This is a fictional narrative account, but all of the issues and information found in this story have been extracted from valid research articles that highlight the fate of many tea pluckers in Sri Lanka's highlands.
I have not chosen this life. It was simply given and passed on to me. I can try to find another job, but it is hard here. We are barely clinging on. My husband died about three years ago from some kind of infection. I think he got it from drinking the water from a stream across the road, when they (municipality) turned off our tap. He has gone to heaven and left me alone to raise our three kids. My great grandmother came here from Tamil Nadu, India during the British time as a plucker for the plantations, and that his how I ended up doing this work. If this is truly the path that god has chosen for me, then let me suffer.
My day begins at 2:30 am. I wash my face and prepare some food for the kids to take to school. I only send my two younger sons. They had their supplies donated to them by the UNICEF organization. My eldest daughter must stay home and take care of her brothers and the house while I am gone. It is hard living in this house. Whenever it rains, the entire room gets wet because the roof is a rusty metal sheet. If it gets too wet inside, then the light bulb will also go out. The kids sleep on the floor, and I sleep on a small bed. It is difficult to cook inside on the wood fired stove, because the entire room gets filled with smoke, making it hard to breathe, but what to do?
I pray to god everyday that this is not the life that my kids will have to endure when they are older. I hope that my two sons will become educated, and help their sister to find a better job eventually. After the economic crisis, I can barely manage to get even rice or lentils. If its a lucky day, we will have enough for the four of us to share, but usually I must stay hungry for the kids to eat. If theres no food, then we sometimes have to eat leaves from outside.
I leave the house at about 3:30 am. Our home is just above the tea factory. The big horn blows every morning as a wake up call for all of the pluckers. I take my heavy basket, that sits on my shoulders while I am plucking. I don't have any footwear, and my feet get swollen from the sharp rocks, dirt and leeches. It is very cold and wet in the early morning, but I have a small jacket that the factory has provided me. I begin picking at about 4:00 am, and go on until about 11:00 am. When it is lunch time, I usually go back home, because I cannot bear seeing my friends eating food when I don't have any. I go back to work at about 1:00 pm, and keep plucking until about 5:00 pm.
We then take our leaves to be weighed down at the factory by our supervisors. Sometimes they can be so cruel. We must pick about 18 kg of leaves a day, and someitmes I send my daughter to pluck as well. We only make about 1000 rupees ($3.00) on a good day. The supervisors sometimes make up lies, just so they don't have to pay us our full amount. Sometimes they will say that the scale is broken, or that the money will be doubled the next day. There have been some days where I have worked for over 11 hours, and the supervisors have dumped my entire bag, claiming that my leaves were not good enough to be sold.
I cry a lot, not for myself, but at the thought that my children must suffer like this. I feel like I have failed them as a mother, but my sister, who is also a plucker helps me a lot to look after them. I feel suicidal at times, but I must keep working to provide for my kids. We barely have any clothes to wear, starve everyday, and slave away in those fields, while our supervisors live comfortable lives. If I am lucky, I will sometimes run into a visiting tourist, who will give me some money. The money I bring in is just not enough to support my family, and I have taken out many loans before just to buy some rice. The debt continues to stack up. My body is withered and worn out from working, and I get stomach bugs from bacteria in the water very often, but I must still go to work. My kids also get sick very often, and sometimes I send them into town to find some quick work instead of sending them to school.
Even though I am suffering, I still must get up everyday and hide my greif to face my kids. I think about giving up often, but I cannot afford the risk of my kids having to live this life when they are my age. I guess this is gods will.
Sources:
-https://news.un.org/en/story/2022/11/1130502
How life can be hard. Need to help anyone you can to bring a smile to their face . Glad to see a voice given to these unfortunate hard working people