 This
rotting free market
By Kumudini Hettiarachchi
Last week we were in Dambulla, not only
famous for its rock temples, but also as a major farming town.
The harvest of the yala season which has just ended was being gathered
in most fields, while others were being ploughed for the next. Some of
the cultivators get water from the Kandalama tank, others wait for the
rains.
Wherever you look in the town you see shops with sacks and sacks of
vegetables. Onions, pathola (snake gourd), wetakolu (bottle gourd), bandakka
(ladies' fingers), maa (string beans), brinjal, cucumber, pumpkins, kekiri,
the much-cherished "malu-miris (capsicum) and lime. Heaps of "komadu"
(water melon) were everywhere.
Lorries are parked in queues with these bulging sacks being loaded onto
them. But I also saw garbage dumps in front of the shops, with rotting
vegetables.
Why are they allowed to rot, when most people in urban areas pay dearly
for a meagre 250 gms of vegetables or manage with just some pala (leaves)?
The cultivators are despondent.
Thirty-year-old Siripala voiced his concern. They toiled to farm the
land during the day and watched over their crops at night. But what did
they get in return? They did not have the means or the money to transport
the produce to Colombo, the hub of commerce.
They were compelled to sell the vegetables to the small "thoga
velenda" (wholesaler) in the town, who in turn had to sell it to the
traders who came from Colombo.
And the Colombo traders who threw the money called the tune. They decided
in advance how much they would pay for one type of vegetable.
Take the case of capsicum-.they WOULD NOT pay more than Rs. 10 for -
can you guess? - the weight-a whole kilo. And to hell with fairplay, toil
and sweat. They are in control. They are the marketing mafia. No one dares
cross their path.
In my foolishness, I asked Siripala, why they continue to sell to the
big mudalalis. Why don't the cultivators stand firm about a "fixed"
price?
How could they? Once, they had pleaded for Rs. 12 a kilo for their capsicum.
The mudalalis were adamant. It was Rs. 10 or nothing. The cultivators and
small traders were insistent. What happened?
I asked, glad that the poor cultivator was at least fighting for his
share, even in a small way. Siripala's face told me the answer, even before
his lips uttered the words. All the lorries, without exception, went back
to Colombo empty. They left the vegetables behind.
They left them to rot. They also left the cultivators in misery. Siripala
and the other villagers went back home, a beaten lot. Home to starving
wives and children. "Kunu kollete dunne nethnam, api badaginne"
(If we don't give it dirt cheap, we starve), he lamented. They do not have
storage facilities to keep their produce until the prices improve. All
the cultivators tell the same tale.
Muthu Menike, face splattered with mud, smiled and nodded in agreement.
She was the mother of two children. Her husband had the same problem.
He cultivated onions on their plot of land. The income barely helped
to get them a square meal a day. So she supplemented the family's earnings
by cutting bricks. Even that did not bring in enough, unlike those days.
No one came for the bricks.
The demand had dropped. What has gone wrong with the system? An obvious
reason was that no proper marketing and transport network has been put
into place by the authorities concerned, mainly the Ministry of Agriculture.
The ministry has left the small cultivator and trader at the mercy of
the big blackmarketeer. Not only does their survival depend on the rains
and the vagaries of the weather, they are in the vice-like grip of these
mudalalis. It's very easy for us to preach to these humble farmers about
banding together, to fight for their rights. But when they know their families
are waiting for a meal, they will take the few hundred rupees offered for
their produce.
Why doesn't the ministry heed their cry? Why can't it set up a network
to enable the cultivators to get the rice, vegetables and fruit to towns
where they would get a reasonable price for their produce? Can't they be
provided storage facilities, so that they are not exploited by unscrupulous
mudalalis who act as middlemen?
Is it that no one cares? Why are these mudalalis allowed to make such
big profits at the expense of the farmers who toil so hard? Who has the
answers?
We take other countries as models whenever it suits us. Why not study
the systems in countries such as India and implement them on a smaller
scale here?
The situation is so bad in the agricultural areas of Sri Lanka that
the next generation may not take to farming. Most of the youths had set
their sights on other livelihoods. We can't blame them. Very soon we may
have to import all our food products.
As we left the cultivators, I pondered on the fate of these farmers.
The irony is that a kilo of capsicum is more than Rs. 50 in Colombo.
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