UN’s Senior Humanitarian Coordinator Sumbul Rizvi warns of a humanitarian crisis ahead of cyclone season.

The tragedy of Asma Jahangir’s sudden passing away at only 66 years of age, on February 11, is that she has left the world at a time when it needed her most. As a singular voice against injustice and intolerance, she seemed to be one of the last remaining courageous warriors in a world ruled by cowardly bullies. And the best part is that she spoke for the voiceless and disempowered not just in Pakistan but in all of South Asia and beyond. We are now living at a time when democracies are facing an existential crisis as more and more leaders are taking the quick route to power—through authoritarianism and compromise with undemocratic forces. The result is a cauldron of an unidentified stew, the ingredients of which defy the commandments of the preparation, in this case the principles of democracy. With the voices of intolerance getting louder and louder—causing wars, displacement, inequality, gender discrimination, and meaningless violence—Asma Jahangir’s was one that challenged the status quo and exposed it with fearlessness and clarity.

A human rights lawyer and social activist in a country that has increasingly become a victim of toxic religious extremism, political opportunism and manipulation, Asma has exhibited a rare kind of courage that defied all odds. She actively participated in a movement for restoration of political and fundamental rights during the military regime of Zia-ul-Haq for which she was put under house arrest and later imprisoned in 1983. She was again put under house arrest in November 2007 after the imposition of emergency rule in Pakistan.

In 1987, she co-founded the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan and served as its Secretary General until 1993 when she became its chairperson. She was also the co-chair of South Asians for Human Rights. She was appointed UN Special Rapporteur on Extrajudicial, Arbitrary or Summary Executions and later as the UN Rapporteur on Freedom of Religion or Belief. She won countless awards including the 2014 Right Livelihood Award (along with Edward Snowden), 2010 Freedom Award, Ramon Magsaysay Award, 1995 Martin Ennals Award for Human Rights Defenders, and the UNESCO/Bilbao Prize for the Promotion of a Culture of Human Rights.

The tributes paid to her within hours after the news of her death are a testament to the value of her relentless efforts to establish social justice and promote peace and equality. Marvi Sirmed, a senior Pakistani journalist who knew her personally, writes in The Daily Times how as a teenager she was inspired by “Asma ji’s perseverance, her clarity of purpose, her strength of character…her itch to question the powers of the time, and her passion to fearlessly fight for the oppressed and whatever she considered right, come what may.”

One of the most significant acts of bravery was Asma’s determined battle against the anti-women Hudood laws that Zia-ul-Haq had introduced. With her sister and fellow activists, Asma established a law firm, the first ever by women. Together, they formed the Women’s Action Forum that campaigned against the Proposed Law of Evidence, where the value of a woman’s testimony was reduced to half that of a man’s testimony, and the Hudood Ordinances, where victims of rape had to prove their innocence or else face punishment themselves. Asma defended a blind 13-year-old who had been raped by her employers and had become pregnant but was sent to jail charged with “zina.” She was sentenced to flogging and three years’ imprisonment. The verdict was overruled by an appeals court thanks to the efforts of Asma and fellow activists. She was a strong critic of family laws that discriminated against women.

The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan that she co-founded has defended religious minorities in blasphemy cases as well as taken on cases of honour killings. Such courage comes at a high price in a country like Pakistan, where religious extremism is increasingly infiltrating politics and daily lives of people. In fact, Asma has faced death threats—once she had to send her family away to safety. Yet nothing stopped her from speaking out against injustice, whether it was at protest marches on the streets, interviews on television, or speeches at universities abroad.

A recurrent concern for Asma was the increasing intolerance she witnessed not just in her own country but all over the world, and this she considered was the root of all evils. This intolerance was not just that of religious elements but also the so-called secular forces. It was the cause of polarisation in societies leading to conflict and war. In a lecture at the London School of Economics (LSE) she says: “Religion and fear has been politicised so that they have played into electoral politics, into policies, into institutional discrimination…The double standards are more visible—think of the Patriot Act, the laws on migration…” She cites Aung Sung Su Ki’s unwillingness to protect the Rohingya as an example of how “intolerance seeps into politics and the level it has seeped immobilises politicians.” She points out how long it took the UN to recognise the blatant injustice of Jewish settlements in Palestine territory.

Such candour in a climate where truth is vilified by the most powerful leaders of the world, is rare and badly needed in a global scenario where the basic tenets of democracy are being attacked—whether it is freedom of expression, freedom of speech, or freedom from discrimination based on race, religion or gender.

It is a sad fact that a person’s true worth is revealed after they die—in the outpouring of grief and overwhelming expressions of admiration and respect. But it is also a great achievement for any human being to be remembered with such unabashed adoration and reverence. This is what Asma Jahangir has been rewarded with in her passing, an endless trail of admirers and followers who will carry the torch she has so tenaciously held on to.

There is no doubt that Facebook represents an alternate reality that many of us like to escape to. It gives one a glimpse into the day-to-day lives of people we cannot see face to face—because they are thousands of miles away; because they are only a few miles away but the traffic makes sure that you reach them in the same time as it would take you to fly to another country; because although the person is right in front of you, you just can’t look them in the face and say anything. It makes one wonder why married couples must declare their unquestionable adoration for each other on Facebook. Do they not see each other every single day of their lives? Perhaps they are just too shy.

Certainly shyness is the last thing you see in a Facebook post. And why not? Have you ever seen anyone post an unflattering picture of themselves? Yes other people may put up unflattering photos of you—pictures in which they look like glamorous actresses and you look like a tornado took a pit stop on your hair before moving on. But be frank, if you had to do it wouldn’t you put the best shot of yourself, standing at an angle that perfectly camouflages those love handles, hair perfect, make up perfect, skin airbrushed and face contoured with that special app that is so less painful than plastic surgery? If not, then perhaps you just don’t belong to this world of the happy, bold and beautiful where everyone “likes” everyone, and “loves” everything they do. It is a place to “share” your accomplishments with your friends—awards, trophies, recognitions, degrees, marriages, anniversary celebrations, etcetera etcetera etcetera.

It is not a place to tell your friends you are in the middle of a messy divorce, that you are practically bankrupt or that your husband fancies your best friend and always has. Which is how it should be perhaps since Facebook is a public forum—like a party where you try to put up your best face and socialise with only those you want to mingle with while judging others about their clothes, looks, partners, even the way they spell (lol)—a magical place where you can just vanish unceremoniously without saying a single goodbye.

Hence the complacency of some delusional fools, who think they can kill (yes murder) people, even be convicted in court and then post pictures of their birthday party in Malaysia on Facebook. A report in this paper has found that four convicted killers of Zubair Ahmed, a university student who was brutally killed, did exactly that. To make things a little clearer, Zubair belonged to a faction of the Chhatra League and his killers were from an opposing faction of the same organisation.

Let’s not get into why members of the same league have factions and what motivates them to kill each other or why—pray why must they pretend to be university students when they are aspiring to be Kala Jahangir? No, let’s ask why they would think that they would not be exposed if they posted their pouting pictures on Facebook? This is surely a mystery. After all, these young men have been convicted of murder, had escaped from the lower court and reported as absconding. And now they are posting their New Year pictures in nightclubs, commenting what a pity it was that his fellow countrymen in Bangladesh could not even hold a rooftop party because of the government ban. In case anyone had doubts about whether the four were “friends in deed”—one of them even posted a group photo of all four at a Cineplex in Kuala Lumpur. How they disappeared (willingly of course) from the lower court, got to the airport, went through immigration and boarded a plane to Kuala Lumpur completely undetected, we do not know. Neither do we know why there was no arrest warrant for two of the killers who had been sentenced to death in court or why the police have not made any effort to bring back the murderers from Malaysia, a fact everybody seems to know, thanks to social media. In another eerily similar story, five of the 13 convicted killers (members of Chhatra League) of the ill-fated young man Biswajit Das who was mercilessly hacked to death by them, also posted on social media, even though they had been awarded death sentences or life terms by the court. At least four of them had social media posts from places in Dhaka.

So are people so caught up in the virtual reality of social media that they forget that this media is also connected to the real world? That people will know that you were partying away at Westin when you said you had an E Coli poisoning from a misguided enthusiasm for street side chaltar achaar and hence could not make it to the wedding reception. Or that people, maybe even the police, will see that even though you are a fugitive convicted of murder, you are taking a selfie at the mall in Dubai.

So what’s going on? Have people lost all their grey matter?

The answer to that question is pretty obvious, don’t you think? Well not exactly. Yes those ordinary fools who post pictures of every second of their lives are perhaps not the most brainy of individuals since they do not realise that they are providing vital information to “certain powerful groups” who take surveillance to pathological levels so that even an innocuous “share” can become case for sedition/defamation/blasphemy.

But what about the other group—those hormonal hooligans who seem least bothered that they are exposing their hideouts even though technically they are fugitives from the law and face death or life imprisonment if they are caught? Are they really that pea-brained? One would think not. Perhaps they belong to a group that enjoys unusual diplomatic immunity that allows them to extort, maim or even kill, not be held accountable and guaranteed a free pass to a foreign safe haven. Perhaps even the fact that they are gleefully active on social media will not make much of a difference to the protectors of law who have the capacity to trace them and bring them back to face justice.

One cannot help but wonder what will happen with the introduction of the specialised police unit which will employ more than 500 skilled personnel and includes a sophisticated software that will be able to detect cybercrime through a single incriminating word—say, “atheism” or “fascist”. Will these super cybercrime-busters catch those who have killed people and disappeared only to reappear on social media? Or will they do an even better job than their predecessors by weeding out troublemakers who dare to express opinions that do not conform to the current politically elite school of thought? That indeed, is the question.

Aasha Mehreen Amin is Deputy Editor, Editorial and Opinion, The Daily Star.

source: http://www.thedailystar.net

As you enter Balukhali refugee camp for the first time all you will notice is the amount of dust that clouds your vision, settling on your hair, clothes, seeping into your shoes and even finding its way into your mouth. Through the haze an unbelievable scene is unravelled. It is a humungous labyrinth of little shacks—blue, green, orange, creating a pattern on the crudely cut reddish hills, a pattern that is not aesthetically unpleasing. But these are grossly superficial impressions and incredibly deceptive as you will soon find out.

The dustiness is actually a blessing in disguise, it means the weather is dry—dry enough for the makeshift shanties to stay in place and offer shelter to close to seven hundred thousand human beings described as the most persecuted people in the world. In a few months the rains will come; the possibility of mudslides is frighteningly high and has aid workers and government officials equally worried—an estimated 103,000 people are at immediate risk. Dust, is the least of their problems.

And those rows and rows of colourful huts—the stories they each hold are not pretty. They are stories of indescribable brutality, humiliation, hunger and hopelessness. You see men, of all ages, loitering everywhere, staring, gaping—their faces expressionless—as if everything, even the tiniest bit of emotion, has been drained out from them. You see little children scampering around and trying to play as is their nature no matter how harsh the circumstances, their thin, stunted bodies coated in thick dust, negotiating uneven roads crowded with grownups—people of their own community, local NGO staff, foreign aid workers and those big, shiny cars bringing temporary hope.

Then you see the women—all covered in veils, some even with gloves and socks—the preferred formal garb for women of this community, if they dare venture out that is. Which ironically they have to—to collect the heavy bags of relief, take their sick babies to the makeshift hospital, take part in small income generating initiatives like learning how to use the sewing machine.

Intermittently constructed near clusters of huts are smaller ones which are the latrines. They are far from adequate and many are unusable and overflowing adding to the general lack of hygiene that threatens outbreaks of epidemics. Already diarrhoea and measles have taken their toll. And now diphtheria, a menace we thought had been eradicated for good, has made a shocking comeback infecting babies, children and adults—refugees and locals.

But there also things you don’t see. The thousands of adolescent girls, for example, especially the unmarried ones—they are not allowed outside their homes—the draconian rules of a community left in the dark ages for decades ensures that no young girl comes out to “dishonour” herself or her family just by appearing in public. They do not have enough clothes to wear, no proper sanitary pads during menstruation, not enough functioning latrines or enough areas to bathe. They also feel insecure with threats of trafficking or harassment looming too close to their miniscule makeshift homes. Privacy is nonexistent.

All this we gather as we trudge through the sandy path that may go uphill and downhill making the trek quite unnerving. We are a group of women of different professions accompanying the UN Women Executive Director and UN Under-Secretary-General Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka who is visiting the camps to assess the situation. At one of the “women friendly spaces”—a project by Action Aid, UN Women and a local NGO—IPSHA, we meet a few Rohingya women who are learning how to use the sewing machine that will help them earn some money. It is also a kind of refuge for women of the camps—a place they feel safe, comfortable, away from the intrusive male gaze and a sanctuary where they can block out the memories of murder, gang rape, dead babies and burning homes.

It is here we meet Romida, 30, a sewing instructor. Tall, attractive and quite friendly, she says she used to be a seamstress back in Burma. Her face is an open book, the grief harshly imprinted on her face. I talk to her through our interpreter Achia Islam Sabah and learn how she ended up in the camps. She came with her husband and two children: a ten-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son. Even before the military crackdown in Myanmar, her community, she says, had to live under extreme restrictions. The men of her village often bribed the military to go out to seek work. Often they would be arrested just for stepping out. Her husband managed to be a driver and eventually saved enough to own a car. “I used to live in a big house—my house was bigger than any house here. But they burnt down everything, even the car, my savings, I have nothing left.” The tears flow freely now and she keeps wiping them away angrily. So does she want to go back I ask. “Yes I do but only if our rights and safety are ensured”, she says mechanically. The other women, a few of them just teenagers watch wide-eyed. Two of the teenagers are already married. They all want to learn how to sew, so that they can earn something. They clearly look up to Romida who has skills that gives her some semblance of confidence.

My curiosity is not satisfied and I ask Romida: “Was it always like this in Burma? Did you never live in peace?” She relates a macabre story—around 13–14 years ago when she was already married, some Muslim holy men had come from Rangoon to their local mosque to help set up madrasas for the children of the village. It was a special majlish and everyone wanted to go there to listen to their sermon. But after the majlish when the preachers and the preached were about to leave, the “Moghs” (Burmese) swooped on them, mercilessly slaying them all. That’s when it all started says Romida.

***

Back in the car we go further up towards Modhur Sura in Kutapalong Camp giving us a view of the sheer enormity of the crisis. I realise with dismay that the thousands of huts in these camps have been built by cutting the trees of the reserve forests. It used to be the home of elephants. But when it is a question of saving human lives, what else could Bangladesh do but open its doors, cut down its green hills and give refuge to these people who have somehow lived through the most horrific persecution imaginable?

Our next stop is to meet with three camp in charges (CICs) appointed by the government. They are Shamimul Huq Pavel who looks after Camp 3 and 4; Md Talut oversees Camp 8, 17 and 18; and ASM Obaidullah has taken on Camps 5 and 6. There are around 30 camps in total with 20 CICs and more being recruited according to Abul Kalam, Commissioner of Refugee Relief and Repatriation Commission. These three CICs and a head Majhi (head of the community) have been identified by UN Women because of their reputation of being the most proactive, especially in helping to protect the rights of the women. The visiting ED of UN Women pins on “He for She” badges to recognise the efforts of these men. Pavel is certainly an impressive CIC. He looks more like a commando than a BCS cadre whose previous post was in the land ministry. Perhaps that is what is needed in this bizarre scenario—a makeshift village full of displaced, traumatised, hungry and exhausted people who have no idea what fate holds for them tomorrow. Despite his flamboyance, Pavel displays a rare sensitivity towards the refugees he is responsible for and believes that the most important thing these people need is to be treated with respect. In response to the special needs of the women and girls he, with the help of his colleagues have formed an army of around 60 female volunteers, all recruited from the Rohingya community. They go from hut to hut to see how the women and girls are faring, what their needs are, how they are being treated by the male members of the family and then report back to the CIC. When cases of domestic violence or other offences are reported, the CICs intervene and call the men threatening punishment if they don’t treat their women better. The community in return, fear and trust the CICs and listen to them. Pavel admits that the task of controlling such a huge population who have lost everything in their lives and who have been “dumped into the dark ages for decades” is not easy. “In the early days all I saw was hopelessness in their eyes,” he says. “They had stopped believing in themselves…now at least they know that they are not in danger of being shot or attacked. Of course these are refugee conditions but we are doing the best we can to help.” The ultra-conservatism of the community, which tenaciously holds on to an orthodox interpretation of religion for solace, makes it all the more challenging for aid workers and government officials alike. Many of the refugees have never heard of basic things like immunisation, birth control, or even seen a doctor in their lives. According to Save the Children, more than 48,000 babies are expected to be delivered this year. Early marriages continue and stringent rules regarding chastity imposed by religious clerics make lives for the women and girls, even harder. While we are talking to people there is an announcement on loud speaker from one of the blocks uphill. Someone has announced that women who are not in full niqab which includes wearing gloves and socks will not be allowed back in the camp. The CIC is livid and has summoned the culprit. We hear a few minutes later, the self appointed moral policeman has bolted.

We manage to interview another interesting personality who has played a significant role in helping the women and girls in the camps. Jahida Begum, who looks much older than 27, is the head of all 60 female volunteers. She is from the registered camp and says she was born there. Confident and quite candid she recalls the early days after the August 25 crackdown, when almost every household had a survivor of sexual violence. “They were in a terrible state, bleeding profusely, physically and mentally weak. We took many of them to the hospital to get treated. Now things are much better.” What about the survivors of rape and gang rape who became pregnant? Most of them got abortions done at the makeshift hospitals set up by NGOs or international agencies says Jahida. “There was one woman however who had been raped once by the Burmese military—she had been married for only three months. They then killed her husband in front of her and gang raped her. She was pregnant when she came here but it was too late for an abortion. I asked her if she wanted to keep the baby or give it up. She said she wanted to keep it—’the baby has no fault, neither do I’ she said.”

Meanwhile there are still refugees coming, even if they are in smaller groups, they add to the already growing burden. There are over 7,000 orphans who have lost both parents, according to Abul Kalam, the RRR Commissioner. He is trying to get them adopted by foster parents within the Rohingya community so that they can be with people they can relate to. He and his ministry are also planning to relocate those families who are at greatest risk of falling victim to landslides which are inevitable if the rains are as heavy as last June in CHT that left over 160 people dead. Although families are being registered to facilitate the repatriation process, even the Commissioner is uncertain regarding the timeframe. Myanmar has done nothing to reassure the world that it is creating conducive conditions for a dignified, voluntary repatriation. The recent agreement lacks conviction especially with the refusal of the Myanmar government to give access to international aid agencies to monitor the situation. Mass graves are being uncovered. The latest Reuters report confirms the extent of the brutality committed by the army.

With more influx and Myanmar’s continuous intransigence regarding admission of the human rights violence committed by its army and civilians, repatriation does not seem to be happening any time soon. Meanwhile despite the laudable efforts and genuine sincerity to help, resources of the government, NGOs and aid agencies are overstretched, patience among locals, many of whom are also deprived of basic needs, is wearing thin. This is Bangladesh’s worst catastrophe—mainly because there seems to be no concrete solution—and the longer it continues the more cataclysmic it threatens to be.

Aasha Mehreen Amin is Deputy Editor, Editorial and Opinion, The Daily Star.

source: http://www.thedailystar.net

There are allegations of irregularities regarding allocation of flats built for wounded freedom fighters.

Out of 84 flats, 33 flats have been allocated. And 13 persons have illegally grabbed 26 flats out of these 33.

Although 51 flats are not still allocated, a section of people occupied these and are staying there illegally. Ten of these people own government houses, flats and land.

It is also alleged many of these people are neither wounded freedom fighters nor freedom fighters at all.

Speaking to Prothom Alo, liberation affairs minister AKM Mozammel Huq said, “We have investigated the matter. A section of people started to live without any permission. Some people grabbed flats. It is unfortunate that those who are not freedom fighters have occupied flats. We have asked them to leave the tower. If they do not leave willingly, we will evict them.”

The Muktijoddha Tower was built on Gaznabi Road of Mohammadpur in Dhaka for wounded freedom fighters as residences and for commercial purposes.

According to a report of Bangladesh Freedom Fighter Welfare Trust, after the construction of the tower, 33 flats were allocated for the wounded freedom fighters.

Some 19 persons among whom flats were allocated are not wounded freedom fighters. A group of 13 persons grabbed 26 flats. A thorough investigation has been launched against them. Those non-freedom fighters have also got allocation of 33 shops.

A total of 51 flats have been kept for commercial purposes to generate income for the welfare of the freedom fighters. But without allocation and permission, 51 persons grabbed 39 flats of the tower.

Speaking to Prothom Alo, officials at the Bangladesh Freedom Fighter Welfare and genuine freedom fighters said Muktijoddha Tower was supposed to have been used as a rest house. Later, 33 flats were allocated for the rehabilitation of freedom fighters.

But due to mismanagement of Freedom Fighter Welfare Trust, a vested quarter grabbed the flats of the tower.

Managing director at the Freedom Fighter Welfare Trust Azharul Hoque said only nine people are legally staying in the building. The rest are staying there illegally.

A committee is looking into who is responsible for this, he added.

While visiting the tower on 19 December, this correspondent found two floors have been used as a yaba den. Outsiders are gambling in the club of the building.

Genuine freedom fighters alleged such a situation has been created due to mismanagement and negligence of the Freedom Fighter Welfare Trust.

According to the ministry report, Keyam Uddin Mollah of Pabna is under investigation as to whether he was an injured freedom fighter or not.

Asked about the investigation, Keyam Uddin Mollah told Prothom Alo, ”I have been living here since 1971. Even police won’t be able to evict us.”

However, he admitted that he and many others live in the tower by taking over two flats.

Keyam Uddin Mollah is also the president of the tower’s Injured Freedom Fighters’ Rehabilitation Multipurpose Association.

When asked about yaba trade inside the tower, he said, ”We informed police about this, but they have not taken any action.”

Both insiders of the building and outsiders are involved in the yaba trade, he added.

Abu Shaheed Billah of Bogra, whose freedom fighter identity is being probed, forcefully occupies two flats.

”I’m a freedom fighter. But many people, who are not freedom fighters, live in the tower,” said Abu Shaheed Billah.

Instead of an allotted one, Chand Miah of Sirajganj grabbed another flat of the tower. He is also under investigation.

Golam Mostafa Bir Bikram of Dhaka’s Dohar who lives in the tower as a freedom fighter told Prothom Alo, ”It’s correct that many people who are not freedom fighters, live in the tower.”

”We want to know why action is not being taken against the non-freedom fighters. We want support of the government to close the yaba den and gambling in the tower,” he also said.

*This report, originally published in Prothom Alo print edition, has been rewritten in English by Rabiul Islam and Imam Hossain.

source: http://en.prothomalo.com

A public toilet that doesn’t make you faint

The best thing about the building I come to work to six days a week is that it has reasonably clean (as in dry), separate toilets for women in each floor. It is a luxury that few women in this city can claim. I say “luxury” for what is a basic necessity because in Dhaka city (forget the rest of Bangladesh) having access to a reasonably useable toilet for women is a rarity. Sometimes it is a miracle.

Not that men have a great many options when they are in the streets. The number of public toilets is pathetically low (around one toilet per two lakh people), most of them so filthy and broken that only the extremely courageous few will venture into them. A study by ActionAid Bangladesh in association with UK Aid has found 90 percent of them to be unusable with most of them being unsafe and unhygienic.

For women going to a public toilet is usually unthinkable. They also do not have the option of just relieving themselves at some corner of the street—a garbage dump, open drain or under the footbridge—something their menfolk quite unabashedly feel entitled to. This is because shame is an integral part of being female. And because of shame women will hold their bladders for hours and hours until they have access to a clean toilet—which often means until they get home.

Women and girls therefore risk getting bladder and urinary tract infections (UTIs) and even kidney failure because they tend to drink far less water or liquid than they should. Conditions associated with dehydration—headaches, muscle cramps, lack of energy—are common amongst women and girls. The lack of useable public toilets makes going to a public event, or even carrying out everyday errands such as going to the bazar, activities accompanied by the anxiety of having to hold one’s bladder for long periods of time.

While there have been recent initiatives by the city mayors and some NGOs to address the problem—introducing clean, safe, well-maintained or renovated toilets—they can only serve a fraction of the city’s population. In slum areas especially, the lack of basic sanitation facilities makes life for its residents, especially the women, who often must wait until darkness before relieving themselves, even more miserable. Slum-dwellers use open, makeshift latrines and latrine water often gets mixed with drinking water. The lack of sanitation also increases the risk of transmission of deadly diseases such as cholera, dysentery, hepatitis A, typhoid and polio, which affect everybody—women, men and children.

It is hard to understand why, when crores of taka are spent in so-called beautification projects to show off to foreign dignitaries who will zoom by the main streets in a matter of seconds, the authorities have not paid much attention to one of the most basic public utilities of all time: toilets. There are around 47 operational public toilets in Dhaka city that has a population of at least 18 million.

What about the toilets inside buildings—in the workplace and in educational institutions? Do women and girls have access to clean toilets? The answer is no in most cases. Just think of the stink while passing the toilets in any public university, hospital or office. Although we have no data at hand, it is a well-known fact that women and girls will just not go to the toilets available in their place of work or learning because they lack basic sanitation.

There is an unexplained apathy towards keeping toilets clean. Those who have had the privilege to use the washroom of Dhaka’s international airport will be familiar with the shock of finding stalls without locks, the floors wet because of a broken tap, and the basins blood red—stained with betel leaf expulsions from attendants. It is the same in most public buildings where there are apparently people employed to keep the toilets “clean” but who are either too disgruntled or too lazy to bother. Ensuring cleanliness is just not a priority.

So how would life change for people if they had access to clean, safe, usable toilets in the city? It would mean women and girls drinking more water and being spared the suffering associated with UTIs, not to mention the cost of doctor visits and medication. Women going to work and girls and women going to school or university would not have to worry about whether they will be able to wait until they reach home. Many diseases are related to poor hygiene and sanitation in public toilets which women and girls are sometimes compelled to use and this could be avoided if they were properly maintained by the authorities.

Going from point A to point B in Dhaka city has become a major challenge thanks to the hours of choking traffic that every city traveller must consider a daily hazard. Paradoxically, no matter how slow the traffic and how congested the city, more and more people, especially women, have to go out of their homes—to work, to earn, to buy and to socialise. Thus the availability of clean, safe public toilets is directly related to the quality of life of the people of this city. This means ensuring that there are clean restrooms in all public spaces—whether they are government establishments, public spaces such as shopping malls, marketplaces, thoroughfares and so on.

For women, having access to a clean, safe washroom when they step outside their homes would certainly be something to celebrate.

Source: thedailystar.net