Ijjalluru - Hidden Village of the Konda Reddy

While visiting my grandmother in India, my dad and I were able to take a side trip to Ijjalluru, a tiny village of the Konda Reddy tribe tucked away in the forests of the Eastern Ghat mountains in the state of Andhra Pradesh.  I have always been fascinated by the idea of tribal people in this region, given the dense population of India today.  The fact that they still hunt with bows and arrows was more intriguing still.

With the help of a family friend, we found a guide who could take us to this tribal village (he is seen above snacking on idlis).  Launching from the nearest village of Maredumilli, we drove for an hour into the hills, then headed off on a non-descript dirt track that wound 6 miles through undisturbed forest to reach the village. 

These old Hindustan Ambassador cars are everywhere in India.  They wouldn't be my first choice for taking on unpaved routes.

A stream crossing the trail to the Ijjalluru village.  I never knew tree ferns grew in India.

I am not used to seeing so much land untouched by agriculture in India and some patches of forest reminded me more of Appalachian hills in summertime than anything else.  We reached Ijjalluru by mid-day and found mostly women and children weaving crafts out of bamboo strips.  The men had left on a hunt and sadly we didn’t have time to stick around to see what they brought back. 

A Konda Reddy woman preparing a strip of bamboo to be woven into a basket

The mother tongue of the Konda Reddy is Telugu so fortunately my dad could speak to them.  He struck up a conversation with one man, named Veerapa Reddy, who had stayed behind because he was too old to hunt.   I, on the other hand, stood back and tried to figure out how to take pictures without being a nosy jerk.  I realized I had taken on the dreaded role of “entitled outsider”, which is an identity that has kept me from photographing strangers for most of my life.  I was able to ask Mr. Reddy for permission through my dad, but photographing the women turned out to be less straightforward.

Veerapa Reddy next to unfinished baskets in his hut

I tested out a traditional bow made entirely out of bamboo (including the string).  For such a delicate-looking instrument, it is surprisingly tough to draw back.

Whenever I tried to ask permission to photograph the women, our guide would scold me and tell me to do whatever I wanted.  I took a few pictures of them despite my misgivings, and while no one protested, I could sense they weren’t thrilled at my presence.  I showed one woman a picture I had taken of her but she barely acknowledged it.  Desperate to find some way to relate to these women, I scrolled through my pictures and found one of a boy hiding his face behind a sheet of paper.  I zoomed in and showed it to the woman whom I guessed to be the boy’s mother.  To my relief, she dropped her tools and burst out laughing, as did everyone else who saw the picture.  I left confident I had not just taken from these people, but had given something small in return.

The women and children of the village making baskets out of bamboo

A boy hiding his face from the camera.  I guessed the woman sitting in front of him was his mother.

The village of Ijjalluru hidden away in the Eastern Ghat mountains