Goa’s women-only porters lug for survival

Carrying loads has been the only source of living for these women, predominantly belonging to the Roman Catholic Kunbi tribe. Commonly called bhadels, they were traditionally hired by traders from Margao, considered the commercial capital of Goa, for door-delivery of goods to their customers. However, with only a few of their tribe left in the trade now, theirs is a dying occupation that was handed down through generations.Seventy-seven-year-old Rosa Pacheco epitomises the struggles in the life of a bhadel. The wrinkles on Rosa’s weather-beaten face and the cracks around her eyes tell the tale of a hard life she lived. Now well into the evening of her life, Rosa doesn’t wish to hang her boots – or rather her worn-out slippers - yet. A familiar figure in the new market area of Margao, one can spot Rosa loading/unloading goods, or deftly balancing a load of merchandise on her head as she briskly walks across the lanes and bylanes of the town, or simply standing outside shops offering her services of a porter. medium108373927“Carrying loads has been the only source of living for me ever since I got married at an early age,” Rosa says. “I raised my kids and got them married through whatever savings I could manage to keep aside from my meagre earnings. Madgao and Madgaonkars have been kind to me, and I will continue to carry loads for as long as my limbs can bear the weight.”Rosa is among the last of her generation of women coolies left in the trade. The bhadels earned the trust of the merchant community of the city by the dint of their impeccable honesty and integrity. medium108373931“The bhadels are honest to the core,” says Vinayak Mordekar, a second-generation entrepreneur of a Margao-based business house, Vivek Trading Corporation. “In the olden times when the concept of hiring security guards or watchmen seemed far-fetched, shop owners, even goldsmiths, would leave their shops in the care of the bhadels while they broke for lunch and siesta. Never once did anybody complain of theft. God-fearing that they are, the bhadels never breached the trust of those who engaged them.”However, with the huge influx of migrant labourers in the last couple of decades, the bhadels found themselves being pushed out of business as they were no match for the speed and stamina of the migrant coolies who became the preferred choice of the traders. medium108373934“But there are people who still prefer to hire our services and don’t mind paying a bit more. And that’s the reason we are still around, though we don’t know for how long we would last in the trade,” says sexagenarian Salvation Pinto, another bhadel. Pimplapedd is where Salvation can be found when she isn’t carrying loads or guarding wares.The bhadels are easily identifiable by their traditional Kunbi saree and the way they wear it. Strike a conversation with them and they will leave you a lot wiser with their down-to-earth outlook towards life, and a bit richer with the generous blessings they intersperse their chats with.With better means of livelihood now available for the tribe known for their traits of hard work and honesty, hauling loads for a living is shunned by the younger generation of the tribe.“Yes, our daughters are educated and prefer jobs in offices. But then do they even possess a fraction of the strength and stamina that we still have, something that is so essential for this kind of occupation?” questions Salvation, matter-of-factly.In what could be considered a tribute by the city to the dying tribe, a life-size sculpture made out of stainless steel material stands tall at the traffic island near the post office in Margao.In 2011, as part of an event to commemorate 50 years of Liberation from Portuguese rule, Goa govt recognised the services of long-serving bhadels by presenting them with a one-time honorarium of Rs 25,000.Rosa succinctly describes the plight of her tribe. “We worked for a living when we would be paid 15 paise to 25 paise per pate (basket). The times have changed and so has the city. If cheap labour has pushed us out of business, encroachments on footpaths have forced us out of our traditional spaces. We are left with no place even to quietly have our lunch and steal a cat nap,” she says wryly.With demand on the wane, waiting for customers endlessly makes no business sense for the bhadels who now work only during the first half of the day. “What shall we do standing here idle? At least we can attend to some household chores during the second half,” Salvation reasons, tellingly, even as Rosa greets a trader in a fashion so characteristic of a bhadel - “Baro asa mure bab?” (Hope all’s well) in a grin wide enough to hide her miseries.