around 80 per cent and many Nicobarese are employed in high-level government and private jobs, islanders prefer to adhere to their time-tested knowledge base. Inhabitants of the various islands speak different dialects and have different names to describe themselves. While inhabitants of Car Nicobar are Tarik, those from Chowra are Som Pai while those living in the islands of Katchal, Kamorta and Trinket, share many cultural and social traits.

How many of these traditional groups survive needs to be seen. For the record, Car Nicobar, Katchal, Kamorta and Trinket are among the most affected islands, the last having being split into three!