They say, “If you want to go fast, go alone, but if you want to go far, go together.” The same holds true for community-level research, where the ultimate goal is to reach a destination that is still far away. A researcher has to walk step by step with the participants to achieve the goal. Bhadradri Kothagudem, the tribal heartland where the dense forests witness the rhythms of tribal songs, is a challenging destination in terms of access. Rooting our journey of participatory action research from textbooks into a living concept was equally challenging. The difficulties of working with indigenous populations were compounded by tight timelines, limited or no literacy of the community, and geographical constraints.
Though the literature offers countless methods to undertake such research studies, we had to choose a different path. We stitched together our own approach, carefully blending widely used methods like workshops, rapid rural appraisal, chapati diagrams, transect walks, and open discussions – adapting a model fitting to the soil we stood on.
Our approach was implemented in four villages, where we are working with four distinct groups, i.e Guttikoya, Koya, Lambada, and rural communities. The method we adopted for this geography was structured into five workshops, each holding a story worth narrating. The series of workshops began with transect walks in these villages, where we identified individuals who could stand beside us as co-researchers. We explained our purpose, not as outsiders dictating conditions, but as partners inviting them to help shape the questions and the answers. It took multiple visits before we were seen and acknowledged by the community.
The individuals identified to represent the community were further divided into groups by gender, creating spaces where men and women could speak freely. These conversations were often held under trees in forests or in fields, where we explored the community’s needs together. Our journey did not end with identifying the challenges they faced; we returned to them, asking not just what the problems were, but also which mattered the most. The final step will be co-creating solutions that address their healthcare challenges and the underlying determinants that shape them.
But doing all this was never as simple as the plan. The community’s availability was a shifting tide. We travelled late in the night without electricity, our path lit by a beam of torches, and we held our sessions with the communities under the soft glow of solar lights. Sometimes, we arrived only to find empty courtyards, waiting for hours or even a day until people returned from distant fields. The vehicles could not reach some hamlets, so we walked, sometimes crossing the river streams, carrying our materials and our patience. On many days, discussions took place amidst agricultural work, and some days the rains disrupted our journey. However, through these visits, we realised one thing, the hardships we found unbearable for just a short while are the sad realities of these communities every day. The absence of roads, the darkness without electricity, and the lack of a mobile network are the constant backdrop of their lives.
Retaining the same members throughout the series of workshops was not a simple task. Sometimes we played games with them and also offered small refreshments as a gesture of warmth and gratitude for their time. We also adapted our discussions using more pictorial cards, making it easier for the community to understand and express themselves.
Amidst all this, gaining their trust was the steepest terrain. At first, their words were guarded, so we went to them again and again, knocking their doors not with questions, but with time. We danced with them under open skies to help them build trust in us. Sometimes, we were shooed away, with people assuming we were there with some other agenda. In many villages, Indigenous Development Organisation (IDO), our local NGO partner, became our bridge, their familiarity opening doors that might have otherwise stayed closed. It took several visits before we could even begin formal conversations, and those initial trips were only about sharing smiles and becoming familiar faces in the crowd.
There were moments of apprehension as we navigated cultural sensitivities and unlearned our own assumptions. But gradually, the walls began to come down. A woman told us a story about a sick child; a young girl shared her story of menarche, a man spoke about a journey to the nearest health centre, and an elderly man recounted his experience with a traditional healer.
The conversations deepened, the number of stories increased, and the trust took root, and the research became truly ours- theirs and ours together.
This is not merely about a method, but more about mutual footsteps, less about data points and more about human connection. When we truly gel with the community, we gain deeper insights, and not merely see the surface issues. We see the real challenges they face and how to address them in culturally sensitive ways.
Involving the community in designing solutions increases accountability and ownership, ensuring that interventions are continued by the people themselves. It also brings to light issues invisible to the naked eye of an external researcher, while offering us local wisdom that no textbook could teach. This process takes time and patience; it requires us to be willing to be led by the community. Although slow, it is worth every moment when we realize the insights gained are the truths uncovered only by walking alongside them.