Ever since the completion of the Aswan High Dam in 1964, successive Egyptian governments have ignored promises made to the Nubians that they would be allowed to return to farming villages along the Nile. For 51 years, the Nubian people have cherished the promise—the hope—of returning to the peaceful ways of their rural villages.

Nubian villageLast week, Al-Monitor, a prominent, Web-based, news and analysis service focusing on Middle East issues, carried a story by reporter Khalid Hassan on the right of return issue and its continuing importance for many Nubians.

He begins with the facts and figures. The dam is massive: over 2.3 miles (3.83 km.) long, 131 feet (40 m.) wide, and 364 feet (111 m.) high. It generates 10 billion kilowatt hours of electricity per year. But to achieve that, over 135,000 Nubians had to be evicted from their homes more than 50 years ago and resettled into new communities, many with inadequate homes that lacked roofs.

The journalist reports that at a Nubian sit-in on July 10, they decried the racism that they feel persists in the broader Egyptian society. “I am a Nubian and I am proud,” a sign said at the demonstration. The demonstrators made many demands: the need to teach Nubian history in Egyptian schools; the criminalization of public racism.

Hassan visits Nubians in their communities and interviews a number of them in order to convey their thoughts and feelings. He talked with Nader Ibrahim, a 72 year old man who was just 20 when he was forced to leave his village. His bitterness comes through in the interview. After describing the eviction and the false promises, he joined the Egyptian armed forces, served during the October War as a translator, and was awarded a medal for his work. Then he was left to take care of himself, without any shelter or community to return to.

Mohammad Hamed, a brigadier general and former Member of Parliament, castigated all of the governments of Egypt since 1964 that have allowed the Nubians to be marginalized, to be viewed by the majority society as non-Egyptians. Ashraf Osman, the head of the Nubian Supreme Council, pointed out that the current national constitution guarantees the right to return. The inaction of the present government in that matter is therefore contrary to the constitution.

Badr al-Din Chellali, from the Egyptian Democratic Party in Aswan, said his group submitted a draft law to the Ministry of Transitional Justice 11 months ago to help resolve the situation. It contains 25 articles about the right to return and resettlement of Nubians on the banks of the river. So far, the ministry has not responded and refuses to say why.

Mr. Hassan, the reporter, went to the ministry himself to find out why the delay. Fatima Siraj, a member of the committee that had been charged with drafting the law about the right of return, told him, “the ministry made all efforts for the return of the Nubians, and we recognize their rights of return to their areas of origin.” After the committee had several sessions consulting with the Nubians to hear their demands, the draft law was now finished, she said.

It provides for the return of Nubians to the areas where they originated, and the development of villages for them. The government is determined to give them what they want. The holdup? The government is waiting for a newly-elected parliament to approve the draft law. Parliamentary elections got underway in Egypt on Sunday, October 18.

According to a recent news report, the waste pickers in the city of Guntur, in coastal Andhra Pradesh, live in grim conditions right inside the city dump. The story was first published in mid-September and the Global Alliance of Waste Pickers website subsequently provided a link to it.

Yanadi womenThe story is reminiscent, on a much smaller scale, of the one told in Behind the Beautiful Forevers, Katherine Boo’s entrancing bestseller about a vast slum near the Mumbai airport and the people who live there. But unlike the waste pickers in many other Indian cities, the residents of this slum are all Yanadis.

The author, Kabir Khan, visited the area of coastal Andhra Pradesh in southern India between the cities of Guntur and Vijayawada at the invitation of a group that is working on land rights issues for oppressed peoples. The group, the Dalit Bahujan Resource Center (DBRC), decided last year to become involved with the waste pickers of the two cities.

Kabir provides useful background. He indicates that the state of Andhra Pradesh, which was separated from the new state of Telangana in June 2014, needs to designate a new capital city since Bangalore, its former capital, will remain the capital of the new state. Andhra Pradesh, the author indicates, has chosen the area between the two small cities (small in Indian terms—less than a million inhabitants) to be the location of its new capital, which will probably grow rapidly. While the city dump of the new metropolis will doubtless not come close to the size of the one for the city of Mumbai, the needs of the people living off the garbage—the Yanadi—should be cared for.

The Guntur dump occupies 72 acres of land and receives about 310 metric tons of garbage per day. Comparing data from the city and from other studies, the author argues that roughly 68.5 percent of the waste is organic, 10.5 percent is reject and sanitary, and 21 percent is recyclable. The city dump has 1,000 waste pickers living on the income that they can derive from their informal economy: salvaging and recycling items from that 21 percent.

Kabir reviews the background of the Yanadi effectively. He writes that they used to be nomadic forest dwelling people, but they subsequently settled in coastal districts of Nellore and Chittoor, where they became experts in assisting farmers in such occupations as catching snakes and harvesting rats. A news story five years ago describes their continuing occupation—providing rat control in one community. Changing times have prompted some of them living in the Guntur area to change their vocations again, though now their circumstances are worse, the author writes.

The author met waste pickers in the dump area during his visit. He asked them about their traditional vocations and they all replied firmly that they had been waste pickers as long as they could remember. They had been scavenging at an old dump in Guntur, but when it was closed, they moved to the new one. They live a few feet away from the mountains of trash and garbage they search through. They live in temporary huts made primarily of palm leaves on land owned by the government.

Most of the Yanadi the author interviewed had no identity cards except for a few who had obtained their Aadhaar Cards, unique identification documents issued by the Indian government, though those people didn’t know how to use them to obtain benefits. Only one person, Tummalankamma, had a ration card, but it didn’t do her any good since the Public Distribution System shop was too far away.

She told Kabir that she had recently applied for her national identity card, but she didn’t know anything more about it. The author found that the waste pickers can earn only about INR 500 per week, about US $1.00 per day, on which they have to feed their families.

The author saw many children along with their parents in the large dump area. The children generally don’t get much if any education since the school provided by the government is too far from where they live. However, a small church in the immediate neighborhood has started offering classes on a daily basis; the pastor is trying to persuade the Yanadi to send their children to school. The problem for parents is that their children are needed to help pick through the rubbish to find materials to sell.

The pastor, Manik Rao, told the writer that the government had threatened to shut down the more distant public school because few children were attending. To prevent that, he agreed to send the children attending the school in his church to the government school instead. Srinivas, a leader in the local community, has agreed to sponsor the transportation of the children to the public school.

The DBRC, the organization that is championing the Yanadi waste pickers, is opposing the construction of a waste incineration plant for the area. The plans, formulated by a team of engineers from Singapore, were announced in the Indian media about four months ago. The proposed plant will replace the recycling efforts of the poverty stricken Yanadi, and they will have nowhere else to go for income, Kabir predicts. The amount proposed for the large incineration plant could be better spent on safety equipment for the Yanadi, better pay for their work, and effective food, health, and social networks for them, he argues.

Global climate change is harming the Inuit way of life, especially in the village of Umiujaq, in northern Canada. Catherine Hours, an AFP reporter, visited the village and wrote last week in a story carried by Yahoo News that conditions in the village are changing due to warming temperatures—more so than in many other places.

UmiujaqThe reporter indicates that the effects of the warming seas, which shorten the ice-fishing season, are just the latest in a long pattern of cultural changes that the people of Umiujaq have had to endure. Nellie Tookalook told her that winter used to start in October or November, but it arrives later now. “I love ice fishing, I love fish eggs,” she said, but it gets quite scary fishing on the increasingly thin ice. A hunter out on his snowmobile recently fell through the ice and was lost.

Ms. Tookalook, who teaches Inuktitut, one of the Inuit languages, at the school in Umiujaq, also complained about the fact there are fewer caribou, and that the winter snow melts faster. The reporter writes that Umiujaq, a village without road access on the eastern shore of Hudson Bay, is part of a region that is warming at twice the speed of the rest of the earth.

One of the consequences of the warming is the instability of the permafrost, which is caused by the warming temperatures. In the early 2000s, as a result, the foundations of buildings constructed several decades earlier when the village was first settled started to buckle and crack. A fire station in a nearby settlement collapsed. Walls on buildings commonly develop large cracks.

The natural vegetation is changing as well. Stunted spruces are moving north, replacing lichens and mosses. The fauna is changing too—Canadian elk, groundhogs, and even toads are appearing. Heat waves are becoming common, and people try to not go out when it is too hot, at least in their terms.

According to Anita Inukput, during a heat wave last year, temperatures went up to 29 or 30 degrees C. (84 – 86 degrees F.) for two or three days. She said, “I almost got heat stroke … that’s too much for me!”

The warmer conditions have harmed the fishing. Lucassie Cookie told the reporter that there are far more flies and mosquitoes during the summer than there used to be, and because of the heat, the fish go into deeper waters. It is now harder for hunters to find seals, one of their traditional food sources, out on the ice flows.

Charlie Tooktoo, a municipal councilor for Umiujaq, expresses his distress that global climate change is destroying their way of life and much of the world doesn’t even seem to care. “I am a little bit mad that the world is not doing much [to stop the warming],” he says.

Birhor who violate social rules are sentenced by village elders to pay fines, which consist of bottles of their favorite local beverage, a rice beer called “haria.”

Chaudhury, The Tribals of BiharAccording to a study of haria published in 2014, it is a beverage made from low grade rice that is popular among low income people and tribal groups in eastern India. It has an alcohol content of 2 – 3 percent. Research by Chaudhury (1978) indicated that the Birhor “considered [rice beer] to be a much cherished life giving fluid (p.35-36).” Kumar (2004)says, similarly, that “rice-beer is the favorite drink of the Birhors (p.122.”

A news story last week reported from the village of Chalkari, in the Dhanbad district of India’s Jharkhand state, that an 18-year old named Dalu Birhor was fined two bottles of haria for having a brawl with another person. Another youth, found guilty of theft by the traditional court in the village, received a fine of five bottles of haria and two hens.

The journalist writes that all of the Birhor settlements in the state that do not have any police presence punish people for infractions of their rules by taking away their haria bottles. The headman of the community, Sukar Birhor, told the reporter that his village of 55 families has no need for police anyway. “What is the need of police in our village? In the last 65 years I have not seen police in our village. We are capable of solving our dispute[s] so we do not go to them,” he said.

He added that the beverage bottles collected by the elders will be used during community festivals, or for marriage or death ceremonies. The amount of beverage collected depends on the severity of the offense, he indicated. A social activist named Ghasiram Panda told the newspaper that the punishment was a way of exerting social control by the community.

The officer at a nearby police station said that there have been no instances of complaints by any of the Birhor against their village. The indication in this news report that fighting and theft do occur in the community is interesting, at least when compared to an account from 63 years ago, before the Birhor were forcibly settled into stable communities.

Bhattacharyya (1953) wrote, “The Birhor are peace-loving and honest people. As far as the police report goes they are never involved in any crime. They seldom fight among themselves (p.10).” The author continued that although the Birhor were in the habit of drinking (presumably haria, though Bhattacharyya did not identify the drink), that habit didn’t create any private or public nuisance—or so the anthropologist was told by officials and members of the Birhor community.

Despite the apparent contrasts between conditions in 1953 and 2015, the current news story does make it clear that police are still not needed among the Birhor.

The Semai have won an important land rights victory in a Malaysian state court. A news story last Thursday reported that the High Court in Ipoh, the capital city of Perak State, agreed on Wednesday, September 30, with the Semai claim that their native tribal rights to their tanah adat (customary lands) did exist under Malaysian common law, and that the state government was wrong to have given the land to a private corporation.

The Ipoh High CourtThe issue made the news in June this year in a story about the Semai attempts to gain recognition of their rights to their traditional lands. The people of Kampung Senta had been sued by an outside corporation, who claimed that the Semai were trespassing on their lands, for which they had deeds to show their ownership. The Semai in that community counter-sued.

The report last week provides details about the case as well as the news that the High Court had found in their favor. The court followed precedents set in other Malaysian states—Selangor and Sarawak—that had also recognized the land rights claims of the Orang Asli (original peoples). Justice Dato’ Che Mohd Ruzina bin Ghazah accepted the testimony of the Semai as well as the supporting evidence provided by Colin Nicholas from the Centre for Orang Asli Concerns.

The Semai in the community discovered in 2010 that representatives of the Bionest Corporation had been encroaching on their land so they challenged the company. Bionest sued the Semai and a court ordered that the people of Senta should be evicted from their land. In response, two Semai individuals, Kong Chee Wai and Bah Kana, representing themselves and the other 142 people in the village, countersued.

They asked the High Court to declare that the lands in question were customary lands. The plaintiffs also asked that the lands that Bionest had taken away be returned to the village. The court agreed, particularly since it found that the defendants had not provided any credible challenges to the Semai testimony.

Except for about 50 acres where the Semai had allowed Chinese farmers to grow papaya and guava, which are excluded from the judgment, the court declared that the government must now gazette the rest of the 2,209 hectares (5,460 acres) as a reserve for the Orang Asli people.

A Piaroa village put on a play this past Saturday evening, October 3, about their legend of the way the gods created humanity and the cassava gardens that they cultivate. The actors in the production were members of the village of Paria Grande, located in the municipality of Atures in Amazonas State, to the south of Puerto Ayacucho, the state capital.

Piaroa theatrical production flierThe play, “Creación de los Conucos Huöttöja” (in English, “Creating Piaroa Homegardens”), expresses the indigenous knowledge of the Piaroa people through scenes that display the essence of their culture and society. (Huöttöja is another name for the Piaroa.) It was co-produced by the Centro Nacional de Teatro (CNT, the National Theatre Center) and the Teatrales de Construcción Comunitaria (Theatrical Community Building Program). The production was the result of extensive research and work since early in 2015.

According to a news report last week, the production was a way of communicating, by means of a theatrical performance, the importance of their traditional culture and artistic history. It was seen as a way of strengthening the traditional knowledge of the community, while at the same time reaching out to the broader population of Venezuela.

The play, which was collectively developed by the village, was guided by America Ramirez, a facilitator for CNT, and by Daniel Otero, an elder in the Piaroa village. The performance at 7:00 pm Saturday evening in the sports field at Paria Grande was free of charge.

The news article indicates that the play focused on the gods Buoka, Chejerü and Wajari, who collaborated on creating human beings and fertility. The special emphasis was on the role of the homegardens in promoting strength and autonomy to the people, as well as the use of cassava as a major food in their diet.

Heckler (2004) makes it clear that the homegardens of the Piaroa provide the central living spaces for the communities—the most important spots for their socializing, the places where families gather, where men discuss issues, where women visit, where visitors congregate. The homegardens have many different levels of meanings for their owners.

Overing (2006) says essentially the same thing. She describes the homegardens, and the cultivation of cassavas, as essential parts of the placid, peaceful Piaroa community lives. She writes, for instance (p.20), how the Piaroa village is “exceedingly comfortable, easygoing, and immensely safe” as children play freely, men socialize, and women chat while they peel their cassava roots.

The Nyae Nyae Development Foundation of Namibia is helping the Ju/’hoansi, formerly a hunting and gathering society, to cope effectively with the realities of global climate change. A news story a year ago described how the NNDFN emerged from its troubled beginnings to take up the climate change issue and how it has become an important Ju/’hoansi management and development organization in the process.

Aerial view of the Nyae Nyae ConservancyThe news last year at this time was based on presentations at the 18th Rangeland Forum in Namibia, where speakers described a project that, if funded by the European Union, would focus Ju/’hoansi rural land managers on specific objectives and would allow them to cope with the realities of lessening rainfall.

A report from the 19th Rangeland Forum, held at Otjiwarongo, Namibia, on Tuesday, September 15, suggests that the project is making a good beginning. Lara Diez, the Director of the NNDFN, provided some details as to how the project is trying to help the Ju/’hoansi adapt their land use patterns to better cope with climate changes.

According to the news story, Ms. Diez indicated that the people in the Tsumkwe area are at severe risk of the harsh effects of climate change due both to their remote location and to their complete reliance on the forces of nature. The point of the project, she said, is to maximize the food security of the people in both the Nyae Nyae Conservancy and the N≠a Jaqna Conservancy immediately to the west, the homelands, respectively of the Ju/’hoansi and the closely related !Kung people.

The specific goals of the project are to use the tools of conservation agriculture to increase crop yields, to improve livestock, to prevent land degradation due to over-grazing, and to reduce the fires that destroy and degrade the land.

Ms. Diez described the severe problems facing the two conservancies from illegal intrusions by outsiders and fencing by non-San people, and the fact that judgments against invaders and outside settlers have not been carried out by the authorities. But more positively, she said that the project is encouraging the communities themselves to address the challenges they are facing.

She said that the project is focusing on communities that are already demonstrating their willingness to tackle problems when they see them developing. It supports rangeland management and agricultural projects that are already under way. She hopes to focus on communities that are making good progress and to designate them as “role model villages.”

The project has distributed a booklet printed in three different languages about coping with climate change, and it is also developing a periodical that will have climate change news and tips. Rangeland, agriculture, grazing, and herding activities are now planned for the project. It has also developed a Fire Management Manual along with a week-long training course for rangers and management personnel.

Ms. Diez indicated that the project is working with stakeholders to generate baseline data of such factors as rainfall, livestock productivity, and human health in the villages. It plans to measure the outputs from fields and gardens in order to provide an assessment of changes in management approaches. The project is being supported by the EU Rangeland Monitoring Project, among other donors.

The Lepchas have a myth that their ancestors tried, and almost succeeded, in building a stairway to Heaven. After the original Lepchas came down off the world’s third highest mountain, their sacred peak Kanchenjunga, and settled in the plains of Daramdin in West Sikkim, they developed the idea of building a massive tower out of ceramic blocks in order to reach the sky.

Mount KanchenjungaAccording to a news story in 2010, the legend holds that they started by forming teams of workers to supply the blocks and build the tower. When the workers at the top got quite near the sky, they sent a request back down the tower to the workers on the ground to send up a hook. They wanted to pull the sky down to them. But the request was misunderstood, and instead the workers on the ground destroyed the base of the tower, causing the entire construction to collapse. The workers who survived the catastrophe fled off in different directions, all speaking different languages—much like the Tower of Babel story in Genesis.

Many ceramic pieces have been discovered in the Daramdin area, in western Sikkim, and in recent decades promoters of tourism have advocated the construction of a Stairway to Heaven, with a reconstructed tower and a museum. In 2010, the project was finally approved, money found, and a design firm commissioned to draw up the plans.

The project creaked along for several years until January 2014, when it clearly got underway. Local Lepcha people were pleased that an important tourist site commemorating their history and culture would soon be ready in their community.

But the project, as it gained steam, has not universally been supported by the Lepcha community. A Facebook post in June this year castigated the project. It quoted one Lepcha opponent who deemed it “a failed idea” and “a disgraceful story.” The opponents argued that the money could be more effectively spent on the health and education needs of the people.

A few days later, however, the Sikkim Lepcha Association weighed in on the opposite side of the discussion, condemning the call for scrapping the Stairway to Heaven project. It said that the construction represented a dream of the Lepcha people, and it was initiated by the government of Sikkim to help them preserve their culture and traditions.

The association statement was unequivocal: “Once the project is commissioned it will not only highlight the engineering feat of the yore days of Lepchas but will turn into a study point for research which will attract scholars across the globe. Moreover the spot will turn into a tourist hub and benefit all sections of the Sikkimese society of the area.” Their statement continued that the project would not glorify any single individual, but instead would honor the entire Lepcha society.

In mid-July, a Wall Street Journal blog post weighed in on the issue and discussed the project in terms of other attempts by Sikkim, a small state in northern India, to further develop its share of the rupees spent by tourists. Evidently, some of the largest tourist developments in the state have been spiritually-themed sites—giant statues of gods, the Buddha, and such. The Stairway to Heaven apparently fits into that spiritual development scheme.

Last week a team from the Sikkim Lepcha Youth Association visited the construction site to check on the progress. A news story about their findings was not as upbeat as earlier reports had been. The construction of a traditional Lepcha house, located at the museum site, has made steady progress, but the main attraction, the reconstructed tower itself, has not gotten beyond a foundation.

The team said that the project represents the “tremendous hopes and aspiration[s] of the Lepcha community.” The group urged government departments responsible for the work to ensure that the project will progress rapidly.

Over 1,300 residents of Eau Claire County, Wisconsin, signed an appeal supporting local Amish objections to building code regulations, which they say violate their religious beliefs. The controversy over the rights of the Amish to observe their religion as they wish made headlines in western Wisconsin last week when the issue was raised at the weekly county supervisors meeting.

A smoke detector on the ceiling of a residenceThe background was that an Amish man named John Yoder from a rural area in the county had objected to the regulation that smoke detectors and carbon monoxide detectors had to be installed in a home he is building. He based his appeal for a waiver on a recent Wisconsin state law, the state budget document for 2015-2017, signed by Governor Scott Walker in July. The new law allows the Amish to comply with the Uniform Dwelling Code in ways that would not violate their religious beliefs.

However, the county Planning and Development department, as well as its Health Department, recommended that the appeal by the Amish man should be denied. The Corporation Counsel for the county indicated that the new law provides the county with the authority to deny such an appeal as it did. This action has sent the appeal on to the Wisconsin Department of Safety and Professional Services, as the law specifies.

David Mortimer and Rachel Lane, non-Amish members of the Eau Claire chapter, National Committee for Amish Religious Freedom, heard about the denial and decided to take action. They drafted a petition to the county that argued for permitting the Amish to practice their beliefs in the ways they wish. They collected signatures in paper and online at change.org. They presented the petition to the supervisors at their meeting in Eau Claire city on Tuesday evening, September 15.

In presenting the petition, Mr. Mortimer told the supervisors, “I think we should take a deep breath and ask, ‘What have we done here?’ Our country should be a place where all religions are free, including the Amish.”

Ms. Lane said, “It’s not about how we live. It’s about how these people have such a strong conviction to carry on their life style that they want to live.” She added that the issue for the Amish appellant was about “compliance with God. To have a smoke alarm to protect them rather than God is against their beliefs.”

Mr. Mortimer suggested that the county should appoint a committee to promote a better understanding of the Amish and their beliefs. “We should be working with them, rather than against them,” he said.

The supervisors did not make any comments on the issue during the public meeting. However, the county issued a statement saying, “the health and safety of the public will continue to be the county’s focus moving forward. We will continue to follow the law.”

The fascinating aspect of the story is the extent of support that local people are showing for their Amish neighbors: 1,300 signatures on the petition. In other conflicts between rural communities in the U.S. and their neighboring Amish people, the Amish are not always so well supported by local “English” folks, as news stories over the past decade have shown.

In one report from 2012, unregulated Amish outhouses alarmed some people in rural Kansas. The droppings from Amish horses on town roads in a Wisconsin community prompted local citizens to complain to the municipal authorities. In New York State, some Amish buildings were attacked and burned by stone-throwing vandals, but in rural northern Maine, an Amish community is well liked by its English neighbors. The Mainers say that the Amish bring out the best in them.

A news story in 2008 asked the question that is still quite relevant: why are some English communities so supportive of the Amish, while others exhibit such hostility. The answer may have been provided by a journal article by William M. McGuigan and Carol Scholl, discussed in that news report.

McGuigan and Scholl argue that the major issue is that attitudes are normally determined by the amount of contact people have with minority groups such as the Amish. The more contacts the majority have with the minority, the better opinions they will have of them. Most English, at least in the authors’ study community in northwestern Pennsylvania, had very limited knowledge about the Amish. The news stories about Eau Claire last week did not indicate how much contact the Amish in their county have with the English, but something positive must be going on there.

As far back as 1946, Ruth Benedict argued that the Thai culture of male dominance is based on their religious practices and on their interpretation of Buddhist doctrines (Phillips 1965). Keyes (1984) amplified those ideas by focusing specifically on Rural Thai society and on the salient fact that, in that nation, only men could become monks.

The Venerable Bhikkhuni DammanandaBy the mid-1980s, after several decades of national economic growth, men had assumed a dominant role in many Thai businesses, such as the ownership of shops in villages and small rural towns. Keyes argued that the advances of the men could be attributed, at least in part, to the ways the Rural Thai think of male/female gender roles. The culture of Thailand distinguishes between the natural roles of males and females in confronting their attachment to the world: they seek liberation from attachment in different ways.

The people of rural Thailand see women primarily as mothers, he added, an image based not only on their obvious biological functions but on the Buddhist texts and images of the time. While women could don white robes, shave their heads, and become female ascetics called mae chi, they could never be ordained as bhikkhunis, the female equivalent of the male Buddhist monks.

Twenty years later, conditions had begun to change. Slightly. A few women had gotten ordained as bhikkhunis by monks in Sri Lanka, also largely a Theravada Buddhist nation, where the feelings against the ordination of women were not as strong.

Tomalin (2006) pointed out that many proponents of the bhikkhuni ordination movement in rural Thailand were arguing, as earlier writers had noted, that there is a direct relationship between the low status of women in Thai society and their inferior roles in the Buddhist establishment. Ordaining more Thai women as bhikkhunis would not only be significant for their feelings of religious merit, it would also have the effect of giving Thai women greater power.

Tomalin noted that the mae chi do not have the option of studying Buddhist teachings, and while many live in the temples, they are assigned to cooking and cleaning for the male monks. The Thai people in general give generously to the monks—it gains them merit—but since the mae chi generate less merit according to Buddhist belief, people give less to them.

As of 2006, Tomalin noted, five women had been ordained in Thailand as bhikkhunis. Male monks were specifically banned from ordaining women under the provisions of a 1928 law and neither the general public nor the Buddhist establishment was enthusiastic about the issue of introducing female ordination. But, Tomalin felt, there was growing public approval for reforming the status of women, though many appeared to favor supporting more women in becoming mae chi rather than ordaining them as bhikkhunis.

The Thai people in general have negative attitudes toward women, which are based, in part, on their inferior status in the nation’s male Buddhist structure. Due to the gender biases of the culture, girls are socialized to be family oriented and relational rather than self-determining and autonomous as boys are. Everyday Buddhist customs and practices reinforce this structure. While boys from the poorest classes can join monasteries, where they will receive an education, this option has been denied to girls, some of whom turn to sex trafficking.

Tomalin (2006) argued that greater ordination of the bhikkhunis has the potential to rebalance this dimension of Thai Buddhism and, more broadly, the entire society. Replacing the mae chi with ordained bhikkhunis could raise the status of women, and could begin to rectify some of the problems that they face.

Nine years later, the situation continues to slowly change. A few women in Thailand are continuing to insist on becoming monks, and in the process they are challenging their country’s gendered relationships. Last week, Denis D. Gray wrote a detailed story for the Associated Press that reviews the present status of the movement and some recent developments that have captured a lot of attention in the Thai media.

He begins his report on a rural road in Nakhon Pathom province in central Thailand, where villagers are kneeling before a line of monks and filling their begging bowls with rice and other foods. This would be a normal sight for the 200,000 male Buddhist monks in Thailand, but this occasion is unusual because these are among the hundred or so bhikkhunis in the nation. Although they are acting against the strong opposition of the nation’s powerful ruling religious authority, which still opposes all ordination of women, they are gaining support from various quarters. And some of their ideas are controversial.

Gray describes the corrupt practices of the male Buddhist structure, some of which have even involved the ruling council members. After some Sri Lankan monks ordained eight more Thai bhikkhunis last November, the ruling council urged the national government to ban Sri Lankan clergy from even entering Thailand. However, their protest prompted loud criticisms of the council itself.

The Bangkok Post then editorialized that the system of clergy control over the nation had to end. “The clergy can no longer insist on operating in a closed, feudal system that violates universal norms and values,” the paper wrote. The “clergy should concentrate on cleaning up its own house to restore declining public faith.”

The AP reports that male Thai monks have been convicted of wildlife trafficking, sexual depravity, and even murder. One abbot, who is now a fugitive, has been charged with illegally amassing a fortune, fathering a child by an underage woman, money laundering, and drug use. The Venerable Dhammananda, the head of a monastery in Nakhon Pathom and the first ordained bhikkhuni in Thailand, indicated she had not seen any misbehaviors at her monastery expect for a few nuns who had used their phones too much.

The author interviewed a number of nuns. They told him that they felt it was important to maintain very high standards, so no one could make any charges against them or try to stop their movement. Juliane Schober, a scholar of Southeast Asian Buddhism, told Mr. Gray, “I think that many nuns see themselves as exemplary. They are, and they’re carving a new role for themselves that didn’t exist.”

Dhammananda tells the author that she felt like a lone crazy when she pursued her dream of entering a monastery in 2003. But as the movement she initiated has slowly grown, people no longer seem to feel it is strange to see a female monk on a street. She says that the nuns now do not have problems with ordinary people.

The 15 bhikkhunis at her Songdhammakalyani Monastery pursue spiritual ends and provide aid for the poor, help the infirm, visit prisoners, and maintain links with the surrounding community. The monastery is in the small city of Nakhon Pathom, capital of Nakhon Pathom province to the west of Bangkok. It is clear from these reports that the status of women in rural Thailand may continue to improve, albeit slowly.