Whose knowledge counts?
- Madhusmita Devi
- Jul 1
- 4 min read
Women, plants and traditional healing practices
Madhusmita Devi
“Aama kei dinu na, bhoodi dukhyo malai.” (Grandma, please give me something, I have a stomach ache).
On a sunny winter morning of 2013, I called for my grandmother to help me ease my stomach ache, and she took me to our neighbour’s house and asked them if she could pluck some siudi leaves, a cactus species, known for its healing properties. We then collected three leaves, came home, cleaned them, and burnt them slightly on flaming hot coal until the juices started dripping. I still remember its tangy aroma filling up our small kitchen. Then grandma would let it sit for some time, squeeze the juice out of it and make me take a sip or two. The juices tasted like a tangy barbecue sauce, and as a kid, I enjoyed having that.
Even then, I wasn’t sure if it was a genuine cure or just a placebo wrapped in the warmth of my grandmother’s love. I remember once asking her how she even knew about siudi or the healing power of the cactus that grew wild in our backyard. She smiled and said, “Some medicines are born in kitchens, tested over time, and passed down through generations.” It was a part of our community’s local knowledge system that neither needed lab testing nor any prescriptions. I believe this narrative is not unique to me. Every kitchen has a solution to our minor complaints without the need for any medical intervention.
As I grew older, I stopped going to my grandmother for help. As medicine became accessible and the traditional healing techniques were questioned for the lack of scientific validation, local medicine lost its relevance. From a public health perspective, these medicines may not be the best solutions as they could induce more pain if not administered correctly or could lead to a delay in seeking healthcare. But what should one do when public healthcare is not easily accessible and when a doctor is miles away?
Having grown up in the foothills of the Himalayas, in Assam’s Bodoland Territorial Region, access to professional healthcare remains a far-fetched hope for many. Access to even the most basic and essential services meant navigating through multiple rivers, vast tea gardens, and traversing roads where encountering an elephant is more common than hailing an ambulance. A doctor’s clinic was still farther away, often requiring a journey of several kilometres on foot. Such is the reality of our life amidst multiple armed insurgencies, with hospitals being frequently shut, and a lack of money to afford the best healthcare. This meant that we had to travel for as long as five hours to receive treatment for even something as common as a fever. In the absence of a doctor, ailments and pain had to be eased by coming up with alternatives. This is how our “kitchen pharmacy” worked for generations.
The book Where There Is No Doctor: A Village Health Care Handbook, first published in 1970, documents emergency medicine that could be used when a doctor is not available. All these point out to a pluralistic healthcare system that existed in the country. However, this is not just about health concerns but also about the destruction of ecology due to the loss of traditional knowledge among women. When shrubs and trees lose their relevance in daily lives, they are eventually destroyed for seemingly ‘more important’ things like housing, leading to the loss of nature.
In many Nepali communities, women have historically been the knowledge keepers of traditional healing practices. They were the ones who knew which plants to pick, and how to prepare, and administer them. This expertise was passed down through generations, with women playing a central role in maintaining family health and well-being. In the global scenario, women throughout the world, especially in rural and indigenous communities, have played a crucial role in preserving and transmitting traditional ecological knowledge. This not only enhanced their understanding of the nature around them but also helped preserve it.
These practices enabled exchange of knowledge across households and among communities wherein women held a central role (Sawakae, 2017; Kerckhoven & Hernandez, 2023; Mbelebele et.al, 2024). The loss of this knowledge can be attributed to socio-economic changes, environmental degradation, urbanisation and the advancement of medical research. This not only alienates women from nature but also renders their knowledge redundant, hence reducing their role as holders of knowledge in society.
References
Kerckhoven, S., & Hernandez, V. (2023). United Nations University Institute on Comparative Regional Integration Studies.
Mbelebele, Z., Mdoda, L., Ntlanga, S., Nontu, Y., & Gidi, L. (2024). Harmonizing Traditional Knowledge with Environmental Preservation: Sustainable Strategies for the Conservation of Indigenous Medicinal Plants (IMPs) and Their Implications for Economic Well-Being. Sustainability. https://doi.org/10.3390/su16145841.
Sawakar, N. (2017). Gender dimension towards Right over Traditional Knowledge by Adivasi women of Melghat Tiger Reserve, India. IOSR Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 22, 58-67. https://doi.org/10.9790/0837-2204065867.
Werner, D., Thuman, C., & Maxwell, J. (2009). Where there is no doctor: a village health care handbook. Prakrit Bharati Academy, Jaipur. http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BA19613111
Writer
Madhusmita Devi is from Assam and is currently pursuing an MA in Social Work (Public Health) at TISS, Mumbai. She is passionate about exploring the intersections of health, gender, and culture. Apart from what you can find on her LinkedIn profile, she indulges in food, travel, and spending a lot of time chatting with her friends.
Editor
Taw Yalla is a lifelong student of history and is currently working in the Arts and Culture sector. In her pastime, she likes reading historical fiction books and watching anime and pet videos.
Photo credits
All photos are by the author.
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