I freely admit that self control and discipline are things about which I know little (in the sense that I can apply it to my own life).
I’ve just returned from Delhi and Kathmandu over the Muslim Eid and Hindu Durga Puja holidays. Leading up to this festivity has been Ramadan. Ramadan is a month of fasting from eating, drinking, smoking and indulging in anything that is in excess, including sex, between dawn and sunset, which aims to teach modesty, spirituality and patience. Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar and is determined by the phase of the moon. The resilience and determination that this shows is incredibly impressive.
By default I’ve learnt a bit about discipline this Ramadan. Being out in the field often means food hasn’t been available, or I’ve felt far too rude to eat in front of those who are fasting. And dating a charming Muslim has also given me the opportunity to understand the commitment it takes.
During Ramadan work hours are shortened and concessions are made to support those who are fasting. Many shops are closed and road side stalls are curtained off out of respect. The resolve and good humour that my Muslim friends here have shown during Ramadan is truly inspiring.
There isn’t much that I can’t have if I want it badly enough. I’m young, I have every opportunity for happiness, the world is at my feet - I lead a freely, pleasure-seeking, hedonistic lifestyle. I don’t know what it’s like to really go without.
I remember with horror back to Catholic primary school when one day every year we were forced to eat just one cup of boiled rice for lunch as a reminder of the flight of those less fortunate. And boy, have I seen it for myself now. And I occasionally gave up something small and insignificant (like chocolate or swearing – the good Catholic that I am clearly not) for lent, but nothing like the commitment and discipline I’ve witnessed here.
Sadly the days of one cup of boiled rice for lunch are probably long gone with child protection and political correctness as it is (not that this is a bad thing, with health and free will to consider) but I’m glad that I did it, even if it was by force. I see the importance of it, the lesson learned and the discipline it endeavours to inspire. And for this hedonist? It’s a lesson in discipline worth learning.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
A midget named Taj Mahal
Last week I went on what is most likely my last field trip in Bangladesh. It’s official – I’m leaving. On 8 October at 4.30pm, I am ‘sheshing the desh’. And who knows if I’ll ever be back.
The field trip – to Rajshahi and Rangpur – was exactly the sort of Bangladeshi send off I’d hoped for. The trip invariably included a wealth of culture, amazing people, incredible work and hilarious Bangladeshi moments. The highlight? Hanging out with a midget named Taj Mahal.
I met Taj Mahal through UNICEF’s Adolescent Empowerment project. Through this project, which has proven so successful it is an example of best practice across South Asia, we educate adolescents across the country about their rights (dowry, early marriage, trafficking, child labour, birth registration, HIV/AIDS, etc) so that they then become advocates within their own communities. Through the project 30 adolescents from three regions were selected to participate in a photography training course and thematic exhibition competition. Through Pathshala (Drik Gallery’s photography training arm) the adolescents received training on how to use the digital cameras that UNICEF provided. Besides the technical training they’ve learnt how to take a good photo, considering lighting, framing, composition, etc. Based on the training each adolescent has chosen a theme that impacts their life (child labour, trafficking, disability, etc) and these photos will be submitted for exhibition in Dhaka and around the country.
Farida is one such adolescent I met in Rajshahi. Farida’s father and two sisters are “specially-abled” (dwarves/midgets – sorry, I’m unclear on the politically correct term here). Farida and her mother are “normal”. Although Farida’s father and sisters work (and damn hard) they still suffer prejudice.
In Bangladesh disability is shunned – if you can’t work and contribute to the survival of your family, you are socially excluded. Farida hopes that her photos will help raise awareness and acceptance of people with disabilities in Bangladesh. So we spent a few hours with Farida and Taj in their home, observing Farida taking photographs of Taj as she spends her days – working as a tailor.
Taj at her sewing machine.
Prior to that we’d been across the road from Shuktara’s house where her young neighbours work at a cement business. When there is a contract, the boys (as young as 8) work long hours in midday heat for between 90 and 120taka a day (the younger the boy, the less he is paid) – that’s less than $2 USD.
We also went to Mahfuz’s house to observe him taking photos of a boy who was trafficked to India, but somehow - miraculously - made it home. The boy heard we were coming and hid – clearly untrusting of foreigners with grand intentions.
In between work Topu (the photographer) and I hung out at a great little tea stall chatting to locals, seeing the city by rickshaw, visiting the silk mills famous in that part of the country and watching the sun set over the Padma River (the Ganges where it ends in India). Rajshahi is a town to fall in love with (not in the same sense as Marrakech or London, but on a Bangladeshi scale...), and I did.
Watching the sun set over the Padma.
From there we drove the bumpy road to Rangpur to interview women part of a Mothers Support Group and a UNICEF/Government of Bangladesh project that has seen incredible results in the district - fast approaching MDG goals and breaking down social taboos and gender disparities. It’s a beautiful and inspiring thing.
I have often wondered this year how the naked baby/ toilet thing works. Well, now I know. And, in my opinion, not very well. After the interviews we were photographing Marina, her husband, mother-in-law and baby Munaf. Everyone is posed, straight-faced of course, for the camera. Munaf, content in his mother’s arms, pees. We all laugh, but the family stay put for the photos. And I can’t help but wonder what happens now? In this heat that pee is going to dry quickly. Presumably Marina doesn’t change her sari every time Munaf pees on her. She’d spend the entire day doing washing. This whole scenario disturbs me and I’ve only witnessed a Number 1...
I met a guy at a party last night who works for an INGO here in Dhaka and who is very sceptical of the work undertaken by the UN. I was one of only two UN employees in the room. We were grossly outnumbered but we passionately took up the fight. But the debate is endless. The UN is a massive bureaucratic machine. There is a lot of money to be made in development – UN and NGO alike. But I’ve just returned from a field trip – one of many that has only further reinforced to me the importance of the UN’s place here in Bangladesh.
There are many examples of UN inaction, corruption and impropriety, so there is no denying that improvement is essential. But for all the work that is yet to be done, I know we are improving the lives of men, women and children. I know because I’ve seen it. And I’m proud and grateful to have had this opportunity – I’ve learnt so much, grown as a person, and have found a new meaning and direction in my career. I am inspired to give a voice to those who are silent.
The field trip – to Rajshahi and Rangpur – was exactly the sort of Bangladeshi send off I’d hoped for. The trip invariably included a wealth of culture, amazing people, incredible work and hilarious Bangladeshi moments. The highlight? Hanging out with a midget named Taj Mahal.
I met Taj Mahal through UNICEF’s Adolescent Empowerment project. Through this project, which has proven so successful it is an example of best practice across South Asia, we educate adolescents across the country about their rights (dowry, early marriage, trafficking, child labour, birth registration, HIV/AIDS, etc) so that they then become advocates within their own communities. Through the project 30 adolescents from three regions were selected to participate in a photography training course and thematic exhibition competition. Through Pathshala (Drik Gallery’s photography training arm) the adolescents received training on how to use the digital cameras that UNICEF provided. Besides the technical training they’ve learnt how to take a good photo, considering lighting, framing, composition, etc. Based on the training each adolescent has chosen a theme that impacts their life (child labour, trafficking, disability, etc) and these photos will be submitted for exhibition in Dhaka and around the country.
Farida is one such adolescent I met in Rajshahi. Farida’s father and two sisters are “specially-abled” (dwarves/midgets – sorry, I’m unclear on the politically correct term here). Farida and her mother are “normal”. Although Farida’s father and sisters work (and damn hard) they still suffer prejudice.
In Bangladesh disability is shunned – if you can’t work and contribute to the survival of your family, you are socially excluded. Farida hopes that her photos will help raise awareness and acceptance of people with disabilities in Bangladesh. So we spent a few hours with Farida and Taj in their home, observing Farida taking photographs of Taj as she spends her days – working as a tailor.
Taj at her sewing machine.
Prior to that we’d been across the road from Shuktara’s house where her young neighbours work at a cement business. When there is a contract, the boys (as young as 8) work long hours in midday heat for between 90 and 120taka a day (the younger the boy, the less he is paid) – that’s less than $2 USD.
We also went to Mahfuz’s house to observe him taking photos of a boy who was trafficked to India, but somehow - miraculously - made it home. The boy heard we were coming and hid – clearly untrusting of foreigners with grand intentions.
In between work Topu (the photographer) and I hung out at a great little tea stall chatting to locals, seeing the city by rickshaw, visiting the silk mills famous in that part of the country and watching the sun set over the Padma River (the Ganges where it ends in India). Rajshahi is a town to fall in love with (not in the same sense as Marrakech or London, but on a Bangladeshi scale...), and I did.
Watching the sun set over the Padma.
From there we drove the bumpy road to Rangpur to interview women part of a Mothers Support Group and a UNICEF/Government of Bangladesh project that has seen incredible results in the district - fast approaching MDG goals and breaking down social taboos and gender disparities. It’s a beautiful and inspiring thing.
I have often wondered this year how the naked baby/ toilet thing works. Well, now I know. And, in my opinion, not very well. After the interviews we were photographing Marina, her husband, mother-in-law and baby Munaf. Everyone is posed, straight-faced of course, for the camera. Munaf, content in his mother’s arms, pees. We all laugh, but the family stay put for the photos. And I can’t help but wonder what happens now? In this heat that pee is going to dry quickly. Presumably Marina doesn’t change her sari every time Munaf pees on her. She’d spend the entire day doing washing. This whole scenario disturbs me and I’ve only witnessed a Number 1...
I met a guy at a party last night who works for an INGO here in Dhaka and who is very sceptical of the work undertaken by the UN. I was one of only two UN employees in the room. We were grossly outnumbered but we passionately took up the fight. But the debate is endless. The UN is a massive bureaucratic machine. There is a lot of money to be made in development – UN and NGO alike. But I’ve just returned from a field trip – one of many that has only further reinforced to me the importance of the UN’s place here in Bangladesh.
There are many examples of UN inaction, corruption and impropriety, so there is no denying that improvement is essential. But for all the work that is yet to be done, I know we are improving the lives of men, women and children. I know because I’ve seen it. And I’m proud and grateful to have had this opportunity – I’ve learnt so much, grown as a person, and have found a new meaning and direction in my career. I am inspired to give a voice to those who are silent.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Frustrations in the field
Last week I was working down in Cox’s Bazar learning about UNICEF’s birth registration project in the refugee camps; a new project being implemented by Concern targeting vulnerable children in the district (refugee children as well as children from the host community); and visiting children in jail.
Birth registration is a first and significant step in meeting a child’s rights because it is an official acknowledgement of the child's existence and recognises the child's status before the law. Although most of the 28,000 refugees in the camps are registered with the government (forget about the 200,000 who live outside the camps and suffer far worse State neglect), a birth certificate is an additional measure to ensure their rights are protected. And every child has the right to an identity.
Kids at the unregistered Leda camp at Teknaf
UNICEF has been lobbying the Government of Bangladesh to issue birth certificates to refugees for years. Finally, this year, the Ministry agreed. However, they’ve given us a deadline by which the work needs to be completed – work that UNICEF is supporting (with resources) but that local government need to actually do – and with public opinion of refugees as it is, it’s fair to say that motivation is lacking.
There are many factors that spark debate about the situation of refugees in Bangladesh – whether NGO/UN aid supports reliance instead of livelihood development, growth and sustainability; government reluctance to provide additional support; “forced repatriation” as preferred solution; no legal framework for the protection of refugees in Bangladesh; host community discontent…the list goes on.
However, it is not as though the aid being delivered in Cox’s Bazar is targeted solely at refugees. UNICEF alone has country-wide projects that benefit the host community in Cox’s Bazar, and our district-specific projects aim to be inclusive of and beneficial to all community members. But, for all this complexity, what surprises me most is that for a country so recently and deeply affected by persecution, there seems little concern for the plight of these Burmese refugees.
And, most depressingly of all, this apathy is pervasive within the local government and makes our task here that much harder.
At a meeting with government and judiciary in Cox’s Bazar, in an effort to stimulate cooperation to ensure the release of children currently in Cox’s Bazar jail (children in jail with adults!), we were faced with stubborn, malignant, antiquated beliefs and opinions and undermined at every opportunity.
Bangladesh is a signatory to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, but there is clearly a long way to go before all Bangladeshi children are ensured these rights. UNICEF is working closely with the Government to review the Children Act 1974 and to develop a national child protection system. This is no easy task but changing legislation is only part of the struggle – effecting social and behavioural change in Bangladesh is a long and uphill battle.
Although the CRC stipulates that a ‘child’ is aged up to 18 years, the Bangladeshi Children Act puts that age at 16. Bangladesh is a signatory to the CRC and as an international guideline this should take precedence. But with social norms as they are (high rates of early marriage, child labour, widespread poverty, etc) the reality is far from ideal.
UNICEF’s communication for development strategy is working to effect social and behavioural change in Bangladesh. We are engaging all stakeholders to ensure participation, build capacity, build knowledge and encourage best practices across our education, protection, health and water/sanitation sections.
So it is particularly upsetting when at a meeting with high ranking government officials who have worked with UNICEF for the 60+ years we have been in Bangladesh, some of whom have attended several UNICEF training courses, to get caught up in an debate around whether they are legally obligated to help the six ‘children’ aged between 16 and 18 who were in the jail and without any legal representation. One high ranking gentleman even tried to argue that due to the social and geographical climate in Bangladesh, 14 years should be the legal adult age…I almost had to be held down. Legally? It’s a gray area. But morally?
Equally depressing is the legal black hole that refugees in jail face. If they are not registered (at one of the camps) then UNHCR cannot assist them, Myanmar won’t take them back, and without any legislation around refugees in Bangladesh, their future is uncertain.
From that depressing meeting we went to the jail to visit the children. They were scared, pale faced and abandoned by their families for bringing them shame. One child had been in jail nine months for a small theft. All he needs to secure his release is for his father, a local government officer, to ask. Another child, arrested a year ago, refused to admit to us that he was a refugee, because he knows what that means for his future. None of the six children in Cox’s Bazar jail had, prior to our intervention, legal representation or a chance at release. And no one cared.
UN presence in Bangladesh is not a on-going guarantee. What I can’t help but wonder is what the hell will happen to these children, to these refugees, to the future of this country, if the opinions and actions of those in authority cannot be reasoned with?
Who will protect the children then?
Birth registration is a first and significant step in meeting a child’s rights because it is an official acknowledgement of the child's existence and recognises the child's status before the law. Although most of the 28,000 refugees in the camps are registered with the government (forget about the 200,000 who live outside the camps and suffer far worse State neglect), a birth certificate is an additional measure to ensure their rights are protected. And every child has the right to an identity.
Kids at the unregistered Leda camp at Teknaf
UNICEF has been lobbying the Government of Bangladesh to issue birth certificates to refugees for years. Finally, this year, the Ministry agreed. However, they’ve given us a deadline by which the work needs to be completed – work that UNICEF is supporting (with resources) but that local government need to actually do – and with public opinion of refugees as it is, it’s fair to say that motivation is lacking.
There are many factors that spark debate about the situation of refugees in Bangladesh – whether NGO/UN aid supports reliance instead of livelihood development, growth and sustainability; government reluctance to provide additional support; “forced repatriation” as preferred solution; no legal framework for the protection of refugees in Bangladesh; host community discontent…the list goes on.
However, it is not as though the aid being delivered in Cox’s Bazar is targeted solely at refugees. UNICEF alone has country-wide projects that benefit the host community in Cox’s Bazar, and our district-specific projects aim to be inclusive of and beneficial to all community members. But, for all this complexity, what surprises me most is that for a country so recently and deeply affected by persecution, there seems little concern for the plight of these Burmese refugees.
And, most depressingly of all, this apathy is pervasive within the local government and makes our task here that much harder.
At a meeting with government and judiciary in Cox’s Bazar, in an effort to stimulate cooperation to ensure the release of children currently in Cox’s Bazar jail (children in jail with adults!), we were faced with stubborn, malignant, antiquated beliefs and opinions and undermined at every opportunity.
Bangladesh is a signatory to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, but there is clearly a long way to go before all Bangladeshi children are ensured these rights. UNICEF is working closely with the Government to review the Children Act 1974 and to develop a national child protection system. This is no easy task but changing legislation is only part of the struggle – effecting social and behavioural change in Bangladesh is a long and uphill battle.
Although the CRC stipulates that a ‘child’ is aged up to 18 years, the Bangladeshi Children Act puts that age at 16. Bangladesh is a signatory to the CRC and as an international guideline this should take precedence. But with social norms as they are (high rates of early marriage, child labour, widespread poverty, etc) the reality is far from ideal.
UNICEF’s communication for development strategy is working to effect social and behavioural change in Bangladesh. We are engaging all stakeholders to ensure participation, build capacity, build knowledge and encourage best practices across our education, protection, health and water/sanitation sections.
So it is particularly upsetting when at a meeting with high ranking government officials who have worked with UNICEF for the 60+ years we have been in Bangladesh, some of whom have attended several UNICEF training courses, to get caught up in an debate around whether they are legally obligated to help the six ‘children’ aged between 16 and 18 who were in the jail and without any legal representation. One high ranking gentleman even tried to argue that due to the social and geographical climate in Bangladesh, 14 years should be the legal adult age…I almost had to be held down. Legally? It’s a gray area. But morally?
Equally depressing is the legal black hole that refugees in jail face. If they are not registered (at one of the camps) then UNHCR cannot assist them, Myanmar won’t take them back, and without any legislation around refugees in Bangladesh, their future is uncertain.
From that depressing meeting we went to the jail to visit the children. They were scared, pale faced and abandoned by their families for bringing them shame. One child had been in jail nine months for a small theft. All he needs to secure his release is for his father, a local government officer, to ask. Another child, arrested a year ago, refused to admit to us that he was a refugee, because he knows what that means for his future. None of the six children in Cox’s Bazar jail had, prior to our intervention, legal representation or a chance at release. And no one cared.
UN presence in Bangladesh is not a on-going guarantee. What I can’t help but wonder is what the hell will happen to these children, to these refugees, to the future of this country, if the opinions and actions of those in authority cannot be reasoned with?
Who will protect the children then?
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Truce
Men and I, we don’t always get along (see previous post). But I do accept that they aren’t all bastards and in fact I know some pretty cool ones.
Obviously they have a tendency to behave appallingly, but then after a few drinks, I’m no angel either.
So, with this in mind, I’m calling a truce. Because, honestly? I hate men as much as I love them. Which is surely one of life’s greatest cruelties.
As an aside: He apologized in a sufficient form and has therefore been duly forgiven for being an arse.
Obviously they have a tendency to behave appallingly, but then after a few drinks, I’m no angel either.
So, with this in mind, I’m calling a truce. Because, honestly? I hate men as much as I love them. Which is surely one of life’s greatest cruelties.
As an aside: He apologized in a sufficient form and has therefore been duly forgiven for being an arse.
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