Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  Over six hundred women attended the conference, but Thawakkul was disappointed to note that less than ten were Muslims. Three women had come from the same organization in Puttalam. They had been evicted from the Northern Province by the LTTE and had been working towards setting up schemes for the betterment of the lives of Muslims in Puttalam.

  Muslim women had come from Kandy, Badulla, Trincomalee, Ampara and Colombo, but only one from each of these districts.

  ‘We invited more than eighty Muslims. However, it is very rare for Muslim women to agree to attend public functions,’ said Zelin, the head of the committee who had organized the conference.

  Thawakkul exchanged views and experiences with the other participants. The women who had come from Vanni were the stars of the event. This was their first time outside their province and they were enjoying being in a beautiful area that had escaped the devastation of the war. They were highly critical of the bloodbath that marked the final phase of the war and they put forward a number of questions.

  ‘Not one among the hundreds of humanitarian organizations came forward to help us. International and United Nations Human Rights Organizations seem to be merely nominal. The whole world was witness to the attempted genocide of an entire race of people. Are humanitarianism and human rights just stuff for banners and placards?’

  ‘We were ready to run to your aid, sister. We were longing to give a helping hand to others. However, the government hindered us and placed obstacles at every step of our way. Even today non-governmental agencies find it difficult to work in the affected areas. New rules are being enforced to ensure that non-governmental agencies cannot work independently; we need to co-operate with the government and need government permission for everything. The result is that our work has ground to a standstill. Workers in humanitarian organizations have had their requests for access permits denied,’ Zelin’s voice reflected her deep sorrow and disappointment.

  Another girl said, ‘The battle in Vanni was a gruesome massacre where witnesses have been forcibly silenced.’

  Although all the topics discussed were ones that Thawakkul was well familiar with, she nevertheless paid great attention to the way they were discussed. She listened very carefully to the women who had been personally affected to see how they talked about it.

  In the time allotted to her, Thawakkul spoke about war widows and the physically handicapped. She explained the reasons why it was important to help them. She especially dwelt on how important it was to look into the plight of the women who were former combatants and were now prisoners of war. She also spoke about the hurdles such people faced in their rehabilitation and reintegration into mainstream society and what could be done to ameliorate the situation.

  Thawakkul also expressed her anxieties about the Muslims who had been evicted from the northern areas and had taken refuge in other places, especially in Puttalam. She described how they had been banned from rehabilitation camps and denied the opportunity to make any kind of progress. She said that necessary steps had not been taken to deliver them from the curse that dogged them from generation to generation. She went on to say that one had to identify measures required to compensate the Muslims who had been driven out of their homes by the LTTE in a cynically conceived treacherous and secret manner.

  The entire Muslim minority in the country had been ignored and sidelined by both the government and the officially sponsored agencies in their rehabilitation and upliftment plans. She emphasized the need to enquire into their problems and find solutions. She solicited proposals for this to be put forward by human rights groups.

  When she finished her speech, various questions were raised. Some asked her why she was so interested in helping the ex-LTTE women.

  ‘You’re a Muslim, and you have been talking about Muslims who were forcibly evicted and about their social problems. It seems incongruous that you also talk about the ex-LTTE women, their life in society, and about the freedom of prisoners of war.’

  ‘There is nothing incongruous about it. Humanitarian work has nothing to do with racial or linguistic identities. I mentioned two different kinds of present-day problems that I felt were most important.’

  The president of the National Organization of the Human Rights Watch, Marzel, lauded Thawakkul’s courage and humanitarian concerns. Thawakkul had gained the attention of all the members of the conference.

  When the delayed lunch-break was announced, the women from Vanni came over to speak to Thawakkul with great affection. They told her that they considered this an opportunity to share all the pain and concerns that festered in their hearts.

  ‘All of us have been affected by the wars. There is not one among us that hasn’t suffered. To whom can we unburden ourselves? Who can and will console us?’

  They described the events that took place during the last battle.

  They felt a great need to talk about it. One woman told Thawakkul that her husband was killed during the Mullivaikkal battle by a shell attack, when they had been running from Mullivaikkal to an area under the army’s control. Her lips trembled and her eyes glistened with tears as she narrated this and the events that led up to it. ‘He had a wound below the knee which made it difficult for him to walk. I ran ahead carrying our two children. Shells were raining down. Men, women and children, running by our side, were dropping dead … people dying people moaning … Our hearts had turned to stone. We had no time to cry … we had to save ourselves, when suddenly, I turned and saw—’ She sobbed inconsolably. Her face darkened.

  ‘Don’t … why talk about something you ought to forget?’

  Thawakkul caught hold of the woman’s hands and pressed them. The woman managed to compose herself and continued. She seemed determined to at last divest herself of her burden of sorrow.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sight … his headless body was walking—’

  Thawakkul’s hair stood on end.

  ‘When I turned back to look at my husband, his head was not there…the people were running away from him in fear. Blood was dripping from his neck, but still he was walking. The hair on his broad chest was matted with clotting blood. I tried to go back to him. But his hands seemed to gesture to me to say, go, go! … After taking two or three steps, his body fell forward on his stomach. I just stood there, looking at him as he died. Even after his head had fallen, he still gestured to us to go … how can I ever forget the agony of that soul?

  ‘My older child, a girl, was seven … She too saw this sight but she did not recognize her father. But when she asked me who is that, ma, where is that man’s head, ma … my four-year-old son who was on my shoulder tried to turn around to see … but I turned his face away and ran…’

  The face of the woman now reflected the relief felt by someone who laid down the cross which she had borne for a very long time.

  Can such things happen? Can a headless man tell his wife and children to save themselves by using gestures?

  Tossing mutilated corpses of the massacred into an open pit, how could this peace last? In the opinion of millions like Thawakkul, this war that had just ended had nothing whatsoever to do with the rights of minorities or democracy.

  The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam had started their movement with the demand for a separate homeland, Eelam, for the Tamils in Sri Lanka. In order to establish what they considered justice, they forfeited any semblance of compassion and annihilated thousands of people. The body count rose. In retaliation, the government reciprocated the massacre. While the racial conflict based on humanitarian expectations was not resolved, the last battle was the victory of the Sri Lankan Army.

  It wasn’t the victory of the minorities or the victory of democracy or real peace.

  Yet another woman from Vanni narrated her experience: ‘My ten-year-old brothers, who were twins, died in a bunker along with nine other lads; my mother, who watched them die, has slowly gone insane with the trauma. They had used chemical weapons which spread a white vapour that seeped into the tunnels th
rough the sandbag barriers, killing in large numbers and in horrible ways. My father went missing in the fighting. I am twenty years old now and live with my mother who is a mental patient. If you come to the hospital in Vavuniya, you will know how many there are like us, who have lost their limbs and minds to the war.’

  At the conference there were women who supported the army as well as those who supported the LTTE. Thawakkul strongly criticized this partisanship. Despite having very different motives and ideologies, both strove to impose their own brand of imperialism on the people and in the process, people were killed.

  Thawakkul elucidated her views on the conditions of the war-affected Muslim women.

  Some of the Muslim women in the conference objected to this postulation by Thawakkul. One of the girls said that Islamic teachings do not say that Muslim women have no freedom or rights as Thawakkul implied.

  ‘I’m not saying anything that is anti-Islam. I’m merely spotlighting the actual state of affairs. How is it wrong to say that in today’s society a Muslim woman who has lost her husband is completely dependent on the males in the family for her day-to-day existence and in deciding the future of her children? If she has been economically weakened by the death of her husband, a Muslim woman willingly or unwillingly has to entrust herself and her children into the hands of other male members in the family; there is no doubt about this.’

  Marzel, struck by Thawakkul’s passion and concern and the clarity she showed in highlighting the plight of widows, drew her aside and told her that the Human Rights Watch was planning to work on these issues in Batticaloa and was hoping for Thawakkul’s help and co-operation. Marzel was appreciative of Thawakkul’s wide experience and knowledge.

  Marzel had a youthful appearance and did not look her age, which was over fifty. She wore loose-fitting clothes and had a charming smile. Her compassion made Marzel a truly beautiful human being, both on the inside and on the outside.

  Marzel had begun raising her voice for human rights ever since she was a young woman and had completely devoted her life to that cause.

  She shared with Thawakkul her views on the changes in human rights issues between the days of the civil war and the present day. She told her what her organization was doing about it at present and what they were planning for the future.

  Marzel also asked for, listened to and welcomed Thawakkul’s opinions. She delighted Thawakkul by approving her ideas and saying that her opinions were very relevant and deserved to be taken seriously.

  During their short time together, an inexplicable bond was forged between them. Thawakkul shared with Marzel the society’s opposition to her work and the pressure that she was under.

  Marzel’s response was, ‘You know your society and its traditions on the one hand and the methods you have adopted to pursue your goals on the other. You have to decide what your limits are. Why don’t you meet the religious leaders of your village and try and get their co-operation?’

  Thawakkul could not reply immediately to the question. Religious leaders were also in danger of harassment by elements in society. Anyway, who are the true religious leaders? Those who have acquired a profound understanding of the religion – or those who have grown a long beard and wear a skull-cap for identification? Many who have studied the religion properly do not wear a skull cap and do not grow a long beard, and many who wear the cap and grow their beards have no clarity in their understanding of religion. But many poorly-informed mullahs are revered by an equally ill-informed society. They misinterpret the holy words of the Quran and are past masters at confusing people.

  Thawakkul explained to Marzel that it was highly unlikely that the clergy would carry out the bidding of a girl and give her advice. Religious fundamentalists thrive on the belief that a woman is weak, incapable and knows nothing at all. Woman, made from a man’s rib, was created to give a man pleasure and comfort, and is useful for procreation. Other than that, she has no rights or freedom. Therefore, the question of helping or cooperating with a woman did not arise.

  All societies have enemies who don the garb of well-wishers and carp at everything that people do. To establish themselves and their views, they compile false evidence and even bring out pamphlets to propagate their views.

  There are also those within society who use religion or other parochialistic impulses to impede progress and improvements that could uplift the entire society. The list of bona fide religious leaders, scholars and leading social workers who have been silenced because of such people is very long. The weakened state of our present society is due to the withdrawal of many such good and brave people who feel that it is better to keep a distance from meaningless opposition and unsubstantiated accusations.

  Thawakkul’s conviction amazed and impressed Marzel. ‘Stay in touch with me. There may be opportunities for the two of us to work together.’

  Thawakkul too was very happy to have met Marzel and felt like a load had been lifted off her mind having shared her ideologies with the human rights activist. She had gained confidence and felt free and fearless after the invigorating talk with Marzel.

  Everyone was soon getting ready to leave, shaking hands and exchanging contact information in order to stay in touch. Thawakkul prepared to go to Colombo from Negombo to meet the president of the Widows Rehabilitation Centre, Wanasundara Bandara.

  2

  Yoga was carefully perusing Senbagam’s letter, although it seemed bizarre that Senbagam felt the need to write to her, considering that she lived right next door.

  According to Senbagam, a meeting was to take place in Sahayawathani’s house for those who had been affected by the war. She urged Yoga to go there with Kala. The date and time of the meeting were at the end of the letter.

  More than a week ago, Kala had noticed that the prosthesis had started to split and Yoga had begun using her crutch again.

  Days rolled by but there was no sign of any change in Yoga’s life. Confined to the four walls of her room, her feeling of helplessness and hopelessness chased away all her expectations. She tried to think of ways of finding out Sathuriyan’s whereabouts, but such speculations only ended in bitter disappointment.

  It was a month since she had come from the Vavuniya–Pampai camp. Each day seemed like a lifetime. By now she had, to some extent, become inured to the situation at home. She had learnt not to shed tears every time her Akka, Vathsala, blamed her for something. Vathsala had forbidden Yoga from interacting with her children. If her own sister had no affection for her, what would she get out of trying to develop any bond with her sister’s children?

  She had no expectations from her mother who was no longer speaking to her. The optimism with which she had returned home from Vanni had turned to dust. Vathsala expected Yoga to be as inconspicuous as the objects tidily arranged on shelves that blend into the background.

  ‘What was Senbagam Akka’s letter about?’ asked Kala.

  If it weren’t for Kala, Yoga would have been buried alive in a vat and forgotten. Yoga never ventured anywhere near the kitchen for fear that she would be shooed away. Kala brought food to her on a plate although Yoga always claimed she wasn’t hungry. She had made it a habit to eat only when she was really hungry and had begun to feel the ill effects of her self-imposed fasts.

  On days when Akka was in the house, Yoga didn’t dare to venture out of the room and go to the courtyard or just walk around. She would sit as unobtrusively as possible in a corner of Kala and Amma’s room. If Vathsala happened to see her, she would start an endless harangue. There were only two rooms in that house. Whenever the children ran into the room, Vathsala would scream, ‘Why are you running there? Don’t you dare look at that ill-omened creature’s face!’

  ‘What, Akka? No reply and lost in your thoughts?’

  Kala shook Yoga’s shoulders. Her thoughts and all the sorrows and worries that abounded in them ran very deep. Half our life we live in our imaginations.

  ‘They are holding a meeting for those who have been affected by the war
. Senbagam has asked me to attend it.’

  ‘That’s good, Akka. Let’s go. If it’s an organization doing this event, we could perhaps ask them to make you a new prosthesis. Where’s it going to be held?’

  Kala asked again very firmly, ‘Where is the meeting going to be held?’

  ‘Some Sahayawathani, she lives in our village, I believe. Senbagam says it is at that Sahayawathani’s house.’

  ‘Ah, Sahayawathani! I know that Akka. She works with a Muslim Akka. They’ve grouped the war widows and the injured into separate groups. Sahayawathani leads the groups here and was working here even before you arrived from Vavuniya. We should definitely go there.’

  Yoga stayed imprisoned at home like a watch-dog while everyone else would go out on their own errands. Although Yoga wanted to pray at the Siddhi Vinayakar temple, she didn’t want to tell anyone for fear of being slapped down. She consoled herself with the thought that God knew and understood her predicament. On Vinayaka Chathurthi day, she followed the ritual of wearing a yellow thread around her wrist and fasted at home.

  An incident that took place a few days ago had affected Yoga profoundly. However, she was careful not to make any mention of it as she did not want Kala, who showed so much affection for her, to feel hurt. She did not want Kala’s happiness to be affected in any way by anything she said or did.

  A few days ago, a ‘seeing the bride’ ritual had taken place at home. Akka and her husband had stayed at home for two days preparing delicacies and decorating the house. They said that the bridegroom’s family were prominent and important people who were very close to Vathsala’s husband. The prospective groom was educated and rich. He had glimpsed Kala at a wedding recently and had fallen head over heels in love with her. It was Akka’s and her husband’s hope that, if this proposal worked out, Kala could be married without any dowry. They therefore spared no efforts in refurbishing the house. Amma too was very hopeful about this.