In another installment of Oshwal heroes, we have an inspiring woman named Madhvi Dalal, a pharmacist, yoga teacher and activist, traveling across Kenya, where one million girls miss school each month because they cannot afford sanitary pads. Not only are they ostracized when they have their period, but with the lack of money, the issue gets even more serious. Due to the lack of resources, many use mattresses, cow dung or leaves as pads. Many of the girls miss school during this time and some resort to prostitution to obtain money to buy them

Madhvi is an inspiring Oshwal who has done a lot to help with this issue. She has been teaching yoga and meditation in the Kenyan slums for the past 5 years. As she got friendly with some of the girls she was teaching, she found out about their terrible predicament and that they were having transactional sex to obtain money to buy pads, as that is the only way they can afford them. Madhvi was struck by these girls’ stories and decided to help them and do something about the situation. So she embarked on a journey to make reusable cotton pads that could be washed. She has just launched the product.

Madhvi spends a lot of her time travelling and educating young people about menstruation and SRHR, in schools and the underprivileged communities across Kenya. The one stipulation she has is that boys and/or men have to be present at these meetings and she has found that there has been a lot of positive feedback from this and this has helped to remove the stigma that has been associated with periods. There is a lot of work still left to do. Making them accessible and acceptable is a tough task that she has taken on.

Madhvi is committed to empowering women by improving their health through environmentally responsible action and entrepreneurship. Through education, empowerment and sustainability, she continues her inspiring work towards ending period poverty.

You can check out some of Madhvi’s work in the links below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l20Hh7zp6S4&feature=youtu.be
https://padmadkenya.com/?v=518f4a738816

Keshavlal Fulchand Karman Shah came to Kenya at the age of 11 years in a dhow from Kansumra. He had done primary education up to standard 3 in Gujarati and tended to the family farm called the VADI. He also taught pupils in the school. His salary was 9 rupees for the year. He taught for 3 years. His elder brother Nemchand Fulchand Shah came to Kenya around 1901 and called his younger brother Keshavlal to Kenya. 

Both brothers worked for a while with Meghji Ladha Company and then joined as partners in Virchand Devji & Co. They then split to form their own company called Shah Nemchand Fulchand Ltd in Nairobi. As the business was expanding, Nemchand Fulchand went to Mombasa and opened a branch there. Their younger brother Lalji Fulchand also joined them after a few years. 

He was a clever businessman and in 1949, after the Second World War, he went to Europe and the UK with 2 other businessmen to buy goods from the factories. They were among the first businessmen to go to Europe & UK from our community. 

Keshavlal Fulchand was interested in the welfare of the Oshwal Community and joined the community committees. He worked in various capacities and became President for 3 years from 1956 to 1958. He was key in many Oshwal accomplishments, the largest being education. He wanted every Oshwal (boy or girl) to have a sound education. He was a powerful speaker.  He once gave a speech to the Governor of Kenya in English even though he could not speak English fluently.  

Apart from working for the community he also worked at the heart and the welfare of the Indian community at large. He had made friends at most Indian Institutions and was well respected for his quick and bold decisions and guidance. 

He was also considered a wise man and many sought his guidance and knowledge in many issues be it matchmaking for marriage, disputes, etc. The classic way of solving disputes in those days was mediation. He would resolve the issue by first listening to the disputes from both sides. Then he would ask them from each side to sign that even the verdict of the two sides it would be binding on them. He would be a neutral trustee. This way he resolved many disputes and marriage conflicts during those times. 

He worked for the community for over 50 years. One of the important changes he made was in regards to how the Oshwal committee had decided that everyone from the community should pay Kshs 10000/- per year per family. He argued that this levy for Shs 10000/- was wrong. He said, “how can someone who earns very little pay exactly the same by force as someone who earns much more?” The decision was then reversed and it went back as before, i.e. people pay as they wanted. 

Apart from Business & Community work, he was a big advocate of keeping family, including extended family together. He was a foodie too. There was not one day when he would not have visitors to come to see him in the evenings/night. He was also a very powerful speaker. Keshavlal would never let any visitors leave his house if they haven’t had anything to eat or drink. Many remember him rolling his own cigarettes in the sitting room with endless visitors. Keshubhai married 3 times as 2 of his wives passed away. He had 4 sons, 7 daughters, and 32 grandchildren. 

Keshavlal Fulchand Shah lives on in his son, Arun K Shah, who graciously shared his father’s story for us. May we all gain something from Keshavlal’s story and learn from his kindness, knowledge, and helpfulness towards others, for men like him are iconic and rare.

We are thrilled to announce that we have launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise money for Threads That Tie Us! As we begin to head into post-production, we need to raise some funds in order to complete the film. Our first goal is $50,000, but we do have stretch goals that you can look at in the campaign, going up to $120,000, where we will write a book to complement the movie that is packed with stories and recipes related to Oshwal culture.

Threads That Tie Us, the first feature-length film about the Halari Oshwals, will give current and future generations answers when they need them regarding their history and culture. With hardly any pieces of media about the Halari Oshwals, people do not know about us. This film could also be a great way to put us on the map. The film will be full of stories, interviews, history and archival footage, making it a perfect historical piece for the Oshwal community. Rather than writing a book, especially since there already exist books about the Halari Oshwals, we are breaking new ground for the community by making the first ever feature-length film about it.

On our Indiegogo page, you will see a lot more details for Threads That Tie Us, including two teaser trailers, our full budget for the film, stretch goals, and even all the awesome perks we have ready for those who contribute towards the film!

You will also see a list of great perks that you can receive based on how much you contribute towards the film! Whether it’s VIP tickets to the closest screening of the film, a digital or Blu-Ray copy, a digital download of the soundtrack, or a simple thank you card, there is a lot to choose from when picking out different perks.

To contribute, please visit our Indiegogo page. Thank you for your kind support!

Although the “Shah” surname is commonly used by Oshwals, every Oshwal has a unique surname that he or she identifies with. For example, my surname is Dodhia. Watch this video for the history of this surname.

Posted by Oshwal News on Saturday, September 10, 2016

Most of us today use English to communicate. We also think in English. If this is the case, how do we maintain Gujarati as a language if we cannot express ourselves in it? This is an interesting Podcast that was on the Canadian Broadcast Corporation’s Radio.

NAIROBI, Kenya — Kenya’s national census used to classify them as “Other.”

Now, Kenyans of Indian and Pakistani descent, many of whose forebears helped build the nation and fight colonialism but who have often been secluded from mainstream Kenyan life, are demanding official recognition for the first time.

The “Other” want to become Kenya’s 44th ethnic group.

That, at least, is the ambition of people like Shakeel Shabbir, Kenya’s first member of Parliament of Asian descent, who supports the fledgling movement to have Asian Kenyans officially classified as an ethnic group. Asians, a term that in Kenya refers to those from the Indian subcontinent, have long enjoyed economic success, but many feel excluded from the country’s political and social fabric, Mr. Shabbir said.

Unlike the Kikuyu or the Kamba, the Maasai or the Samburu, Asian Kenyans do not belong to a “tribe,” as the census officially refers to distinct ethnic groups. In politics, too, Asians lack representation. There are only four Asian Kenyan lawmakers in the national Parliament, and Kenya has never had an Asian government minister.

“We’ve been here 100 years,” said Mr. Shabbir, whose great-grandfather came from Punjab in India in 1917 to work on a British railway, called the “Lunatic Line” because its construction cost the lives of thousands of laborers, killed by malaria and even lions. His grandfather fought against British colonialists and was imprisoned for sedition against the queen.

“It’s our right to be asking this,” he said. “We need a home.”

Kenya, a country of 45 million people, is a constellation of 43 ethnic affiliations. They represent at best diversity, and at worst, the fragmentation of the population into an entrenched form of identity politics — 43 chess pieces that politicians move around the board at election time.

On its own, being recognized as a tribe does not normally bring specific advantages except in the case of the stateless Makonde people, whose recognition as Tribe No. 43 swiftly brought them the benefit of Kenyan citizenship.

For Asian Kenyans, there is nothing concrete to gain from being No. 44, Mr. Shabbir, the politician, conceded. They already have citizenship and have money, property and businesses to such an extent that they often attract the resentment of Kenyans who are less well-to-do. Asians even managed to persuade the Kenyan statistics bureau to finally classify them properly, in 2009, a step toward official recognition.

What is lacking, Mr. Shabbir said, is something harder to grasp: “that we share the dream and the toils of the Kenyan people.”

Sudhir Vidyarthi, a publishing magnate whose ancestors printed newspapers that opposed British rule, said Asian Kenyans, who tended to stick together, had been so isolated from Kenyan society that their only proof of existence was “a one-acre plot of land that they’re living in with a sign on the gate saying: ‘Beware of the dog.’” He was referring to a sense of insecurity born of the fact that Asians, known for their wealth, are not infrequently singled out by thieves.

Being considered a “tribe” is “feeling part and parcel of the system,” Mr. Shabbir said, even if that ethnically delineated system — at its worst a toxic cocktail of politics, money and fragmentation — is, in the long run, detrimental to a sense of national unity.
Ethnic interests are so entrenched in Kenya that some fret that the country will never build a sense of national identity to match that of neighboring Tanzania, whose founding father, Julius Nyerere, made a big effort to mold 120 ethnic groups into a cohesive society.

Kenya’s ethnic divisions are rooted in colonial Britain’s policy of divide and rule.

Members of the Kikuyu and the Luo, the biggest ethnic groups, worked as administrators and civil servants for the British. Today, they make up a large portion of the country’s elite: President Uhuru Kenyatta is a Kikuyu; his opponent in the presidential election, Raila Odinga, is a Luo.

In theory, Kenya’s Constitution requires the government to include employees from different ethnic backgrounds, including in the cabinet. But the rule is rarely followed.

Reaping the benefits of ethnic affiliation depends on whether your tribe is in power. Proximity can bring you business deals, jobs or school placements overseas for your children. Government employees fear being swept away under an administration from a different ethnic group, sharpening the incentive to hold on.

Politicians “hypnotize their own tribe and calculate which other ones to capture to help propel them into power,” said Ekuru Aukot, a lawyer and the president of the Thirdway Alliance, a fledgling party that aims to dismantle what he describes as “negative ethnicity.”
“When tribal affiliation is played at the political level, it gives false hope to people that they are, or will be, better off,” Mr. Aukot added, “even if the tribe itself doesn’t even benefit.”

Peter Nderu, a Kikuyu, said he planned to vote for Mr. Kenyatta in the coming election. Would he gain something from his re-election? “No,” he said, shrugging. “But he’s a good man.”

Just as Indians on the subcontinent sometimes describe fellow citizens according to caste or place of origin, many Kenyans attach casual stereotypes to those from other ethnic groups.

Depending on how you look at it, the caricature goes, the Kikuyus are either smart or wily businessmen. The Luo are considered intellectuals, but they also “like to fight,” according to Isaac Motuku, who was sitting in traffic in Nairobi. He is from the Kamba, an ethnic group, he proudly said, that is considered “hard working.”

The Luhya wear at least two hats. “We are known to be cooks and watchmen,” said Samson Ogina, a journalist, “but mostly watchmen.”
Asian Kenyans consider themselves hard-working and entrepreneurial. Some Kenyans say they are wealthy and standoffish.

Yet, despite complaining about feeling disenfranchised, Asians have quietly played their part in Kenyan politics, too.

“Asians underwrite ruling parties so much, but they’re not at the table,” Mr. Vidyarthi said. “In the end, the man holding the whip owns the bull,” he said, quoting an Indian, not Kenyan, proverb, insinuating that Indians exercised a more subtle form of influence.

Those who oppose the idea of Asian Kenyans becoming an ethnic group say they can exert influence on society without indulging in identity politics. Pressing the interests of ethnic groups, they say, hinders nation-building.

At the Diamond Plaza, a mall in Nairobi where many Asian Kenyans shop, vestiges of India’s own form of tribalism survive, as the soft-spoken Malayali from southern Kerala warily eye business-savvy Punjabis who, in turn, scrutinize their competitors from Gujarat.

Rasna Warah, an author, said being Kenyan Asian meant having three identities: born in Africa, of Indian descent and with a British colonial legacy.

“Asians shouldn’t play the same tribal game,” Ms. Warah said. “Either you are a Kenyan or you are not. Where is my homeland? This is all I’ve got.”