| December 12, 2007 | Wednesday | Zilhaj 1, 1428 |
Suffering without an end
Admittedly literary people are such lazybones, sluggish to a point. They may be society’s most sensitive lot as they often boast in their writings and may not be that thick skinned that they appear to be to the unlettered pedestrians but, oftenest, their silence on urgent issues — even to those who suffer through their writings and can even quote a verse or two — is puzzling to say the least, if not dubious, as some of us like to believe. They have been heard saying in their defence that they are writers and their presence at protest rallies is not required because their weapon is their pen, which is not always at their beck and call and possesses a temperament and will of its own. They can’t budge unless it wiggles.
The issues that agitate the common people, they say, take time to stir their creative response which may take a month or a year to show up when the provocations have ultimately condensed into liquid form and can filter through the fog of their minds to fall on their heads in a steady stream. And they start wondering what that might be till it dawns on them it’s inspiration, the creative itch. So they get up and seize the pen and make a metaphor of the forgotten event that, subsequently, it would fall to the lot of some critic to unravel at a function in their memory at the Academy of Letters. No wonder they taunt journalists for doing their job.
It is also held by most that they have all the freedom they need to do their creative work. No controls of any kind can be applied on thought and imagination. Externalities that seem to constrain others place no restraints on them, except perhaps the winter chill that prevents them from venturing out. Moreover there is no such thing as intellectual activism as there has been the judicial kind. If there were it would be thrown out by an ignorant society just as an unjust milieu has shut up its justices. Then discretion, as all know, is the better part of valour. It is not courage that they lack but stupidity that sent some good souls recently to spend uncomfortable nights in the Adiala reformatory. They, the agitators, may have made a point and shown their commitment to freedom, liberty, justice and democracy but did that made any impression anywhere, the writers ask. Those nights spent on hard floors and that atrocious food served from dirty buckets ruffled nobody’s sleep in the power palaces or spoiled anybody’s appetite.
The writers and poets do not contest the charge of lethargy and indolence against them and they wouldn’t mind if another Jalib appeared on the literary scene. But such things do not happen on order. The general lot of the poets and writers and scholars comprises men of gentle, milder disposition. They would think it would be rude if they refused an invitation to discuss things over dinner. When Gen Ziaul Haque threw such an invitation to writers, poets and intellectuals the rush at the Islamabad Hotel was worth watching. Tottering men flew in from Karachi. Were there any who declined? I don’t remember. Republicans and revolutionaries all made a beeline.
Friends who were shocked or dismayed to see good old Munno Bhai in a TV show sharing silly jokes and innuendos with a giggling Naeem Bukhari, who desperately needs such help in his social rehabilitation, tend to ignore the broad humanity, godly understanding and compassion that great writers, particularly playwrights, possess. Yet if that amounted to appeasement perhaps Munno Bhai in this instance was being indiscreet and being too lenient for the sake of his folksy affability to permit risking his name as a voice of resistance against despots, charlatans and imposters.
It is not that this eminent group of what we call the civil society has not raised its voice. Resolutions by literary bodies have been published and some writers and scholars have come out in their individual capacity as well. One of the most effective, eloquent and convincing voice that was unfortunately not heeded was that of our friend Javed Jabbar who was among the earliest to part ways with a company that was getting too crowded with sycophants, self-serving counsellors and turncoats.
Sixty years have gone down the drain. Once put on the wrong track the train without a driver must complete its run to the terminal, wherever that may be. When Faiz was asked how long the situation was going to last he had quipped, ‘forever’. “Yeh aise hi chalta rahega”. Or some thing to that effect. The depth of the fall was never so deep and the position for anyone to take sides never so clear. There are no grey areas now. A sharp and clear line separates the black from the white. Time, if one wanted one could get up and be counted. If it is cold outside that’s one thing; but getting cold feet is quite another.
Naseema Labano’s ordeal began with her being raped but her decision to file an FIR and fight for justice has merely changed the nature of her suffering, not brought an end to it. The lack of support from the government and administration means that she and her family face a long fight that is both financially and emotionally crippling. Were it not for the aid of some non-governmental organisations and private individuals, they may already have given up any hopes of seeing justice.
On January 27 this year, the 18-year-old girl paid the price for a dispute between her siblings and the children of Abdul Sattar, an influential man in their hometown Ubaro. While her father Hamza Labano was at work as a driver with Engro Industries, Naseema was dragged out of her house and brutally beaten by 11 men, then raped by three of them. She was then thrown naked out on the street.
As a result of the concern raised by the townspeople, her case was picked up by the media. The subsequent build-up of public pressure forced the police to register an FIR within a few hours of the crime. However, given the influence wielded by Abdul Sattar, the family’s suffering has only increased in the months that have passed since the process of investigation and prosecution was initiated. Abdul Sattar has been in hiding since January and remains untraced. Meanwhile Longe, one of the men booked under charges of rape, has been granted bail on the strength of his lawyer’s plea of precarious health.
The Labano family has meanwhile been forced to relocate to Karachi. Their life of just a year ago has receded to a distant happy memory. Back then, Hamza Labano earned Rs8,000 from Engro Industries which allowed him to support his wife and eight children, and educate the younger ones. Today, he is jobless in the urban jungle of Karachi and running from pillar to post to get justice for his daughter. The family lives in a permanent state of fear and has little hope for the future.
The harassment and intimidation started right from the day the FIR was registered, says Hamza Labano. “We faced immense hardship and my family was regularly threatened by Abdul Sattar and his men,” he told Dawn. “Not only did they threaten to kill us if we continued to pursue the case, they also said that they could kidnap our other children.”
Fortunately for the terrified family, a PPP MPA offered his support and the Labanos remained in Ubaro town for nearly a week while Naseema underwent some basic treatment for backbone injuries she had suffered during the attack.
The price of justice
“After that the governor of Sindh, Dr Ishratul Ibad, brought us here to Karachi,” said Hamza. “He promised us justice, education for our children and basic financial support as well as shelter. We were put up in a police quarter for a few months but the police soon told us to vacate.”
With nowhere to go, the family launched a nearly three-month long protest in front of the Karachi Press Club. Then, said Naseema’s mother Naziran, the NGO War Against Rape (WAR) took up the cause and provided financial support. “The organisation gave us money that allowed us to make ends meet in the first six months we lived in Karachi,” recalled Naziran. “And after we were evicted from the police quarters, a political worker gave us a place to live and occasionally provided money for food.”
Asked whether they were guided by anyone in terms of taking the courageous step of filing an FIR, both Hamza and Naziran said “no, no one told us anything.” “We did what we thought was right,” added Hamza. At this point Naseema, who had sat quiet during the interview so far, interrupted and said: “If you ask me about the protest we mounted in front of the Karachi Press Club, I met Kainat Soomro [another victim pressing charges for rape] there. She was protesting there and I came to know that this is the place where you fight for your rights.”
However, the family also agreed that they took courage from the people of their neighbourhood, who offered support and encouragement. “Beyond that, the media kept track of our ordeal which prompted the government and political parties to follow up,” added Naseema’s maternal uncle, Jamaluddin. Help from the private sector included assigning lawyer Zia Awan to Naseema’s case, who is fighting the case free of charge.
While the courts grind ponderously towards justice, however, the Labano family is forced to live in Karachi. Terrified of Abdul Sattar’s men, unemployed and helpless, they hardly venture out of their small flat. “Karachi feels like a wild jungle to us,” said Jamaluddin. “It is so big and it’s easy for anyone to die unnoticed here, as is reported by the newspapers and television.”
Even if the perpetrators of the crime against Naseema are put behind bars, the family does not see much chance of being able to return to Ubaro. Hamza’s family there continues to be threatened and harassed by Abdul Sattar’s family. “Even if the culprits are punished, we can’t go back,” said Naziran. “Their families will kill us in any case.” “Abdul Sattar’s vengeance over a petty dispute has ruined us,” agreed Hamza. “We can’t go back and we don’t have the means to live here. I don’t have a job and my children don’t have access to education. Sometimes we don’t even have food to eat.”
The difficulties being faced the Labano family are indicative of the fact that despite the government’s tall claims about the provision of justice, little is actually done in real terms. In cases such as that of Naseema, not only the victim but her entire family suffers, with their lives for ever under threat. That is price paid extracted by the state from women who fight for their rights.