WUNRN
Women's Feature Service
INDIA - BRICK KILN WOMEN WORKERS
ENURE HARD WORK, POVERTY LIFE
Women who work in the brick kilns endure hard labor and live (Credit: Shwetha George\WFS)
By
Shwetha E. George
Ernakulam
(Women’s Feature Service) – Migrant women workers who keep Kerala’s brick kilns
running are the unacknowledged queens of multi-tasking. They balance
basketloads of mud on their heads, fashion bricks out of them and stack these
bricks according to pre-fixed technical norms, even as they cook food for their
families, see that the children eat, and keep their dwellings clean.
They
also make sure to stand in line to get the collective family wage because their
husbands can neither be trusted to remember correctly the number of work hours
they have put in, nor be thrifty with the money they get. It’s the women who
generally take all the decisions regarding the family’s monthly expenditure.
Rice and sambhar (curry made up of lentils) is the standard fare in most homes,
with the occasional chicken on a Sunday.
The
brick manufacturing season in Kerala normally begins after the rains and
stretches between November and April. Those who work in the kilns follow a
circular migratory pattern. Middlemen, or ‘brokers’, located in Tamil Nadu and
hailing from places like Salem, Theni, Kambham and Usilempetty, simply round up
around 20 to 25 families from their respective villages and get them to migrate
to the leased paddy fields on the Kerala side of the border, where the kilns
are normally located. The employer or employers – leaseholders to brick kiln
sites sometimes partner with the landowner – arrange for the required
transport.
But
before they move out of Tamil Nadu, there is an important transaction to be
made. Elaborates M.K. Mohanan, who has been a partner in a brick manufacturing
unit in Ernakulam for the last 15 years, “The bus will start only after I have
paid Rs 30,000 per family to the broker.” The Rs 30,000 is paid as a surety
amount to each family - the wages and weekly expenses for six months are extra.
So the total cost for getting 20 families from Tamil Nadu to the worksite is Rs
5 lakhs approx, including transportation costs, also borne by the employer.
Potentially,
there is an annual turnover of Rs 40 lakh to be made – from one acre of leased
farmland where the brick kiln operates – but employers like him first need to
make sure of two things. He explains, “First, I have to ensure the quality of
the mud and, second, the quality of the labour. Without tight supervision, the
labourers can cut corners to make their work easy and this will affect the
quality of the bricks.”
Like
profit-driven entrepreneurs everywhere, Mohanan makes no bones about what he is
looking for in his workforce. According to him, Oriya migrants are “too quiet”;
the Assamese, “too intelligent” and the Bengalis “too aggressive”. He believes
that a Tamilian workforce comprising more than 50 per cent women suits him
best. He has figured out, apparently, that women are less aggressive in
demanding their rights – a feature valued by owners and employers in a state
like Kerala where an active trade union movement has resulted in regular
strikes and shut downs.
Observes
Mohanan approvingly, “I strongly believe that it is the presence of the woman
that keeps the Tamilian male worker well-behaved in our brick kilns. Money gets
saved, discipline is maintained and children stay well within the boundaries of
their living space. The shacks are also kept neat with the kitchens
exceptionally clean.”
Since
it’s the women who queue up for wages and negotiate for the allotted weekly expenses,
they have plenty of bargaining power. They will refuse to fund their husbands’
alcohol binge and this invariably causes a lot of domestic trouble. So far,
Mohanan has had to intervene only twice in 15 years in cases of domestic
violence because “the Tamilian woman laborer will not endure physical abuse”.
In fact, according to him, there are many instances where the wife has hit her
husband back if he dared raise his hand against her.
But
although employers have reason enough to laud the role of the women in keeping
this labour network going, their lives are, in fact, far from ideal. The
average age of the woman worker in these kilns is 20. They are also likely to
have only basic literacy, since they are generally married by the age of 16 and
become mothers before they have turned 20. Early motherhood and hard physical
labour have clearly taken a toll on their health. Anaemia levels are high and
so also the levels of stillbirths, which indicate how these women work themselves
to the bone, even during pregnancy, while not have adequate access to
nutritious food or healthcare.
Says
Revathy, 23, mother of three children aged between seven and three, “In Tamil
Nadu, we don’t get work. But here, in Kerala, my husband and I together earn
around Rs 700 (US$1=Rs 54) a day.” She considers this as a good enough wage and
does not want to sound “ungrateful” by complaining unnecessarily about her
living conditions. She has ensured that her two older children have an
uninterrupted education by leaving them back with their grandmother at home,
and although their education is expensive she does not want to compromise on
this because she wants desperately for her children to be able to live a better
life than that of their parents.
Once
the monsoons set in – a period that stretches from June to October each year -
work in the brick kilns ceases and these families return to their villages in
Tamil Nadu. During this period, the only money to be made is from agricultural
activity, mostly sugarcane harvesting. A few even own land, but they are small,
unproductive holdings that make no real difference to their financial security.
This
is why work opportunities in the brick kilns are a lifeline for many. Besides,
over the years, they have also become used to life in the neighbouring state.
Says young Sumathy, from an arid region like
A
little closer questioning results in dissatisfactions spilling out. Some women
speak about how their work hours – generally between 8 am to 5.30 pm – should
be reduced to nine hours. To be at the site by 8 am, they have to wake up by
4.30 am and complete all their household chores, which, of course, include the
daily trek to collect water.
Moreover,
as with their counterparts in the other informal sectors, women in brick kiln
units are also paid less than the men. The wage is fixed at Rs 40 an hour for
the men and Rs 30 for the women, with overtime work up to 7 pm netting them an
additional amount of Rs 70 an hour. But, again, this is applicable only to the
men because the women by then usually rush home to attend to the evening
chores.
Mohanan
sees no reason why the women should complain. “They are even given a Sunday off
every two weeks. They have access to cable television, including the every
popular Sun Direct,” he says. With a touch of righteousness, he adds, “I also
give them cakes and sweets on all festival days.”
But
cakes and sweets cannot mask the fact that the “homes” of these workers are
made up of bent asbestos sheets and that their toilets are deplorable, without
any roofs or doors. The lives of the migrant brick workers of Kerala may be
marginally better than in states like