Sixteen steps to an unknown future

In the life size photographs of early immigrants in mauritius, a tinge of sadness could be found in their eyes 
Sixteen steps to an unknown future

HYDERABAD: In Hindi, “Aapravasi” means immigrant, while “ghat” literally means, interface-factually reflecting the structure’s position between the land and sea, and symbolically marking a transition between the old life and the new for the arriving indentured immigrants from India. The guide showed me the sixteen steps, which unfolded the scenes of men, women, and children climbing the symbolic steps of Aapravasi Ghat to enter a brave new world.

It seems, each step of the stairs which they climbed from the landing pier to the depot brought them nearer to the Mauritian colonial reality: an encounter which not only profoundly shaped their destiny, but indelibly marked the social, political and economic fabric of Mauritius as well. They were mostly bankrupt labour from Indian states like Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, which were in turmoil after the 1857 Sepoy Mutiny. Smaller numbers of migrants came from Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh. The Indian workers were contracted to work for a five-year period against a monthly income of five rupees and at the end of their indenture they were to be repatriated to India.

Housed in the sheds, they slept on the floor covered with bitumen/tar (for sanitary and maintenance convenience). Six large sheds at the peak of immigration were used to house 600-1,000 immigrants a day. At these sheds, they stayed for three days after arrival before being distributed to the respective local sugar estates or sent to other colonies.  They had a kitchen to meet their daily needs, of which only the foundations remain, and toilets (located on a separate service quarter, together with the bathing area). A stonewall is all that remains now.

We went around the Sirdar’s quarters. Employed by planters as overseers they also acted as intermediaries between the immigrants and the British officers at the Depot. Often former indentured labourers themselves, they could communicate with the immigrants in their native language.
The hospital block was intact where the immigrants were vaccinated and examined to confirm their physical ability to work. Early immigrants were under mandatory quarantine even if the vessel presented a clean bill of health.

In the courtyard there were many statues. Those of immigrant families arriving, bathing, cooking, resting, lying down, talking among themselves etc. The bathing figurines indicated a ceremonial bath to wash away the past! The statues came alive as I passed by, looking as though they wanted to open and speak up. I clicked pictures, talked to them silently and got connected with my fellow Indians of two centuries old.

I went around the museum and came across more statues. A typical school scene with a teacher holding the cane and some kids attending Quran classes, men chatting under trees and women cooking. In the life size photographs of early immigrants, I found a tinge of sadness in their eyes. There were some sketches and paintings of their daily chores. Here too the joy of living was missing. Families of immigrants, with their women dressed up in all finery and men in the traditional Indian garb looked at me gravely. Mostly immigrants worked in sugar estates or in the construction of public infrastructures. Terms of engagement were not always adhered to: wages were not paid regularly, contracts were extended as a result of various penalties, and above all, repatriation was badly organised.

As time passed, things started to improve as a number of factors came into play in the late 19th century that enabled some descendants of indentured labourers to acquire small (and in a few cases significant) amounts of land for themselves. A class of Indian small farmers began to emerge in the 1870s and grew during the course of the years so that by 1909, 30 percent of the cane land was owned by Indians; some in time became large-scale, very wealthy, landowners. Those who were no longer subject to indenture contracts set up in business as small traders or worked on their own land. In 1899, despite opposition from the British Government, a law was passed allowing their children, born on the island, to acquire French nationality.

When the immigration came to an end in total, two thirds of the indentured labourers settled in Mauritius on a permanent basis and today, they represent the ancestors of almost 80 percent of the Mauritian population. No other indentured migration has so definitely shaped the future of a nation as the movement of Indian workers to Mauritius.

I was told that a visit to Aapravasi Ghat by the late Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in 1970 sparked its significance as a World Heritage Site. It was at this Aapravasi Ghat, these brave immigrants first congregated as a small community, cooked, ate, sang and prayed as one and forged life-long friendships with one another as ‘jahaji bhai’ that continued as special relationships between immigrant families over several generations.

As I went around looking at the pictures, reading the boards and imagining the characters, everything fell into place. Statues came alive and I become part of them. I peeped into their kitchens, smelled their food, admired their traditional jewellery, and merged into the sepia toned world for sometime. After a couple of hours, with one apologetic look I took leave from the gloomy past and returned to the glamorous Mauritius outside, thinking of what to wear for the banquet that evening.
(The author is a documentary filmmaker and travel writer; she blogs at vijayaprataptravelandbeyond.com)

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