By WL Hangshing
Unlike the Sentinalese, the Jarawas are more sociable to us outsiders. That however turned out to be the bane of their survival. Located in the Great Andamans, they were said to have numbered about 4,000 at the turn of the 20th century. That was when the so-called civilisation trucked into their lives. That was when they died in droves, of measles, cholera, viral fever and the various civilised diseases. Their population dropped, within a few decades, to near extinction at about 40/50. The problem was that they were never inoculated and immunised against civilisation. When I too, regretfully, went into their reserve in 2001/02, their population had recovered to about 125/140 and they were in four to five nomadic groups within the reserve.
I found them to be the happiest bunch of people I had ever encountered, even though I had been warned that they could be dangerous with their poison arrows. I guess they can sense friendliness, which I am sure I was oozing with at that time. Happy and carefree that they apparently were, they could count only up to three and after three it was just plenty and it really didn’t matter after that. I did remember their count for sometime and I regret that I never wrote them down somewhere for your benefit now.
Pygmies, unlike the tall and masai-like Sentinalese, the jarawas are hardly four feet on an average and beautifully black just like ebony. One can hardly see them in the shady foliage until they themselves decide to appear as if out of thin nowhere. The only clothing they wear are red strings around their waist. Only this time, one of the boys disappeared only to reappear with a khaki-coloured havaldar shorts probably to impress me. One of the girls also did the disappearing act to return with a mirror which she kept showing off.
Their diet consisted of only wild pigs and roots and tubers which they gather. For some reason they don’t take venison even though there was deer aplenty. I was told that once, in a bout of over-enthusiasm to help, domesticated pigs were released into the reserve. The folly was realised in the nick and an epedimic was prevented by driving them out again.
It is now realised that rather than our intervention, they need only our absence to survive. That is the prevalent government policy now. At least one hopes so.
I returned with regrets of having gone there and, though enlightened, a sadder man. I hope they are doing well.
(The author is Retd Chief Commissioner, GST & Customs, NE Region, Shillong)