The need for women’s shelters signifies the insecurity they feel within their families and homes. If homes were made safer for women, they would not need shelters outside

“IT is only when a woman is brought to the brink, and as a last resort, will she seek refuge outside her home. Who wants to leave home just for the heck of it?” explains Ayesha Mir, programme coordinator at Shirkat Gah, Karachi.

“The need for shelter signifies insecurity of women in their families and homes. If homes were made safer for women, they would not need shelters outside. It is always a brother, uncle, father or a husband perpetrating violence within the confines of homes,” says Anis Haroon, Resident Director of Aurat Foundation, Karachi.

A study — Voices of resistance: The status of shelters for women in Pakistan done by Farzana Bari, at a national level in 1998 states 13 state-run shelters in the public sector, seven in Punjab, four in Sindh, one in NWFP and one in Quetta, and about the same number run by the private sector. The report concluded that “the majority of women who resist male oppression/violence do not do so because they are conscious of their rights, rather they are reacting to extreme forms of violence”.

Shirkat Gah is currently doing another study of the women shelters in Pakistan. “While our study is still at a very preliminary stage, I must confess that the status of the state-run shelters is still much the same as concluded by the report done by F. Bari,” says Ayesha.

Unfortunately, most women stepping outside the home and seeking state protection, are seldom welcomed back. There is a certain stigma attached to having been in a Darul Aman. It is not a ‘safe haven’, not a very ‘honourable place’ for a woman to be in and only ‘women of bad characters’ go there is the general perception. These perceptions are corroborated erroneously by the view that family is considered the ultimate provider of a woman’s security. But the very existence of such refuges verifies and brings home the fact that there exists within these so-called safe familial havens, various forms of physical, social, emotional, mental violence in various degrees. Another reason is that there have been cases where staff employed at the centres is accused of involvement in crimes. Recently, an employee of the Darul Aman in Sukkur was held for allegedly trying to sell a minor girl detained there. She was freed within two days.

How do women, who have not gone to court, know where to seek refuge? “I think the credit goes to the various NGOs who have spread this awareness,” says Ayesha.

A middle-aged woman who was thrown out of her home by her husband after many years of marriage and who is living at the privately-run shelter — Panah (that provides temporary abode to women whose basic rights have been violated, need protection and legal redress), says: “I checked the place out before I moved out from my relatives’ place who were giving me shelter. I didn’t want to go to a Darul Aman. Here, I am more at peace as my young daughter (who will be sitting for her intermediate exams) has a safe place and I can go and search for a job without worrying about her.” But frequently, many seek refuge either at mazars or extended families and later enter shelters when the family withdraws support.

“It is seldom that the woman, wanting out of a violent situation will seek out her parents as chances are they will force her to go back,” says Ayesha.

According to Anis Haroon: “There should be help lines to direct women to shelters. The counsellors at district and tehsil levels should be well-informed and sensitized on issues of violence. It is easier for women to reach them, as they are in the same locality.”

Who are these women and are they really as immoral as they are deemed to be? What is their excuse for leaving home? For most part, it is simply their not having subscribed to traditions that enforce extreme seclusion and submission to men.

“It is either extreme form of violence, matrimonial dispute, or exploitation. These centres are also seen by the state as safe halfway places for women whose lives are in danger. In reality, they are more like sub-jails where the movement of the inmates is completely restricted. So much so that they are not even allowed to sit outside in the lawn where there is a green patch,” says Ayesha who recently visited all the Darul Aman’s in Sindh.

But for that matter, even the Edhi homes for women do not allow women to come and go as they please even within the stipulated time or seek employment outside and are not provided legal redress or rehabilitation facility. However, there is a school for children who come with the destitute women.

Most managers justified the restrictions imposed on women’s mobility in F. Bari’s report. “How can we allow them to go out? These women have no character. If they come back pregnant, how would we deal with the situation?” or that “These are not good women. If they are allowed to go out, they will indulge in immoral activities. This will bring a bad name to the Darul Aman.” Reasons of security in cases of women who were in conflict with their families were also given for their restriction on mobility.

In Darul Amans only blood relatives are allowed to meet the inmate and that too with the written permission from the court. “If the woman does not want to meet her relatives, then the latter will have to leave,” says Ayesha.

“Women’s need for shelter emerges out of their subordinate socio-economic, cultural status and their lack of access and control over space,” states F. Bari’s report.

“Only those women are taken by the state-run shelters that are sent by the courts, all others or those who come individually are turned down,” says Ayesha. However, private ones like Panah, take in everyone and anyone. Uzma Noorani, one of the trustees of the board and the general secretary of Panah, explains: “Once we take in a woman, we immediately inform the local town police office of her.” At times the local thana bring homeless and runaway women to them. Even Darul Amans have sent them women whom they cannot take in.

“Why can’t Darul Aman’s have the free will system the same way Panah does?” quizzes Ayesha.

Explaining this, Uzma says: “We take the woman to the judicial magistrate (within a week) and she gives an affidavit that she’s come to us of her own will.”

No one can deny the low status women in Pakistan enjoy. They live in constant fear. In fact, one can form a kind of a rough profile of the women who seek refuge outside of home. Most of the girls or women who run away are those who, in an extreme case, face brutal death by shooting, burning or having their nose and ears chopped off if they are deemed to have brought shame on the family, those who want to marry of their choice, women who are victims of domestic violence, women fleeing from an oppressive home environment, released prisoners who have no where to go, victims of rape who have nowhere to go, etc. There are some who are from villages, some who are completely illiterate and unskilled and there are some who are doctors too.

An international workshop on Refuges for Women in Islamic Societies was held in 1998, in Islamabad, after which a working committee was formed to work with the Ministry of Women’s Development. The recommendations given by the committee included certain guidelines for improved functioning of Darul Amans. “Most of it is only on paper. One recommendation stated that all Darul Aman’s should have equal representatives from the civil society, but in reality it is not so. There is no monitoring, no checks and no committees. The management is extremely cagey about letting you in or letting you talk to inmates. Most don’t cooperate as they feel only bad publicity comes out of letting their doors open,” says Ayesha.

The objectives of the refuges clearly state that efforts will be made to rehabilitate women. However, it is seen that it is the most neglected aspect. “This is difficult due to lack of finances. While the temporary abode can last up to three months, it is sometimes difficult for them to find jobs and then so many are unskilled,” says Uzma.

“I met a woman who has been in a Darul Aman for more than three years. Her case has been settled and she is free to leave but she says she has nowhere to go and does not know how to get absorbed into the world outside,” says Ayesha

While Uzma is actively involved with running the private shelter, she still feels: “To provide refuge is the state’s responsibility and things would work best if the onus lies with the state while civil society could be involved in running shelters. Running a shelter and providing security and protection to a woman whose life is under threat is not easy. The state already has the infrastructure that can be mobilized effectively.”

Ayesha, strongly endorsing Uzma adds: “While it is difficult to determine whether we have enough shelters for women, the need is to strengthen the capacity of those that exist. There is a major funding problem in most Darul Amans. Take for example the one at Larkana that does not receive the allocated funds, the administration at Hyderabad feels that its budget is in desperate need of revision. Most of the times their needs are met by other NGOs and not the funds earmarked for these shelters.”

“There are no trained personnel at the various Darul Amans I visited. The management is judgmental so how can they counsel,” says Ayesha. This was corroborated by both Uzma Noorani as well as the study. They need to be sensitized. “Another major confusion these centres are suffering from is whether to follow the orders of the city government or the provincial government,” says Ayesha.

 

Hope within the confines TUCKED away inside the premises of a charitable organization, a year and a half back, in January 2002, Panah emerged as a shelter for women. “This grand place with 12 rooms was originally built as an old people’s home, but was never used for the purpose,” says Uzma Noorani, and adds: “The NGOs and women activists felt a vacuum in this area and many a time when a distressed woman would come seeking help, we would provide shelter either in our office or private homes.” The place is well-furnished with all amenities — a TV, beds (hospital beds), iron and an ironing board, even a computer (which unfortunately has not been used till now by the inmates). The place is rife with activity. A young girl is sweeping the toy room, next to it, in the kitchen, there is an air of camaraderie with three women cooking a meal and chatting. Nearby, another young girl is preparing for her intermediate exams. Habiba, the energetic young housekeeper says she is kept very busy “as I’ve to look into everything from their clothes, to their food to the their moods (some are really disturbed, given their predicament).” She’s recently started giving the inmates yoga classes. Panah obtained legal status as a public trust, under the Trust Act 1882, and its board of trustees includes Justice Majida Rizvi, Hameed Haroon, Jameel Yusuf, Dr Habiba Hasan, Uzma Noorani and Dr Unaiza Niaz. In many ways it is very different from your state-run Darul Aman. “Our vision is to empower women, give them the confidence that they have been stripped off, assist them in decision-making while allowing them to take control of their lives and provide them with choices,” says Uzma Noorani. Still at a nascent stage, Panah aims to be somewhat like Dastak, run by AGHS in Lahore. Like the latter, there is complete freedom of movement for the inmates. “We assist them in seeking jobs, provide psychiatric help, counselling is done twice a week, free legal and medical aid is provided and when women come with small children, we provide for them as well,” says Uzma. While rehabilitation is not easy since there are financial constraints, because it has the backing of most NGOs, their networking is pretty strong. Giving an example, Uzma points out, “As part of victims’ assistance, Behbud is giving six-month advance house rent for a couple of our women, some have been given sewing machines to start supporting themselves and then there are some who been provided jobs at factories or as domestic help with people we know.” “We’ve offered free legal aid,” says Ayesha Mir of Shirkat Gah. “We work closely with Panah, and provide information and assistance to women victims,” says Anis Haroon.— Z.T.E.