[sacw] SACW #2 | 4 August 02

Harsh Kapoor aiindex@mnet.fr
Sun, 4 Aug 2002 03:22:32 +0100


South Asia Citizens Wire #2 | 4 August 2002

>From South Asia Citizens Web:
http://www.mnet.fr/aiindex

__________________________

#1. Gujarat: Misogny At Large (Bina Srinivasan)
#2. Report on a meeting in London on the condition of women in=20
Gujarat after the communal riots (Shrabani Basu)

__________________________

#1.

Date: Sat, 03 Aug 2002 16:11:22 +0530
From: Ms Bina Srinivasan

GUJARAT: MISOGNY AT LARGE

Words alone can never hope to capture the hatred that has justified=20
the specific use of
violence against women, neither will tears reduce the horror of it.=20
But we have to try.
Hence this report: a small attempt to ensure that we remember these=20
events, to pledge that it
will not happen again. I present here a series of experiences based=20
on my work with women who
have been subject to or have witnessed violence since 27th Feb 2002.

It is true that in Gujarat women=92s bodies were turned into=20
battlegrounds, and that all women
have therefore been vulnerable. The forms of violence is is knownn,=20
have been diverse,
ranging from verbal abuse to direct physical attack. In an atmosphere=20
vitiated by fear and
insecurity everybody is affected. However, some women have been more=20
unfortunate than others
by virtue of their religion. That is undeniable. That is also=20
reprehensible for a country
that claims constitutional protection for minority communities.

In working with women survivors in Gujarat I have also been faced=20
with a dilemma. Should one
place all these facts on record, or should one allow public memory to=20
fade so that the women
can get on with their lives, as they want very much to?

Challenges. Another way of saying difficulties. Multi-layered,=20
multi-faceted difficulties
that arise from a whole range of contexts: from the personal to the=20
political. The personal,
I realise today, has never been so stark, so raw. Having worked with=20
victims of violence for
so many years I bank on my training, perspectives and experience.=20
Like many other women=92s
rights activists, I know about the connivance of state, community and=20
family in perpetuating
violence against women, and in creating the conditions where this=20
violence continues.

Yet, nothing ever prepared me for this. No other experience has been=20
so embittering, so
filled with anguish.

Nothing ever prepared me for what surfaced inside myself. Violence=20
against women is quite
routine, stands to reason that I would not have been exempt from it=20
in some form or the
other. Working with women survivors in Ahmedabad has sometimes=20
rekindled feelings of
frustration, helplessness and also a dark despair. It has also,=20
however, strengthened a
political belief: that women have to fight
this battle together. And that we will win in the end. If not for=20
ourselves then for younger
women, for all those adolescent girls waiting to step into adulthood.=20
In the struggle against
violence there is pain, and there are tears. But there is also=20
friendship in unexpected
places, and strength in the shared
knowledge of our vulnerabilities and our capacities.

The women=92s movement in India cut its teeth with the struggle against=20
violence. Everybody
remembers Mathura, Rameeza Bi and Guntaben. Truly, it seems we have=20
come back to square one.
And more. Because the communalised violence women have experienced=20
recently in Gujarat is
unprecedented in terms of the degree of state complicity, the=20
unashamed valorisation of these
acts of depravity, the horrific participation of women in the=20
violence and the creation of an
implacable wall of hatred which provides the reason and then the=20
justification for what has
happened. It took us fifty years to document excesses against women=20
during the Partition. I
wonder how much longer it will take now.

Women are not victims of their gender alone. They also bear the=20
brunt of a patriarchal system
that operates at the level of the community too, even a besieged=20
community. The very same
community which stuck together in terrified solidarity for its=20
survival has also sometimes
turned its back to women who have been =91defiled' by the enemy.=20
Women=92s rights activists have
seen this prejudice in operation before and this should not come as a=20
surprise. Yet, it does
seem rather unfortunate that a community that has intimate knowledge=20
of large scale violations
does not hesitate to further marginalize its women. It is therefore=20
a complex motif.

As part of Aman Samudaya, Ahmedabad it has been my responsibility to=20
identify the survivors of
violence, including sexual assault. Another aspect of my work has=20
been to understand the
entire gamut of residual emotions that such experiences tend to leave=20
behind. Trauma
counselling, it is called. Speaking for myself, I believe that the=20
issues here are so complex
that it defies any simple effecting of traditional trauma=20
counselling. At least I have on
several occasions been quite overwhelmed by the scale of the violence=20
and the sheer depth of
human misery it has created. I hope I will be able to make a fair=20
representation of the
realities that women survivors are grappling with today.

Before I end this rather lengthy preamble, I wish to say that I use=20
this report as a means of
breaking out of a kind of paralysis. Since 27th Feb I have been in=20
the grip of a crisis as
all writing had dried up as I faced the collapse of a society I had=20
been born into, lived and
worked in. Like the loss of someone you love. So words congealed in=20
a morass of tears,
anger. And in the suffocation of imprisoned expression I often=20
thrashed about, confounding
many of my colleagues and friends. Mahesh, Amar, Supriya, Antara,=20
Bhavana, Sophia, Arundhati,
Monika, Nandini, Sriram, Amit, Shambhavi, Nivedita, Aditya, Ranjana,=20
Laxmi and Vani: I thank
each one of them for trying to understand.

This writing has therefore been a much-needed catharsis. For which I=20
am grateful to Aman
Samudaya. I hope it will be as useful to others.

II

SJ

Naroda Patiya. The name itself creates images. A masjid with a=20
peacock motif. Green, red,
yellow. Colours meshing with soot.

SJ: her face superimposed on Noorani masjid. Also burnt.

A gaping black-toothed wall. A frail face, large black eyes flecked=20
with tragedy. Violations,
all.

SJ is an 18 year old girl. When I first met her she looked dully at=20
me through those great
eyes. I was yet another one of those outsiders. A sigh of=20
helplessness shuddered through me
as I took in her presence. Her mother sat next to her, she talked=20
about their losses. One
daughter raped and burnt alive. Another sitting right next to her.=20
One son, about seven
years old, also burnt. But alive, the skin on his left arm stretches=20
taut and scarred.

So much for the physical signs. SJ carries deeper wounds.

She sat with hunched shoulders over a plate of rotis and curry. The=20
sun blazed down on her
bruised skin. Her mother was pleased to hear that I have family in=20
Karnataka from where she
herself had migrated many years back. SJ looked at me keenly: this=20
piece of information is
interesting she must have decided. Soon we were joined by SJ=92s=20
maternal aunt who described for
me one harrowing
bit after another, the sequence of events in Naroda Patiya. I have=20
heard this so often that
my dreams are littered with the screams of women.

Then, said SJ=92s aunt, they raped women. They trapped them in a park,=20
stripped them and raped
them. We know because we were up on a terrace. That was not all.=20
They chopped off limbs,
mutilated their genitals and then killed them. SJ=92s sister was one of=20
them, she said. Garbled
testimonies. Nothing will stand in a court of law. Yet, it is part=20
of collective memory
today.

I suddenly noticed SJ. Her body almost in foetal position, seeking=20
shelter from horror.
Those perceptive eyes had clouded over with a dense, mute emotion.=20
For one maddening moment I
myself sought escape into a safe womb. SJ=92s pain does that to=20
anybody, even a strong person.
I am too weak not to be affected by that congested anguish.

I met her several times after that. Each successive meeting brought=20
a thawing of her
dignified reserve. Then one day she talked to me. I want to learn=20
something, she said. Her
eyes were bright with anticipation. What, I asked, what will you=20
learn? Anything, she said,
because I know I can do it. Disarming confidence. Ok, I told her, we=20
will find something for
you to learn. She held my hand,
a range of expressions flitting across her face.

I still remember the grasp of those thin, long fingers. Some sweat, some h=
ope.

I met her yet again at the Circuit House where the Women=92s Cell held=20
its fourth sitting. The
Cell was meant to go into cases where FIRs had to be changed, or to=20
record women=92s statements
on violence. Women=92s rights activists, lawyers and others were=20
present along with women from
camps. At one point in that long day some of us confronted the=20
officials over their
hamhandedness.

SJ was obviously impressed by that show of anger on our part. When I=20
met her again at the
camp she reached out and clasped my hand eagerly, her face animated.=20
And so, in the glory of
our collective bravado I had risen in her eyes. Pathetic as it was,=20
I was grateful that we
gave vent to our ire in the Circuit House. At least it granted me=20
SJ=92s solidarity. At least
she did not see me as yet another treacherous, bloodthirsty Hindu.

Contrast this vibrant visage with our next meeting. She looked=20
straight through me. A couple
of women sat next to her. I had never seen them before. SJ=92s=20
seriousness, her refusal to
even acknowledge my presence unnerved me. It rankled. I went to her,=20
put my arm round her
hunched shoulders and asked, why is this woman so grim today? SJ was=20
unresponsive.

Her mother replied: my sister has come from desh. So we were talking=20
about SJ=92s sister=85.the
one who died. I cursed myself. Why, oh why did I not pick up the=20
signals that SJ=92s scarred
face was sending me? Fool. At this point, SJ crumpled into=20
inconsolable sobs.My arms moved
around her in reflex. Little sister, I whispered to myself, take=20
care of that young heart of
yours. SJ stared into space, grief-stricken. I wish I could take=20
away that pain.

Soon all the women are crying. We have never seen such cruelty said=20
SJ=92s mother. What they
have done to our women, lamented SJ=92s aunt. Jawan ladki, she=20
continued, who will marry her
now?

I looked at SJ, her face pinched with grief. One slow tear rolled down.

You will learn anything, won=92t you? I asked in a semi-whisper. SJ=20
did not respond.

She seemed to be going into shock. What horrors does this child=20
bottle up inside her thin
frame? I wish I could help. Yet, she suddenly smiled at me through=20
her tears, as though at
some shared secret. She let her fingers move through a shroud of=20
pain. Her large eyes say:
yes, I will learn anything.

I cling to hope. To a young child=92s belief in herself.

NJ

We had a very nice house. We had everything. A tv, a fridge.=20
Everything. The girls in our
house are very fond of watching tv, listening to Hindi film music.=20
They can dance to any
song. You ask them, they will show you. In our house we had=20
everything we needed. They
burnt it all down. They looted all they could. My nieces are very=20
bright. I had potted
plants. So many of them. I took care of all of them. They broke the=20
pots. The plants are
dead. I looked after them very carefully. See this photograph?=20
Here this the sofa set we
had. It was an expensive set. They could not lift it, so they=20
ripped it apart. They tore
the sofa to bits. Shreds, this nice blue cover, all torn
to pieces. Slashed.

NJ has a very striking face. Nearly 35 years old, though she looks=20
older. A white dupatta
draped over her head, tucked behind her ears. You cannot missNJ in a=20
room full of people.
You cannot ignore her even if you want to. As I want to when she=20
talks incessantly about
ripped sofa sets that they could
not lift.

Was memory playing tricks here? I have no answers. From yet another=20
garbled account I heard
that they attacked her house and she stepped out to protect her=20
bhabhi and nieces. There was
no man at home, from what I gather.

I am a strong woman. I locked the front door and told my family, tum=20
padho. Meaning read the
Quran, say your prayers. I told the mob just leave us alone. They=20
said, don=92t get in the
way. I kept telling my family tum padho. The mob threw burning rags=20
into the house, it
caught fire. My family threw water, and tried to contain the fire.=20
>From one room to another
they ran, I also went inside to save the house. I refused to let=20
them into the house. Then
they hit me on the head. Blood streamed down my face and I was=20
dizzy. But I kept on. The
phone was ringing. I could hear it, but could not take it. I was=20
keeping the mob from my
family. Then they hit me on the thighs. I fell on the floor. They=20
threw a ring of kerosene
around me. I was lying in a circle of flames. They hit me again, I=20
lost consciousness. I do
not know what they did with me.

I lost consciousness, she said apologetically. I do not remember=20
anything after that, she
said defensively.

NJ=92s story is known all over the camp. Everybody knows that she was=20
sexually assaulted by
more than one person. Only she does not want to speak about it. She=20
flits from one topic to
another, going back to the house, the sofa, the suffering of =91these=20
people=92 (the camp
residents). She says our neighbours did
not do anything. They were good people.

NJ is a strong woman. She has a faraway expression in her eyes. All=20
the time. She talks to
you incessantly, but it is almost as if she is not there. She calls=20
herself an Aman Pathik.
It gives her an identity.

One day I called her to the office. Work with me, I said. She=20
looked happy at the prospect.
But, she said, I will not be able to come on my own. Somebody has to=20
drop me to the office
and back. Only till I get used to it, she said reassuringly, after=20
that I will manage. I
arranged for somebody to drop her
at the office.

I waited all day. She did not turn up. In the evening I went to the=20
camp. A group of Aman
Pathiks surrounded me and told me that NJ is in trouble with the camp=20
manager. Why? Because
her brother had effected a compromise with one of the persons who had=20
assaulted her. They had
settled for Rs.1 lakh, or so said the grapevine. Now the camp=20
manager was angry with NJ and
her brothers
because it put him in a false position.

NJ refused to see me that evening. I went back, a thousand questions=20
in my mind. Was NJ part
of this compromise? How does she feel about it? Angry, bitter? One=20
lakh. How does one decide
on the price of one=92s sexual integrity? And who has the money? NJ=20
or her family? It was
murky beyond measure.

The next visit to the camp. NJ came straight to me and said, are you=20
looking for me? Then she
began chatting about the rain, how difficult it is for =91these people=92=20
to live like this. She
always refers to residents of the camp as though she herself is not=20
one of them. I ask a
group of women if they would like to come to the office for a=20
meeting. They agreed.

The women from the camp arrive at the office. We sit in the=20
dormitory. Even before we
settled down the women burst out with their stories. Each one of=20
them talked about burnt,
looted houses. About fear, anxiety. The camp may close down soon,=20
where will we go then?
The anxiety levels were very high in the office that morning.

They spoke about their dreams. Nightmares. Mindscapes of dread.=20
The woman sitting right
next to me was very quiet. I asked her, you want to talk about your=20
dreams? She shook her
head. They have finished all our dreams, she said. A chill ran down=20
my spine. Sabse
khatarnak hain sapano ka mar jana, flashed a warning.

Sound, they said any sound is enough to send us into a panic. We=20
cannot sleep at night. They
talked about various kinds of sounds.

We did a little relaxation exercise. They lay down, and closed their=20
eyes with some
difficulty. Vigilant. Hyper-vigilant to danger. I asked them to=20
hold the hand of the woman
next to each one. Which they did, amid much giggling. Now try to=20
clap using one of your
hands, and one of your partner=92s. They began to laugh and clap.=20
Eyes happily closed this
time.

Laughter invited a discussion about sound. Fearful sounds, happy sounds.

Laughter provoked a discussion about silence. Women=92s silence. Of=20
how women should not laugh
too loud or too much. How a woman=92s izzat depended on her silence.=20
I watched NJ overtly.
She looked confused. I felt a surge of triumph. At last that placid=20
expression was ruffled.
At last that saint-like detachment had lifted. The dreaminess in her=20
eyes was now replaced
with a =91right here' look. I was making a dent, I was getting=20
somewhere with her.

We have to go soon, said one of the women. I led them out to lunch.=20
On the way we crossed a
patch of green. NJ touched one plant, and moved to another. This one=20
is for show, and this is
khajur, she said to the others. Soon the women were following her=20
around wondering about her
erudition. She stopped
at an enormous tree and said, not everybody can understand plants.=20
You need a special
sensitivity to know plants.

A relationship with plants. It brings pleasure into those distant eyes.

In conversation with AM, SB, ZQ and several others.

SB: We had gone back to Naroda Patia, back to our homes for a=20
panchnama. When we see our
burnt out houses we are filled with great fear. Not a thing is left=20
in those houses. I was
chilled, frightened to the bone. All of yesterday I was very=20
disturbed. The sight of my
houses swims into my vision. All night I tossed and turned. At the=20
house yesterday, I was a
mass of nerves. I kept waiting for a mob to spring up from any=20
direction, any corner.

ZQ: How can we go back? How can we go back when everything we had=20
built up so painstakingly
has been destroyed. It happened some years back, then again after=20
Babri Masjid and now this.
But it was never as bad as this. This time they have finished us. I=20
wonder what more there
is to live for? I just wish they had killed us. I wish I could just die.

MG: We know how we have built our houses. We work so hard stitching=20
elastic on undergarments,
we have gathered paisa after paisa and put these houses in shape.=20
Now, it is all gone.

SB: I fled with nothing except the clothes I had. My daughter was to=20
be married. I had
gathered clothes, jewelry. Nothing is left. They have removed fans,=20
tubelights, taken our
tv.

ZQ: They had come a couple of months back. They asked us what do you=20
have in your house? We
told them. We thought they were election people so we gave them=20
information. They told us
you will have to because we are from the government. They took=20
electricity bills and checked
who lived where.

ZS: Even on the 28th Feb they had come. My son was at the paan shop=20
that morning.They came
around and asked, how many Muslims live here. My son said I don't=20
know and ran home. Then a
few hours later there was all this.

AM: This girl here, she cannot sleep at night. Even last night she=20
got up screaming. I woke
up and heard her say, they are coming to kill us. I shook her awake=20
and told her nothing has
happened, go back to sleep.

SB: We don=92t want to live in Gujarat anymore. We have seen too much=20
destruction. We want to
go back to Karnataka. We have not heard of such violence in=20
Karnataka. Never. So we want to
go back. Don=92t do anything for us, just do one small thing, get us=20
some land in our desh and
resettle us there. These people don't like us because we are from=20
Karnataka. They think we
are strange. Even when
we speak they make fun of us. Our language is very polite, we cannot=20
be rude. But they think
we are being rude. Now after all this we don=92t want to continue here.

ZS: Himmat, you want us to have himmat? How can we have anything=20
like that left. When I
think of what has happened I feel that those who died were more=20
fortunate. At least they
don=92t have such a bleak future ahead. I don=92t have any more courage le=
ft.

AM: If there is a God up there he will see that there is justice.=20
They should have punished
those responsible for happened in Godhra. Why did they have to do=20
this to all of us? Why
wreak havoc on the innocent? What have children done to them? Or=20
young girls? They raped
women, they ripped open wombs. They did all this. We are mortally=20
afraid for our young girls
now. They had a plan
and we did not know. Their plan and our ignorance finished us. We=20
did not know anything
about this plan. They had a plan and we were destroyed.

SM: Who are you? Why are you writing all this down? We don=92t want=20
anything from you. How
can you come here and write all this? I want to tell you that there=20
will be justice. Sooner
or later, there will be. You have not lost anybody, so it is easy=20
for you to be sympathetic.
We are not sitting here waiting for people like you to come in and=20
take your notes. We are
human beings. Aren' t we human beings, tell me? If we are then why=20
do this to us? They
raped our girls. There are girls in this camp who were brought in=20
such a bad condition, they
could not walk, they could not urinate. Young girls. Is this our=20
culture, is this our
country. I am telling you, all you women better be warned. The same=20
thing can happen to you
also. So be warned.

RH

A ten year old child, her hair all cropped. She hops into the room.=20
She is wearing a shiny
red dress, several sizes too big for her. She glances at me shyly=20
and makes as if to go out
with her friend.

I am with a group of women from Naroda Patiya. They are talking to=20
me in a tumult of voices.
They suddenly turn on her. This girl here, they say, look at her.=20
RM=92s pupils are dilated,
all the childish energy with which she had darted into the room has=20
seeped out. See, say the
women, as if to taunt me.

They yank her dress up. Red satin slipping over a burnt body. Back=20
and neck. Lacerations of
skin, now healing. I close my eyes involuntarily. I know I will=20
never forget the sight.

My heart is numb as I watch that rough edged skin growing now in=20
shrivelled layers. Burns
leave a sign on you. So this child will now carry marks forever. Her=20
back and neck, her shorn
head. Testimonies all.

Look at her, say all the women. I pull one edge of the red dress.=20
It comes tumbling down.
Hiding from our sight the signs of a ravaged young body.

The women prod the child. Tell her, they say after the cloth draped=20
the hurting skin. What
happened with you, insist the women. They were determined not to let=20
me forget the sight or
the event. Let her be, I plead.

The child=92s face has shrunk to half its size, the pupils so large I=20
think they will burst. I
can see that RH is reliving horror and by now I am desperate to stop=20
the women. The skin on
her face lets off more gloom than I am prepared to handle. The=20
women, eager to dispose off
with their angst, to foist it on
the child are pushing her to a point that would surely break her.

Tell her what you saw, what happened to you.

RM sits there unconvinced, intensely unhappy. Her back bared to a=20
stranger. The humiliation
rankles. It shows on her face. My stomach knots into a hard band of muscl=
es.

What is your name, I ask her. R, she replies parrot-like. What a=20
beautiful name, I say. I am
frantic now to change the mood. Can you teach me a song, I ask. No=20
response. Her face is
still downcast. The women look at me, then at the child. They=20
understand. Teach her a song,
they say. A smile creases
her face.

A smile. A stretch of muscles in a heavy, downcast face. Like the=20
sun breaking through a
thick forest of clouds. I know I will never forget that smile either.

RM rushes out, glad to be free.

The women tell me after she leaves: when they brought her to the camp=20
she was fully burnt, her
legs so swollen she could not walk for days.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

AF

We walk through a large kabrastan. Past children with catapults=20
trying to nab a few jamuns.
Past bleating goats.

AF=92s house is one makeshift roof supported by some wood. The rest=20
has all gone. Crumbled
under the fury of mob violence. The house is on the edge of the=20
kabrastan. It is also on the
=91border=92. She has lived here for the last 30 years.

My house is on the =91border=92, she explains. So the mob attacked it=20
first. There is a chilling
resignation in her voice. It was to happen someday, she tries to tell me.

30 years on the border. The tension must be backbreaking.

We look around the house. A large tin trunk, all burnt, the rust=20
showing. Ironically, the
trunk is locked. Two large locks.

They took everything, she says. I had collected dahej for my=20
daughters, it was all there in
that trunk. When the mob entered the area we fled. My husband=20
is disabled, he cannot
walk. So I first fled with my children, put them to safety in the=20
camp. I rushed back to get
my husband. By the time I got him they had already burnt the house.

Inside the house was her paternal aunt. Also disabled. And so=20
unable to run. As she waited
for AF to go and get her, the flames had already claimed her. She was=20
burnt alive.

See, she says, this is the postmortem report. The PM report is very=20
economical. Cause of
death? Shock due to burns. I suppose that is how medical reports are writt=
en.

What did you do then? I ask. The first day it was too dangerous to=20
go out, so I did not come
looking for my aunt. I knew by then that she had gone. Others told=20
me that the house was
also gone. On the second day I asked a couple of people. I said=20
please come with me, I will
not be able to carry the body myself. A neighbour had walked in by=20
then. She took up the
story from there. Yes, we told AF that she could not be expected to=20
carry a body on her own.
Three women and two men went with her. When we came here we found=20
the body surrounded by
dogs. It was perched on the edge of the parapet. One little push=20
and it would have fallen
down into the kabrastan.

AF looked deeply worried through this account. She seemed happy to=20
let somebody else do the
telling.
III

There are many stories. So many of them. The widowed women of=20
Chamanpura, others from Naroda
Patiya, women who have been deserted since the rapes because they=20
have conceived, a woman who
rotted in a garbage bin for ten days after suffering a paralytic=20
attack, women injured in
combing operations. The list is long. I will not go into each one of=20
them. Truly, I do not
find it in me to do it. The horror is almost unreal though I have=20
met these women and I know
that it is not all a figment of their imagination.

In conclusion, it is important to look at some of the key issues that=20
have emerged. Firstly,
the range of psycho-social impacts includes most of the symptoms of=20
post-traumatic shock
syndrome. Sleeplessness, recurrence of nightmares, reactions to=20
sounds, fear of crowds and so
on are very common experiences. Some of the more serious symptoms=20
like withdrawal as evident
in NJ need to be addressed immediately. In my work with the women I=20
try to identify the
trigger points and then try to steer the conversation around it. I=20
do not necessarily address
violence as such. There is a whole range of strategies that have to=20
be employed to give the
women space to ventilate.

Physical exercise is also important. I found that the women enjoy it=20
immensely, it brings a
release of pent up emotional energy. This however, is quite=20
difficult in camp situations.
Bringing them out of the camps into places where they can relax is=20
also useful and can serve
many purposes.

These are some very basic tools for trauma counselling. However,=20
what presents a real
challenge is feelings of guilt, self-blame and low self-esteem. At a=20
superficial level it is
possible to work through these emotions. These women are placed=20
within the context of the
community, they need the protection of the community. The experience=20
of violence has shamed
them, and shamed the community too. It is important to understand=20
that short term trauma
counselling can only work if there is a long term process of=20
deconstructing these feelings of
shame.

This is also an ideological struggle which would challenge the=20
secondary status of women,
question gendered power equations that sanctions the use of violence=20
against women to control
and monitor them.

The larger social and political context in Gujarat will also impinge=20
on emotional
rehabilitation. With this is tied up the issue of justice. Unless=20
the survivors see a
process of justice delivery, trauma will remain heightened. Camps=20
are now under pressure to
close down, and the women are to go back to the very places where=20
they had experienced or
witnessed such intense violence. This means that there will some=20
recurrence of trauma, there
will be trigger points everywhere. Encountering some of the=20
perpetrators of violence who live
in the same locality will definitely have an impact.

Justice, is therefore the real challenge. The State will obviously=20
have to be involved in
this process. I think that it is important for the women to see that=20
as a community we are
doing something about this. SJ=92s reaction to our experience with the=20
Women=92s Cell is a case
in point. This is why it is imperative that we demand special=20
courts, special commissions to
go into these crimes. Together with this, setting up national or=20
international panels
independent of the State would also be useful in addressing trauma.=20
Though these panels would
have to be carefully thought through because the issues are very complex.

The women survivors are faced with a series of realities. Each one=20
of them is tied up with
the other and each one brings its own anxieties. Without a house it=20
is difficult for them to
feel secure. And without a means of livelihood, it is difficult to=20
run a house. As physical
security is a key issue and is not presently assured in their places=20
of residence, they prefer
to remain in camps. In camps the situation is far from ideal. There=20
is no privacy and there
is the danger of sexual molestation in camps too.

The camps are important as they are the only places that provide=20
security. However, living in
camps for extended periods is bound to exacerbate problems, not=20
alleviate them. This is then
linked to proper and quick rehabilitation. Without rehabilitation the=20
women are not going to
be able to get on with their lives. Currently their major anxiety is=20
around safety, housing
and livelihood. All these issues are interlinked and will have to be=20
taken up simultaneously.
Trauma counselling in this context also means that these issues have=20
to be addressed.

Campaigns against violence, programmes that break the silence around=20
sexual violence will also
provide the necessary space for women to create solidarity amongst=20
each other. Participation
in programmes in Gujarat and elsewhere will help to break the=20
isolation and the hopelessness.
I firmly believe that these linkages have to be made, the survivors=20
of violence have to become
part of a
broader movement against violence. This, again is an important=20
aspect of trauma counselling
as it moves beyond the personal into the political. Which in itself=20
is an empowering
experience.

Clearly, it is an uphill task. The work demands partnerships across a=20
broad section of people
and organisations. I do hope that this report will provoke a serious=20
engagement with all the
issues presented on the part of all those who have had long and=20
useful experience of working
with women in conflict situations.

Bina Srinivasan

_____

#2.

The Telegraph
4 August 2002

WOMEN / UNITED HATE=20

BY SHRABANI BASU

Asiya Sareswala was feeling nervous. It was the first time she was=20
speaking in public. But the young ceramic technologist, whose=20
husband's business in Ahmedabad had been attacked during the Gujarat=20
carnage, felt it was something she had to do. "I gave a first-hand=20
account of what we as minorities face in Gujarat," recalls Sareswala.=20
"I felt it was important to talk about the atrocities that have been=20
inflicted on women and children. There is so little awareness here=20
within the community."

Sareswala was addressing a meeting in central London on the condition=20
of women in Gujarat after the communal riots. Sharing the dais with=20
Sareswala was a group of women belonging to different women's groups=20
in England. There was documentary filmmaker Gita Sahgal, academician=20
Bina Fernandez, and women's activist Zubeida Motala. They had come=20
together, for the first time, to raise awareness about the victims -=20
particularly women - and call for an end to the funding of communal=20
organisations. There were 10 women's groups present who had combined=20
to form an umbrella organisation called Asian Women Unite (AWU).

"All these groups have been very active over the years, working in=20
areas like domestic violence, immigration, and rehabilitation of=20
refugees," says Amrit Wilson, one of the main forces behind Asian=20
Women Unite. "After the riots in Gujarat, we decided to join forces."

The women's groups united under the common banner include well-known=20
organisations like Southall Black Sisters (who hit the headlines=20
after they won a landmark judgment in the case of Kiranjit Ahluwalia,=20
who was released after killing her husband following years of=20
domestic violence), the Newham Asian Women's Project, Brent Asian=20
Women Resource Centre, Dosti, Asha and South Asian Solidarity. Since=20
Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshis all work closely in these=20
groups, the movement found that it was easy to bring the communities=20
together on the issue of communalism. "It was important for us to=20
have a secular platform, "says Wilson. "AWU may have a broad range of=20
political views, but the bottom line has been communal harmony."

In their meetings, Wilson and her compatriots have been targeting=20
ordinary Asian women who have never been politically active. They are=20
talking to them about what is happening in Gujarat and other parts of=20
the country and how it affects all of them. "We have been saying that=20
VHP-UK, Sewa and other Britain-based charities are actively=20
collecting funds which are then diverted to their units in India,"=20
says Wilson. "We want to expose the real status of these=20
organisations. Sewa International says on its website that it is part=20
of the Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh and works according to the Sangh=20
ideology. This is a charity that was very active during the Gujarat=20
earthquake and collected hundreds and thousands of pounds. We have=20
evidence that the money was used by Sangh Parivar activists in=20
Gujarat who have been directly involved in the recent rioting."

That AWU's strategy to combat communalism is working is evident from=20
the several public meetings that the group has successfully held in=20
Southall and central London. They have been attended by ordinary=20
people interested in knowing more. Women in hijabs have sat next to=20
Hindu housewives and expressed anguish at the events in Gujarat.=20
Wilson says that people have come up after meetings saying they had=20
no idea that donations were being misused and that they would think=20
again before giving any money to these charities.

Women have always been at the forefront of South Asian activism in=20
Britain. Wilson herself - who has been based in Britain since the=20
Sixties and is part of the first generation of activists - belongs to=20
South Asia Solidarity, a group that was set up nearly two decades=20
ago. At that time, the group was protesting against the treatment=20
meted out to artists who had come to the UK for the Festival of=20
India. "We soon became active on democratic issues, repression in=20
South Asia, immigration laws, racism and other related issues," says=20
Wilson, whose book, Finding a Voice - Asian Women in Britain, created=20
waves as soon as it was published in 1979.

Wilson points out that most South Asian men in Britain - when it came=20
to activism - were worried only about racism. "When we came in, we=20
started looking at other issues as well. We soon realised that the=20
South Asian community in Britain was intensely patriarchal. In fact=20
some aspects of our society were even more violent here than in South=20
Asia. Young married women could be abused and had no recourse to=20
justice. From 1979-80, a strong movement emerged for the protection=20
of women and the first Asian women's refuge centres were set up."

Wilson and her fellow women activists soon discovered that as women,=20
they were up against two systems, the British government and society=20
and the patriarchal Asian society. "We realised that racism was=20
creating a situation where women were being locked up within the=20
community so they would be protected from the racism outside. But at=20
the same time, if women aspired for freedom, people would sneer,=20
saying they were trying to 'become white'," the activist explains.

Wilson points out that in Muslim-majority areas like Bradford, there=20
was a dangerous trend of the right-wing British National Party (BNP)=20
aligning with the VHP and the BJP against Muslims. "As if the BNP=20
could ever be able to differentiate one Asian from another," she=20
laughs. "We are all 'Pakis' as far as they are concerned. But the=20
trend is worrying."

Today the groups that once led working-class Asian women out on the=20
streets, are focussing on communalism, war and the nuclear build-up=20
in the sub-continent. Recently, in a unique display of solidarity,=20
nearly 200 Indians and Pakistanis formed a human chain outside 10=20
Downing Street calling on Britain to stop exporting arms to the=20
sub-continent. "We see communalism as a dangerous force, one that is=20
linked to the development of the Indian state," says Wilson.

The women's groups now plan to hold several meetings in local=20
community centres up and down the country where there are large=20
pockets of South Asians. Meetings in Newham and Bradford have been=20
planned. A group of eight British MPs from the Labour Party has=20
announced that it will visit Gujarat to get a first hand picture of=20
the situation there. The group will also visit Kashmir in October.

Sareswala, who along with other Gujarati Muslims is calling for=20
compensation for British victims, says it is amazing to see how=20
little awareness there was in Britain of the situation back home.=20
Hopefully, however, things look set to change now. "We have a long=20
way to go," she says. "But a very positive beginning has been made,=20
and that is good."

_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

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