How one woman’s mission to help indigenous Indians backfired into post-empire soul-searching
Lorna Collins wanted to do good, but the villagers she tried to help with an art-therapy project saw it differently
I came to India, seduced by the vivid, parched, colours, the thick hot air, the cows chewing cud in the street. Struck by the extreme socioeconomic disparity, remnants of both the caste system and the impact of colonialism, I was fascinated by this rich, complex country. In particular, I was gripped by the plight of the Adivasis, indigenous tribal communities which live on the outside, or on the margins, of Indian society.
They have shirked India’s caste system, by opening a community where all group members are different, but equal. But in respect to the rest of the country, Adivasis are exiled: separated and subordinated. Moved by the Adivasis’ plight, I began to direct an exciting art project that would open the Adivasis’ culture and build an awareness of their ancient traditions and self-resilience. I wanted to stimulate and record Adivasi art, performance and story-making. The aim was to share their narratives around the world, with audiences who did not even know they existed.
This is the story of my utopian idea, and its sheer catastrophe in practice.
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