- 1 The education of slaves during the Roman Empire is an outlier here, with evidence that the educatio (...)
1Under conditions of slavery, access to formal education is constrained and, in some instances, denied due to the exploitation inherent in these systems. There is evidence that educational opportunities were and often are severely constrained within systems of slavery. This emerges from a range of studies that have analysed both historical (Span and Anderson 2005, Williams 2009)1 and contemporary systems of slavery (Maycock 2012, 2019). Slaves are assumed to be ‘uneducated’ across a wide range of studies (Ginzberg and Bray 1953, Fick 1990, Fountain 1995, Bederman 2005) and, more broadly, in popular culture. However, such assumptions tend to overlook the significance of informal education within enslaved communities (Span and Anderson 2005, Baumgartner 2009, Williams 2009). Despite the implications of slavery for education (both formal and informal), the transformative potential of education has not been analysed substantively within the context of systems of modern slavery and the transition to emancipation.
2This paper addresses aspects of the longitudinal study's main research focus, which is to analyse the post-emancipation experiences of the Kamaiya community, with emphasis on gender and masculinities. In this context, this paper addresses three sub-research questions and is organised into sections on education and resistance, the increase in formal education amongst the community and emerging masculinities through educational investments.
3This paper makes a unique contribution to literature on modern slavery and education by bringing together these two subjects through a focus on the transformative potential, tensions and challenges associated with increasing levels of formal education within a previously enslaved community. This study takes into account the implications of changing patterns of education for the performance of masculinity within a formerly enslaved community (Maycock 2019). These changes enable new forms of masculinity to emerge within hitherto enslaved communities in a context of constantly shifting hierarchies of masculinity (Connell 1995, Connell and Messerschmidt 2005).
4This study analyses the forms of informal education (resistance) that emerged within and after systems of slavery, and the subsequent experiences of formal education (compliance) following emancipation. The transitions explored in this paper reveal new forms of masculinities within a context of growing gender inequalities in terms of access to formal education. The transition from informal to formal education is associated with the dampening of education’s potential to constitute a form of resistance. An analysis of the extent to which different forms of education (both informal and formal) enable resistance to oppression, in turn facilitates an evaluation of the extent to which formal education contributes to and consolidates experiences of freedom within formerly enslaved communities.
- 2 While there are many manifestations of slavery historically and within the contemporary context, bo (...)
5Within this context, this paper analyses the consequences of changing patterns of education and achievement within a formerly enslaved community, the Kamaiyas in Nepal. After having been ‘freed’ in 2000 (Maycock 2022), the Kamaiya community has attained levels of formal educational that were inconceivable within the Kamaiya system of bonded labour.2. Drawing on data from a 15-year ongoing ethnographic study undertaken in a Kamaiya village (Kampur), this paper considers the extent to which being educated and certain education-related masculinities have become ‘markers’ of freedom for formerly enslaved communities such as the Kamaiyas. In 2009 a household survey undertaken in Kampur showed that children from 15 of the 35 households attended local schools. In 2017 this had increased to 35 of the then 45 households.
6Historically, education has functioned as a powerful means of resistance for formerly enslaved people following emancipation. During slavery, literacy was systematically prohibited in many southern US states because it threatened the ideological and economic foundations of the slave system (Williams 2009). Pursuing education after emancipation therefore not merely represented a personal milestone but a political act that directly challenged white supremacy. During Reconstruction, freed slaves established schools with support from Black churches, mutual aid societies and the Freedmen’s Bureau, thereby transforming education into a collective project of racial uplift (Anderson 1988). Literacy enabled formerly enslaved individuals to read labour contracts, understand their legal rights and engage in political processes, thereby reducing vulnerability to re-enslavement through systems such as sharecropping and convict leasing (Foner 1988). In addition to providing a formal education, schools also cultivated leadership skills and community cohesion, producing teachers, ministers and activists who promoted broader struggles for civil rights. Moreover, the determination to learn challenged pro-slavery ideologies that equated Blackness with intellectual inferiority. Despite violent opposition from white supremacists, freed slaves’ sustained commitment to schooling demonstrated that education was central to freedom itself. In this context, education served not only as preparation for economic advancement but as a deliberate assertion of citizenship, dignity and collective resistance.
7Emerging masculinities among formerly enslaved and newly emancipated Black men were largely shaped through educational investments in the post–Civil War era. Schooling became a crucial arena in which Black men negotiated new identities grounded in literacy, citizenship and patriarchal responsibility. During slavery, Black manhood had been systematically undermined through the denial of legal authority, wages and family protection. Education therefore offered a means of reconstructing masculine identity around intellectual competence and civic participation (Anderson 1988). Literacy enabled Black men to engage in political discourse, to vote, to hold office and to advocate for community advancement during Reconstruction (Foner 1988). At the same time, educational achievements became linked to ideals of respectability and provided status, reinforcing emerging norms of middle-class manhood within Black communities (Gaines 2012). Schools and colleges in some places in the USA cultivated a generation of male leaders who embodied what some scholars describe as ‘racial uplift masculinity’, grounded in discipline, self-improvement and public service (Du Bois 2022). However, these emerging masculinities were contested and shaped by racial violence, economic constraints and tensions between egalitarian aspirations and patriarchal models of authority. Thus, educational investment did not only produce literate citizens but facilitated the rearticulation of Black manhood as a form of resistance, leadership and collective responsibility in freedom. With regard to masculine competencies, Bourdieu’s (1984) idea of cultural capital and the exchange of various types of capital are invoked in several places in order to consider the ways in which various masculine traits are traded and exchanged. The focus on masculinities and on the lives of men in and around the two field sites within which this study is located is a consequence of the post-freedom experiences of men and boys who specifically tend to be overlooked in the literature.
8Despite significant changes observed in formal education during this 15-year study, there is a growing sense of frustration and discontent within the Kamaiya community. Following emancipation, informal types of education have been less significant. Moreover, higher levels of formal education have not yet been associated with corresponding changes in the types of work that many Kamaiyas engaged in. This has led to frustrations regarding the investments that the Kamaiya community is making in formal education, highlighting the limitations of its transformative potential for communities such as the Kamaiyas.
9Slavery takes many forms in the contemporary world (Bales 2004, 2007). Estimates of the number of contemporary slaves worldwide range from 12 (International Labour Organization) to 27 million (2004: 9). While these figures may vary, it is largely accepted that slavery takes many forms throughout the world, with the largest number of slaves in South Asia. Here, slavery in its diverse forms is a significant and persistent problem, with an estimated 15 to 20 million slaves in the region (Bales 2004). Bonded labour takes on specific local forms shaped by specific configurations of ethnicity, class, caste and, crucially, gender. Systems of bonded labour are characterised by debt-based exploitation in which people take on often unrepayable loans that are paid back through labour (Kara 2012). These debts are frequently passed down through generations, with younger generations often unaware of the original terms of the loan, the latter in many cases having been paid back several times over.
10The 2023 Global Slavery Index estimates that, at any given time in 2021, 3.3 of every 1,000 persons in Nepal were victims of modern slavery. In other words, 97,000 persons in Nepal were subjected to forced employment or forced marriage in 2021. However, a note of caution is required regarding these figures: there are no reliable statistics for the number of current or former survivors of modern slavery in Nepal or more widely.
- 3 Other forms of bonded labour and slavery in Nepal include Badi, Deuki, Haliya Kamlari, Kumari, Jhum (...)
- 4 This figure was provided by Backward Society Education (BASE), a leading Tharu non-governmental org (...)
11The Kamaiya bonded labour system was one of the oldest systems of slavery in the world. There were several systems of bonded labour in Nepal.3 It is estimated that around 300,0004 people were identified as Kamaiyas, although this figure is not likely to be accurate. The Kamaiyas were formally ‘freed’ and the Kamaiya system abolished on 17 July 2000. Since then, life in Kamaiya communities has been challenging and permeated by experiences of marginisation (Maycock 2019).
12The symbolic and emotional significance of the 17 July among Kamaiya communities cannot be overstated. The idea that this date marks a clear and definite transition to conditions of ‘freedom’ is contested. This paper contributes to a broader critical examination of the Kamaiya community’s lived experience of freedom (Maycock 2012, 2015, 2017, 2023). This indicates that the lived experience of freedom for the Kamaiyas is beset with disappointment and continued difficulties along with new forms of exploitation, as well as new opportunities for diversified economic and migration activities.
13Despite being emancipated, the Kamaiyas continue to experience widespread and systematic exploitation and marginalisation. Consequently, everyday life remains very challenging for many Kamaiyas, despite having being freed in July 2000 (Dhakal and Society for Participatory Cultural Education (Kathmandu Nepal) 2000, General Federation of Nepalese Trade Unions (GEFONT) 2001, Lowe and Kasajoo 2001, Ban 2002, Sharma, Basnyat et al 2002, Cheria 2005, Chhetri 2005, GEFONT 2006, Lamichhane 2006, ActionAid-Nepal (Organisation) 2008, Giri 2009).
14Having discussed the relevant literature on the Kamaiya system and considered post-freedom experiences, I now outline the methods used in this study, before considering Kamaiya narratives of education within the Kamaiya system, followed by narratives about education following emancipation.
- 5 This is not the real name of the field site; it has been changed to protect the identity of partici (...)
15This article is based on an ethnographic doctoral study that was initiated in 2009 (Maycock 2012, 2019). The study was complemented by a number of subsequent visits to the same field sites over the following 15 years, including most recently in December 2022. Fieldwork was conducted on two main sites, with this paper focusing on a site called Kampur5 basti (settlement). This rural site is situated next to a forest and a Nepal Army cantonment, a 2-hour bicycle ride from Kailali’s district headquarters, Dhangadhi, in the far west of Nepal. The main methods used in this study were life history interviews, participant observation and interviews with community leaders. Given the long timescale of this study, a number of repeat interviews were undertaken with the same participants during this study.
16The longitudinal nature of this study has a number of benefits and has enabled the changes analysed in 2009 to be contextualised and examined in depth. The changes noted in several areas of analysis during this period are striking. For example, in 2009, it was inconceivable that anyone from Kampur would be able to migrate to the Gulf or Southeast Asia. However, by 2017, three households in Kampur had a male member who had migrated to either Dubai or Malaysia, representing a significant development in opportunities to migrate further afield. In 2009, in terms of education, only a small number of Kamaiya families sent their children of school age to school, whereas in 2022, it appeared that all children of school age attended primary school. Though I had not intended to undertake such a long study, I developed close and sustained relationships with a number of people in Kampur and it would seem that I am rather bad at ‘exiting the field’. Longitudinal fieldwork has been crucial because it has allowed me to apprehend social life as a process rather than an event, revealing how structural change unfolds unevenly over time and how people reinterpret their experiences in shifting political and institutional contexts. Longitudinal engagement also deepens trust and ethical accountability, particularly in research among marginalised communities, where narration, silence and memory evolve across encounters (Das 2006, Behar 2022). In this sense, longitudinal fieldwork does not simply contribute more data; it changes the analytic object itself by foregrounding endurance, reversal and the unfinished character of social change.
17Issues associated with education and literacy have been a recurring focus throughout this study. Every time I have been to Kampur, I have observed informal forms of education, have gone to local schools with children from the basti and have had numerous conversations about education. The responses to these questions, along with pertinent observations, form the focus of this paper.
18Despite the sustained focus on analysing changing patterns of education within this study, in Kampur it is difficult to accurately assess the literacy levels of the Kamaiyas with whom I lived. For example, the household survey I undertook at the start of my time in Kampur in 2009 revealed a range of literacy and education levels. Nevertheless, after spending several months in the basti, I understood that the responses to questions about education and literacy were perhaps not accurate for a number of reasons. The main reason for this was the capacity in which I had entered the basti, as a researcher based at a university. This appears to have influenced how engagement with education and literacy levels was presented to me. It is therefore important to recognise the influence of my positionality, as someone who comes from a family of educators and someone who now works in higher education. This had an influence on how participants in my research interacted with me concerning the focus of this paper, that is the transformative potential of education and education as a means of resistance. Following this introduction, the subsequent section presents the analysis from this study.
19The findings of my fieldwork are organised around three main research questions: education as resistance, changing levels and patterns of formal education, and emerging masculinities through educational investments (explored through a case study of a young man called Basanta).
- 6 For more on Tharu oral tradition, see Müller-Böker (1999a).
20As a consequence of the oral history of the Tharus (the wider ethnic group from which the Kamaiyas originate),6 historical perspectives on the Kamaiya system are often fluid and subject to change. In spite of this, there was a recurring theme across my interviews, in particular during interactions with older Kamaiyas who evoked significant pain and discomfort when recalling experiences of the Kamaiya system. Some Kamaiyas with a lived experience of the Kamaiya system, usually those from older generations, had difficulty recalling aspects of the Kamaiya system as a consequence of the often brutal ways they had been treated and the systematic exploitation they were recounting. Some participants would simply not discuss it, while others, usually younger people, were more comfortable in doing so: ‘Our parents do not like to discuss the Kamaiya system. They say it was a dark time. But we, the younger generation, want to understand it, so we ask questions’ (young Kampur resident, interview 2009).
21Generational differences seemed to influence these discussions and recollections of the exploitation and violence implicit within the Kamaiya system. This meant that some conversations that might have taken place didn’t; this was in keeping with some study participants’ wishes to not recount such a painful time of their lives.
22As a direct consequence of the exploitation inherent within the Kamaiya system, literacy rates were extremely low amongst the Kamaiya community (although access to reliable data on this is problematic). Particularly low levels of literacy and limited engagement with formal education were characteristic of the Kamaiya system and many other systems of slavery. The low level of literacy within the Kamaiya system prior to 2000 was influenced by a number of factors. These included the long hours Kamaiyas were expected to work, leaving little time to go to school or for other forms of formal education. Moreover, Kamaiyas were expected to start working when they were children, a phenomenon that was compounded by the often negative attitudes of landlords towards Kamaiyas’ access to education (Sharma et al 2002: 20): ‘From a young age we were sent to herd cattle or work in the fields. School was never an issue for us. The landlord did not like the idea of Kamaiya children studying. He would say our work was our learning’ (Kampur resident, interview, 2009).
23Landlords did not consider it particularly useful or a good investment of time and money for their Kamaiya workers to be educated or literate. From their owners’ perspective, Kamaiyas were negatively viewed with regards their physical capacity and their ability to do agricultural labour. As a consequence, being literate within this context was in and of itself an act of defiance and represented a broadening of the scope of Kamaiya identities and possibilities. This falls within a broader context in which this community was viewed, and to a certain extent continues to be narrowly viewed, in terms of their physical capacities.
24Given the lack of opportunities to engage in formal education, there is compelling evidence that informal education is significant within many systems of slavery (Gundaker 2007, Williams 2009). Such insights resonate strongly in Kamaiya narratives of educational activities within the Kamaiya system. These narratives indicate that there were instances of informal education in various Tharu languages and cultural traditions. While the vast majority of Kamaiya children within the Kamaiya system didn’t go school, I was told of numerous instances of informal education being organised within Kamaiya communities: ‘We did not go to school in those days, but that does not mean we did not learn. Our elders taught us our language, our songs, how to farm, how to perform rituals. We learned by watching and doing’ (Kampur resident, interview, 2012).
25As well as sharing insights into cultural traditions, informal education within the Kamaiya system also meant that Kamaiya elders shared insights into numeracy and literacy, generally in Tharu languages (Guneratne 2002). Across a number of interviews, these forms of learning and education were seen as essential in keeping alive Kamaiya traditions and Tharu languages, and constituted an important manifestation of resistance (Scott 1985) and agency (Sheridan, Clark et al 2013) within an oppressive system of bonded labour. The Kamaiyas taught their children informally and often clandestinely in order to avoid raising suspicion among their oppressors. This illustrates both the subversive nature of these forms of informal education, as well as ways in which such forms of education represented resistance within the Kamaiya system.
26The influence of Tharu shamans or traditional healers, the guruwa, was important in this context. The guruwa were and remain largely responsible for passing on insights into Tharu traditions and customs within Kamaiya communities (Guneratne 1999, Sarbahari 2012) Maycock M 2022). Across a number of interviews, I was told that the guruwa were particularly influential community leaders in the Kamaiya system, although their influence declined significantly following emancipation (and during the Maoist People’s War):
Before freedom, the guruwa’s word carried great weight. If there was illness, a dispute or a ritual to perform, we went to him. He knew our customs and guided the community. Now people listen more to teachers, officials and health workers; the guruwa is still respected, but his influence is not like before (Kampur elder, interview, 2022).
27This was partly a consequence of the fact that informal education within the Kamaiya system weighed less heavily after emancipation, and the guruwas’ role in health matters declined due to the growing influence of pharmacies and ‘Western’ medicine (Maycock 2022).
28The early years after emancipation in 2000 were particularly challenging in relation to Kamaiya children entering and staying in formal education. According to Cheria, immediately following emancipation, literacy levels were extremely low in the Kamaiya community, particularly among the women: ‘The literacy rate for Kamaiya is 15.7% compared to 39.8% for Nepal in general and in general 25% for Tharu. The literacy rate for males in Kamaiya families is 17.2% and for the females a minuscule 3.6%, less than a tenth of the national average’. (Cheria 2005: 20)
29A number of non-government organisations (NGOs) provided informal literacy to thousands of recently emancipated Kamaiyas. The Nepali state’s education policy following the abolishment of the Kamaiya system and the end of the Maoist People’s War was to assign stipends to ex-Kamaiyas and to other so-called ‘low-caste’ and indigenous groups. However, within Kampur and the other sites where I have undertaken research, there was little evidence of this. The local schools I visited close to both field sites still seemingly demanded fees from Kamaiya families, some of whom could not afford them in 2009. Furthermore, even if a school offered free education, there were other barriers to Kamaiya children’s attendance, such as the cost of books, uniform and other items such as stationary. Furthermore, the language used in schools across Nepal is Nepali which some Kamaiya children find difficult to understand, given that in Kampur the Danguara Tharu language is predominantly spoken. More broadly speaking, Pherali (2011) notes that the imposition of Nepali in schools has fuelled wide-ranging grievances and caused the marginalisation of non-Nepali-speaking peoples such as the Kamaiyas.
30As in Ahearn’s research on literacy in the village of Junigau in Nepal (Ahearn 2001, Ahearn 2004), when discussions took place about what being literate meant within Kamaiya communities, one of the commonest responses in 2009 was that instead of signing documents with a thumbprint, those who were literate were able to sign with their names: ‘When you sign with your thumb, others think you do not know anything. When you sign your name, you stand as a person who understands’ (Kampur resident, interview, 2009).
31However, the situation evolved as the shadow of the Kamaiya system receded in the years following emancipation. Since constraints on formal education within the Kamaiya system ended in 2000, there has been an increasing number of instances of Kamaiya men and some women not just being literate but being highly educated. Banshi Chaudhary is a well-known local example in Kailali district. He was formerly a rickshaw driver but became the chairman of a leading Kamaiya organisation.
32Over the last 15 years I have heard consistent accounts about most Kampur residents ensuring formal education for their children and it being amongst their top priorities: ‘If you ask anyone here what matters most, they will say their children’s education. Land we may not have, money comes and goes, but education is what stays’ (resident of Kampur, interview, 2022).
33To be formally educated and to achieve formal qualifications has become a marker of freedom within Kamaiya communities. The context of this recently freed community is of particular significance as the main driver behind the valorisation of formal education within the Kamaiya community. As one participant indicated, the focus on education following emancipation was to ensure that the Kamaiyas were not exploited again, as they had been prior to 2000. Low levels of education were seen by several participants in this study as part of the reason why this community had previously been exploited within a system of slavery, the assumption being that a rise in the level of education after emancipation would ensure that this wouldn’t happen again. This partly explains the increasing number of children from Kampur who, after some initial resistance, go to various local schools. The number of Kamaiya children attending school increased significantly between 2009 and 2017, with all the families I interviewed in 2022 stating that all the children in their household were engaged in some kind of formal education. This was quite a contrast to 2009 when many children worked and didn’t attend school. In 2022 it had become the norm for Kamaiya children to not only go to school but also to achieve qualifications, such as the School Leaving Certificate (SLC), something that was inconceivable in 2009: ‘Before, being Kamaiya meant your child would work, not study. Most of them did not go to school. Today it is different – our children finish school, some even pass the SLC. That was impossible to think about before’ (resident of Kampur, interview, 2022).
- 7 While arranged marriage remains the norm in Kamaiya communities, the number of love marriages is on (...)
34Within the Kamaiya system, all Kamaiyas were denied the possibility of going to school and attaining formal qualifications. However, following emancipation, formative gendered aspects of these changing patterns of education emerged. During conversations with various Kamaiya communities, I discussed why there were increasing gender inequalities in literacy rates. Responses were quite consistent and suggested that, when Kamaiya women marry through an arranged marriage7, they traditionally move to their husband’s house. As a consequence, some Kamaiya parents saw little purpose in educating their daughters for another family’s ‘benefit’. Conversely, their sons were expected to look after them in old age, so investing in their son’s education was an investment in their security and comfort in later life. Though these gender differences were quite apparent in 2009, they began to shift in 2017 and further still in 2022. To give a vivid portrayal of these changes and aspects of continuity in patterns of education, let me turn to the case study of a young Kamaiya man, Basanta. I initially met him and his family in 2009 and undertook repeat interviews with them (mainly Basanta, his brother and mother), including during my last field visit in 2022.
35Despite higher levels of education being inaccessible in Kampur, some Kamaiya children, mainly boys, went to school some of the time in 2009, consequently increasing the literacy level in Kamaiya communities. Furthermore, some Kamaiya boys stayed at school for several years despite the challenges outlined above. Basanta stood out in this respect: having obtained his SLC in 2009, he reached the highest level of education that anyone in Kampur Kamaiya Basti had ever achieved. Through this case study, I explore what higher levels of literacy mean for Kamaiya communities.
36While this paper explores often significant changes in relation to the levels of formal education within Kamaiya communities, there remain persistent issues relating to formal education within these communities. For example, it remained somewhat rare in 2022 for Kamaiya students to reach the same level of education as Basanta had in 2009. This is partly explained by the fact that formal education was seen as a path to types of employment that were neither possible nor seen as desirable by Basanta’s relatives and some of his contemporaries in Kampur. Moreover, when Kamaiyas like Basanta did achieve higher levels of formal education, there was limited evidence that this led to changes in the type of work undertaken by formerly educated Kamaiyas. Consequently, there is a growing sense of frustration within Kamaiya communities, with the transformative potential of education opposing and being constrained by broader caste and class hierarchies in Nepal (Dumont 1980, Bennett 1983, Levine 1987, Cameron 1998, Gellner 2003, Gellner 2007, Subedi 2010).
- 8 Following the end of the Maoist insurgency. This had previously been a camp for the People’s Libera (...)
37Basanta and his younger brother Nabin worked in a small shop close to the main road. However, unlike his younger brother, Basanta was not married and lived with his parents on the other side of the Nepal Army cantonment8 towards the north of Kampur. Basanta was very keen on getting a formal education, and his brother and family supported him financially while also expecting him to work in the shop: ‘I helped in the shop because it was my responsibility, but my parents and brother reminded me that studying was my main work. They said the shop feeds us today, but education will secure our tomorrow’ (Basanta, interview 2017).
- 9 According to the Nepal Census of 2021, the Magar community, an ethnolinguistic minority native to N (...)
38The extent to which Basanta was expected to work in the shop had rather a negative impact on his studies. More generally, the differences between Basanta and his brother and the majority of the other young men in the basti resulted in his being considered an outsider, and he was the object of much ridicule. Similarly, Ahearn has explored implications of education within Magar9 communities, especially for Magar boys: ‘…studious [Magar] boys were likened to high-caste Bahun and Chhetri boys, who despite their higher ritual (and often economic) status, were seen as weaklings’ (Ahearn 2001, 70).
39Similarly, many Kamaiya men in this study associated being educated with being ‘like’ a Brahmin, which for many in this community had negative connotations given the recent history of bondedness, often at the hands of Brahmin landlords. In Nepal more broadly speaking, Brahmins tend to occupy a hegemonic position, including within hierarchies of masculinity (Maycock 2019). With regards Basanta, formal education was a key marker of difference as he was one of the few people in the basti who was literate. He viewed his education as a means of improving both his own and his family’s status and material conditions. Among the many aspects of Basanta’s sense of self, educational achievement seemed to be highly determining as he invested in it more than in any other subject positions and ways of being a Kamaiya man, such as labouring, drinking, smoking or hunting. Investing in a range of subject positions, which for Basanta relate to education in formative ways over a period of time, leads to the ‘construction of a sense of self’ (Moore 2007, 118). Basanta was something of a groundbreaker in this sense, in pushing the boundaries of what was possible in relation to education for the Kamaiyas in Kampur.
40Basanta’s focus on formal education also had consequences on how his sense of self was embodied. Given his focus on education, his body was not as central or formative to his livelihood and therefore not as important in terms of proving himself as a man as it was for most men in the basti (Maycock 2019). De Visser’s (de Visser and Smith 2006, De Visser, Smith et al 2009, de Visser 2009, de Visser and McDonnell 2011) notion of trading competencies in relation to masculinity is insightful here. De Visser undertook research among young male university students to explore how, like Basanta, they focused on particular masculine competencies at the expense of others in order to develop a ‘coherent’ masculine self.
41Basanta traded competency in some aspects of masculinity rooted in physical strength (resonating with how the Kamaiyas were seen and situated within the Kamaiya system) for more sedentary education-oriented masculinities. This shift differed from the predominant paths to achieving successful manhood in Kampur (although the situation has evolved over the 15 years of this study), which incurred negative consequences in the form of ridicule, scrutiny and the undermining of his status. The frequently negative response by other men in Kampur to Basanta and his educational endeavours illustrates how the educational masculinities that he embodies constitute a new type of challenge to the normative ways in which Kamaiya masculinities are configured in Kampur. Why did he in particular follow this trajectory and different vision of manhood and success? How are we to understand the impetus behind his decision to follow an educational path to ‘success’, especially in a context in which such pathways are rare and involve a number of negative consequences?
42A utilitarian response to this question is to view Basanta’s education as an economic diversification strategy pursued by him and his family. The latter regarded the costs associated with his education as an investment, assuming that in the future his earnings would enable him to support them: ‘We struggled to pay his school fees, but we told him, “Study hard now so that tomorrow you can lift this family”. What we spend today is for all of us in the future’ (Basanta’s mother, interview 2017).
43If this investment did not pay off, he could still earn an income in more normative ways within Kamaiya communities. Despite these plans for his future which appeared to be shaped just as much by his family as by himself, Basanta was subjected to many distractions from his studies, the principal one being his family expecting him to spend much of his time in the small roadside shop it owned. This seriously disrupted his studies, which his family did not seem to acknowledge, even though they supported Basanta in his getting an education to potentially generate different sources of income in the future. I spent time with Basanta at the shop on many occasions, talking to him and to various people who visited. My presence initially created some local interest. However, over time this interest subsided so I was able to spend more time with him when he was less distracted. While working in the shop, Basanta would try to study, although he was frequently disturbed (sometimes by me), which evidently annoyed him.
44In 2009 his family seemed quite sure that Basanta would be successful in his pursuits, and his parents expressed pride at his reaching such a high level of education by studying computer science at the local college. In 2009 it was unclear what his education would lead to, not least as there was no electricity in Kampur until late 2009, so Basanta was not able to apply what he had learnt. In 2022 he was still working in the family shop. During that period, office-based employment opportunities – whether in the state or NGO/INGO sector – were very limited, and these positions were often occupied by members of so-called upper-caste groups, such as the Brahmins. There is therefore a limit to the transformative potential of formal education. Although there are now highly educated Kamaiyas, such as Basanta, there are few employment opportunities that correspond to these higher levels of education.
45More broadly speaking, despite Basanta’s frustrations, his focus on educational achievement constituted something new for Kamaiya men in Kampur, a form of previously rare education-oriented masculinity, though the situation has since evolved within Kamaiya communities. Moreover, the relative isolation and recurring ridicule that Basanta fell victim to in 2009 significantly subsided over the intervening years as more young people in Kampur achieved similar levels of education. Educational masculinities are becoming more common, but sedentary officed-based employment-related masculinities are still beyond their reach.
46This paper illustrates how, since emancipation, significant changes in patterns of education have allowed greater diversity in the way Kamaiya men can be considered successful, including having a formal education. Prior to 2000, within the Kamaiya system, being a successful man meant being ‘obedient’ and hardworking, expectations that contrast with those that Kamaiya men have in the post-emancipation era. This paper has shown that in some instances these competencies are traded for other competencies, as exemplified in Basanta’s focus on education. From a broader perspective, this paper examines the uneven impact education has on Kamaiya communities. While more Kamaiya children are going to school and some, like Basanta, are attaining a relatively high level of education, it is unclear what this will mean in terms of economic opportunities for the Kamaiyas within a challenging post-insurgency, post-earthquake and post-Covid-19 context in Nepal. One of this article's central arguments is that, despite emerging trends and shifts in educational investment and concepts of masculinities, the latter are ultimately constrained by the community's place within Nepal's broader hierarchical structures of class, caste and ethnicity.
47While Basanta is one case study among thousands of Kamaiya narratives, his experiences raise broader questions about education leading to the accumulation of cultural capital, and whether this investment will ultimately pay off for Basanta and his family. Bourdieu (1984) explores this in relation to the working classes investing in education in order to attain cultural capital, despite the fact that education does not necessarily lead to well-paid jobs. For Bourdieu, education does little to change the class structure and therefore does not necessarily lead to the accumulation of cultural capital as reflected in Jeffrey et al’s (2005) research in India. Although Basanta’s family expect his education to lead to relatively profitable employment, these expectations may not ultimately be met. In the 15 years I have been visiting Kampur, there have been an increasing number of young men, like Basanta, who obtain higher levels of educational qualifications in a range of subjects. Despite this, there are few instances of this leading to relatively well-paid jobs outside of agricultural work. Broadly speaking, many Kamaiyas continue to live in conditions of severe poverty and marginalisation. The ongoing constraints the Kamaiyas face, such as still mainly doing agricultural work, further highlight how underlying assumptions about the Kamaiya community have changed little since their emancipation.
48The analysis in this paper complements analyses elsewhere, indicating that there is no straightforward correlation between increasing literacy rates and changes in working patterns (Jeffrey, Jeffery et al 2005). Furthermore, evidence elsewhere has shown that, although Kamaiyas, such as Basanta, are now achieving higher levels of education, it should not be assumed that higher literacy levels lead to a good, well-paid job (Jeffrey et al 2005). During various visits between 2009–2022, I met a number of disparate groups of Kamaiyas in various settings who had taken on different forms of employment. Their position often equated with their different perceptions of education as both a process and a means by which they expected to achieve well-paid employment. For example, the conversations I had with a number of Kamaiya rickshaw drivers in Dhangadhi, the district headquarters, who were largely illiterate (Maycock 2014), were illuminating. Many believed that their illiteracy was one of the main reasons for their challenging circumstances and inability to embark on a more financially advantageous occupation, despite few examples of Kamaiya men either reaching higher levels of education or doing more sedentary and better-paid forms of work. These men’s illiteracy seemed to have led to a number of exploitative relationships. Most of the rickshaw drivers I spoke to did not own their rickshaw but rented it for a fixed price every day. The rental fee had to be paid irrespective of whether they made any money or not and on some days they earned nothing or very little. There have been a number of government schemes to provide loans to enable rickshaw drivers to buy their own rickshaws, though they all seem to have proved unsuccessful. Rickshaw drivers have been the focus of a lot of NGOs' and INGOs' work on HIV/AIDs, as if their circumstances could be reduced to this single issue, while ignoring for example their illiteracy. The way limited access to education compounds the exploitation of these rickshaw drivers highlights education’s immediate transformative potential. However, this potential operates very much within – and is constrained by – broader pervasive class and caste inequalities. Although increasing levels of education have undoubtedly improved the lives of many Kamaiyas, they haven’t yet changed the ways in which this community continues to be marginalised and exploited.
49Research conducted elsewhere (Katiyar 2016, Islam and Siddiqui 2020) has critically analysed the extent to which increasing levels of education within a community necessarily lead to reducing or compounding gender inequalities. The findings of this study tend to reflect similar tensions, though at primary school level there seems to be a less significant gap in educational engagement between Kamaiya boys and girls. This resonates with a broad range of evidence that illustrates a consistent narrowing of gender inequalities in primary education across the Global South (Psaki, McCarthy et al 2018). However, as far as high school and university levels are concerned, there is a growing gender gap, with Kamaiya boys tending to receive support and to be allowed to pursue higher education, which is not necessarily the case among Kamaiya girls. The educational advantage for boys is something that Stash and Hannum (2001) consider to be a consequence of a ‘rational cost-benefit analysis’. What’s more, this is an example of what Mukhopadhyay and Seymour consider to be a patrifocal approach to education (1994), and is a wider reflection on how Kamaiya family life in some regards focuses on men and boys. There is interesting incongruity here between the assumption that higher levels of education are associated with more positive attitudes towards gender equality (United Nations 2011: 20) and the fact that education itself may accentuate gender inequalities, as Maslak (2003) explores in more detail.
50It is evident that changing patterns of education are having significant consequences within the Kamaiya community and are, to a certain extent, raising hopes for a different and better life. However, this doesn’t yet appear to be the case for many Kamaiyas, highlighting one of the tensions and perhaps unrealistic expectations about what extending access to formal education can achieve. These tensions and expectations with regards education are not specific to the Kamaiyas (Bandyopadhyay 2006, Martin 2014, Behtoui, Björklöf et al 2018). However, the context of this community’s contemporary engagement with education after very recently surviving a system of slavery seems to have heightened and deepened expectations about the transformative potential of education.
51Certain forms of literacy/education have resulted in the emergence of a range of new gendered possibilities in Kamaiya communities. More broadly speaking, although there are instances – especially in subsistence agriculture –where employment opportunities continue to explicitly rely on physical strength and manual labour, in other contexts – such as the one explored in this paper, the education sector, the effects of higher levels of literacy through formal education are still rather unclear. Further research is required to explore the ongoing implications of changes in formal education, and the declining role of informal education within Kamaiya communities.
52The shift in emphasis within Kamaiya communities from informal to formal forms of education has also been associated with a decline in the influence of traditional healers, the guruwas (Maycock 2022). Informal forms of education do still exist in Kampur, though they carry less weight now that younger members of the Kamaiya community no longer aspire to basic literacy and knowledge of Tharu culture but to gaining qualifications such as the SLC and university degrees.
53This paper ultimately provides a new perspective on the ways in which Kamaiya communities are adapting to life following emancipation in 2000. This study will continue to explore the implications of ongoing change in education in future years. While significant challenges remain for the Kamaiyas in Kampur through education and other achievements, there is no doubt that this community will continue to further transcend and subvert the legacies of slavery that currently continue to cast a shadow over the lives of the people in Kampur and, more broadly, in the Kamaiya community.
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank all of the participants in this study, and would like to recognise the continued struggle of many Kamaiyas for access to basic rights, including land and education.
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