Chuti-Gang: Where Villagers Met

Photo copyright: Shejun

There was a time when almost every village had a water mill, known locally as a Chuti, and the place was called Chuti-Gang. If you stood nearby, you would hear rushing water, the steady rumble of stone grinding grain, and the voices of people waiting for their turn. Today, those sounds are rarely heard.

When I was growing up, villagers carried sacks of maize or barley to the village chuti. The mill ran entirely on water. A short distance above the mill house, water was collected in a small dam. From there, it flowed through a long wooden trough that sloped towards the mill. As the water gathered speed, it struck a wooden wheel below and set the whole mechanism in motion.

Inside the mill, two large circular stones ground the grain into flour. One stone rested on the other. The upper stone had a hole in the centre where grain was poured. A wooden shaft connected the water wheel to the upper stone, causing it to rotate while the lower stone remained still. Built from wood, stone, and running water, the mill served people in the villages for generations.

Photo copyright: Shejun

The owner was paid for the service. For every twenty brey of grain that was ground, one brey of flour belonged to the owner. Sometimes the owner was there to collect the payment and make sure the mill was working properly. At other times, villagers operated the mill themselves. When they finished, they measured out the owner's share and left it behind before carrying the rest home.

Nobody stood there to supervise, and the mill would be unlocked at all times. The owner's payment was always left behind because everyone accepted that it belonged to him. The system depended on trust, and trust was all it took.

Our chuti also served the people from the neighbouring village. People arrived from different directions carrying sacks of grain on their backs. Some came alone, while others came in groups. The mill served them in the order they arrived. And there at the Chuti-Gang, people from neighbouring villages often met with no prior arrangement. 

While waiting for their grain, they exchanged news, talked about the harvest, discussed village matters, and caught up with people they had not seen for some time, while keeping an eye on the flour collecting below the stones. Children, who accompanied the adults, played beside the stream and watched the wheel turn. Milling grains took time, but nobody minded the wait. The sound of the water and the turning stones never drowned out conversation. 

Photo copyright: Shejun

Things changed when motor-powered mills arrived in the villages. They were faster and more efficient. They ground maize, husked rice, and finished the work in far less time. Families who owned these machines provided a service that the old water mills could not match.

Their engines, however, were deafening. They were louder than many of today's Bullet motorcycles. Once the machines started, people could hardly hear one another. There was little conversation because speaking meant shouting. Most people waited for their grain, paid the fee, and left as soon as the work was done. And since these mills ran on diesel, they left behind a trail of smoke and a strong smell. 

Before long, the wooden troughs rotted away, the streams were no longer diverted, and the stone wheels stopped turning. I sometimes wonder whether any of those mills still stand beside the streams where they once worked every day. Perhaps a few stone walls remain. Perhaps the grinding stones still lie where they were left, covered by moss and grass.

Then another change followed. Many households bought small motor-powered mills of their own. They could husk rice or grind grain whenever they wished, without carrying heavy sacks to the diesel-run mills or waiting for their turn. It was convenient, but neighbours had no reasons to gather any more. There were fewer chances to exchange village news, catch up with old friends, or hear the latest gossips.

Photo copyright: Shejun

Life has changed again in recent years. Many families now buy rice, flour, and other food directly from shops in nearby towns. They drive there, load their purchases into a vehicle, and return home. Buying food often takes less time than growing it, harvesting it, carrying it to a mill, and paying to have it ground.

The old water mills disappeared for good reasons. They were slower, and they demanded time and physical effort. But the chuti was part of village life in a way that later mills never became. People arrived with heavy sacks on their backs, and left with flour, news, and stories from several villages. The water turned the wheel, but it also gave people time to meet, talk, and keep in touch with one another.