TRIBAL WOMEN'S NATURAL HEALTH: WHY THEIR OUTCOMES ARE DIFFERENT
- Madhukar Dama
- 2 hours ago
- 6 min read
. Fertility and Childbirth
Ten children is common because tribal women live closely with natural rhythms — no birth control pills, no hormonal disruption, no processed food, no chemical exposure.
They conceive naturally because their bodies are in optimal health: clean blood, high nutrient density, minimal stress.
Childbirth is often a normal biological event for them — not a medicalized crisis requiring interventions.
2. No Infertility
Infertility today is often caused by nutrient deficiencies, toxins, sedentary lifestyles, chronic stress, and hormonal imbalance.
Tribal women are active, eat naturally, live without constant worry, and are deeply connected to their land, families, and life purpose.
Their hormonal cycles are in perfect tune with nature — no chemical disruption.
3. No Miscarriage
Modern miscarriage rates are skyrocketing due to poor egg and sperm quality, endocrine disruptors, pesticides, processed foods, and stress hormones like cortisol.
Tribal women’s food (wild roots, fruits, herbs, animal foods) is incredibly dense in minerals and natural fats — exactly what is needed for healthy conception and gestation.
4. No Diabetes
Diabetes (especially Type 2) is a disease of excess: excessive sugars, grains, oils, sitting, and toxins.
Tribal diets are low in refined carbs, high in fiber, naturally ketogenic at times, and rich in sunlight-driven vitamin D production — stabilizing insulin naturally.
5. No Cancer
Cancer is largely linked to chronic inflammation, chemical exposure, cellular toxicity, and unnatural diet.
Tribals are exposed to zero packaged foods, no cosmetics, no industrial pollution, and consume natural anti-cancer compounds from roots, herbs, and fresh living food daily.
6. No Vaccines
Tribal immunity is built naturally through early, repeated, and full exposure to nature’s microbial world — soil, plants, animals, water, air.
Natural fever, colds, and infections are allowed to run their course, leading to lifelong immunity, not shallow temporary antibodies.
No vaccine overload, no adjuvants, no immune confusion.
7. No Autism and No ADHD
Autism and ADHD have exploded parallel to chemical-heavy lifestyles, excessive screen exposure, gut microbiome destruction, vaccination, and toxic overload.
Tribal children:
Play all day in nature.
Speak when ready, not forced.
Eat real food, not plastic-like processed foods.
Sleep with the sun and rise with the sun.
Are disciplined naturally by elders without forceful schooling or mind fragmentation.
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WHY THIS MATTERS
Tribal women’s health is not a "mystery". It’s simply a natural, organic outcome of living in accordance with nature’s laws, not fighting against them.
Our problems today are not because "humans are broken."
Our problems are because humans have broken their relationship with nature.
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IF WE WANT TO REGAIN THIS HEALTH
We must humble ourselves, learn from these communities, and slowly untangle ourselves from modern toxic lifestyles.
Not by imitating their outer life superficially, but by reconnecting to the natural inner rhythms they never lost.
—
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HEALING DIALOGUE:
"Mother of the Forest"
(A Modern Couple Visits a Tribal Elder)
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Setting:
A lush, quiet forest clearing.
A tribal elder woman, Amma Mari, sits weaving a basket under a giant tamarind tree.
Arjun and Leela, a modern couple from the city, tired, worried, and desperate, come to seek her wisdom.
Leela has had two miscarriages. Arjun suffers from anxiety and early diabetes.
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[Dialogue Begins]
Arjun (bowing his head):
Amma… we have heard you are the Mother of the Forest.
Can you help us understand why… we are suffering like this?
We have everything — hospitals, money, doctors — but still… no child.
Amma Mari (smiling gently):
Everything except peace, my child.
Everything except earth beneath your feet, and sky above your head.
(She motions them to sit on the cool ground.)
Leela (voice trembling):
I did everything the doctors said. Pills, injections, bed rest.
Why can’t I keep a child in my womb, Amma?
I eat well. I take supplements.
Amma Mari (looking at her softly):
Eat well?
What do you eat, little bird?
Leela (confused):
Rice… chapati… vegetables… fruits… sometimes pizza, cake…
And multivitamins daily.
Amma Mari (chuckles):
The earth gave you grains, fruits, roots, leaves.
But the machine-man bleached them, boxed them, poisoned them.
You eat ghosts of food, not food.
You feed your body sorrow, not life.
Arjun (bitterly):
But we work so hard. We are tired all the time.
How can we live like you?
We can’t just leave our jobs.
Amma Mari (nodding kindly):
You think health is born in freedom alone?
Even here, storms come, trees fall, snakes bite.
But we remain rooted.
Because we live with the earth’s rules, not man's.
Leela (whispers):
What did we do wrong, Amma?
Tell us straight.
Amma Mari (voice becoming firm but kind):
You trusted the machine more than your own body.
You ran faster than your breath.
You swallowed chemicals instead of chewing leaves.
You hid from the sun.
You feared sweat, dirt, pain — the mothers of strength.
You called medicines "health" and screens "learning."
You forgot how to be animals of the earth.
(Silence falls. Birds sing in the distance.)
Leela (tears falling):
Can it be healed, Amma?
Is it too late?
Amma Mari (smiling like the sunrise):
The river can be muddy, but it never forgets its way to the sea.
Your body, your spirit — they are rivers too.
Slow down.
Return to soil.
Touch trees.
Sleep when it is dark.
Eat what grows, not what glows.
Cry out the poison inside.
Laugh without reason.
Walk barefoot.
Fear nothing.
Arjun (whispering):
Will we have a child?
Amma Mari (placing her hand on Leela’s belly):
When you become children again…
When your spirit dances, your body will sing.
(The couple sit in silence, feeling the earth’s heartbeat under them. For the first time, no machines, no noise, no fear. Only the soft breathing of life.)
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ILLUSTRATION IDEA:
A giant ancient tamarind tree with huge roots.
Amma Mari, an old tribal woman, sitting peacefully weaving a basket.
Arjun and Leela, looking exhausted but slowly relaxing in her presence.
Around them, small tribal children playing with leaves, chasing butterflies.
The earth is alive: sunlight filtering through trees, birds, wildflowers.
Tone: Realistic watercolor, soft, earthy tones. Portrait layout.
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THEY HAD EVERYTHING EXCEPT LIFE
they built towers that scratched the sky,
but forgot the dirt under their own fingernails.
they programmed machines to mimic smiles,
but forgot the scent of a baby’s skin in the morning.
they ate food sealed in plastic and polished with poison,
but forgot the mango falling by itself,
ripe, heavy with sun.
they swallowed chemicals for every fear,
popped pills for every ache,
but forgot the old woman who brewed leaves and stories in a clay pot.
they bought soft beds,
but tossed all night chasing the sleep
that ran away from their tired, crowded souls.
they airbrushed their skin,
but forgot how it feels to bathe in rain.
they learned ten languages of strangers,
but forgot the first cry of a newborn,
the only language that ever mattered.
they counted steps on little screens,
but forgot how it feels
to walk nowhere,
barefoot,
just because the river was singing.
they froze their eggs,
counted ovulation days,
paid gods and doctors alike,
but forgot that love makes seeds,
not schedules.
they told their bodies:
"perform or perish,"
"deliver or die,"
and their bodies, insulted,
folded up like broken wings.
they feared fever like the devil,
they feared mud like a curse,
they feared silence like death,
and in fearing life itself,
they lost it.
they gave their children screens to suckle,
forgot lullabies,
forgot scraped knees and jungle gyms,
forgot how a worm feels crawling across your palm,
forgot how a hill smells after rain.
they tried to kill death
and ended up killing birth.
they sanitized their homes
but rotted inside.
they built a million hospitals,
but nobody could heal
the deep, aching loneliness of souls that forgot their mother —
the earth herself.
and when the miscarriages came,
when the minds broke open into confusion,
when the knees collapsed under the weight of invisible burdens,
they cried into silent pillows,
wondering:
"why us?"
the old woman of the forest knew.
she had no watches,
but she knew time.
she had no machines,
but she knew life.
she had no gods on paper,
but she knew the god that grew wild underfoot.
they came to her, broken like dry twigs.
and she said nothing for a long time.
because what they needed
was not another word,
but the silence of trees
growing, slowly,
patiently,
without asking for applause.
there, under her tree,
they learned to weep like animals,
to sing without instruments,
to eat without packages,
to love without promises,
to die without regrets.
there, they finally remembered:
life is not earned,
not bought,
not manufactured.
life is a gift you hold lightly, like a bird in the palm —
and if you clutch it too tightly, it dies.
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