Community radio on wheels - Tuk tuk truth
by Sajan Venniyoor
UP 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 a 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 eTuk tuk, 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 the 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.
Modern broadcast equipment
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 eTuk tuk 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 eTukt tuk
The eTuk tuk 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 eTuk tuk in Colombo.
"With this eTuk tuk, 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 eTuk tuk 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 eTuk tuk'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 eTuk tuk 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.
Vintage FM exciter
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 an underprivileged caste-oppressed 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 eTuk tuk is one of a kind. One can only hope -
as Steve Buckley prophesies - that the trend will catch on and
that swarms of eTuk tuks will boldly go where no broadcaster
has gone before.
(One World South
Asia.) | 
