The `eTukTuk', the world's first radio-station and multimedia centre on three wheels, is taking Sri Lanka by storm.
SAJAN VENNIYOOR recently in ColomboUP in the hills of Kothmale, about 25 kilometres southwest of Kandy in the central province of Sri Lanka, a strange vehicle can be seen sputtering along the dirt tracks of the villages. At first glance, it is an autorickshaw or tuktuk, a familiar sight on the roads of South Asia and as common on the streets of Sri Lanka as sarongs.
But this is no ordinary vehicle. This is eTukTuk, the world's first radio-station and multimedia centre on three wheels.
In 1982, when the Mahaweli irrigation project displaced thousands of villagers in central Sri Lanka, the government eased their resettlement by setting up several community radio projects in and around the new villages. The Kothmale Community Radio (KCR) came up in 1989 and went on to become something of a legend where the other `community radio' stations soon ran into rough weather
On the walls of the somewhat run-down building that houses the KCR and a multimedia centre, there are old, faded photographs of a slim, curly-haired young man in a sarong, deep in conversation with local people. Sunil Wijesinghe, now the Station Controller of KCR, is still the most unassuming of men, as likely to grab a pickaxe as a microphone and turn his hand to whatever odd job that needs to be done around the station.
The radio station, KCR 98.4 FM, which is part of the cash-strapped Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation, runs on a shoestring budget. Sunil and his team keep things going with a blend of ingenuity and good humour. The studio is a marvel of improvisation. The mixer is of venerable antiquity, as are the spool recorders. The acoustic treatment on the walls seems to consist of old foam-covered coir mattresses.
The only pieces of modern broadcast equipment visible were a Compact Disc player and a Personal Computer donated by UNESCO. There is just one multi-purpose studio, and programmes have to be recorded when the station shuts down between transmissions. A second booth - now a storage room is awaiting conversion into a production studio. When? "As soon as funds are available," says Sunil Wijesinghe, echoing a common refrain in Kothmale.
Next only to Sunil, Benjamin (`Mr. Ben') Grubb is one of the minor marvels of Kothmale. Ben is a slim, bespectacled Australian in his late twenties, whose air of detached abstraction hides a sharp intellect and a passion for all things technical. Ben Grubb came to Sri Lanka as a tourist and "somehow ended up" at Kothmale, where he is the Project Adviser and guiding spirit behind the eTukTuk project. He handpicked the heavy-duty battery, inverter, mixer, amplifier, cables and all the other odds and ends that fit snugly into the tuktuk.
When the project runs out of funds - an all too common occurrence - Ben reportedly dips into his own resources to keep things ticking. "My girlfriend supports me," he deadpans.
The eTukTuk was unveiled in Colombo during the World Press Freedom Day conference in May this year. The bright blue three-wheeler with its Heath Robinson interior was an instant hit. A few days later, the AMARC (World Association of Community Radio Broadcasters) round table discussion on `Community Radio and its Social Impact' was covered live by the eTukTuk in Colombo.
"With this eTukTuk, it seems to me you've got a great vehicle both in the physical and the symbolic sense, to go out to the communities and the neighbourhoods and to let people speak through their community radio station," said Steve Buckley, president of AMARC. "I think that this is a trend that is going to catch on."
The vehicle is an Indian-built Bajaj RE 4-stroke autorickshaw, powerful enough to climb the steep hills of Kothmale while carrying what is, in effect, a complete radio station and multimedia centre, and a couple of operators as well. Ben said the three-wheeler was stripped down and rebuilt to his specifications by local mechanics, with special racks for the equipment. The roof rack - sturdy enough to support Ben's weight - holds two speakers.
There is a shelf for the laptop, and space to mount a CDMA (code division multiple access) phone, scanner, camera and battery-operated printer. Even in the remotest villages of Kothmale, with the eTukTuk one can access the Internet, scan and upload documents, download files, print them and take digital photographs. A portable 1000-watt generator produces enough electricity to recharge the main battery and keep the equipment running for hours.
When I reached Kothmale on May 10, the eTukTuk was in its lair - a converted kitchen in the KCR building - having completed the 150-odd km from Colombo to Kothmale. But there was work to be done - a field broadcast was scheduled that evening, the eTukTuk's first community OB (Outdoor Broadcast) event in Kothmale, at Weliganga village.
Weliganga (`river-flats') clings to a hillside a few kilometres downhill from KCR. As the eTukTuk rolled into a small clearing with a dilapidated shed at its far end, a light monsoon rain began to fall. Within minutes the crew fired up the transmitter and laptop, and cables snaked across the wet grass.
The transmitter is a vintage 50-watt FM exciter, a clunky beast that goes back to the early days of the KCR and is too big to fit anywhere except on the rooftop rack. (This is an obvious worry for the Kothmale station, particularly during the monsoon, and they are raising the funds to buy a sleeker model that will fit inside the eTukTuk). I watched bemused as an 18-foot antenna mast was put together swiftly from three lengths of galvanised iron pipe clamped end-to-end.
Sunil Shanta, the KCR's relief announcer, launched into a practised spiel that was fed into the twin speakers mounted on the eTukTuk's roof. Soon, the clearing and the shed filled with an expectant crowd - mostly women and children - some carrying plastic chairs and mats.
Weliganga is a Dalit village, a hamlet of drum makers and subsistence farmers, generally shunned by their better off neighbours. Sunil Wijesinghe said that only a few days earlier, a local monk had stormed into his office, outraged by the contents of a recent programme. Apparently, the radio station had aired the comments of Weliganga's villagers, who said they were not allowed entry into the local temple. Even their children, said the villagers, had to travel long distances to study as they were discriminated against in the local school.
With monsoon clouds rolling overhead and the shed's roof leaking like a sieve, the show got under way. Achala, a class IX student, launched into a Sinhala prayer song. Livelier numbers followed, and soon the shed was filled with singing, clapping and dancing youngsters, with three drummers maintaining a steady beat.
Ben Grubb dashed into the eTukTuk to check on the equipment, but Buddhika Sampath, the KCR's content creation specialist, shooed him away and took over the audio recording. Inside the shed, Sunil Shanta, the programme presenter, worked the crowd and kept up a steady banter.
The rain had died down to a sporadic drizzle. It was half past six and too dark to see, but the unlit shed was still alive with song, drumbeats and girlish laughter. Reluctantly, Sunil wound up the proceedings and the eTukTuk splashed its way back to the station on the muddy hill roads, driven by Nishanta, the strapping volunteer driver.
That night at Sunil Wijesinghe's house, it is time for a reality check. Earlier that week in Colombo, I had heard frequent criticism that the Kothmale community radio experiment had outlived its usefulness. There were constant jibes, not least of all from former Kothmale staff, that the `community radio' station had very little community involvement, since it was effectively owned and run by the Sri Lanka Broadcasting Corporation.
It is true that KCR's success is offset by the comparative failure of other community radio stations that were set up in the region at the same time. But, as Sunil pointed out, it was precisely the support of the community that set Kothmale apart, and accounted for its success. "This evening at Weliganga," he asked, "did you feel that the community was not involved?"
Nevertheless, Kothmale is an exception. Sri Lanka is not the only country in South Asia without a proper community radio policy. In Colombo, I had bumped into A.H.M. Bazlur Rahman of BNNRC (Bangladesh NGOs Network for Radio & Communication) at an international ICT conference. Bazlur and I performed a familiar ritual. "What's the latest on your CR policy?" I asked. Bazlur Rahman shrugged eloquently: "Many promises, no policy." "Same in India," I said, as we pondered the mysteries of broadcast regulation in the subcontinent.
India's community radio policy has been in the pipeline for so long that it seems to have congealed. A draft policy was sent for Cabinet approval on October 6, 2005, and then referred to a Group of Ministers. Seven months on, the GoM has yet to meet and decide on the new policy, which promises to open up the airwaves to community groups.
In Kothmale, Sunil was a worried man. Ben's finances are somewhat precarious and he will need to return to Australia to replenish his bank balance. "Please tell him to stay," Sunil urged agitatedly. Ben does not want to leave Kothmale either, but he has little choice. Buddhika, Sunil Shanta and Nishanta were in animated conversation, and occasionally sought my opinion on broadcasting by tuktuk. I tried to find parallels between the massive OB vans of All India Radio - lumbering juggernauts of broadcast technology - and the nimble little tuktuk, but soon give up.
Clearly, the eTukTuk is one of a kind. One can only hope - as Steve Buckley prophesies - that the trend will catch on and that swarms of eTukTuks will boldly go where no broadcaster has gone before.
Sajan Venniyoor is a long-time radio broadcaster and activist for community radio.
