From Gibraltar to Kenya

Meenal Viz

Meenal Viz will tell you that she is in medical school, training to be a doctor, when you ask her what she does. It’s only when you speak to her for some time that you realize that she’s much more than that: she runs the AltCricket Foundation, which is working towards building an orphanage in Kenya, while supporting the well-being and needs of twelve children in the country;  she plays table tennis for Gibraltar, she volunteers her time as a teacher in a school every Wednesday in Prague and nurses the ambition of working in the domain of social medicine some day. Here’s a chat with the young woman herself.

I grew up in Gibraltar, and had a very privileged life. My father had grown up in a rather poor part of Delhi, and his is the typical story of a turn of the tide from poverty to a regular life through hard work. When I was eighteen, I went to a village in Mozambique for six months, where I lived with a family there. I learned a lot in that time – the family made did with life while dealing with a lot of obstacles. They had no power, and no water. They would have to ration out the opportunity for their children to study – if they had three children, one child would go to school this year and drop out the next, so the next child would get to go. It made me realize how privileged I was, and how much I take for granted. It also made me realize that my father’s childhood and growing years were like that. I found myself introspecting: why is it that I had all these privileges, when there were so many in the world that grew up without them? It really got under my skin.

When you’re eighteen, you think you know everything and you’re sure you want to change the world. I knew at the time that I was going to med school, but I really wanted to do something to make a difference. After I got into med school, truly, it felt like the universe was bringing everything together. I am into sports, and ran a half-marathon in April 2014, when I saw a bunch of people from Kenya. I went over to speak to them, and was drawn to speaking to one of them, with Wambugu. We had to run all of three laps to finish the half-marathon, and I was as slow as he was fast – so he was in lap three when I was puffing through lap one. He told me that he had come to run to win the amount so he could go back and support the twelve orphans he was taking care of. He would run a couple of marathons and collect the prize money from them all, and when that amount was converted into Kenyan currency, it went a long way. Wambugu and I didn’t speak too much at the marathon, but exchanged numbers and stayed in touch.

With more and more time I spent talking to him, I was sure I wanted to do something to support them, and decided I would build an orphanage. I reached out to a friend of mine, Nishant Joshi,  who was running a Twitter handle at the time called @AltCricket, and we had decided that we would ground all our work in the organizational identity of AltCricket because it had a good amount of following.

When I began, there was a lot of resistance. My parents told me that it was time to focus on my studies, but I insisted that I could handle my studies, this, and play table tennis all the same. I started with a small fundraiser in University, innocently labouring under the assumption that people would all be willing to give, especially to the cause of supporting young children in Kenya. I started with a bake sale, and learned a rather difficult lesson – people would come up to me, pick up the product they needed and tell me they would pay later, only to leave it hanging. But since then, though, we’ve been able to host a few fundraisers that did support us sufficiently. There were also misconceptions sent my way to the effect of whether I could trust Wambugu – because I was giving him money. But I am always inclined towards seeing the good in people, and I trusted him – it turned out just fine. Along the way, my partner, Aakash, joined in. He had reached out to the founder of AltCricket on Twitter, and then got in touch with me, and has helped me since. Thanks to him, I’ve come a long way – and now have a website and a successful few fundraisers!

The journey hasn’t been without challenges. When I started, I had to get all my paperwork done. It used to take forty days at a time, and the office would let me know with an email and tell me that a line was wrongly written or a tiny error had crept in – and then I would have to wait another forty days to get things done! I approached a lawyer in the hope that I would be able to get pro bono support, but they quoted $2,000. Nevertheless, I did manage to get it done.  I went into it thinking that my goal was to build an orphanage, but I realized that we also did have to provide for the basic necessities for the children, and had to start with that. They needed food, only after which would any thought of education or other things come to mind. At some point, say about two or three years ago, we were actually in debt, to the point that we couldn’t even buy milk for the kids. But thankfully, now, though, we are better off. The children had a Christmas party last month, and our last few fundraisers have been able to offer support for the next six or seven months.

Our current goal is to build the orphanage for the children. Wambugu was housing the children in a house that he built – except that the house was not in line with governmental regulations. The good thing, though, is that we don’t have to buy any land or worry about leveling it or laying cables. All that’s been done. We’ve decided to work on it in phases – by building an orphanage for six kids at first, which roughly costs about $13,000. This isn’t the money that a bake sale can bring in, but I’m hoping to seek corporate donations to support us. All money we raise goes entirely into the cause – save for the inevitable loss in transfer fees and conversion rates.

I’ve never met the kids personally, but Wambugu sends me videos of them going about their day. Carol, one of the kids, wants to be a lawyer to help kids like her. One of the other kids wants to be a pilot. It’s beautiful to see them all dreaming big despite facing so many challenges. These kids don’t know what it is to use a phone, and have never experienced watching videos or getting online. When we are low or finding ourselves in a fix, we find motivational talks online and pep ourselves up – but these kids don’t have any of that, and yet find the hope, vision and ambition in their hearts. That’s what makes it doubly powerful – because it comes from the heart, and it’s incredibly real and authentic. And that hope inspires me, to keep going.

Intersectional Musings #17

In this edition, we feature author Kiran Manral. She published her first book, The Reluctant Detective in 2011. Since then, she has published eight books across genres till date. Her books include romance and chicklit with Once Upon A Crush (2014), All Aboard (2015), Saving Maya (2017); horror with The Face at the Window (2016) and nonfiction with Karmic Kids (2015), A Boy’s Guide to Growing Up (2016) and True Love Stories (2017). Her short stories have been published on Juggernaut, in magazines like Verve and Cosmopolitan, and have been part of anthologies like Chicken Soup for the Soul, Have a Safe Journey (2017) and Boo (2017). Her articles and columns have appeared in the Times of India, Tehelka, DNA, Yowoto, Shethepeople, New Woman, Femina, Verve, Elle, Cosmopolitan, Conde Nast Traveller, DB Post, The Telegraph, the Asian Age, iDiva, TheDailyO and more. She was shortlisted for the Femina Women Awards 2017 for Literary Contribution. She is a TEDx speaker and a mentor with Vital Voices Global Mentoring Walk 2017.

Read the comic here.

The political is personal is political

The author of The House of Discord, Sadiqa Peerbhoy discusses some difficult questions. Portraying the personal is the political is the personal, Sadiqa’s narrative explores conflict as a spectrum ranging from micro to macro, and makes a compelling case for the truth that peace from within is the starting point for any peace beyond. Here is Sadiqa’s own story.

I think I always wanted to be a writer because I was an avid reader, as was my whole family. I recall telling my class teacher, Mrs D’Cruz, in Class 3, that one day, my books would be in the school library. I selected Literature and Psychology in College and did an MA in Journalism, all the better to understand human psyche with. I think I have been writing for publications since I was fourteen. Before that, I mopped up all essay and story writing prizes in the contests in the Illustrated Weekly Youth pages, so much so, that it became embarrassing! I changed my name on the entries.

My skills were honed in Advertising. I married into the profession but I wrote short stories, columns, middles and scripts for serials along with my deadline ridden work. I also wrote much of and published a spiritual journal called The Mustard Seed for sixteen years.

I think it was a buildup to my emergence as a full-fledged writer of fiction once I gave up working. Regardless of what I was doing, I always saw myself as a writer and am never happier than when in the flow or the zone when word keep tumbling out fast and furious. I have always seen myself as a writer and believe that I was born with a God given talent and it would be wasteful not to realize it to its full potential. So, becoming a full time writer was an organic process which has taken its time unfolding.

Literature and good writing have always been a mirror of society and an exploration of human beings and the relationships with themselves and each other.  

The House of Discord was inspired by a family I used to know where the interpersonal dynamics fascinated me. They lived in a house much like Barrot House and were ruled by the Matriarch. The relationship between the mother and older son relationship, for one, was where I could see the underlying love, and yet they never saw eye to eye! There was simmering resentment on both sides. I am so involved with my characters as they unfold that I cannot bear for anything untoward to happen to them, and that is why Lily escapes rape in the riots. As for the violence, I was not in Bombay then, but my parents were, and despite living in a very secure government building for high ranking government officials in South Bombay, they felt so insecure that decided to move out of Mumbai. That, to me, was the tragedy of a city which was known for its homogenous mix of castes, religions and races.

When writing about any violence one has to walk on eggs. In The House of Discord, I took great care to see that I did not take sides or in some way implicate a name by religion. In fact, I do not even mention the political parties concerned for fear of reprisals by fundamentalists before they even read the book as is happening with Padmavati. The challenge is to rise above ones name and bemoan only the difference that it made to the city rather than who did what to whom. The House of Discord works on two levels…the discord within the homestead is a metaphor for the discord outside it. At various times, they intersect to take the characters forward and move the story towards its denouement of hope. It is troubled times like that of 1992 which foster transformation and change. Otherwise, the Deshmukh family may have gone on forever nursing its problems and eking out a stringent life in the rambling homestead while clinging to old ways. The two narratives were not consciously constructed. They just flew out once the time and space were established.

An Academic Insight

By Raakhee Suryaprakash

Prof. Amena Mohsin graduated from Dhaka University’s International Relations department and got her MA and PhD from the University of Hawaii and Cambridge University respectively. The recipient of several national and international fellowships (East-West Center Graduate Fellowship, CIDA International Fellowship, Commonwealth Staff Fellowship, SSRC Fellowship and Freedom Foundation Fellowship), she writes on Human Rights, State, Democracy, Civil-Military relations and human security. She is the author of The Politics of Nationalism: The Case of Chittagong Hill Tracts, Bangladesh (University Press Limited, 1997), The Chittagong Hill Tracts, Bangladesh: On The Difficult Road To Peace (Lynn Rienner Publishers, 2002), Ethnic Minorities of Bangladesh: Some Reflections the Saontals and Rakhaines (Programme for Research on Poverty Alleviation, 2002), and co-editor of Women and Militancy: South Asian Complexities (with Imtiaz Ahmed; University Press Limited, 2011), and Conflict and Partition, CHT, Bangladesh (with Delwar Hossain; SAGE, 2015).

I met Dr. Amena Mohsin - Professor, Department of International Relations, Dhaka University - at the International Conference on “Changing Dynamics in SAARC: Challenges and Opportunities in the Region” at N.E.S Ratnam College of Arts, Science and Commerce, Mumbai where she was a distinguished guest and chair of the second day’s session (December 9, 2017) on “Millennium Development Goals/Poverty Alleviation/Health/Education/Gender Equality/Sexual Minorities.”

Dr. Mohsin made a powerful presentation on “Gender and Violent Extremism: A regional perspective” with insights from her work in Bangladesh, incorporating primary and secondary sources.  It was brought out that women were becoming visible in violent extremism. It was also mentioned that women make up approximately 40% of Maoist insurgents. In addition to highlighting the correlation between violence against women (VAW) and recruitment into violent extremism Dr. Amena Mohsin called for the re-examination of narratives that assume that women will always choose peace!

The presentation explained that women join violent extremism

• to change the status quo;
• to project their agency;
• as a result of family/husband pressure;
• as an extension of their role as family care-givers where they become suicide bombers to ensure that their family is looked after.

Yet in spite of joining these extremist institutions to change the status quo they get relegated to the kitchen or in worse cases aren’t re-integrated to society, as observed in the cases of the women combatants of the Chittagong Hill Tribe.

Following the presentation Dr. Mohsin spoke about her interest in Gender and Women studies and her experiences:

What triggered your interest in Women and Gender Studies?

AM: I’ve been working on gender for a long time. My interest in gender started because, as a child when I watched movies, songs, and TV serials, I didn’t like how women behaved. Always women were pleading with men. I didn’t realize about media representation and stereotyping but resented the weak portrayal. Now we have so many labels but this is how the issue found root in my young mind without conditioning. After education, it has gotten clearer how one may categorize the issues, but the problems persist. We were the first ones [she and two colleagues at Dhaka University (DU)] to push for a course on Gender and International Relations in DU’s Department of International Relations in spite of tough pushback. We were the first to offer a course on Gender in the late 1990s. I was also a founding member of the Department of Women and Gender Studies. While studying IR we debated on High politics and Low Politics and the prevalence of violence against women.

1971 was a major shaping factor even though I was a child and not aware. Later post my PhD when I was working on Minority Rights and interviewed the women survivors of ’71 through the Ain o Salish Kendra (ASK), a legal aid and human rights organization, we brought out the first documented research on them.

Dr Mohsin’s work on her thesis included a critique of nationalism focused on the Chittagong Hill Tribes and while interviewing the Hill Women Federation how women combatants fight and what happens to them she made some startling discoveries that she shared.

Can you share your observations following your interactions with women combatants of the Chittagong Hill Tribes?

AM: At that time, the mid-1990s, women’s role was very different and the impact on women was very different – women become more authoritarian than men. At the time of the thesis these women were combatants but later I interacted with them while conducting a peace audit. While peace prevailed – in the sense that there was no armed conflicts, tensions were still high.

During the course of the peace audit, Dr Mohsin decided to talk to the women who were active in guerrilla warfare. In the course of approaching a former woman combatant, while her husband, also a former combatant, was willing to talk the woman was unwilling. The husband asked her to return alone at 10pm in order to talk to the former woman fighter. A risky request! Dr. Mohsin was a Bengali in the territory of the hill tribes. It was not prudent to go alone. Her local guide insisted upon waiting in the street corner.

AM: The woman guerrilla was behaving soft and docile and not talking directly in Bangla, even though she could. But coming from the region I could follow the dialect. It became apparent that the husband was telling the former woman fighter what to say. So a woman who was so active during the war finds herself relegated to the kitchen, and under the husband’s domination after the war.

They weren’t accepted by society, like in the case of the survivors of 1971, while the hill communities reintegrated then the majority were treated as pariahs. In the case of the women who took up arms were looked upon as having lost their womanhood by society – the men wanted soft, shy “sharmili” and gentle woman as wives they didn’t want women who fought for freedom as wives.

A man who fought side by side with women actually told her, I don’t want a man beside me at home. A woman who took up arms is a man and lost her womanhood.

Does it help women academics and working women having women in position of political power in Bangladesh?

AM: The visibility of women political leaders is important. Bangladesh has been exceptional in accepting women leaders despite being a Muslim majority country. The visibility and prevalence of women political leaders help to break through the notion that women are naturally meant for private spheres. But just numbers does not translate to true women’s empowerment. And women in mainstream politics have to deal with rightist forces and compromise so decisions taken hinder women’s empowerment. Language needs to be reframed to ensure women’s empowerment in Bangladesh and beyond.

Could you elaborate on the connection between VAW and women’s participation in violent extremism as touched upon in your presentation at this conference?

AM:  Impunity is rampant and VAW is a pandemic especially throughout South Asia. Judgements don’t come or come too late and society accepts VAW as normal. Religion and religious interpretation allows it (According to her driver, beating one’s wife is halal!). This normalization of violence against women is a kind of militarization of society. Beyond weaponization and build-up of stockpiles ideas and ideology also contributes to militarization.

As emphasized repeatedly in the paper, violent extremism is about singularity of thought. The ideology has become militarized. When a society comes to accept violence as normal then there is an increase in the number of people who take to violent extremism. It’s a progression. The correlation between the normalization of VAW and the acceptance of indoctrination of violent extremist ideology, especially among youth, is in the same trajectory. When the society becomes conservative and accepts violence as a normal feature and something that is sanctioned by religion then it functions as a facilitator and conduit for violent extremism.

So, the million dollar question. How can we empower women?

AM: Simply put you can’t. Women need to empower themselves. As I tell my students we have created new women but are yet to create new men. I think it is essential to educate and condition out the toxic masculinity. Unless men change there is little a woman can do about it, at the end of the day we are all part of society.

Patriarchy triumph’s, even post revolution and how to change the narrative.

AM: Changing the mind-set and reframing language, involves making it clear that war is not about taking up arms. Women writers, mothers, teachers undervalue the power of language. Why “re-productive” why not productive. “Role of supporters.” This is passive language but the action is active and positive.

What was one of the most powerful, experiences of your academic life?

AM: As mentioned before through ASK I interviewed survivors of Seventy-one. I then participated in an event organized by ASR in Lahore where the women of Pakistan apologizing to the women of Bangladesh for the atrocities of ‘71. The state of Pakistan is yet to apologize for 1971 but the women of Pakistan have it enabled a move towards reconciliation.

As I participated in the event, I recalled all the testimonies of the survivors and broke down. In that moment I was unable to handle the memories of the testimonies. I said at the event, it does not matter whether you apologize today or not but for your own sake and for the sake of your conscience and posterity you need to apologize to the women of ’71. Otherwise you will be known as a nation of rapists and you are not. This ensured a clear distinction between the state and the people and at least managed a reconciliation between the people