Himalaya's workers
Danielle et Olivier Föllmi
Rapho
In the scorching plains of Bihar, Dumka is the most poverty-stricken region of India’s poorest state. It is here that every year, the Indian army recruits thousands of men for the most ambitious strategic road construction projects in the Himalayas, designed to defend the outermost reaches of the country in Ladakh, against China, which claims the high plateaux of Tibet, and the Pakistan aggressor in Kashmir. The security of an entire nation depends on these thousands of kilometres of roads that have been hand-built, inch by inch, by the men of Dumka.
Preview
Muslims, Christians and Hindus, in all, 4,800 workers are hired in Dumka for the summer period. During the recruitment process, each man must pass a physical examination carried out by the GREF, an army corps, before being taken to Ladakh 1,500 kilometres from home. After three months spent on the construction site inhaling various fumes, at an altitude of between 3,000 and 5,600 metres, these men's life expectancy is shortened by at least 5 years. Workers are worn out by the altitude, the cold, the fumes, exhaustion, weariness and an inappropriate diet. They sleep in rudimentary tents made from old cotton army parachutes held down by sticks and bits of cord.
Under these drafty shelters, the men of Dumka sleep 25 to a tent in temperatures of 10° C below freezing, wrapped in the acrid scent of sweat and urine. Taken individually, these men may seem inefficient; but they draw their competence from their sheer number. Together, they are a profitable tool, more reliable than machinery, which tends to break down. With the exception of the steamroller which puts the finishing touch to the Dumkas' work, there are no machines on the construction site. Each worker is loaned a pair of rubber boots, used overalls and an antiquated tool, all of which he is responsible for until the end of the season. Each man performs the same task every day. Some hollow out the mountain, lay the road, stabilize it, others break up stones, lay gravel, sweep the dust off the road, melt tar in barrels, mix it, pour it into wheelbarrows or pails, or spread it with rakes. All these roads built by the Dumkas link up areas that all live at different paces. Like bridges suspended between the various Himalayan cultures, they drive out traditions, give time a different value and sweep aside all points of reference.
As doors between different worlds, they allow not only goods, but also ideas and projects to circulate. They are as veins facilitating the mixing of blood and languages, bringing the southern valleys closer to the mountains of the north, engendering a life which clings to the ribbon-like network. Formerly desolate landscapes are slowly being dotted with roadside stalls, inns, and houses. This road is life.
As we near the 21st century, these inhuman labour camps, from which workers in rags and tatters have produced masterpieces, remain as a living account of the Himalayan epic. They have become part of the legend of humankind's large-scale works, which include the Great Wall of China and the Egyptian pyramids, thanks to the men of Dumka, photographed by Olivier & Danielle Föllmi.
Olivier Föllmi
