The Hindu : The women in Gujarat's camps

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Wednesday, May 22, 2002

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The women in Gujarat's camps — I

By Vasudha Dhagamwar

The perennially helpless condition of women, ever dependent on their men, was exacerbated several times over.

AROUND THE first week of April, the Chairperson of the National Commission for Women, Poornima Advani, asked me to join her fact-finding committee to Gujarat. Initially, I had some hesitation about joining the committee. But the NCW is a statutory body, and if no NGO had accompanied the fact-finding team we would have been the first to criticise it on that very count. I found that the team consisted of Dr. Advani, Nafeesa Hussain, member, Reba Nayyar, member-secretary, two Supreme Court lawyers, Pinky Anand and Anees Ahmed, one retired Inspector-General of Police, Ramamohan, Pam Rajput, an academic activist, and myself.

The visit was from April 10 to 12. As a fact-finding visit, it was not long enough but some of the members could not have managed to spare more time. We had also decided that the Chief Minister, Narendra Modi, was not our direct concern.

Even before I was on the Committee, I had met Elaben Bhat in Delhi. She said that SEWA was busy taking work to women in the camps, as she had done after the earthquake. In Ms. Bhat's experience women always asked for work to keep the family and themselves going. Work brought them money and also took their minds of the horror of their situation. During our visit we met NGOs and women citizens, the latter were mostly Hindus. We visited several camps in Himmat Nagar (Sabarkantha district), Ahmedabad, Godhra and Kalol (Panchmahal district), and Vadodara, mostly Muslim and some Hindu. We also visited the burnt train carriage.

Our strategy was to speak with women to the exclusion of men. The subject of rape was very much on our minds. But while the women said there had been many cases of gang rape and violence they also said that the raped women had also been killed... The sister-in-law of one woman brought her forward in the Godhra camp and said she had been raped. The woman immediately denied it. I have to say that only three women admitted to having been raped.

It is possible that as an official delegation we might not win the trust and confidence of the women... But there is also the social reality. An Indian, a subcontinental or perhaps even an Asian woman who admits to being raped stands the very real chance of being abandoned for the rest of her life. That every woman who had been raped was also killed seemed a little difficult to accept. That is not to say that I believe there were few rapes. One criticism was that the report did not tell exactly what happened to the women. Several visits by NGO groups and print journalists, and by electronic media and do we still need more graphic stories? What about the women who were not anxious to share those experiences?

The women recounted everything else but rape. They mentioned the assaults and the murders and the mayhem. They told us how they had run away and had hidden in the shrubs or jungle or fields — and even in a well — for hours or even days before finding their way to a camp or a relative who brought them there. They said they did not know where their men were when they ran or came to the camp... Some of them still did not know where their men were... Altogether, the perennially helpless condition of women, ever dependent on their men, was exacerbated several times over. The men were as helpless as them.

Not only the Muslim but even Hindu women (I was told by team members), spoke about their extreme fear of the State police; especially of the State Reserve Police (SRP). The report remarks that the police credibility was very low. In any riot situation, the SRP is uniformly found playing a devilish role. One has seen Bhils, Santhals and Dalits complaining in other States that the SRP had helped the landowners.

What did the women wish to do after peace was restored? The camps were clearly a short-term option. Many had no homes left to which to return. The women whose men had died or were still missing were even more unsure. Some women expressed a willingness to go back to their homes if they had protection from the Army or the Central Reserve Police Force (CRPF).

Notably this answer came from the Kalol camp inmates. Many of the inmates were farmers. They said they had returned with police protection to harvest whatever remained of the crops.

As Kalol is in a tribal district we asked them who the culprits were; one of the men said with black humour, "good caste people, that is why they did such good work".

Although we spoke with women on their own, it cannot be said that the women were speaking their own minds. I got the feeling that with regard to the decision on going back home, the women were following whatever line their men decided.

Farmers and businessmen had a stake in their villages; they would go back. The women from landless agricultural families did not wish it. Landless labourers are often more mobile or less attached to a place, especially if they do not even own their homes. The authorities as well as the activists seem to be taking the camps for granted. No thought seemed to be given to the future.

How long could anyone stay in the camps? The temperature was already 43 degrees. In the next few weeks it would soar to 47 or 48 degrees. There were babies, infants and newborns under the canvas. There were pregnant mothers, the old, and the ailing. Water, sanitation and privacy were in short supply. There was no privacy during waking or sleeping hours, to feed the baby or change one's clothes. The situation was mired in pathos and humiliation.

Even in the camps the women and men did not feel secure. Well away from the Kalol camp we heard some commotion. Immediately a wave of fear ran over the camp. While we had police escorts the camps were defenceless. They needed protection given by the CRPF or the Army.

No one seemed to have asked questions related to rehabilitation. What efforts were being made to make their homes and localities safe? Or to determine, in consultation with them, where the women without men folk or children without parents would go? The problem of widows and orphans cannot be solved except on a case-to-case basis.

But the problem of families needing to return home has to be dealt with, not by peace marches, but by going to the village, slum, suburb and town and making vigorous and sustained efforts in two directions: one, to impress the will of the law with the Army and the CRPF and criminal prosecutions; two, by talking with the communities who have, after all, lived side by side for generations. Peace marches may do good to politicians; they serve no purpose for the people.

On one point everyone was in agreement. The old man from Porbandar had courage beyond our capabilities.

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