Dora Scarlett
VST was formed to support work that Dora Scarlett founded and inspired. She began doing medical work in Theni District in 1962 and several of those who worked with her - local people and volunteers from across the world - went on to start other organisations, including VST and some of its partner bodies in Theni District.
(photograph by Bob Williamson, 1965)
Obituary published in The Guardian
on 5 April 2001
Dora Scarlett, who has died aged 95, was noted as a writer, broadcaster, communist activist, and above all as the founder and driving force of an organisation providing medical care to the poor in India. But throughout her life her real love was gardening and living a simple rural existence. Her last 40 years were spent in India where she started a rural clinic giving free treatment to poor villagers. From very simple beginnings it grew to encompass today three health and development organisations working with hundreds of thousands of poor and marginalised people. She was made an MBE in 1994.
Earlier she had lived in Hungary, broadcasting to the West about Hungarian life. There she became disenchanted with communism and fled during the 1956 uprising.
The daughter of a schoolteacher, Dora grew up in modest surroundings in Liverpool. She had strong memories of her Liverpool childhood, of the docks and the strange plants in the Sefton park glasshouse. She always retained a slight Liverpool accent. With her intelligence and flair for writing she shone at school, but refused the expected move to university. She was more interested in horticulture, she told her parents.
And that was what she determined to do, working first on a chicken farm in Oxfordshire and later farming her own smallholding in Devon. There, long before the idea became fashionable in the 1970s, self-sufficiency and simple living appealed to her. She claimed later she needed only tea from the outside world.
In Devon she became involved with the Communist party, and after the war went at the party's instruction to Hungary to work as a broadcaster for Radio Budapest. She was supposed to beam stories of communist paradise to a British audience but found herself increasingly disillusioned with communism - and equally taken with the peasant life of eastern Europe. When the Soviet invasion came in 1956 Dora left in a hurry, with the help of the British embassy.
Back in London, she left the party and wrote a book about her experiences, Window Onto Hungary. She spent several less than happy years in London, stifled by urban life and deadend jobs. In 1959, without telling a soul, she left. Six weeks later she was in Madras, having travelled by cargo ship. Dora was soon working in a village clinic outside Madras and had found again that lifelong love - the simple rural life.
After two years she felt ready to commit herself to India. She had formed a friendship with a local farmer and his wife, and together they went deep into south India, finally settling some way west of the ancient temple city of Madurai, in the foothills of the Western Ghats that run down the spine of India. Here was a place remote from the modern world, with empty land and little in the way of medical facilities. Dora sometimes recalled those early days - of what must have been the high spot of her life. Of finding the land, divining water, digging an open well, the first crops on hitherto unused soil. She told of trudging from village to village with a bag of basic medicines, learning how people lived. And she had special memories of the first western volunteers - American Peace Corps at the time of Vietnam - and how they toiled all day in the heat digging pits to plant the coconut trees that now ring the place she called Seva Nilayam, or Home of Service.
Everything was to be modest - the buildings of mud and tile in the local style, no vehicles, traditional farming methods, certainly antibiotics where needed, but simple homespun medicine where they weren't. Seva Nilayam soon had a reputation for caring as well as effective treatment and for being welcoming to the poorest and least regarded. For Dora the poor were always the focus and the reason for giving free treatment - without which the poor would never attend.Seva Nilayam attracted interest around the world. Volunteers came from the US, Australia, Sweden and Britain and funding from Switzerland, Denmark, Australia, the US and Britain. The centre took in ''inpatients'' , but not conventionally on rows of beds in wards. Rather, these were patients who needed rest and good food as much as treatment, or who lived too far away to attend daily. The in-patients were part of the community, some staying a few days or weeks, others much longer so that they became part of the place. They helped out in the farm, garden, kitchen or clinic, in an environment not much different from their village. In the 1970s a new challenge arose. Western development agencies were moving to more progressive policies - preferring preventative to curative medical work.
Dora's philosophy was that westerners had no right to impose their views on what indian society might or might not need. She was there to provide what was asked of her, if she could. Undeterred by the loss of funding from agencies, she became her own fundraiser. Sitting on a wooden stool in a mudwalled building bashing at a 1920s typewriter, she composed a letter that started: 'I am writing to you from a remote corner of India...' and mailed copies to all the people she could think of. Dora's style was far removed from modern assertive fundraising techniques. She believed if you simply stated your need, people would respond. And they did. Soon Dora was writing a bi-monthly newsletter; not appealing for money but describing the life she saw around her in clinic, village or further afield in India, and adding her insight to what she thought it all amounted to. Over the years these letters - each one a wonderful read - came to comprise a very individual statement about Dora Scarlett and her life and work in India. Many compared her beliefs to those of Gandhi - whom she had met in the 1930s when he visited London. She recalled taking early morning walks with him in the East End and being deeply impressed by his presence. But she always insisted her ideas were her own, worked out herself, not taken from others.
Dora remained active in the clinic and writing to well beyond the age that many retire. But as disabilities of sight and hearing grew in old age she stepped back and the Seva Nilayam board appointed a director to manage the organisation. She remained at Seva Nilayam, taking an interest in the clinic and garden, and in turn being cared for as she coped with increasing disability. In her later years she returned to the Catholicism of her upbringing. But Seva Nilayam had always embraced all faiths, indeed it was predominantly Hindu in its customs. So naturally her funeral followed local custom. Hundreds of local people attended the simple burial service in the beautiful garden she had created at Seva Nilayam.
Born 29.12.1905 Died 28.3. 2001
Supporters' Letters
I remember early mornings with Dora sitting on the verandah with a first cup of tea, listening to the BBC World Service news on a crackling old radio. Afterwards would be wonderful conversations ranging from world politics to the daily needs of Seva Nilayam.
Breakfast followed, joined by the all the workers in the cosy kitchen. Dora always dressed in a sari but still had her brown teapot, a rare item in India and delightfully reminiscent of the England she loved.
Although Dora never returned to English soil her love for an English garden was transcendent, and on the red earth of Tamil Nadu she created a garden of special beauty, bright with bougainvillaea and flame trees.
On my first visit Dora must have been in her mid seventies but still daily tended her garden and in the mornings often sat before the long queue of patients for preliminary consultation, referring each one to either doctor of nurse and often herself giving dietary advise for familiar ailments. In her characteristically concerned but unsentimental way she listened to the story of each one.
Some years later on my next visit Dora had retired from the clinic but was still very active supervising the tailor to produce handicrafts to be sold in support of Seva Nilayam. Like many other visitors I spent many happy hours with Dora stictching cushions and doing final hand stitching to prepare goods for sale in Kodaikanal
On my last visit, four years ago, I experienced Dora already frail, her eyesight and hearing diminishing and yet her interest and determination unfailing. l remember Dora sitting in her wheelchair under a shady tree, looking out where the cows wandered and the life of Seva Nilayam passed by. Her wheelchair was painted green and had been nicknamed by Dora 'Greenways'. I thought of the sophisticated, designed for comfort wheelchairs on which English ladies sat back home. 'Greenways' was constructed from two bicycle wheels and an old wooden chair mounted on a Wooden platform, ingenuously fitted together by the carpenter. Only such an original chair was fitting for Dora.
I spent a month with Periyama up in the cool of the monastery at Shembaganur. I remember her insatiable appetite for the stories that l read to her as we sat on the stone benches in the beautiful gardens of the monastery. When I wasn't reading she would talk of many things - not just her life and the life of Seva Nilayam, but her reflections on life in general and her hopes for the future. Occasionally she would give a glimpse into the problems that worried her and the personalities she felt were pressurizing her - she was not entirely the Iron Lady. But those moments didn't come often - mostly we had good laughs and enjoyable conversations. What else? Her deter- mined exercise around the courtyard each morning, holding onto the handrail', the look of contentment as she stroked a kitten on her lap; the pleasure it gave her to have a manicure; the satisfaction of identifying a flower or plant as we wheeled along the paths...! only knew Dora as a very old lady coping with infirmity, but for even that limited acquaintance I am grateful and have lasting memories.
Some day in the autumn of 1963, while running the outpatients' department at the Christian Mission Hospital in Madurai, I noted in the waiting room a Western lady with some Tamils patiently awaiting their turn. It struck me since normally Westerners would not sit waiting but at once rush up to the consulting room.
I immediately went to meet her to find out that she was Dora Scarlett. She on and off attended with patients and soon invited me to come to her village iRajathani'. It was my first acquaintance with an Indian village', town people, also Indians, were not in the habit to go to a village.
On that first visit I found Seva Nilayam to be a plain, but attractive mud hut. For me a sleeping place was arranged on top of a pile of sacks filled with milk powder. Before I left India in 1965 Dora and Mr Reddy came to collect my cat who continued to live many happy years at Seva Nilayam.
What can I possibly write here that could justify my memories of such a wonderful woman.
I was indeed saddened at the news of Dora's death. What a wonderful woman she was and wonderful in that even after death she leaves such a remarkable legacy behind her. Her hard work and resourcefulness culminated in Seva Nilayam which will continue to leave a mark not only on the local people of the Seva Nilayam area, but much further afield through her influence and example to others.
I was greatly privileged to have spent time with her at Seva Nilayam as a volunteer with Fiona Butler (then Bates) for 5 months between 1988 and 1989. We thoroughly enjoyed our stay with Dora and her staff. Fiona and I had the opportunity to use our nursing skills where they were really needed. 1, at Arogya Agam, covering maternity leave and Fiona as Oozzima (injection mother) at the Seva Nilayam clinic. At Seva Nilayam we really felt we were part of a big special family and received far more back than we gave through the generosity and kindness of all those we met there.
It has never ceased to amaze me how Dora came up with so many resourceful ideas for Seva Nilayam. From ideas for the craft making room to the setting up and general running of the compound - she was indeed a visionary and managed to achieve most of what she wanted, for Seva Nilayam, by sheer determination.
Memories include her wonderful garden, her barrel of fruit liquor (kept in her bedroom) which we were summoned to sup some every now and then for a treat. The scrawny chicken she got especially for Christmas day, her request for purple sprouting broccoli seeds, English herbs and used stamps! The craft room - one suggestion that the wonderful cockerel embroidered by one of us wasn't perked up adequately on its toes! Her sense of humour.... and so much more.
l continue to be a volunteer and have plans along with my husband to pursue developing work abroad in the future - Dora's inspiration lives on!
Letters
I have received the sad news of Dora Scarlett's death. I was in Australia at the time, and I still don't seem to have gathered my thoughts and memories, but want- ed to write and thank you for telling me and also for sending me newsletters over the past years.
You probably have no idea why you send the newsletters to me in Canada. I was actually the first 'volunteer' to go to Seva Nilayam in Septemberlg63 when Dora, along with Mr Reddy, was handing out 'medicines at the door of a mud hut'. I went to India under the auspices of CUSO (Canadian University Service Overseas) and worked for eight months. I have always kept in touch and went back for four short visits, most recently in 1998.
Each time I marvelled at the development and expansion of the project, which took place thanks to Dora's original dream, vision, determination, very hard work and inspiring example.l marvelled at her when I was 22 and eager to experience the world, and she was my mother's age leading her simple life dedicated to improving health and the standard of living in the isolated village area.
I marvelled again three years ago when Dora at 95 was talking about an innovative irrigation scheme for Seva Nilayam and supervising from her wheelchair. She was to me unique, a remarkable woman, who truly made a great difference throughout the valley.
Thanks to everybody who contributed their memories of Dora.We received many wonderful letters but unfortunately there was not room to include them all.Many apologies to those whose letters do not appear.
One of the amazing things about Dora was her ability to gather up in her mind a whole collection of thoughts, whole paragraphs of writing and then release them onto her audience in a coherent whole, like a coil unwinding. l remember asking her once to write a short piece on some subject. She sat at the bench under her verandah, stared at the brightly coloured flowers around her for a minute or two, and then picked up her pen. She wrote, straight off, with- out pause, a beautifully succinct and thoughtful piece.
Not many people have that kind of writing ability. It was the same in conversation. She would listen intently and patiently to what one would say, muse a while, and then give her view. It was always both sensible and interesting and usually took the discussion to a deeper level.
Some years ago I made a rather amateurish video about Seva Nilayam. Much of it consisted of an interview with Dora, well more a monologue really as once started on a topic Dora could hold forth at some length - again with such clarity of thought. I think it was clear thinking that made Seva Nilayam. Dora knew exactly what she wanted to do - and just as important, what she didn't want to do.
Such a strong sense of purpose was immediately evident to others, and it inspired their support - whether as donors, volunteers or beneficiaries. Here was a woman who knew what she was doing, and knew that what she was doing was right. Patients came because they believed Seva Nilayam would cure them', donors knew their money would be well spent', volunteers felt they were engaged in a worthy cause. So many people's lives were touched by Dora. So many thousands with countless health troubles. So many who corresponded with Dora or read her newsletters. And those who worked with her and saw that you can do something positive in this world with- out material reward. AII of our lives have been immeasurably enriched and it's been an honour to take for- ward the work that Dora began. We hope we are worthy of your example. From all of us, patients, volunteers, staff and supporters, we can say, thank you, Dora.
Excerpts from Dora's Letters from south India- sent all over the world in the 1970s & 80s
The one and the many
Belief in the value of the individual is our justification for try- ing to help all those in need. We cannot save the world; we can help only those who come to us, and that keeps us busy enough, in all conscience, But if we can save one person from death or lifelong disability: if we can cure a child of leprosy in the early stages; or If we can restore a sick baby to health, for that patient, or that parent, the whole world is altered.
Food
Most people know that the mainstay of this part of the country is rice, While it is growing, or still in the husk, it is called 'paddy' and only when it is milled does it become rice 'arisi'. To grow paddy a lot of water is required: it stands in water until tine last stage when it is dried off before harvesting.
South Indians are often blamed for conservatism in diet, A friend visiting here asked me 'if water is scarce, why do they not grow something else, that takes less water?' l asked him what he would suggest and he said' wheat'. But rice is a tropical plant, and wheat, which if grown in North india; belongs to the temperate zone. These plants are distributed across the wold in the zones in which they originated from wild grains. People love them because they have been the food of life from time immemorial, Such plants take on a sacred character, Rice is offered in templesj and at marriages', it is dedicated to the goddess of plenty and is a symbol of plenty and of fertility Every farmer who can possibly grow even a small patch of paddy wants to do so: he feels then he is a proper farmer.
Many people in the west believe that all Indians are starving. This is largely a result of the fact that bad news is news, and good news is not. The Indian climate is violent and uncertain, Every year there wilt be a drought some- where and a flood somewhere, perhaps at the same time. But the country is vast, and the millions of people who carry on from day to day with what seems to them normal and sufficient food find no place in the news, Every morning I can see parties of field Workers going out at first light, Some with their brass vessels en their heads, finely polished and glinting in the early sun. Ask them to open them and you will see a mass of pinkish grey boiled maize and a small cup of vegetables, turmeric or chillies. But they can do a hard day's work on this food. They are lean and tough, and l have never found a foreigner, used to a high protein diet who can keep up with them.
Farming
Farming to us, is not art industry, it is a whole complex of relationships of man with the earth, with animals, and ourselves with our neighbours. At planting and harvest time a group of polished brass and aluminium 'tiffin carri- ers' will be ranged under a tree; these contain the midday meals of the casual workers. Babies are slung in hammocks from the trees, and q family goat may be brought along for a tit of extra feed. When we have had rain and the grass is lush, one of our inpatients may be seen leading a cow along the field borders to graze. A boy who was a tuberculosis patient, now completely cured, drives our buffaloes out to wallow in a nearby water tank.
We have not branched out into any new and spectacular methods which might upset the structure cif local farming. We farm as our neighbours, but we try to do it extremely well, to the best of our ability. We are willing to try out new ideas, and think up some for ourselves, but we will not depart from our mixed and 'family' farming, We are aware that it might seem trifling and laborious to those who are after big money or want to make big changes. But we have come through some bad seasons of drought without shortage.
What is poverty?
Someone has said that poverty is a state of mind rather than a physical condition, To this, it seems justifiable to answer 'try living on an Indian coolie's wages for a few months and then say it poverty is a state of mind'. But there is some truth in this. In every Indian village there are rich and poor, but the average villager does not think of himself as poor; his life seems to him quite normal. It is only those who have seen the advances of technology and luxury in cities like Bombay, or have visited Europe or America, who regard the Indian village as a hopelessly poor and backward place. To those used to the village it offers a richly varied life, full of activity, pleasures and festivities, as well as the sorrows attendant on human life everywhere.
These excerpts were bound into small pamphlets of which there are five series. We would be delighted to send a set to anyone who is interested in reading more.