Fact-finding
by
a Women's Panel
Syeda Hameed, Muslim Women?s Forum, Delhi
Ruth Manorama, National Alliance of Women,
Bangalore
Malini Ghose, Nirantar, Delhi
Sheba George, Sahrwaru, Ahmedabad
Farah Naqvi, Independent Journalist, Delhi
Mari Thekaekara, Accord, Tamil Nadu
Sponsored by
Citizen?s Initiative, Ahmedabad [India]
April 16, 2002
"Yudh ho gaya hai" (war has broken out) - said
a woman in Panchmahals, witnessing
communal carnage in rural Gujarat for the
first time. In urban areas like Ahmedabad,
Muslim ghettos had already been created for
a variety of reasons - Juhapura, Naroda
Patia - all Muslim areas. This time round
rural ghettos are being born. Muslims are
flocking in from the countryside to the nearest
urban settlements, swelling the numbers
in the Muslim majority areas.
A Community Betrayed
Women testified to feeling an acute sense of
betrayal. They feel betrayed by
neighbours, friends, people they have lived
with, celebrated festivals with, done
business with. These people, along with mobs
from the outside, looted, killed and
burned their homes and families. How do you
re-build that trust?
· I asked my neighbour Hira Bai for
some water. I was told "Aaj to pani nahin aaj to
marna hai." (No water today, today is for
dying) Zahida Bano, Naroda Patia,
Ahmedabad
· "How can we go back the violence is
still continuing. Our house was not burnt earlier.
It was burnt 4 days ago." She was clear that
the violence was master minded by Dinesh
Bhai the deputy Sarpanch. According to her
testimony, at around 5pm on February
28th Dinesh came and told several of them
that nothing would happen. Then they burnt
many Muslim houses that night." Ava Bi, Mudeti
village.
· Of course I can recognize them. I
saw them everyday. I grew up with them. Now
with my work I know everybody here. What could
I tell them - don?t kill me, you?ve
seen me everyday of my life." Saira, Vadali
camp, works with Centre for Social Justice
Rural Relief Camps: Muslims should look after other Muslims
The process of ghettoisation has begun with
the rural relief camps. Camps have sprung
up wherever people ran to safety, and they
invariably ran towards Muslim dominated
areas. The idea of "safety in numbers" was
never so acutely experienced. In each case,
it has been local Muslim community leaders
who have provided shelter, made
arrangements to feed and house hundreds and
thousands of people. In some cases
food rations are being supplied by the Government.
But hardly any Government
officials or elected representatives have
visited. The message is clear: Muslims are not
the responsibility of
the State. Muslims should look after other Muslims.
The Vadali Relief Camp
(Sabarkantha District), for example, is being run by the
Muslim Paanch Jamaat.
This includes leaders from five Muslim communities: Pathan,
Lohar, Memon, Mansuri, and Sipahi. The overall
camp coordinator is Amanullah
Khan, a local Congress leader, referred to
as Chacha (Uncle) by the camp residents.
Amanullah Chacha was responsible for making
phone calls to the Khed Brahma Police
Station and ensuring that many stranded Muslims
were transported to the safety of the
camp. The maidan where the camp is located
adjoins a large Mansuri settlement in
Vadali. The presence of large numbers of Muslims
in the neighbourhood is reassuring
for the camp residents. Many Mansuri refugees
have even found temporary shelter
through an extended kinship network in the
Mansuri settlement itself. The Vadali Camp
is providing shelter to a rural population
spread across large distances - and including
many villages in Khed Brahma, Vadali, Bhiloda,
Modasa, Vijaynagar, Idar, and even
Arad (in Banaskantha District) among others.
Kinship networks have
been instrumental in operationalising many rural relief camps.
Take the Ramayan Relief
Camp (Sabarkantha District), for example. Ramayan (along
with its twin village
Mahabharat) is a Muslim majority gram panchayat, with a Muslim
Sarpanch - Sattar Bhai
Jamal Bhai. Nearly 500 refugees have gathered here from a
radius of up to 50 kms, mostly relatives from
neighbouring villages. The camp itself is
unlike Vadali. Here the refugees have taken
shelter in the homes of extended kin
members. It is only for meals that they gather
in a large hall and are fed from a common
kitchen. Until 10 or 12 years ago, the village
was called Pratapgarh. Then the villagers
saw the TV serials - Ramayan and Mahabharat.
They loved the Hindu epics so much
that they decided to re-christen their village.
One wonders if they would they ever do
the same again?
The Kalol Relief Camp is being run by leaders
from the Muslim Ghachi community.
When the trouble first started Muslims from
surrounding villages started flooding the
Muslim dominated mohallah (neighbourhood)
in Kalol town. From March 1st to March
7th the galis (narrow lanes) of the entire
mohalla had turned into a relief camp. The
refugees simply lived out in the open for
seven days without any shelter - a scared
flock, seeking safety in "Muslim" surroundings.
Some refugees found place in the
madrasa, inside the masjid, and some in homes.
The camp coordinators claim that it
was only by putting pressure on Congress leaders
Amarsingh Chaudhary and Ahmed
Patel, that they managed to get Government
permission to use a large maidan in town.
Today the maidan houses over 2500. The Government
supplies rice, wheat, sugar, and
oil. A Government mobile ambulance visits
the camp once a day.
Unlike urban camps, particularly Shah-e-Alam
Camp in Ahmedabad, which has been
visited by many, most rural camps have had
few, if any, visits by outsiders. Many are
located in remote areas, a long, dusty drive
away from big towns and cities. Visits by
outsiders especially from the majority community
have been rare. One woman in Halol
camp, which had not had any visitors, said,
Bahar ke log bhi hamare bare mein soch
rahe hain hame nahin malum tha. Ab to hum
ek kone mein ho gaye hain, sab ke nazron
ke bahar. (We didn?t know that people outside
are even aware of our existence. We
have been shunted in a corner now, removed
from the eyes from the world)
What is most striking in rural relief camps
is the need for the refugees to speak.
Women, in particular, have not had a chance
to share their experiences with anyone.
There is desperation in the way they respond
to a sympathetic ear, and reach out
towards an outstretched hand.
Long Journey to Safety
In order to reach the
sanctuary of these Muslim majority areas in rural Gujarat, people
have been forced to
take refuge in jungles, forests, and fields for days on end, as they
inch their way gradually
towards safety. In Halol camp (Panchmahals) for example, one
woman had come to the
camp only on the day the fact-finding team visited, after hiding
in fields for 24 days.
Testimonies from Panchmahals District:
· Fatima Bibi, who was visiting her
sister in Eral village said she hid in the forests for 4
days. She ran out of her home to escape the
mob on the 1st and reached Halol camp
on the 5th.
· Kulsum Bibi also from Eral, where
there are about 40 -45 Muslim families, had
walked several kilometres and some had spent
several days hiding in forests and fields,
without food and water.
· Mumtaz, of Ranjit Nagar, reached the
camp on the 29th, after walking several
hundred kms and 24 days after she had left
her village. She and her family, which
included her husband, her in- laws and 3 children,
fled their home when the mob
arrived on the 28th. They first hid in nearby
fields for two days and then kept on
moving from village to village in search of
a safe haven. They kept moving as
everywhere they reached there was tension.
They could see fires. (Mumtaz?s feet were
swollen and full of blisters).
The pressure to conform
culturally in order to survive has become part of the fear
psychosis of women.
The fact-finding team heard many testimonies where rural Muslim
women had to adopt "Hindu"
attire - shun their salwar kameez in favour of sarees; and
wear bindis in order
to escape to safety[10][10] . Wearing a bindi or not wearing one -
such a small gesture
and yet so large when seen against the firelight of over 200 burning
mosques and dargahs
across the length and breadth of Gujarat[11][11].
The Malav hospital refused to provide protection.
Ranjitpur is not far from Halol but as
things were already tense we could not take
the direct route. As a result we kept
moving further and further away from Halol.
Finally we disguised ourselves as
"Hindus"- My mother-in-law and I wore sarees
and bindis. We changed our names.
My husband became Ramlal, my mother-in-law
Sharda, my father-in-law was Amrit
bhai, and my children were Ramesh, Raju and
Suneeta.
Mumtaz, of Ranjit Nagar, now a refugee in Halol
Camp. March 30, 2002.
Point of No Return
Most people met by the fact-finding team stated
clearly that they were unwilling to
return to their villages. The scattered positioning
of Muslim homes in the villages makes
them feel insecure, particularly since most
refugees come from villages where they are a
tiny minority, vulnerable to attack at any
time. Futile attempts to return since the
carnage began, have only strengthened their
conviction that they can only make a future
for themselves in Muslim majority areas.
Responses from Ramayan Camp
· In the beginning there were 625 residents
in the camp. About 35 attempted to return
home but most have now come back to the camp.
The Goral Gaon Sarpanch came
with about 10 people to call the Muslims back.
But once they reached the village
seeing the atmosphere there he himself asked
them to return - " Ab aap 7-8 din ke liye
chale jao. Phir vapas ana" (Perhaps you should
go away for another 7-8 days, and then
return).
· Suraiya, wife of Samad, was also emphatic
that they could not go back. She said that
when people have tried to go back they have
been told in no uncertain terms - do not
come back. We do not want Muslims here. She
said, "jab vapas gaye kisi ne bola hi
nahin." (When we went back, no one in the
village even spoke to us).
Responses from Vadali Camp
· From Idar, Bilora, Arad and Vijaynagar,
the sarpanches came and took people back,
assuring us - that everything was calm. And
we could return home. In Banaskantha
about 600 Muslims went back with their Hindu
Sarpanches. Some came back during
Holi fearing tension. Some will return after
that. Amanullah Khan.
· Dasksha behn, the Sarpanch of Goral
sent her husband, Jashubhai to bring back
some of the Muslims. Mansouri Bhai returned
but on the 19th of March a crowd of
about 2000 came and beat him up. Two durbars
fired shots in the air, which frightened
the mob. They saved my life but I lost everything
- a tractor, three shops, goods worth
3 lakhs. Now I stand here on the road with
nothing. Mansouri Bhai
· "What can we think. If we go back
we will be killed. We are terrified. They have
warned us. We don?t expect anything from Narendra
Modi. The only way we will
survive is if we all live together. It is
when we are dispersed and living in small numbers
that we are attacked. If the government gives
us land somewhere we will relocate. In
fact we are thinking of asking the government
to give us some land near Khed
Brahma." Mansouri Bhai # 2.
The impact of fear on
Muslim women can already be seen. With the entire community
under threat, women
in particular are paying the price - with their freedom and mobility.
Mothers fear for the
safety of daughters. Husbands fear for wives. And the first
response to fear is
the imposition of restrictions. As Muslim communities ghettoise,
there is danger of further
ghettoization of women within the home. With entire families
forced to migrate, the
education of girls is suffering. Clearly when lives are in danger,
this is not a priority.
Ila Pathak, a leading social worker in Ahmedabad told members of
the fact-finding team, that her experience
with forced migration indicated that mothers
are often found to be more educated than daughters
for precisely this reason. Gains of
emancipation are being slowly eroded. Muslim
women?s voices are already being
stifled. One can see this in the camps. Community
patriarchs are in charge, and one
sees no signs of women being part of the decision-making.
But then this is an hour of
crisis for the community as a whole. Some
might call it churlish to raise issues of
emancipation at a time like this. Women?s
issues will have to wait for more peaceful
times?
Rizwana is 26 years old. An advocate, she lives
in Vatva with her parents. She has
experienced animosity many times while attending
court. A couple of years ago there
was a stabbing incident - one of the girls
in court remarked, "Tum log to bahut stabbing
karte hon. Seekhe honge." ("You people do
a lot of stabbing, You must have learnt it")
An action by one individual would be attributed
to the entire community. The Indo-Pak
cricket matches would always become points
of tension - "Kuch bhi ho to Pakistan ka
zikr karte hain" (?No matter happens, they
always raise the issue of Pakistan") Eight
percent of the advocates in the court are
Muslim. Once it so happened that at one
particular meeting most of the advocates who
attended were Muslims. A Senior
Advocate walked into the room and remarked,
"Yeh to Pakistan ka court lag raha hai."
("This is looking like a Pakistani court")
I used to feel "Hum to Hindustani Hain- please
humko aisa mat bolo." (We are Indian. Please
don?t say things like this to us)
She hasn?t been to the city civil court where
she practices since February 27th, 2002.
?I normally I go by scooter. I could go, but
if I don?t come back then what is the point.
They haven?t spared women and children this
time. Women are not going to be
allowed to roam about freely for a long time.?
What was she feeling? Anger, helplessness and
desire for badla (revenge)? She looked
startled by the word badla. ?Our people are
laachaar (broken). They are not being
able to do anything?. ?Agar badla ka saval
tha to kab ka le chuke hote.? (If it was a
question of revenge we would have taken it
long ago). ?Ab to woh din yaad hain jab
hum "free" the. Scooter le kar kahin bhi chale
jate the. Ab to quaid ho gaye hain apne
hi shaher mein. Badla nahin, logon ko phir
se jeena hain? (Now I can only think
wistfully of the time when I was free. I would
hop on my scooter and go wherever I
pleased. Now we are prisoners in our own city.
People don?t need revenge. They
need to live again).
Rizwana. Vatva, Ahmedabad, March 27th, 2002