Ummath

by Sharmila Seyyid

  When I was a little girl, my father was always preoccupied with his business affairs. We were allowed to meet our father once a day at a specified time which usually happened to be at dinner time. Perhaps he was keen that this be a happy time for everyone and so he never scolded us about anything. The onus of correcting us both verbally and corporally fell on Umma. Nevertheless, she is a very affectionate mother. Although both Umma and Vappa’s education had stopped with basic literacy, we were brought up with full gender equality and freedom like the children of educated modern parents. Vappa wasn’t an overbearing parent, he was always our good friend. However, he was reluctant to transgress the societal norms prevalent in Eravur. The people of Eravur were bound by their ideas of morality and religious strictures and even the boys were brought up in a very sheltered manner. In those days, a boy had to at least complete his tenth grade before his parents would even consider him fit to ride a bicycle! But Vappa flouted such rules and bought me a bicycle and I learnt to ride it at the age of six, using it regularly thereafter. Although we had a car and a van at home, I preferred to go to school on my bicycle. Because of this, people began moralizing to my parents about how to bring up daughters, but it was Vappa himself who taught me to ride the bicycle. After toiling all day, far away from home, he would return at night. I would eagerly wait all day for him. After nine o’clock at night, in the leafy avenue behind our house, he would teach me to ride my bicycle. The neighbours made fun of him. Even at the age of twelve, in a short dress that barely reached my knees, my uncovered hair in two plaits, I would cycle around and the neighbours would say that I was not brought up properly and blame my Umma and Vappa for it. They forbade their children from playing with me. I did not understand the significance of all that but I was happy to be able to do what I wanted. Even after I grew up, I was always considered an outsider and the people around looked askance at every action of mine. This state of affairs continues to this day. In any case, whatever the circumstances, my parents are my biggest source of strength. At any moment of crisis, major or minor, I look for the reassuring presence of Umma and Vappa.

  3. Could you tell me a little bit about your career, where you worked and your experiences as a Tamil Muslim woman in your place of work?

  I began my career as a journalist. I remember very well, in the year 2001, I was attending computer classes in Batticaloa, when a Batticaloa publication, the Thinakathir Daily News, to which I had contributed a few pieces, advertised for a trainee journalist. Upon seeing the advertisement, I went for the interview. There were people there who were sitting with files filled with recommendation letters and degree certificates; I sat there with my computer books in my hand. It was Mano Rajasingham himself, the proprietor of the newspaper, who interviewed me. He spoke to me like he would to a little girl. He first asked me if I had had lunch and then asked, ‘Do your parents know that you have come here?’ I told him that they did not and he asked me if I intended to work there without their knowledge. I told him that I would tell them if I got the job. He then asked me about our economic circumstances and having ascertained that we were not in dire straits and that I didn’t need to work while I waited for the results of my A-levels, he changed his manner of questioning. He asked me about my views on the state of the society, what I thought I could do to help and so on. After several such questions, he told me that I could go. When after a week I was informed by telephone that I had secured the position of trainee journalist, it was most unexpected. Going for the interview had been one of my usual acts of playful defiance. But I accepted that sudden change in life; I continued my computer classes and started working without anyone at home suspecting anything. It was only when I handed my first pay packet to Umma that they learnt about it. However, they were far from happy about it; they said that I had chosen a disastrous path because it was most unsuitable for a girl to work in the media and that too in a paper which, they claimed, was owned by the Tamil Tigers. Notwithstanding their strident objections, threats and punishments, I had begun my career. I worked there for almost a year. On 8 August 2002, at midnight, the offices of the Thinakathir were set on fire. It was said that the Tigers had done it. During those days, there were two factions within the Tigers, both shouting each other hoarse. The fire was a direct result of this infighting.

  While studying in Colombo, I also started working as a full-fledged journalist. I worked for some national newspapers; Virakesari Daily News, Idi Weekly and Navamani Weekly News. I also worked with a news agency called EC Ways Media News. Furthermore, I also contributed articles to Thinakaran, Thinakural, Sudar Oli and other Tamil publications. My stint in Virakesari lasted only a few months – the employment ended only because I was a Muslim girl. Even though he knew very well that I was from a very backward village and I didn’t speak Sinhala, the chief editor of that time asked me to go out and collect information. As such, this was not an unusual demand, but I was very new to Colombo. To me, the city was new as were the language and the people. I had no idea of what bus to take to go from one place to another. I didn’t even know how to ask for a bus-ticket in Sinhala. However, the chief editor of Virakesari didn’t want to give me time to learn the ropes. The reason; he was a Tamil Nationalist. Tamil Nationalists considered all Muslims their enemies. It was this political motivation that made him put me in that difficult position. I resigned. Here I must say that today in the same Virakesari office, I have a lot of friends and I know the current chief editor very well. Other than that experience, in no other place was I discriminated against for being a Muslim girl. I was given the space to grow, establish my own identity and nourish my talents. Until 2008 I worked as a journalist. But what I had learnt from my experiences as a journalist and my growing understanding of society drew me to an alternative path. I wanted to get out of this situation where all my time and energy were focussed on a journalistic career. Two developments of the time worried me: the backsliding of Sri Lanka’s press-freedom, and the forcible recruitment of little girls by the Tigers during the civil war. I wanted to do something about those issues.

  In order to protect their children and to make sure that they were not forced to fight in the war, Tamil parents began to get their daughters married at a very young age. When I wrote about this I was threatened by the Tigers. In the Sudar Oli magazine I wrote (under a pen-name) about the devious methods by which the army had occupied lands in the north-east and demanded that they withdraw from those lands. I received threats from the army. I felt that I had not achieved anything in the journalistic field except establish myself as an enemy to all. One thing that I did not realize at that time was that ultimately it was the government that was benefitting from all this, using both the Tigers and the Army to extend its reach and control.

  I ended my career in journalism with no regrets. I wanted to be the voice of those who had been affected by the war and more importantly I wanted to work for the upliftment of women. I began working with certain non-governmental social service organizations like the Muslim Women’s Research and Action Forum (MWRAF), the Association of Women with Disabilities and the Centre for Human Resource Development (known in Tamil as Viluthu). With my links to the International Movement against all Forms of Discrimination and Racism, I became aware of the importance of basic human rights. Nimalka Fernando, the head of that organization’s Asia Committee, a trained lawyer, is a great champion of minorities’ rights; she is someone I have the utmost regard and respect for. I can never forget the manner in which she gave me a base to work from. At the same time, I also worked as co-ordinator in the Ministry of Health, Sports and Information Technology in the Eastern Provincial Council (2008-2010).

  Still not satisfied with all that I was doing, I set up the Organization for Social Development (OSD). It was after this that I began to face all kinds of challenges. The challenges that I faced during the ten years I spent in Colombo were in no way unique, most girls in my position would have faced them. But the challenges and problems that I had to face when working in my ow
n village were ones that were unique to a Muslim girl. I had worked with Sinhalese as well as Tamils and gained their respect, but the Muslim society gave me none. A society that believes that only a purdah can secure the dignity of a woman could not accept my unveiled face. Another forum I worked with was the Association of Women with Disabilities. This organization had its headquarters in Anuradhapura and normally employed only Sinhalese. I had seen the job advertised in a newspaper and went for the interview. They hesitated at first because of my being a Muslim. ‘Muslim women do not have freedom’, ‘Muslim women live in a male-dominated society’ – such pre-conceived notions seemed to have made them react that way. But when I agreed to travel anywhere within the country that the job required me to go to, they selected me for it.

  Anuradhapura was a totally new place for me. When I went there to take up my new job, I found that no Muslim woman had ever worked in this organization before me. I was based in Batticaloa, but I had to travel to Anuradhapura once every month and when I went there I stayed in the places they had arranged for me and ate their food. The young Sinhala men who worked there were very friendly and never behaved in any kind of improper manner. I never felt insecure in their midst; it was only in a Muslim society that I felt threatened.

  4. You have mentioned a BBC interview. Can you tell us a little more about it?

  On 20 November 2012, I got a call from the BBC Tamil Section asking for my opinion on the legalization of prostitution. A proposal had been placed before the Upper House of Parliament to legalize prostitution; it was argued that it would increase tourist traffic into the country. In this context, the BBC was seeking the opinion of social workers and women’s rights activists. I registered my support for the legalization of prostitution.

  Although I had expressed my own personal viewpoint, it came across as if I had represented the view of the entire society that I belonged to. Islamic religious leaders and Islamist young men turned against me. Until then, Sharmila Seyyid had been only a despicable character, but now, they said, I had defied the faith itself by advocating something that was considered as haram in Islam. The All Mosque Association and Jamaath decreed that I had to tender a public apology for what I had done. The English primary school that was being run by my sister was directly below my office; some furious religious fundamentalists set it on fire. They also forced themselves into our house and threatened my parents. They then made a false statement to the media that my father had sought their help to bring me onto the right path as I had been influenced by the wrong kind of people and had gone astray. Pamphlets carrying scurrilous material defaming us were printed and distributed after Friday prayers at the mosques. Through all this, we got no redress from the authorities. It was evident that the people who had unleashed this violence upon us had used their political connections and the authorities had colluded with them.

  They ostracized me from the village of my birth. Although the All Mosque Association and Jamaath did not actually excommunicate me, they made my position far worse. My name was removed from the list of people who were to be honoured by the Eravur Divisional Secretariat and my work that was to appear in the special publication for that event was also expunged, demonstrating their clout even over non-religious organizations. I was also ignored at the grand ceremony held in Eravur on 17 May 2014 to celebrate and award achievers. Muslims who were renowned in Sri Lanka as progressive writers and poets turned out to be two-faced and nobody came forward to support me. I continue to be boycotted by these people in all kinds of public and private forums.

  Such experiences are bitter. Religious fundamentalism is a contagious disease. It can afflict all religions and all kinds of people. It can be overt or covert – that is the only difference.

  5. Are you still being targeted by religious fundamentalists?

  On 28 March 2015, a piece of fake news went viral on social sites on the internet. I was depicted as a dead body, with my clothes ripped, in a half-naked state, a possible victim of rape, and it said that the body had been brought to Batticaloa Hospital for post-mortem. This really shocked me.

  I suppose they could not kill me and still wanted to vent their rage and hence they published this. But I am sure this was also meant as a death-threat. Besides this they have also morphed my pictures to show me in the nude and spread rumours that I am working as a prostitute.

  6. Has no one sympathized with you and shown their solidarity when you were subjected to such inhuman acts?

  There were many protests from different parts of society. Sri Lankan Civil society organizations and academics have registered their condemnation of such acts and shown their sympathy and solidarity with me. In Tamil Nadu too writers have held meetings to protest against and condemn these activities.

  7. I know that you are living in exile. How does living in exile feel?

  It is difficult to describe the experience of living in exile. For me it did not begin yesterday or today. It is the continuation of a journey that began in 2012. So there is a lot to say. We feel stateless. When my son asks me about his grandparents and relatives, I don’t know what to tell him. At the same time, it has also been exciting. It is a totally different world and life. I have never liked to depend on anyone. I am now living in exile without anyone’s support. People criticize me and say that I am doing this in order to seek asylum in some western country and that is why I got myself embroiled in so many controversies. All I can say is that there is no limit to people’s imagination. I would like a nice peaceful life in my homeland. I would like to work for my country, I do not want to run away anywhere. I hope these struggles are short-lived and that things will ultimately turn out as I wish. Many people believe that a woman can’t live alone and be content. They think that only men can be self-sufficient. But I hope I am a living example to disprove them. I am working and studying. I am sending my son to school; I want to give him a good education and the best possible environment to grow up in. I hope all these trials are happening to us just to make us stronger and firmer. Yes, I am stronger now; much stronger! My son has become wise beyond his years. We feel secure because we have become wiser to the ways of the world. Of course, we have to struggle, but we are succeeding and making a life for ourselves.

  8. What difficulties are your family undergoing in Sri Lanka?

  As I mentioned earlier, my family went through terrible harassment, perpetrated by elements within the Islamic faith, who do not seem to have any understanding of their own religion. My views were distorted by them and propaganda was initiated to portray me as an evil influence within the community. My sister’s husband divorced her for the simple reason that she was my sister. She was made redundant from her job in Kattankudy for the same reason. The Qazi courts in Eravur allowed my sister’s husband to remarry while he was still married to my sister.

  9. What prompted you to write this novel?

  My experiences. I did not want my experiences to turn from sorrow to an overwhelming pain that sucked me into a dangerous whirlpool of despair. I wanted to free myself from the clutches of my distress. The novel has been a form of catharsis for me.

  10. Can you tell us a little bit about your writing? What do you enjoy better – writing poetry or prose?

  I did not have the experience of reading heaps of books as a child. I cannot even say that reading and writing freed me from the restraints of a restricted childhood and youth. I can definitely say that I did not aspire to fly away on a magic winged horse as I sat sobbing in the corner of a room with the doors shut. Definitely not. I wrote from a point beyond that. I prefer writing poetry to prose. In my poems I wrote myself in. That is not an imaginary me. It is a me that is beyond anybody’s imagination. The difference that I perceived in myself is what made me write. I wrote for putting myself down on paper. I wanted to feel that I am, I live; I wrote also to peel my outer layers off to reveal my true self. My writing began as my effort to register myself; to stand up and be counted. This is what drew me to the literary world. In truth, until my collecti
on of poems entitled ‘Siragu Mulaitha Penn’ was published, I knew nothing of the world of literature.

  This interview was conducted through a series of emails by the translator.

  Poems

  Umma knew it all along!

  Umma knew it all along

  That changing me was an impossible task.

  Worried no end by my wilful ways

  Some curse, she told herself, yet unknown,

  Had given her this wayward child she’d borne…

  With incense sticks and fervent chant

  She prayed, that I my wanton ways recant

  Frankincense filled the house till dusk from dawn

  And the sound of prayers from the Holy Quran

  She never could believe when I said

  I understand the beginning and the end

  She told me, I, who dreams draw and design,

  Should my own dreams to the waste bin consign!

  I have come from the horizon’s end

  I am the sun’s beautiful garland

  I am the key that locks up the dark night

  I have wings and I can soar into the light;

  No, in none of that did she believe –

  To her I am a girl, just a girl,

  Like I am to everyone else…

  Ummavukkutherintheyiruthathu- Ovva Pg 11

  I Have Wings …

  Until yesterday I too gazed

  At the fleeing clouds only through

  The grills of my window and enjoyed

  The sight of the moon and the stars.

  But for how long could I find joy in

  A tiny bit of cloud and the few stars

  Strewn about, random fashion,

  Seen through the bars of my window grill?

  This flight is like an escape

  From an inferno

  And my fledgling wings – at first

  Were like those of a chick just hatched…