Self-Help Groups Are Transforming Women's Lives in India
Young women who are part of one of Heifer International's Self-Help Groups support and learn from each other.
Gunja Das and a younger assistant whom she is training to become a Community Agricultural Veterinary Entrepreneur.
Gunja Das leaves her home on her scooter to travel to farms around the local area.
Gunja Das, her husband and two children sit outside their home in the Muzaffarpur district of Bihar, India.
Gunja Das stands behind the counter of her pharmacy, serving customers medicines for their farm animals.
One of Heifer International's Self-Help Groups created to improve the literacy and basic mathematics of disadvantaged women in Bihar, India.
'I was always just my husband's wife. My father's daughter. The mother of my son.' Gunja Das cleared her throat. The air is thick and filled with dust in Muzaffarpur, a district in the Indian state of Bihar. It is one of India's most disadvantaged states, where 80 percent of the population work in farming and agriculture.
'I was a traditional housewife here, and I never left my home,' continued Das as her young children listened intently through a crack in her front door. 'My dream was to be able to send those two to a good middle school, where they could learn English.'
Recent financial constraints, worsened by the COVID-19 pandemic, made her dream difficult to imagine. At the same time, extreme heat and unpredictable monsoon seasons were becoming more prevalent year on year, endangering Muzaffarpur's agricultural economy and the fragile livelihoods of millions of India's most vulnerable people.
But Gunja Das received a lifeline.
In 2022, she was invited to join a 'Self-Help Group' for women in her community. She recalled not knowing what it was and was wary of the invitation. Her husband, she said, was the one to encourage her to leave the home and attend the meeting.
The Self-Help Group she was invited to was one of several hundred small, women-only community groups that have been created in Muzaffarpur by Heifer International, a non-profit organization working on the ground in Bihar to support the livelihoods of over 70,000 rural families.
Heifer International had selected a local NGO partner called Pragati Gramin Vikas Samiti to help organize the Self-Help Groups. The aim was to identify specific problems facing rural women in agriculture and provide them with the support to overcome them.
In Muzaffarpur, there was a shortage of qualified veterinary and animal workers, vital to protecting key value chains in the agrarian economy. Heifer International offered to train women to become Community Agricultural Veterinary Entrepreneurs, CAVEs for short.
'It was an exciting process to be a part of, but it had significant challenges,' said Randhir Kumar, a senior project manager at Heifer International in Bihar. 'Many women felt it would be too much responsibility for them, especially without the support of their husbands.'
Other women were forbidden from attending further meetings by their husbands
But for Gunja Das, the first meeting was 'life-changing.' She was selected to attend a seven-day residential training course led by veterinary professionals shortly after. While fearful and anxious about leaving her home and family for the first time in 11 years, she described how much she began to enjoy the 'intensive training in farmstock vaccinations, diagnosis, deworming, and animal care.'
The gender divide in Bihar is stark. While 80 percent of the population work in agriculture, only 13 percent of landowners are women.
The oppressive caste system has been part of Bihar's social fabric for centuries. For women belonging to the low Dalit caste like Gunja Das, there are societal barriers to education, medical care, and even basic employment.
Modernization is needed to support the state's agricultural economy. Sonmani Choudhary, program director at Heifer International, explained that she thinks 'smallholder women should be the backbone of rural transformation in Bihar.'
Centuries of extreme inequality within the state's agrarian economy have left a painful legacy that runs deeply through the roots of Bihar. Feudal governing since medieval times allowed the ruling nobility called Zamindars, to control vast swathes of land in Bihar. Wealthy high-caste landlords effectively owned the workers from the lower rungs of the caste system.
Corruption combined with the deeply entrenched caste discrimination continued through the 20th century, with violent land disputes reaching fever pitch in the 1990s.
Today, landless farming families belonging to a lower caste and often earning no more than enough to feed themselves have little option but to continue to live off the land they do not own.
Pradeep Priyadarshi is the secretary of Pragati Gramin Vikas Samiti. He has advocated for land reform and gender equality for decades in Bihar. He explained: 'Before the Heifer project, nobody in the community knew Gunja Das' name. Few would even speak with her. Now 4,000 people here know who she is!'
After several weeks of training provided by Heifer International, Gunja Das began treating animals in need of vaccination in her first week. 'I was travelling on a scooter, which Heifer organized across Muzaffarpur to treat animals. It made me nervous, but my confidence grew and grew,' she said.
Last year, Gunja Das treated over 18,000 farm animals – from water buffaloes to lambs – across Bihar. Her work is so in-demand that she recently traveled to Jharkhand and Delhi to conduct workshops for animal care in both states.
To date, Heifer International has trained more than 1,300 CAVEs like Gunja across India, Nepal, Cambodia, and Bangladesh.
Opening the front door to her home, Gunja's young children and husband joined her on her porch. 'Now, they call me Gunja's husband,' her husband said, with a broad smile.
'Being able to send my children to a good middle school is still one of my proudest achievements,' said Gunja Das, holding her husband's hand, before adding: 'And training other local young women, some not so much older than my daughter, to become veterinary entrepreneurs like me, is one of the most humbling experiences of my life.'
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The Diplomat
6 hours ago
- The Diplomat
Self-Help Groups Are Transforming Women's Lives in India
For decades, men ruled the farms in Bihar. Now, it's women who are reshaping the agricultural economy. Young women who are part of one of Heifer International's Self-Help Groups support and learn from each other. Gunja Das and a younger assistant whom she is training to become a Community Agricultural Veterinary Entrepreneur. Gunja Das leaves her home on her scooter to travel to farms around the local area. Gunja Das, her husband and two children sit outside their home in the Muzaffarpur district of Bihar, India. Gunja Das stands behind the counter of her pharmacy, serving customers medicines for their farm animals. One of Heifer International's Self-Help Groups created to improve the literacy and basic mathematics of disadvantaged women in Bihar, India. 'I was always just my husband's wife. My father's daughter. The mother of my son.' Gunja Das cleared her throat. The air is thick and filled with dust in Muzaffarpur, a district in the Indian state of Bihar. It is one of India's most disadvantaged states, where 80 percent of the population work in farming and agriculture. 'I was a traditional housewife here, and I never left my home,' continued Das as her young children listened intently through a crack in her front door. 'My dream was to be able to send those two to a good middle school, where they could learn English.' Recent financial constraints, worsened by the COVID-19 pandemic, made her dream difficult to imagine. At the same time, extreme heat and unpredictable monsoon seasons were becoming more prevalent year on year, endangering Muzaffarpur's agricultural economy and the fragile livelihoods of millions of India's most vulnerable people. But Gunja Das received a lifeline. In 2022, she was invited to join a 'Self-Help Group' for women in her community. She recalled not knowing what it was and was wary of the invitation. Her husband, she said, was the one to encourage her to leave the home and attend the meeting. The Self-Help Group she was invited to was one of several hundred small, women-only community groups that have been created in Muzaffarpur by Heifer International, a non-profit organization working on the ground in Bihar to support the livelihoods of over 70,000 rural families. Heifer International had selected a local NGO partner called Pragati Gramin Vikas Samiti to help organize the Self-Help Groups. The aim was to identify specific problems facing rural women in agriculture and provide them with the support to overcome them. In Muzaffarpur, there was a shortage of qualified veterinary and animal workers, vital to protecting key value chains in the agrarian economy. Heifer International offered to train women to become Community Agricultural Veterinary Entrepreneurs, CAVEs for short. 'It was an exciting process to be a part of, but it had significant challenges,' said Randhir Kumar, a senior project manager at Heifer International in Bihar. 'Many women felt it would be too much responsibility for them, especially without the support of their husbands.' Other women were forbidden from attending further meetings by their husbands But for Gunja Das, the first meeting was 'life-changing.' She was selected to attend a seven-day residential training course led by veterinary professionals shortly after. While fearful and anxious about leaving her home and family for the first time in 11 years, she described how much she began to enjoy the 'intensive training in farmstock vaccinations, diagnosis, deworming, and animal care.' The gender divide in Bihar is stark. While 80 percent of the population work in agriculture, only 13 percent of landowners are women. The oppressive caste system has been part of Bihar's social fabric for centuries. For women belonging to the low Dalit caste like Gunja Das, there are societal barriers to education, medical care, and even basic employment. Modernization is needed to support the state's agricultural economy. Sonmani Choudhary, program director at Heifer International, explained that she thinks 'smallholder women should be the backbone of rural transformation in Bihar.' Centuries of extreme inequality within the state's agrarian economy have left a painful legacy that runs deeply through the roots of Bihar. Feudal governing since medieval times allowed the ruling nobility called Zamindars, to control vast swathes of land in Bihar. Wealthy high-caste landlords effectively owned the workers from the lower rungs of the caste system. Corruption combined with the deeply entrenched caste discrimination continued through the 20th century, with violent land disputes reaching fever pitch in the 1990s. Today, landless farming families belonging to a lower caste and often earning no more than enough to feed themselves have little option but to continue to live off the land they do not own. Pradeep Priyadarshi is the secretary of Pragati Gramin Vikas Samiti. He has advocated for land reform and gender equality for decades in Bihar. He explained: 'Before the Heifer project, nobody in the community knew Gunja Das' name. Few would even speak with her. Now 4,000 people here know who she is!' After several weeks of training provided by Heifer International, Gunja Das began treating animals in need of vaccination in her first week. 'I was travelling on a scooter, which Heifer organized across Muzaffarpur to treat animals. It made me nervous, but my confidence grew and grew,' she said. Last year, Gunja Das treated over 18,000 farm animals – from water buffaloes to lambs – across Bihar. Her work is so in-demand that she recently traveled to Jharkhand and Delhi to conduct workshops for animal care in both states. To date, Heifer International has trained more than 1,300 CAVEs like Gunja across India, Nepal, Cambodia, and Bangladesh. Opening the front door to her home, Gunja's young children and husband joined her on her porch. 'Now, they call me Gunja's husband,' her husband said, with a broad smile. 'Being able to send my children to a good middle school is still one of my proudest achievements,' said Gunja Das, holding her husband's hand, before adding: 'And training other local young women, some not so much older than my daughter, to become veterinary entrepreneurs like me, is one of the most humbling experiences of my life.'
The Mainichi
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Within a month, his 25-year-old mother and 4-year-old sister died after developing nosebleeds, skin problems and fatigue. Iida had similar radiation effects through elementary school, though he gradually regained his health. He was almost 60 when he finally visited the peace park at the hypocenter, the first time since the bombing, asked by his aging aunt to keep her company. After he decided to start telling his story, it wasn't easy. Overwhelmed by emotion, it took him a few years before he could speak in public. In June, he met with students in Paris, London and Warsaw on a government-commissioned peace program. Despite his worries about how his calls for nuclear abolishment would be perceived in nuclear-armed states like Britain and France, he received applause and handshakes. Iida says he tries to get students to imagine the aftermath of a nuclear attack, how it would destroy both sides and leave behind highly radioactive contamination. "The only path to peace is nuclear weapons' abolishment. There is no other way," Iida said. A regular at anti-war protests Fumiko Doi, 86, would not have survived the atomic bombing on Nagasaki if a train she was on had been on time. The train was scheduled to arrive at Urakami station around 11 a.m., just when the bomb was dropped above a nearby cathedral. With the delay, the train was 5 kilometers (3 miles) away. Through the windows, Doi, then 6, saw the flash. She covered her eyes and bent over as shards of broken windows rained down. Nearby passengers covered her for protection. People on the street had their hair burnt. Their faces were charcoal black and their clothes were in pieces, she said. Doi told her children of the experience in writing, but long hid her status as a survivor because of fear of discrimination. Doi married another survivor. She worried their four children would suffer from radiation effects. Her mother and two of her three brothers died of cancer, and two sisters have struggled with their health. Her father, a local official, was mobilized to collect bodies and soon developed radiation symptoms. He later became a teacher and described what he'd seen, his sorrow and pain in poetry, a teary Doi explained. Doi began speaking out after seeing the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster following a strong earthquake and tsunami, which caused radioactive contamination. She travels from her home in Fukuoka to join anti-war rallies, and speaks out against atomic weapons. "Some people have forgotten about the atomic bombings ... That's sad," she said, noting that some countries still possess and develop nuclear weapons more powerful than those used 80 years ago. "If one hits Japan, we will be destroyed. If more are used around the world, that's the end of the Earth," she said. "That's why I grab every chance to speak out." At Hiroshima, learning from survivors After the 2023 Hiroshima G7 meeting of global leaders and the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to the grassroots survivors' group Nihon Hidankyo last year, visitors to Hiroshima and Nagasaki peace museums have soared, with about one third of them coming from abroad. On a recent day, most of the visitors at the Hiroshima peace park were non-Japanese. Samantha Anne, an American, said she wanted her children to understand the bombing. "It's a reminder of how much devastation one decision can make," Anne said. Katsumi Takahashi, a 74-year-old volunteer specializing in guided walks of the area, welcomes foreign visitors but worries about Japanese youth ignoring their own history. On his way home, Iida, the survivor and guide, stopped by a monument dedicated to the children killed. Millions of colorful paper cranes, known as the symbol of peace, hung nearby, sent from around the world. Even a brief encounter with a survivor made the tragedy more real, Melanie Gringoire, a French visitor, said after Iida's visit. "It's like sharing a little piece of history."
Japan Today
3 days ago
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Kunihio Iida, atomic bomb survivor and a volunteer guide, looks up at the sky in front of the Children's Peace Monument where people offer paper cranes to honor the victims of the 1945 atomic bomb, in Hiroshima on July 9. Eighty years after the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a dwindling number of the aging Japanese survivors are increasingly frustrated by growing nuclear threats and the acceptance of nuclear weapons by global leaders. The U.S. attack on Hiroshima on Aug 6, 1945, and three days later on Nagasaki killed more than 200,000 people by the end of that year. Others survived but with radiation illness. About 100,000 survivors are still alive. Many hid their experiences to protect themselves and their families from discrimination that still exists. Others couldn't talk about what happened because of the trauma they suffered. Some survivors have begun to speak out late in their lives, hoping to encourage others to push for the end of nuclear weapons. An English-speaking guide at Hiroshima's peace park Kunihio Iida, atomic bomb survivor and a volunteer guide, speaks in English to foreign visitors in Hiroshima. Image: AP/Eugene Hoshiko Despite numerous health issues, survivor Kunihiko Iida, 83, has devoted his retirement years to telling his story as a way to advocate for nuclear disarmament. He volunteers as a guide at Hiroshima's Peace Memorial Park. He wants to raise awareness among foreigners because he feels their understanding of the bombings is lacking. It took him 60 years to be able to talk about his ordeal in public. When the U.S. dropped a uranium bomb on Hiroshima, Iida was 900 meters (yards) away from the hypocenter, at a house where his mother grew up. He was 3 years old. He remembers the intensity of the blast. It was as if he was thrown out of a building. He found himself alone underneath the debris, bleeding from shards of broken glass all over his body. 'Mommy, help!' he tried to scream, but his voice didn't come out. Eventually he was rescued by his grandfather. Within a month, his 25-year-old mother and 4-year-old sister died after developing nosebleeds, skin problems and fatigue. Iida had similar radiation effects through elementary school, though he gradually regained his health. He was almost 60 when he finally visited the peace park at the hypocenter, the first time since the bombing, asked by his aging aunt to keep her company. After he decided to start telling his story, it wasn't easy. Overwhelmed by emotion, it took him a few years before he could speak in public. In June, he met with students in Paris, London and Warsaw on a government-commissioned peace program. Despite his worries about how his calls for nuclear abolishment would be perceived in nuclear-armed states like Britain and France, he received applause and handshakes. Iida says he tries to get students to imagine the aftermath of a nuclear attack, how it would destroy both sides and leave behind highly radioactive contamination. 'The only path to peace is nuclear weapons' abolishment. There is no other way,' Iida said. A regular at anti-war protests Fumiko Doi, 86, would not have survived the atomic bombing on Nagasaki if a train she was on had been on time. The train was scheduled to arrive at Urakami station around 11 a.m., just when the bomb was dropped above a nearby cathedral. With the delay, the train was 5 kilometers away. Through the windows, Doi, then 6, saw the flash. She covered her eyes and bent over as shards of broken windows rained down. Nearby passengers covered her for protection. People on the street had their hair burnt. Their faces were charcoal black and their clothes were in pieces, she said. Doi told her children of the experience in writing, but long hid her status as a survivor because of fear of discrimination. Doi married another survivor. She worried their four children would suffer from radiation effects. Her mother and two of her three brothers died of cancer, and two sisters have struggled with their health. Her father, a local official, was mobilized to collect bodies and soon developed radiation symptoms. He later became a teacher and described what he'd seen, his sorrow and pain in poetry, a teary Doi explained. Doi began speaking out after seeing the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster following a strong earthquake and tsunami, which caused radioactive contamination. She travels from her home in Fukuoka to join anti-war rallies, and speaks out against atomic weapons. 'Some people have forgotten about the atomic bombings ... That's sad," she said, noting that some countries still possess and develop nuclear weapons more powerful than those used 80 years ago. 'If one hits Japan, we will be destroyed. If more are used around the world, that's the end of the Earth,' she said. 'That's why I grab every chance to speak out.' At Hiroshima, learning from survivors After the 2023 Hiroshima G7 meeting of global leaders and the Nobel Peace Prize awarded to the grassroots survivors' group Nihon Hidankyo last year, visitors to Hiroshima and Nagasaki peace museums have soared, with about one third of them coming from abroad. On a recent day, most of the visitors at the Hiroshima peace park were non-Japanese. Samantha Anne, an American, said she wanted her children to understand the bombing. 'It's a reminder of how much devastation one decision can make,' Anne said. Katsumi Takahashi, a 74-year-old volunteer specializing in guided walks of the area, welcomes foreign visitors but worries about Japanese youth ignoring their own history. On his way home, Iida, the survivor and guide, stopped by a monument dedicated to the children killed. Millions of colorful paper cranes, known as the symbol of peace, hung nearby, sent from around the world. Even a brief encounter with a survivor made the tragedy more real, Melanie Gringoire, a French visitor, said after Iida's visit. 'It's like sharing a little piece of history.' Associated Press video journalists Mayuko Ono and Ayaka McGill contributed to this report. © 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.
