In March 2007, I visited Laar town and met many persons from the scavenger community. Many of the sweepers who came and narrated their plight had not got their salaries since the appointment in the Nagar Palika. Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav, the then chief minister was on a spree to announce various schemes and one of them was 'jobs' 'reserved' of sweepers for the Valmikis or scavenger community. In the eastern Uttar-Pradesh, they do not use the term Balmikis/Valmiks for the sweeper. Instead there are people from the communities of Rawats, Bansfors, Helas, Mehtars who are engaged in scavenging work. Many of the women narrated their plight and how they wish to get out of the scavenging hell.
A report was submitted to National Human Rights Commission and after which the commission, it seems, issued notices to the state government. We realized that after it the municipal authorities approached the Sweepers and those who were engaged in scavenging to leave their work otherwise face severe consequences in the form of dismissal or jail. It was like the victims themselves were being victimized for the century old exploitation they faced without any dilution.
Pain of contract workers
That time too, all those working on contract had not got their salaries for seven months. Those who joined the municipality in the hope it would ultimately relieve them from indignity of manual scavenging later felt betrayed, for they not only lost their earlier work but now had no chance to go another work.
To find out what was the latest happening there, I visited Laar last month to find out the condition of the people and their depressing condition. As being reported here that manual scavenging is still going despite the denial by Nagar Palika. In fact, we have not only recorded the entire event in video but also got affidavit from the families and large part of text is being produced here. It is unfortunate that all the government's measures to eliminate scavenging are half hearted and lack sincerity and conviction. That time too our investigations revealed how the Swachchakar Vimukti programme has failed and gone in the hand of middlemen. The officers have got a new tool to exploit people.
It is unfortunate that the Safai Karmcharis had to resort to strike for their legitimate right just a few days ago, which ended after administration's highhandedness and duplicity. The administration played its dubious role. One month salary was paid last month but ultimately till date it has now been informed that over 8 months salary is still due and the Nagar Palika has done very little to repair the damage. Instead, the Safai Karmcharis were threatened and we are informed Rs 500/- was given to each of the karmcharis to keep away from striking further. A small penny therefore divided the community, which has lost all hope.
What will happen to a community, which does not get its legitimate amount even when that is much below the 'normal limit' of decency? Why are the safai karmcharis at the receiving end at each nagar palikas. When the work on contract was publicized by Mr Mulayam Singh Yadav, in many municipalities we received complaint or even appreciation that even the backward and upper castes were applying for sweeper's job. It has now been revealed that all these OBCs or Upper castes, working in municipalities in the name of sweeper do not really mix up with the sweeper community and some of them are benami sweepers. When the sweeper community does not get paid up salary for over 7 months, it reverse back to scavenging, a profession that government and nagar-palikas claims to have vanished. In Laar and other towns and villages of India, it is still prevalent and we have not only recorded evidence but also people on affidavit claiming they are engaged in the work.
Back to scavenging
In the Laar town the Mehtar community is still carrying the nightsoil. Around 10 women are still involved in the work. The national Scavenger Liberation Scheme has failed because of malfunctioning and corruption in the scheme, which never reach the poor. These 10 women are doing the manual scavenging work in nearly 110 houses.
As you may be aware of the fact that Social Development Foundation had earlier also given a report regarding Laar but so far we do not know what action has been taken. We have been given the impression by the scavenger community that after the report was send by NHRC, the Nagar Palika official went to the locality and threatened those who were allegedly involved in the scavenging work.
Rehabilitation of scavenger should be the utmost priority of the government but elimination of scavenging cannot be done by half hearted publicity measures, which the authorities are involved in. It will require lot of commitment and sincerity on part of bureaucracy and the officers. Unfortunately, that seems to be lacking in most of the towns in Uttar-Pradesh. If removal of scavenging is forcefully prohibited without providing an amicable and dignified solution, then we are afraid the situation would go out of control.
The municipality officials not only threatened the husbands of the women involved in scavenging but also did not give them any other opportunity of survival with dignity. No action is normally taken against the municipalities who have failed with the compliance. Women are not being given any job opportunity by the Nagar Palikas resulting in their returning to old profession. Further, none of those who are working with the municipality have got any salary for the past seven months. We are still amused as why the authorities find it difficult to pay to those who keep their cities clean. It is said that the government is providing an alternative to scavenging in the form of providing employment to those who are involved in scavenging. Yet, as our report suggest, women have got no employment as well as those who got appointment on contract basis have not got any salary for the past seven month. The result is that their wives have started returning to their traditional occupation. The condition of the scavenger community is a matter of grave concern but our governments and civil society organizations have failed to respond to the issue. They are virtually suffering in indignity and humiliation. On the one hand the municipal officials threaten them with dire consequences, on the other side, there is no way they will get a job. It is a usual phenomena in Uttar-Pradesh that the Safai-Karmcharis never get their salary on time. Normally it takes six months to get their salaries. Government expects them to be rehabilitated. Their children do not get opportunity to sit with upper caste students. The women folks later resort to manual scavenging because it help them get not only a peanut for their survival but mainly they are able to get loans for local people for running their families.
According to report appeared in local newspaper Dainik Jagaran that 46 people were charged under this. For the financial year 2006-2007 about Rs 58 lakh came to the municipality but only Rs 9 lakh were used. No one knows about other Rs 49 lakh. More than 110 houses have still dry latrines. In January, it was reported that FIR was lodged against 17 persons. In March 2006, DUDA has lodged FIR against 29 persons (Dainik Jagaran, Gorakhpur, September 8 th, 2007).
Work without payment
In his affidavit Krishna s/o Vishwnath said that he was given appointment on contract by the Laar Nagarpalika. But more than 7 months have passed and yet they have got no salary. Whenever she tried to contact the chairman of the Nagar Panchayat, he has been thrown away and is being threatened of being dismissal from the job. It is very difficult to run the family on credit. In the absence of no salary for the past seven months, his family and children are suffering in indignity, hunger and depression.
Sadabriksha has three children who do not go to school. For seven months of work, he was unable to get any salary. They go early morning at six and return at 10. Again for the day shift they go at 2.00 pm and return at 6 pm.
Gita, wife of Dilip has on record mentioned that she is still doing the manual scavenging work in more than 10 houses of Laar town. Mr Bakhsi in the Nagar Panchayat is forcing us to leave this work and got her signed at a blank paper. She was promised work under contract in Nagar Palika but never got it. However, her husband is a sweeper on contract in the Nagar-Palika and have got no salary for the past seven months. How do the government expect them to get rid of this vicious circle when they are not interested. Now, Gita claims that the municipality is threatening her husband with dire consequences if she does not leave her work.
Basanti wife of Krishna charged the municipality of threatening her to leave the manual scavenging work. ' I was promised work on contract but till date, I have got nothing. My husband was given work on contract and now it is over 7 month that we are without any money. I cannot open a shop and start selling things. One we do not have the money and second no body would buy any product from us. When people keep away distances from us how are they going to accept us other than sweeping and cleaning. But we are ready to any other work if alternative is given. Though I have left the work but what is the option. How do my children go to school in the absence of any income, she said.
Kanhaiya is a sweeper on contract at the Nagar Palika but because of non-payment of salaries his condition is worsening. He is a student of 12 th standard but unfortunately he got no work. He is married and unable to run his family. Now, even the shopkeepers do not give us things on credit.
Subhawati wife of Ram Pyare is engaged in the manual scavenging work in nearly 15 houses in Laar. She charge municipal corporations officer Mr Bakhsi for taking her signature in plain paper under the pretext that she would get work. So far she has got nothing. Instead she is being threatened that her husband would be dismissed. 'My husband is working in the municipality on contract yet nothing has been paid to him in the past seven months. Now the government says that you leave manual scavenging but what is it giving to us for our survival', she said.
Gaura Devi wife of Bechu works in 10-15 houses. She gets rupees 10 per months for her work, which cannot survive her along with her three children. Unfortunately, because of the economy of indebtedness has an important role in the community's inability to get out of the profession. Nowhere the municipalities are known to be paying salaries to sweepers on time. Most of the time they get their salaries after six to seven months. Therefore the women folks have to resort to manual scavenging as they remain in the good books of the upper castes and can extract some cash credit in the time of emergency.
Vidyawati w/o Harinder is also engaged in six to seven homes. She has the same argument that when the government does not provide them anything, how can they leave the work. Nagar Palika has promised them work but so far nothing has materialized.
Sushila Devi w/o Ramchander said that she was called by the municipality for a job but later denied me a job because my son got a job in the municipality. It is difficult to run the family and in the absence of salaried paid for over seven months. Now, we are in difficult condition as our children are virtually starving. Who will think of sending them to schools? I will have to resort to manual scavenging again to get food on credit to run my family says, Sushila.
Lilawati Devi has no work. Her husband Om Prakash is also jobless. They have four children and all starving at the moment. Municipal officials asked us to leave this work but provided no alternative. What do we do? After all, we have to work for our livelihood and we do not get anything else.
Kamala Devi wife of Basant was doing work previously but after the municipality promised them work, she left manual scavenging. I was asked to sign on a blank paper and informed that my job has been confirmed. When she went to the municipality she was told to get out. She has big family of 10 people to support and her husband has no work at the moment.
Rajan Kumar is working in the municipality on contract and is depressed at the moment as he can not go to any other job in the absence of non payment of salaries for past seven Months.
Shambhunath is a permanent sweeper in Nagarpalika, working for over 25 years. At the moment he is getting Rs 7000/- per month. He says on the discrimination against his community that he never got promotion in the municipality as a Safai Nayak. Till date not a single person from the Balmiki community has been appointed as supervisor. The other community people who never get involved in sweeping and cleaning are appointed as supervisor. We all clean dirty lanes, Nalis, sever etc but without any mask, globe or shoes. Whenever we tried to ask question regarding our safety, we have been threatened away.
According to Basant, there are number of Safai Karmacharis who can be termed as 'benami'. Many people from upper caste Muslims and backward communities have been appointed in the sweepers job on contract but they never come along with us to clean and sweep the street. They normally do office work and later many of them got promoted as supervisors.
Conclusion: The aim of this write up is to bring to the notice the persistently denigrating conditions of the swachchakar community in various parts of Uttar-Pradesh. We will continue to bring out reports on prevailing situation and where has our governance failed. We would warn the authorities not to go on exploiting our report and torturing the people who are in the profession. Aim is that the authorities should introspect and provide decent employment to people from this community. There should be income generation programme for the community and special school targeted to help the community's new young children. Most importantly municipalities must be penalized for not being able to rehabilitate the community and holding up their salaries for so many months . Special focus should be given to women, as it is they are one hundred percent involved in scavenging. Swachchakar Vimukti Yojana needs to be channalised through Non Governmental Organisations and not through the government officials. All the scavenger women should be provided alternative and decent employment. The Swachchakar community needs special treatment. May be government can fix a quota for the educated youth of Swachchakar community in the jobs other than sweeping and scavenging. That would be the first step from the government side to delink the community from its traditional occupation, a burden it still is carrying on its vast soldiers. It is time we wake up and bring dignity to our work and fellow workers and stop this greatest sin of our time.
The Swachchakar community needs to be liberated from this living hell at the moment. Their locality has no water supply. Dirt everywhere and in the absence any proper sewage system, they throw the human excreta in the stale water. I was amazed to find the same women after doing their work washed their hand in the same water they threw the garbage. It needs to be seen how this community is surviving in filth. It reflect of our betrayal to the community that even fifty years after independence we have not been able to modernize our life style and most importantly our thoughts remain completely out of date and racist in nature. That a community is made to clean your dirt and this thing is still happening in India is a shame which we all have ourselves to blame, most importantly the political class for whom they become a 'vote bank'. It is time we get out of this mindset, involve ourselves in the national mission of liberation of manual scavengers and the first thing could be penalizing the officials and Nagar Palikas if they do not rehabilitate the community and exploit them.
By Vidya Bhushan Rawat
(P.S: Copies of affidavits of some of the swachchakars from Laar town are being send to National Human Rights Commission, National Scheduled Caste Commission as well as Chief Minister of Uttar-Pradesh, along with our previous report and list of people.)
Showing posts with label Matters of Human Rights. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matters of Human Rights. Show all posts
Friday, 26 October 2007
Monday, 10 September 2007
The Girl Blogger From Baghdad Leaves Home
Two months ago, the suitcases were packed. My lone, large suitcase sat in my bedroom for nearly six weeks, so full of clothes and personal items, that it took me, E. and our six year old neighbor to zip it closed.
Packing that suitcase was one of the more difficult things I’ve had to do. It was Mission Impossible: Your mission, R., should you choose to accept it is to go through the items you’ve accumulated over nearly three decades and decide which ones you cannot do without. The difficulty of your mission, R., is that you must contain these items in a space totaling 1 m by 0.7 m by 0.4 m. This, of course, includes the clothes you will be wearing for the next months, as well as any personal memorabilia- photos, diaries, stuffed animals, CDs and the like.
I packed and unpacked it four times. Each time I unpacked it, I swore I’d eliminate some of the items that were not absolutely necessary. Each time I packed it again, I would add more ‘stuff’ than the time before. E. finally came in a month and a half later and insisted we zip up the bag so I wouldn’t be tempted to update its contents constantly.
The decision that we would each take one suitcase was made by my father. He took one look at the box of assorted memories we were beginning to prepare and it was final: Four large identical suitcases were purchased- one for each member of the family and a fifth smaller one was dug out of a closet for the documentation we’d collectively need- graduation certificates, personal identification papers, etc.
We waited… and waited… and waited. It was decided we would leave mid to late June- examinations would be over and as we were planning to leave with my aunt and her two children- that was the time considered most convenient for all involved. The day we finally appointed as THE DAY, we woke up to an explosion not 2 km away and a curfew. The trip was postponed a week. The night before we were scheduled to travel, the driver who owned the GMC that would take us to the border excused himself from the trip- his brother had been killed in a shooting. Once again, it was postponed.
There was one point, during the final days of June, where I simply sat on my packed suitcase and cried. By early July, I was convinced we would never leave. I was sure the Iraqi border was as far away, for me, as the borders of Alaska. It had taken us well over two months to decide to leave by car instead of by plane. It had taken us yet another month to settle on Syria as opposed to Jordan. How long would it take us to reschedule leaving?
It happened almost overnight. My aunt called with the exciting news that one of her neighbors was going to leave for Syria in 48 hours because their son was being threatened and they wanted another family on the road with them in another car- like gazelles in the jungle, it’s safer to travel in groups. It was a flurry of activity for two days. We checked to make sure everything we could possibly need was prepared and packed. We arranged for a distant cousin of my moms who was to stay in our house with his family to come the night before we left (we can’t leave the house empty because someone might take it).
It was a tearful farewell as we left the house. One of my other aunts and an uncle came to say goodbye the morning of the trip. It was a solemn morning and I’d been preparing myself for the last two days not to cry. You won’t cry, I kept saying, because you’re coming back. You won’t cry because it’s just a little trip like the ones you used to take to Mosul or Basrah before the war. In spite of my assurances to myself of a safe and happy return, I spent several hours before leaving with a huge lump lodged firmly in my throat. My eyes burned and my nose ran in spite of me. I told myself it was an allergy.
We didn’t sleep the night before we had to leave because there seemed to be so many little things to do… It helped that there was no electricity at all- the area generator wasn’t working and ‘national electricity’ was hopeless. There just wasn’t time to sleep.
The last few hours in the house were a blur. It was time to go and I went from room to room saying goodbye to everything. I said goodbye to my desk- the one I’d used all through high school and college. I said goodbye to the curtains and the bed and the couch. I said goodbye to the armchair E. and I broke when we were younger. I said goodbye to the big table over which we’d gathered for meals and to do homework. I said goodbye to the ghosts of the framed pictures that once hung on the walls, because the pictures have long since been taken down and stored away- but I knew just what hung where. I said goodbye to the silly board games we inevitably fought over- the Arabic Monopoly with the missing cards and money that no one had the heart to throw away.
I knew then as I know now that these were all just items- people are so much more important. Still, a house is like a museum in that it tells a certain history. You look at a cup or stuffed toy and a chapter of memories opens up before your very eyes. It suddenly hit me that I wanted to leave so much less than I thought I did.
Six AM finally came. The GMC waited outside while we gathered the necessities- a thermos of hot tea, biscuits, juice, olives (olives?!) which my dad insisted we take with us in the car, etc. My aunt and uncle watched us sorrowfully. There’s no other word to describe it. It was the same look I got in my eyes when I watched other relatives and friends prepare to leave. It was a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, tinged with anger. Why did the good people have to go?
I cried as we left- in spite of promises not to. The aunt cried… the uncle cried. My parents tried to be stoic but there were tears in their voices as they said their goodbyes. The worst part is saying goodbye and wondering if you’re ever going to see these people again. My uncle tightened the shawl I’d thrown over my hair and advised me firmly to ‘keep it on until you get to the border’. The aunt rushed out behind us as the car pulled out of the garage and dumped a bowl of water on the ground, which is a tradition- its to wish the travelers a safe return… eventually.
The trip was long and uneventful, other than two checkpoints being run by masked men. They asked to see identification, took a cursory glance at the passports and asked where we were going. The same was done for the car behind us. Those checkpoints are terrifying but I’ve learned that the best technique is to avoid eye-contact, answer questions politely and pray under your breath. My mother and I had been careful not to wear any apparent jewelry, just in case, and we were both in long skirts and head scarves.
The trip was long and uneventful, other than two checkpoints being run by masked men. They asked to see identification, took a cursory glance at the passports and asked where we were going. The same was done for the car behind us. Those checkpoints are terrifying but I’ve learned that the best technique is to avoid eye-contact, answer questions politely and pray under your breath. My mother and I had been careful not to wear any apparent jewelry, just in case, and we were both in long skirts and head scarves.
Syria is the only country, other than Jordan, that was allowing people in without a visa. The Jordanians are being horrible with refugees. Families risk being turned back at the Jordanian border, or denied entry at Amman Airport. It’s too high a risk for most families.
We waited for hours, in spite of the fact that the driver we were with had ‘connections’, which meant he’d been to Syria and back so many times, he knew all the right people to bribe for a safe passage through the borders. I sat nervously at the border. The tears had stopped about an hour after we’d left Baghdad. Just seeing the dirty streets, the ruins of buildings and houses, the smoke-filled horizon all helped me realize how fortunate I was to have a chance for something safer.
By the time we were out of Baghdad, my heart was no longer aching as it had been while we were still leaving it. The cars around us on the border were making me nervous. I hated being in the middle of so many possibly explosive vehicles. A part of me wanted to study the faces of the people around me, mostly families, and the other part of me, the one that’s been trained to stay out of trouble the last four years, told me to keep my eyes to myself- it was almost over.
It was finally our turn. I sat stiffly in the car and waited as money passed hands; our passports were looked over and finally stamped. We were ushered along and the driver smiled with satisfaction, “It’s been an easy trip, Alhamdulillah,” he said cheerfully.
As we crossed the border and saw the last of the Iraqi flags, the tears began again. The car was silent except for the prattling of the driver who was telling us stories of escapades he had while crossing the border. I sneaked a look at my mother sitting beside me and her tears were flowing as well. There was simply nothing to say as we left Iraq. I wanted to sob, but I didn’t want to seem like a baby. I didn’t want the driver to think I was ungrateful for the chance to leave what had become a hellish place over the last four and a half years.
The Syrian border was almost equally packed, but the environment was more relaxed. People were getting out of their cars and stretching. Some of them recognized each other and waved or shared woeful stories or comments through the windows of the cars. Most importantly, we were all equal. Sunnis and Shia, Arabs and Kurds… we were all equal in front of the Syrian border personnel.
We were all refugees- rich or poor. And refugees all look the same- there’s a unique expression you’ll find on their faces- relief, mixed with sorrow, tinged with apprehension. The faces almost all look the same.
The first minutes after passing the border were overwhelming. Overwhelming relief and overwhelming sadness… How is it that only a stretch of several kilometers and maybe twenty minutes, so firmly segregates life from death?
How is it that a border no one can see or touch stands between car bombs, militias, death squads and… peace, safety? It’s difficult to believe- even now. I sit here and write this and wonder why I can’t hear the explosions.
I wonder at how the windows don’t rattle as the planes pass overhead. I’m trying to rid myself of the expectation that armed people in black will break through the door and into our lives. I’m trying to let my eyes grow accustomed to streets free of road blocks, hummers and pictures of Muqtada and the rest…
How is it that all of this lies a short car ride away?
By Baghdad Burning
Packing that suitcase was one of the more difficult things I’ve had to do. It was Mission Impossible: Your mission, R., should you choose to accept it is to go through the items you’ve accumulated over nearly three decades and decide which ones you cannot do without. The difficulty of your mission, R., is that you must contain these items in a space totaling 1 m by 0.7 m by 0.4 m. This, of course, includes the clothes you will be wearing for the next months, as well as any personal memorabilia- photos, diaries, stuffed animals, CDs and the like.
I packed and unpacked it four times. Each time I unpacked it, I swore I’d eliminate some of the items that were not absolutely necessary. Each time I packed it again, I would add more ‘stuff’ than the time before. E. finally came in a month and a half later and insisted we zip up the bag so I wouldn’t be tempted to update its contents constantly.
The decision that we would each take one suitcase was made by my father. He took one look at the box of assorted memories we were beginning to prepare and it was final: Four large identical suitcases were purchased- one for each member of the family and a fifth smaller one was dug out of a closet for the documentation we’d collectively need- graduation certificates, personal identification papers, etc.
We waited… and waited… and waited. It was decided we would leave mid to late June- examinations would be over and as we were planning to leave with my aunt and her two children- that was the time considered most convenient for all involved. The day we finally appointed as THE DAY, we woke up to an explosion not 2 km away and a curfew. The trip was postponed a week. The night before we were scheduled to travel, the driver who owned the GMC that would take us to the border excused himself from the trip- his brother had been killed in a shooting. Once again, it was postponed.
There was one point, during the final days of June, where I simply sat on my packed suitcase and cried. By early July, I was convinced we would never leave. I was sure the Iraqi border was as far away, for me, as the borders of Alaska. It had taken us well over two months to decide to leave by car instead of by plane. It had taken us yet another month to settle on Syria as opposed to Jordan. How long would it take us to reschedule leaving?
It happened almost overnight. My aunt called with the exciting news that one of her neighbors was going to leave for Syria in 48 hours because their son was being threatened and they wanted another family on the road with them in another car- like gazelles in the jungle, it’s safer to travel in groups. It was a flurry of activity for two days. We checked to make sure everything we could possibly need was prepared and packed. We arranged for a distant cousin of my moms who was to stay in our house with his family to come the night before we left (we can’t leave the house empty because someone might take it).
It was a tearful farewell as we left the house. One of my other aunts and an uncle came to say goodbye the morning of the trip. It was a solemn morning and I’d been preparing myself for the last two days not to cry. You won’t cry, I kept saying, because you’re coming back. You won’t cry because it’s just a little trip like the ones you used to take to Mosul or Basrah before the war. In spite of my assurances to myself of a safe and happy return, I spent several hours before leaving with a huge lump lodged firmly in my throat. My eyes burned and my nose ran in spite of me. I told myself it was an allergy.
We didn’t sleep the night before we had to leave because there seemed to be so many little things to do… It helped that there was no electricity at all- the area generator wasn’t working and ‘national electricity’ was hopeless. There just wasn’t time to sleep.
The last few hours in the house were a blur. It was time to go and I went from room to room saying goodbye to everything. I said goodbye to my desk- the one I’d used all through high school and college. I said goodbye to the curtains and the bed and the couch. I said goodbye to the armchair E. and I broke when we were younger. I said goodbye to the big table over which we’d gathered for meals and to do homework. I said goodbye to the ghosts of the framed pictures that once hung on the walls, because the pictures have long since been taken down and stored away- but I knew just what hung where. I said goodbye to the silly board games we inevitably fought over- the Arabic Monopoly with the missing cards and money that no one had the heart to throw away.
I knew then as I know now that these were all just items- people are so much more important. Still, a house is like a museum in that it tells a certain history. You look at a cup or stuffed toy and a chapter of memories opens up before your very eyes. It suddenly hit me that I wanted to leave so much less than I thought I did.
Six AM finally came. The GMC waited outside while we gathered the necessities- a thermos of hot tea, biscuits, juice, olives (olives?!) which my dad insisted we take with us in the car, etc. My aunt and uncle watched us sorrowfully. There’s no other word to describe it. It was the same look I got in my eyes when I watched other relatives and friends prepare to leave. It was a feeling of helplessness and hopelessness, tinged with anger. Why did the good people have to go?
I cried as we left- in spite of promises not to. The aunt cried… the uncle cried. My parents tried to be stoic but there were tears in their voices as they said their goodbyes. The worst part is saying goodbye and wondering if you’re ever going to see these people again. My uncle tightened the shawl I’d thrown over my hair and advised me firmly to ‘keep it on until you get to the border’. The aunt rushed out behind us as the car pulled out of the garage and dumped a bowl of water on the ground, which is a tradition- its to wish the travelers a safe return… eventually.
The trip was long and uneventful, other than two checkpoints being run by masked men. They asked to see identification, took a cursory glance at the passports and asked where we were going. The same was done for the car behind us. Those checkpoints are terrifying but I’ve learned that the best technique is to avoid eye-contact, answer questions politely and pray under your breath. My mother and I had been careful not to wear any apparent jewelry, just in case, and we were both in long skirts and head scarves.
The trip was long and uneventful, other than two checkpoints being run by masked men. They asked to see identification, took a cursory glance at the passports and asked where we were going. The same was done for the car behind us. Those checkpoints are terrifying but I’ve learned that the best technique is to avoid eye-contact, answer questions politely and pray under your breath. My mother and I had been careful not to wear any apparent jewelry, just in case, and we were both in long skirts and head scarves.
Syria is the only country, other than Jordan, that was allowing people in without a visa. The Jordanians are being horrible with refugees. Families risk being turned back at the Jordanian border, or denied entry at Amman Airport. It’s too high a risk for most families.
We waited for hours, in spite of the fact that the driver we were with had ‘connections’, which meant he’d been to Syria and back so many times, he knew all the right people to bribe for a safe passage through the borders. I sat nervously at the border. The tears had stopped about an hour after we’d left Baghdad. Just seeing the dirty streets, the ruins of buildings and houses, the smoke-filled horizon all helped me realize how fortunate I was to have a chance for something safer.
By the time we were out of Baghdad, my heart was no longer aching as it had been while we were still leaving it. The cars around us on the border were making me nervous. I hated being in the middle of so many possibly explosive vehicles. A part of me wanted to study the faces of the people around me, mostly families, and the other part of me, the one that’s been trained to stay out of trouble the last four years, told me to keep my eyes to myself- it was almost over.
It was finally our turn. I sat stiffly in the car and waited as money passed hands; our passports were looked over and finally stamped. We were ushered along and the driver smiled with satisfaction, “It’s been an easy trip, Alhamdulillah,” he said cheerfully.
As we crossed the border and saw the last of the Iraqi flags, the tears began again. The car was silent except for the prattling of the driver who was telling us stories of escapades he had while crossing the border. I sneaked a look at my mother sitting beside me and her tears were flowing as well. There was simply nothing to say as we left Iraq. I wanted to sob, but I didn’t want to seem like a baby. I didn’t want the driver to think I was ungrateful for the chance to leave what had become a hellish place over the last four and a half years.
The Syrian border was almost equally packed, but the environment was more relaxed. People were getting out of their cars and stretching. Some of them recognized each other and waved or shared woeful stories or comments through the windows of the cars. Most importantly, we were all equal. Sunnis and Shia, Arabs and Kurds… we were all equal in front of the Syrian border personnel.
We were all refugees- rich or poor. And refugees all look the same- there’s a unique expression you’ll find on their faces- relief, mixed with sorrow, tinged with apprehension. The faces almost all look the same.
The first minutes after passing the border were overwhelming. Overwhelming relief and overwhelming sadness… How is it that only a stretch of several kilometers and maybe twenty minutes, so firmly segregates life from death?
How is it that a border no one can see or touch stands between car bombs, militias, death squads and… peace, safety? It’s difficult to believe- even now. I sit here and write this and wonder why I can’t hear the explosions.
I wonder at how the windows don’t rattle as the planes pass overhead. I’m trying to rid myself of the expectation that armed people in black will break through the door and into our lives. I’m trying to let my eyes grow accustomed to streets free of road blocks, hummers and pictures of Muqtada and the rest…
How is it that all of this lies a short car ride away?
By Baghdad Burning
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Israeli Forces Kill Six In Gaza Camp offensive
Israeli Occupation Forces (IOF) have killed six activists of the Palestinian resistance and have wounded four others and six civilians, including two children and a journalist, in the context of an offensive on al-Boreij refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip that has been ongoing since Thursday morning, 5 July 2007. According to investigations conducted by PCHR, IOF have prevented Palestinian medical crews from attending the wounded.
According to investigations conducted by PCHR, at approximately 02:30 on Thursday, 5 July 2007, an IOF infantry unit moved nearly 1,000 meters into al-Boreij refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip. IOF troops clashed with activists of the Palestinian resistance. In these clashes, three resistance activists were killed:
1) Mohammed Nayef 'Owaidat, 24;2) Ahmed Suleiman al-Qrainawi, 23; and3) Mohammed Jawad Siam, 35.
Later, military reinforcements, including aircrafts, arrived at the area to support the infantry unit. IOF raided a number of houses and transformed them into military sites. At approximately 04:30, an ambulance of Palestine Red Crescent Society moved towards the area as it received information that people were wounded in the area. IOF fired at the ambulance and held it medical crew, consisting of 'Azmi Hisham Abu Dala, 25, and Mohammed Khamis al-Salhi, 39, inside a house for four hours. IOF then released the medical crew, but kept the ambulance in the area. At approximately 11:00, a number of activists of the Palestinian resistance clashed with IOF. Soon, IOF fired an artillery shell at them. As a result, two resistance activists were instantly killed and a third one was wounded, but died from his wound at Shifa Hospital in Gaza City:
1) Mohammed Subhi Nour, 23;2) Mohammed 'Awadh Abu Gharqoud, 22; and3) Ahmed Nabeel Abu Jild, 21.
Additionally, six civilians, including two children and a cameraman of al-Aqsa Television, and four resistance activists were wounded by the IOF gunfire. Preliminary investigation conducted by PCHR's team revealed that the cameraman, Emad Ghanem, 22, was shot deliberately. Ghanem was first shot and fell down on the ground before he was shot for the second time while laying on the ground beside his camera. He currently suffers severe wounds as his both legs were amputated. IOF have also razed areas of agricultural land and have destroyed a number of roads. The IOF military operation is still ongoing, which threatens the lives of Palestinian civilians.
PCHR is gravely concerned over this latest escalation by IOF, and:
1) Condemns these latest crimes, which are part of a series of continuous crimes committed by IOF in the Occupied Palestinian Territory in disregard for the lives of Palestinian civilians, considering them a form of collective punishment against the Palestinian civilian population in violation of Article 33 of the Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War of 1949.
2) Points out that IOF do not pay attention to the principles of necessity and proportionality in using their full-fledged arsenal in civilian populated areas.
3) Calls upon the international community to immediately intervene to stop such crimes, and calls upon the High Contracting Parties to the Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War to fulfill their obligation under Article 1 of the Convention to ensure respect for the Convention in all circumstances, and their obligation under Article 146 to search for and prosecute those who are responsible for perpetrating grave breaches of the Convention, as such breaches constitute war crimes according to Article 147 of the Convention and the Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, and Relating to the Protection of Victims of International Armed Conflicts (Protocol I).
By Palestinian Centre for Human Rights
According to investigations conducted by PCHR, at approximately 02:30 on Thursday, 5 July 2007, an IOF infantry unit moved nearly 1,000 meters into al-Boreij refugee camp in the central Gaza Strip. IOF troops clashed with activists of the Palestinian resistance. In these clashes, three resistance activists were killed:
1) Mohammed Nayef 'Owaidat, 24;2) Ahmed Suleiman al-Qrainawi, 23; and3) Mohammed Jawad Siam, 35.
Later, military reinforcements, including aircrafts, arrived at the area to support the infantry unit. IOF raided a number of houses and transformed them into military sites. At approximately 04:30, an ambulance of Palestine Red Crescent Society moved towards the area as it received information that people were wounded in the area. IOF fired at the ambulance and held it medical crew, consisting of 'Azmi Hisham Abu Dala, 25, and Mohammed Khamis al-Salhi, 39, inside a house for four hours. IOF then released the medical crew, but kept the ambulance in the area. At approximately 11:00, a number of activists of the Palestinian resistance clashed with IOF. Soon, IOF fired an artillery shell at them. As a result, two resistance activists were instantly killed and a third one was wounded, but died from his wound at Shifa Hospital in Gaza City:
1) Mohammed Subhi Nour, 23;2) Mohammed 'Awadh Abu Gharqoud, 22; and3) Ahmed Nabeel Abu Jild, 21.
Additionally, six civilians, including two children and a cameraman of al-Aqsa Television, and four resistance activists were wounded by the IOF gunfire. Preliminary investigation conducted by PCHR's team revealed that the cameraman, Emad Ghanem, 22, was shot deliberately. Ghanem was first shot and fell down on the ground before he was shot for the second time while laying on the ground beside his camera. He currently suffers severe wounds as his both legs were amputated. IOF have also razed areas of agricultural land and have destroyed a number of roads. The IOF military operation is still ongoing, which threatens the lives of Palestinian civilians.
PCHR is gravely concerned over this latest escalation by IOF, and:
1) Condemns these latest crimes, which are part of a series of continuous crimes committed by IOF in the Occupied Palestinian Territory in disregard for the lives of Palestinian civilians, considering them a form of collective punishment against the Palestinian civilian population in violation of Article 33 of the Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War of 1949.
2) Points out that IOF do not pay attention to the principles of necessity and proportionality in using their full-fledged arsenal in civilian populated areas.
3) Calls upon the international community to immediately intervene to stop such crimes, and calls upon the High Contracting Parties to the Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War to fulfill their obligation under Article 1 of the Convention to ensure respect for the Convention in all circumstances, and their obligation under Article 146 to search for and prosecute those who are responsible for perpetrating grave breaches of the Convention, as such breaches constitute war crimes according to Article 147 of the Convention and the Protocol Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949, and Relating to the Protection of Victims of International Armed Conflicts (Protocol I).
By Palestinian Centre for Human Rights
Thursday, 5 July 2007
A women facing death sentence
An Open Letter to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs seeking legalassistance for the young Sri Lankan woman facing the death sentence by beheading in Saudi Arabia
Dr. Palitha
T.B. Kohona,
Secretary / Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Republic Building,Colombo 01, Sri Lanka.
Dear Dr. Kohona,
Re Rizana Nasik of Mutur--
the young girl facing death sentence by beheading:
Matter relating to legal assistance for her appeal.
I am sure you are aware of the death sentence pronounced on Rizana Nasik of Mutur by a Court in Saudi Arabia and who is now awaiting thedeath sentence. She still has time for filing an appeal which has tobe done soon. We have been informed that the Ministry of ForeignAffairs has been in contact with Rizana Nasik's family in Mutur. This family belongs to the lower income group and is totallyunable to meet the cost of litigation which according to your embassy sources in Saudi Arabia amounts to about Rs. 600,000. We alsounderstand that the father of Rizana Nasik has met Foreign Ministryofficials in Colombo and has already explained to them that thefamily does not have means to contribute to this appeal.
We also understand that the Sri Lankan embassy in Saudi Arabia hasalready made representations to the Ministry of Foreign Affairsrequesting funds to enable filing of this appeal. There also seems tobe good grounds for appeal since the entire case had been conducted in a language not understood by her and also without any meaningful interpretation provided to her. She had also not been legally represented at the trial. She is also quite young and is said to haveleft for employment a few months ago when she was only about 17 years of age. Furthermore the totality of evidence against her is supposedto be a confession which she had later withdrawn. In a foreign country under such circumstances and being of such young age, it isquite possible that she may have made the confession under duress.
Nonetheless, such defenses are hardly of much use within the legalsystem of Saudi Arabia. A Sri Lankan citizen--particularly ofthat young age--facing a criminal trial carrying the possibilityof the death sentence which within the particular jurisdiction is carried out rapidly Rizana Nasik would have deserved legal assistancefrom the embassy of her country from the very beginning. However, evenat this late stage, the Government of Sri Lanka owes it to this youngSri Lankan citizen to rapidly intervene and assist her. According tointerviews in the media, it appears that what prevents granting herlegal redress is some rule, regulation or policy that seems to denylegal assistance by the Sri Lankan Government to Sri Lankans migrating to other countries who are accused of criminal charges. I am sure you would agree that there is no legal basis to withdraw theprotection that the government of a particular country owes to itscitizens in this manner. Particularly, migrant workers who leave their countries for employment should not be deprived of legalprotection merely because they are accused of some crime. As you areaware, the Sri Lankan Constitution recognizes the presumption ofinnocence of a person until proven guilty.
It is hardly necessary to remind you of the fate of 4 other SriLankans who were beheaded recently--one of whom was in factsentenced only for 15 years of rigorous imprisonment. Even when thatmatter was being publicly discussed, Sri Lankan embassy officials in Saudi Arabia made promises to provide legal assistance to enablethese 4 persons to reviews their cases even at that last stage. The President of the country at the time, Chandrika Kumaratunga made apublic statement, which was published on the front page of some newspapers, that she will directly intervene with His Royal Highnessof Saudi Arabia to seek pardon on behalf of these 4 persons. The present President as Prime Minister then and later as President alsomade several public statements assuring that all attempts would be made to assist the 4 persons facing death sentence. However, when thedeath sentence was in fact carried out, no one--including embassyofficials in Saudi Arabia--was aware of it.
We are writing this to bring to your kind notice the pitiful plight of this young woman and to urge you to take all appropriate actionsto ensure that she will be provided with legal assistance to enableher to file this appeal. We also urge you to review any rule,regulation or policy that may exist obstructing the granting of protection owing to such a citizen.
Please sign the petition immediately to save Rizana at the following link:http://www.petitiononline.com/rizana1/petition.html
We hope that you will graciously and expeditiously intervene in thismatter.
Thanking you,
Yours faithfully,
Moon Jeong Ho
Programme Officer,
Urgent Appeals Desk.
Asian Human Rights Commission, Hong Kong
Dr. Palitha
T.B. Kohona,
Secretary / Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Republic Building,Colombo 01, Sri Lanka.
Dear Dr. Kohona,
Re Rizana Nasik of Mutur--
the young girl facing death sentence by beheading:
Matter relating to legal assistance for her appeal.
I am sure you are aware of the death sentence pronounced on Rizana Nasik of Mutur by a Court in Saudi Arabia and who is now awaiting thedeath sentence. She still has time for filing an appeal which has tobe done soon. We have been informed that the Ministry of ForeignAffairs has been in contact with Rizana Nasik's family in Mutur. This family belongs to the lower income group and is totallyunable to meet the cost of litigation which according to your embassy sources in Saudi Arabia amounts to about Rs. 600,000. We alsounderstand that the father of Rizana Nasik has met Foreign Ministryofficials in Colombo and has already explained to them that thefamily does not have means to contribute to this appeal.
We also understand that the Sri Lankan embassy in Saudi Arabia hasalready made representations to the Ministry of Foreign Affairsrequesting funds to enable filing of this appeal. There also seems tobe good grounds for appeal since the entire case had been conducted in a language not understood by her and also without any meaningful interpretation provided to her. She had also not been legally represented at the trial. She is also quite young and is said to haveleft for employment a few months ago when she was only about 17 years of age. Furthermore the totality of evidence against her is supposedto be a confession which she had later withdrawn. In a foreign country under such circumstances and being of such young age, it isquite possible that she may have made the confession under duress.
Nonetheless, such defenses are hardly of much use within the legalsystem of Saudi Arabia. A Sri Lankan citizen--particularly ofthat young age--facing a criminal trial carrying the possibilityof the death sentence which within the particular jurisdiction is carried out rapidly Rizana Nasik would have deserved legal assistancefrom the embassy of her country from the very beginning. However, evenat this late stage, the Government of Sri Lanka owes it to this youngSri Lankan citizen to rapidly intervene and assist her. According tointerviews in the media, it appears that what prevents granting herlegal redress is some rule, regulation or policy that seems to denylegal assistance by the Sri Lankan Government to Sri Lankans migrating to other countries who are accused of criminal charges. I am sure you would agree that there is no legal basis to withdraw theprotection that the government of a particular country owes to itscitizens in this manner. Particularly, migrant workers who leave their countries for employment should not be deprived of legalprotection merely because they are accused of some crime. As you areaware, the Sri Lankan Constitution recognizes the presumption ofinnocence of a person until proven guilty.
It is hardly necessary to remind you of the fate of 4 other SriLankans who were beheaded recently--one of whom was in factsentenced only for 15 years of rigorous imprisonment. Even when thatmatter was being publicly discussed, Sri Lankan embassy officials in Saudi Arabia made promises to provide legal assistance to enablethese 4 persons to reviews their cases even at that last stage. The President of the country at the time, Chandrika Kumaratunga made apublic statement, which was published on the front page of some newspapers, that she will directly intervene with His Royal Highnessof Saudi Arabia to seek pardon on behalf of these 4 persons. The present President as Prime Minister then and later as President alsomade several public statements assuring that all attempts would be made to assist the 4 persons facing death sentence. However, when thedeath sentence was in fact carried out, no one--including embassyofficials in Saudi Arabia--was aware of it.
We are writing this to bring to your kind notice the pitiful plight of this young woman and to urge you to take all appropriate actionsto ensure that she will be provided with legal assistance to enableher to file this appeal. We also urge you to review any rule,regulation or policy that may exist obstructing the granting of protection owing to such a citizen.
Please sign the petition immediately to save Rizana at the following link:http://www.petitiononline.com/rizana1/petition.html
We hope that you will graciously and expeditiously intervene in thismatter.
Thanking you,
Yours faithfully,
Moon Jeong Ho
Programme Officer,
Urgent Appeals Desk.
Asian Human Rights Commission, Hong Kong
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