Posted: 05/09/2010
It was already raining very hard by the time my colleague and I reached the Asha community centre in Tigri slum. The newspapers said it was the worst monsoon in Delhi in August for 15 years. But most of the papers’ stories focused on delays to construction of Commonwealth Games projects and increased traffic for commuters on Delhi’s roads. The dirt roads in the slum had already turned to mud when we arrived in the late morning, and before long they would be resemble a river. Though there were warnings that Delhi’s Yamuna River was reaching dangerously high water levels, there hadn’t been any sort of breach in Tigri Slum; this flooding happens almost every time it rains heavily. Poor or nonexistent drainage systems are unable to cope with even regular seasonal weather. Residents of ground floor houses are helpless against dirty, often contaminated water flowing into their homes. Year in and year out local people scramble to save their possessions during every downpour and face the task of cleaning out their homes and streets of muck, debris and damaged goods the next day.
It had already rained so much in Tigri that morning that the water was 8 inches deep in the yard around the Asha centre. The staff welcomed us with rueful smiles, clearly unhappy at the disruption the rain brings in their ability to carry out their daily work, but trying to go about their jobs as usual. This morning the newborn clinic was scheduled, but only a few mothers had managed to brave the elements to get to the centre, their babies carefully wrapped in their arms. With few patients to attend to, Tigri project coordinator Soni used the opportunity of a few precious free moments to run an impromptu refresher training for her Community Health Volunteers. She was barely 15 minutes into quizzing them about the symptoms and treatments from a long list of common slum ailments and diseases, when a cry came from the other room. Water was beginning to enter the building. It was the third time this monsoon season the centre had flooded.
When we went into the hall, things were even worse. The water level outside had risen higher than the front steps of the Asha centre and was pouring in like a waterfall. Outside, water had risen to waist deep levels. The staff inside the centre began frantically piling up the furniture to prevent maximum water damage. The computers in the learning lab were placed on high cabinets. Soni told us that in the clinic, risk of water damage is a big problem for medical records and medical supplies during monsoon time. I thought of the cleanup job that would be awaiting everyone when the water levels had subsided. Most of the water would have to be removed manually by staff and volunteers with buckets. By the time staff had made done all they could to safeguard centre equipment, the water in the yard was waist deep. Some boys from the slum waded in and set up a makeshift bridge of metal benches for us all to escape to safety. Even in the road, the water was nearly knee high.
I felt for the CHVs who were with us. Many of them were going back to houses in Tigri that were equally flooded. They were anxious for their possessions. Besides the financial implications of property damage to people who already have so little, flooding in the slums brings increased risk of disease and injury. Every time there is a big rainstorm during the monsoon season, accidental electrocutions are reported from people coming into contact with uncovered electrical wiring. Often people fall into open pits or drains in flooded streets.
By the time we made it out of the Tigri to the main road we were soaked through. The difference between us and the locals people living in the slum was that we got to go home that day to own dry homes. They have no choice but to wait until the waters recede and the sun comes out.
Thanks to Asha, we have been able to get land rights in our own names and so we don’t have to be afraid of being evicted. Most people in slums never own their own homes and so we feel very privileged.
Narayani, Ekta Vihar
