There are 510 families of 4,000 people, predominantly Dalit, which make up the Kolathur Village on the banks of Buckingcam canal in the Chithambur Panchayat of Kancheepuram District, Chennai, India.

We met some 150 Dalit women from this village, when the members of APWLD Rural and Indigenous Women Task Force (RIW TF) had a community visit organised by Tamil Nadu Women's Movement (TNWM) on July 15, 2006.

We were welcomed with so much energy, good will and excitement, as if coming to a family reunion - lots of drum playing, flowers and warm embraces. Heavy garlands were put around our necks, and tikka (tumeric power paste) was put on our forehead, and misri (sugar crystals) were placed on our tongue.

And that was how we started our gathering - with a lot of good will, sisterhood, and laughter in our hearts. Throughout the sharing, one would see that it is with the same level of energy and with strong spirit that they confront and fight against those who come and threaten their survival as a community. The Chinnu Aqua Farm Private Limited which was established in Chennai and started operating three years ago would definitely know how it is to be on the other side.

Umapathy She is part of the sixth generation who has lived in Kolathur, and has been living and working on lands owned by the upper caste men. She would grow and take care of the fruit trees surrounding her house, but was never allowed to touch any of the mango, jack fruit and coconut from these trees without the permission of the owners. The other families in her community would be working on agricultural lands of the upper caste families where they would cultivate paddy, ragi and groundnuts. Umapathy, along with the other Dalit women in the village, used to spend hours in the backwater to gather prawns and fish with her hands. After selling them, she would earn 100Rps/150 Rps (USD 1.07/2.15) at the end of the day. This would be enough for food for her family. Today, she could not spend that long in the water, which meant less

catch, and less food for her family. On the other hand, the agricultural lands were sold by the upper caste men to Chinnu Aqua Farm. This meant no more paddy, ragi and groundnuts to grow on. Umapathy of course has no input whatsoever in the decision of the upper caste men. She and the other members of the Dalit community were simply workers on these lands.

Shanti "I used to catch enough prawns to earn decent living for my 4 children," Shanti said. "Then came Chinnu Aqua Farm." The prawns and other living organisms in the backwater were found dying, in the increasingly polluted backwaters. Now, they can catch worth 30-40 Rps a day, less than one US dollar. Then the tsunami came in 2004. Their village is part of the badly hit area in the Indian coast. Though not as bad as the other villages in Indonesia, Sri Lanka and Thailand, for Shanti and her family, the impact was bad enough to make their lives more difficult. Their house was heavily damaged, and they lost most of whatever they had. However, they received no compensation from the government as they were not considered affected, being on the side of the backwaters. The relief packages never reached their villages, as these were handled by upper caste people. "Life as Dalit is hard enough. The Chinnu Aqua Farm is making our lives even more so."

Kalpana Just 25 years old, one would think Kalpana had lived her life three times over, for how else would she gain so much courage and determination to fight the aqua farm, the uppercaste men supporting it, and the Indian bureaucracy who make it almost impossible for the Dalit community to legally and peacefully challenge its operations. Perhaps it is giving birth on top of a hill after running away from the tsunami waves. Or simply being a Dalit mother who knows that fighting is the only way to survive. Kalpana tells us about the public distribution system in Tamil Nadu. It is a fairpriced shop of basic products - rice, oil, soap, sugar. There used to be a 3 Rps subsidy from the government for all products, then was reduced to 2 Rps subsidy. However, she could not access these subsidised products as much as she needs to. As a Dalit woman, she could not stand in line to cue along with non-Dalit, upper caste people. Thus, she had to wait when she could fall in line. By that time, all the

basic products she needed were gone. Most of the time, she would go to the shop after fishing, and by that time, the shop is already closed. Fishing in the backwaters now takes longer, as the prawns, crabs and other fish are harder to find. They are dying, and disappearing. "Where can we go for food? Where can we go to fish?" asked Kalpana. "The shrimp farm has taken over." Kalpana is one of the more active Dalit women who organise community actions for their voices to be heard, and to campaign against the aqua farm.

Kaliyammal She came to me after we all had our lunch. We sat away from the big group as she wanted to show me something. She showed me her arms, where her skin was intensely dry. She lifted her sari to show her skin below her breasts, in her midrib, inner thighs, legs - scaly whitish skin. These were Kaliyammal's body parts which were regularly immersed in the backwaters, as she would go fishing. Wading through the waters until chest level, Kaliyammal and other Dalit women would stay there and catch prawns, crabs, lobsters with their bare hands for hours. She has been doing this since her younger years. But lately, the itchiness on her arms and everywhere else has become unbearable. She stopped fishing. Her other companions had similar health problems, and more - some are suffering with white discharge and urinary infection. Kaliyammal had to rely now on her children who are working in salt marsh for support. The other Dalit women are now relying on the produce

of their fishing husbands. The fisher men who use boats and large nets, go further and deeper for fishing, for bigger catch.

Rajam Rajam was supposed to be one of our resource persons in a workshop on tsunami and women's rights that APWLD organised last year in Aceh. But she was not able to process the necessary documents for her to travel abroad. She has a police record. She was one of the 33 Dalit women who were beaten up and arrested by the police men two years ago. Rajam and some 2,000 other villagers blocked the road to the shrimp farm, as one of their acts of resistance. Rajam is one of the more vocal and active in resisting the shrimp farm, making her more vulnerable to harassment and violence. One of the women stood up while Rajam was telling her story. She said that when police

came, the men ran away and left the women. This drew laughter among the women who were all in agreement with the remark; even among the few men who were standing nearby.

But while that lightened the mood a bit, the intensity of the anger and frustration was determined to be felt. Rajam went on to talk about the different ways and actions the communities are taking to reclaim their source of livelihood and their way of living - peaceful protest actions, dialogues with the officials, asking the help of the media people to expose what's happening in their villages. There was one attempt by some unknown people to poison the aqua farm. As a consequence, the security in the premises was tightened; ferocious dogs are now milling around the farm. There was an incident when one of the dogs bit one of the farmers who was passing through. When we were there, a fact-finding mission has just been conducted; and a legal suit was filed against the aqua farm.

Chinnu Aqua Tech Private Limited
When the Chinnu Aqua Tech fenced off the shrimp farm and started their operations, other major changes started to happen. As the barbed wire fences were to prevent the villagers to come inside the shrimp farm and cause problems, these fences were not enough to contain the problems within it. The effects of the shrimp farm go well beyond double its size; and profit from this for one corporation, outweighs the number of lives it has destroyed.

But the company flatly denied they were causing these problems. When faced with the protests and criticisms, they would simply brandish the permit they have acquired from the pollution board.

Basically, the permit issued by the pollution board states that it has met the antipollution standards and therefore, the Chinnu Aqua Tech can operate. The permit practically allows the Chinnu Aqua Tech to suck large amount of water from the backwater and fresh groundwater to recreate the environment that shrimps thrive in. To keep the shrimp pond clean, water has to be changed daily.

The shrimp ponds are stocked with shrimp larvae, usually not of the endemic specie of the local area. To prevent the shrimp population from getting sick as it is not adjusted to the local environment, the ponds are pumped with pesticides and antibiotics. So when they clean the pond, the water flushed out from these ponds is filled with chemicals. And this goes to the river, or the sea. In Kolathur's case, the polluted water goes to the backwaters, where Kaliyammal and the other Dalit women fish. This permit then, is a permit to cause health problems to fisherwomen such as skin, eye and cervical infections.

The permit, further, allows the Chinnu Aqua Tech to poison, and so, eliminate the shrimps, lobsters, crabs, mussels that the Kolathur fisherwomen have been living on for generations.

The permit, basically, is a permit to eliminate the Kolathur villagers.

RESISTANCE The songs, dances and drum beating which followed the story-telling were equally passionate. If only these would be enough to lure the shrimp farm businessmen into the circle of the Dalit women and realise that this spirit is what the shrimps in their ponds are destroying. But that would be too na?ve of me to think. The lure of profit is too strong. Profit has destroyed nations, and peoples. For them, what is one poor village to dispense with. Laughter is the best medicine - too bad laughter is not enough to cure the skin peeling off, nor the cervical infections; the mirth in our conversations which enthralled me and my companions who came all the way from Kyrgyzstan, the hills of Chittagong and Nepal, from the plains of Philippines, Burma, Thailand, and the shores of Sri Lanka, will not be enough to bring back the shrimps and crabs into the backwaters

of Kolathur to once again bring livelihood to its women.

But it is the courage and determination of the Dalit women to fight their ground, and their waters, which will bring changes in the Bay of Bengal. It is with the solidarity of women across seas and mountains which will ensure that the voices of Kaliyammal and Umapathy will be heard, and the struggle of Shanti and Rajam will be duplicated, inspiring other women to resist and defend their songs, their laughter, their lives.