Girl Rising Page #3

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expected to fetch water.

To care for younger children.

To get jobs.

Or worse.

It happens to girls like Suma.

Suma's parents didn't

send her to school.

They sent her to work.

It's called kamlari.

I write songs to remind myself

that my memories are real.

And often because there's

so much sadness behind me

what comes out is sad.

Both of my parents were bonded as

kamlara and kamlari in their childhood.

That's the way things

have been around here.

That's the way they

have been for the poor.

You have to bond yourself to a

master, otherwise how will you live?

SUMA,

Nepal

This was the house of my first master.

My mother and father bonded me just

so that I would have somewhere to live.

And enough food to eat.

I was 6 years old.

Fabu Tauru was a landlord and a miller.

He made me work from 4 in

the morning to late at night.

I had to clean the house

and wash the dishes,

and go to the forest to fetch firewood.

When I wasn't minding the goats,

I had to mind the children.

The goats were nicer.

The daughters made fun of me

because my clothes were torn.

They teased me.

They beat me.

I wanted my mother and

father to take me back.

I wanted them to

let me stay at home.

And go to school like my brother.

But when I thought about

how poor they were,

and how much they

too had suffered,

it made me feel weak.

I couldn't ask.

This was the house of my second master.

Johna Kamala wore a uniform to work.

He and the mistress of the

house were very hardhearted.

Unlucky girl - they used to call me.

Hey, Unlucky girl, do this!

- they'd shout.

They made me sleep in the goat shed,

and wear rags and eat scraps

from their dirty plates.

I can't really talk about everything

that happened to me here.

But I will never forget.

This is where I began to write songs.

Only the songs got me through.

Selfish were my mother and father

They gave birth to a daughter

They gave birth to a daughter

My brothers go to school to study

while I, unfortunate,

slave at a master's house.

It's a hard life,

being beaten every day.

This was the house of my third master.

I was 11 years old when I

arrived at Chitai Tauru's house.

I had been a kamlari for 5 years.

It wasn't as bad here.

I mean it was bad because there

was a lot of work.

But there was a lodger in that house.

A school teacher called Bimal Sir.

He changed my life.

Bimal Sir convinced my master and

mistress to enroll me in a night class.

All of us would gather after

finishing our day's work

and we would learn to read and write.

I loved that night class so much.

It was run by social workers for

girls just like me - kamlaris.

We'd also talk to the teachers about

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