Beyond Textbooks: Lessons from a Tribal Community Nutrition Camp
”Some things cannot be taught; they must be experienced. You never learn the most valuable lessons in life until you go through your own journey."
— Roy T. Bennett
We are well aware of the diversity within our community. Several factors—such as gender, caste, religion, and income level—can contribute to disparities in opportunities and quality of life.
In Islam, Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) emphasised empathy and social responsibility, stating: “He is not a true believer who eats his fill while his neighbour goes hungry.”
To bridge such inequalities, our government introduced the system of reservations. While there is ongoing debate about whether reservations are still necessary in today’s India, my own experience during my postgraduate studies showed me that the need is still very real for many.
As part of my master’s program, we were tasked with organising a community nutrition camp for the tribal community in Karulai. This included an awareness session, a nutritional assessment survey, a medical camp, and an educational exhibition. I was entrusted with leading the awareness session alongside a friend- a work that i initially percieved as straight forward quickly revealed itself to be a deeply challenging and eye-opening experience.
During the survey, we discovered an abundance of nutritionally rich local foods in their surroundings. Yet poverty and severe starvation were common—but most of them had gone days without eating. Many suffered from multiple nutritional deficiencies rarely seen in other parts of the country today. Despite having reservations in both education and employment, they were largely unaware of these opportunities. Many families did not send their children to school, and illiteracy was widespread. Most households had no employed members; only a few had even one breadwinner. Drug addiction further worsened their situation.
Communication during the class was another hurdle. They struggled to understand even basic words. When I explained that food contains essential elements for our health, they appeared bewildered. The moment that struck me most was when we distributed oranges. Many had never seen or eaten one before, and some tried biting directly into the peel. Nutrient-rich foods such as drumstick leaves grew near their homes, yet they had no idea these were edible.
We left Karulai with heavy hearts, deeply troubled by their helplessness. Innocent people like them—such as Madhu from Attapady—have even been killed by locals, which forces us to reflect on our own privileges: an easy life, access to education, and a roof over our heads. Meanwhile, they lived in huts with no doors, and in many cases, without roofs at all.
For communities like these, reservations are not a luxury—they are a lifeline. We often have no idea what struggles those around us face. Kindness, empathy, and active support—towards tribals and beyond—are duties we should all embrace.
In this digital era, narratives can be twisted. Some may be genuine; others are propaganda, like the misconceptions surrounding reservations. We must remember the many lives that remain invisible to society. Experiences like this should leave a lasting impression, shaping how we think, act, and advocate in the future.
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