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reflections on the world

The Ten Peaceful Protests Commandments (Nigeria)

by Adeleke Adesanya

Dear Friend,

A season of discontent is upon us again. You have heard of government’s recent decision and you want to join in the protests. We have argued about it all before. You are aware that you and I at least agree on one thing and that is your right to freely protest. These are uncertain times however. And I see in your fervour a certain hope for this country. I want to see you come back in peace, healthy enough to argue with me again. That is why I write this precise manual on best practise procedures to ensure a peaceful protest and your safe return.

Do not bother querying my credentials. I will be frank and admit that I have never taken part in any public protest in Nigeria or elsewhere. I can write protest letters, sign petitions, and even place a phone call or two. But I don’t do Sit-Ins, Million Men March or Occupy Wherever. I value my physical security and have always been cynical of all leadership including that of every opposition body. As a student, I noticed that Student Union President’s do the talking while their followers receive the hard side of police baton during protests. I know that those who died during violent protests of 1993 never got to receive political appointments. I know that many who were apparently ready to die for that cause turned coat and made it into a source of livelihood. I know that many people do not want peaceful protests. Some nouveau leaders want to climb the corpse of martyrs to renown. Thieves want a little rowdiness so they can steal. And then, there are fifth columnists, SSS officers and paid agent provocateurs. You will learn to identify them while reading this piece.

One, you must plan for the protest properly. Revolutions do not happen by accident. Know when it will start and when you will leave. There is nothing called indefinite protests, everything must have a beginning and an end. Know what you will do and what you will not have a part in. There are many ways to make your voice heard. The people who write articles, who protest on twitter, who telephone radio stations do not have two heads. You don’t have to be the foot soldier in the march, that confronts the mobile policeman.

Two, if you must go out, err on the path of caution. Consider writing you local police DPO for approval first. I know you have a right to protest but it is his duty to maintain law and order. If you do not have permission, it is common sense that he will not guarantee your safety. He might refuse but if you receive approval, it is guaranteed that you will have police officers to secure your procession. They will not tear gas you if you received approval. They will even protect you from touts who may want to hijack your protest. You may belittle this point but asking for permission earns you respect. You are advertising that you are really a leader.

Three, in case of public protests, choose the locations carefully. Choose play areas and parks in suburban areas. Do not protest along main roads. Never ever burn tyres. Do not hold sticks, tree branches or anything that may be misconstrued as a weapon. Do not burn explosives aka banger. Do not harass motorists.  You must be unarmed and appear to be harmless. You are a well bred gentleman afterall.

Four, dress like a responsible person. You may be tempted to wear jeans and a tee shirt but I will suggest a suit or blazer. If you wear native attire, don a cap. Dress as you will like to appear before a judge for bail and in all likelihood you will not need to. With your smart dressing, the police will assume you are a lawyer or a representative of some foreign NGO.  You want them to make that kind of mistake. Never ever show your naked chest or wear a bandanna no matter the heat.

Five, before going for a protest, take care to telephone each media organisation in your vicinity and inform them of your protest. Or better still, request to visit them and make your visit to their office your protest. If you can get foreign press too, then fate has favoured you. If you cannot get the media to cover your protest, postpone it. In this day and age, a revolution that is not televised did not happen.

Six, part of your planning is the preparation of handbills and banners. Use your wits to come up with catchy, even funny choice of words. Design your handbills like you are selling a church retreat. Smile when you go out to evangelise. You may not agree with me your attempt to mould public opinion has made you a politician and you must learn to act the role appropriately.

Seven, do not march to the Governor’s office, the Senate or Representatives building unless you have previously secured an appointment. The security men that guard these places are bored and have been looking for action, any action. Your attempts to break protocol may be repelled with the direst deterrents.  If on the other hand, you are able to secure an appointment, try not to smile too happily when you get the customary photo opportunity.

Eight, there will be many who are not of similar persuasion as yourself. They are not necessarily against you, sometimes they just don’t care. If in a democracy you have a right of dissent, accept that they too have the right to be aloof. As for those who do not agree with you, do not get into any argument. Flee from them the way Born Again Christians are told to flee from Jehovah Witnesses. Public arguments too easily turn violent and are not subject to our customarily civil rules of debating.

Nine, it is one thing to have a plan; it is another to actualise it. If you plan to walk a mile and common sense tells you to stop at half, it is not cowardice. He who protests and runs away will live to protest another day. But be wary of those that push you to go a mile and a half. I am speaking metaphorically. Anyone who tells you he is ready to die or throws a missile at a policeman is the enemy. Ditto those who carry concealed weapons or argue with a man with a gun.   Ditto arsonists. Ditto the bearer of fantastic tales about grave casualties in other scenes of protest.  Anyone who calls a civil demonstration a call to revolution. Watch these ones. They are either fools or fifth columnists.

Ten, you must remember the practical issues on the D-day. Take some water with you. Eat a good breakfast; you don’t know for sure where or when the next one will be. Avoid any form of intoxication. Do not rub your eyes with kerosene; rather leave if the police start shooting tear gas. After tear gas, things generally go from bad to worse, I am not even sure the Nigerian Police have any stock of plastic bullets. Carry a small camera and a cell phone and make a call at the first sign of trouble. Have a lawyer on speed dial. Take your doctor’s prescription along if any, as well as your hospital card showing your blood type. Carry a valid national I D card. Be alert and prepared to flee to safety, when necessary.

I have written this because of my awareness of the attendant risks in the society we live in and the fragility of human life. Don’t be a dead hero, martyrdom is generally overrated. Someday, you will read this again and laugh at me for being so worried about you. When that day comes, I will be happy to buy us both a drink, relieved that this epistle has served its purpose.

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The Ten Peaceful Protests Commandments (Nigeria) was published on January 6th, 2012, with the tags , , , , , , under the Observations category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

How to be a Culture Tourist

Being a culture tourist is a fabulous way to see the sights and discover more about the country you’re visiting. Language learning trips offer traditional holiday experiences with the added benefit of gaining cultural insights. By immersing yourself in another culture you will find it easier to pick up the lingo. This guide suggests how you can make the most of your time abroad.

Learn new vocabulary at galleries

One of the best things about learning a language in the country itself is that you’re surrounded by it! Everywhere you look you’ll see words you don’t recognise. Although this may seem daunting, it is actually a fantastic opportunity to expand your vocabulary. You will learn new phrases at every turn, but you can also focus your studies by visiting cultural centres like galleries.

Paintings usually have notes next to them, explaining what is being shown. Even if there isn’t an English translation, you will have the picture itself to refer to. As art includes representations of so many things, you can pick up all kinds of new words. Jot down those that are of particular interest, then research them in your dictionary or online.

 Eat with the locals

Local restaurants allow you to sample great food whilst extending your language skills. Eateries in tourist traps tend to cater to those who can’t speak the language. The staff will speak English to you, and there will be English translations on the menu. This can be handy for a beginner, but to really immerse yourself in the culture you’d be better off in an out-of-the-way eatery.

The staff will usually speak in their native tongue and the menu might only be presented in the local lingo. This will test your abilities in comprehension and communication. You can also practise your skills by chatting with other diners and asking for recommendations. Unusual local specialities might be served in these hidden gems, so you will also discover more about the real cuisine of a region.

Pick up slang at a sports match

Learning a language from a book is great for giving you the basics. To really get under the skin of a culture, however, you need to get amongst the locals and hear how they use their language. Pick up slang words and you’ll get a deeper understanding of how local people communicate informally with one another.

Sports matches are great for this. The informal atmosphere and passionate crowds encourage all sorts of words you wouldn’t read in a textbook! Their chants of repeated phrases will help you get familiar with new vocabulary. You will also understand more about how ordinary people express themselves. 

Take advantage of technology

When you’re learning a language in another country you can take advantage of being immersed in the culture by tuning in to technology. Watch TV shows, listen to the radio and visit the cinema. You will be able to ask your teacher about words or phrases you don’t understand. The great thing about learning from a native speaker in their own country is that they’ll be familiar with all the cultural nuances. You can also take advantage of podcasts and other language technology aids.

Keep up the good work at home

Once you’ve been on a language learning holiday it is a good idea to keep using your new skills. The best way to do this is to enrol in language courses locally. Whether you’re interested in Russian, Chinese or Italian courses London in particular has a huge range of options, but other UK towns do too. If you’re after German, Spanish or French lessons London, Manchester, Bristol and many more cities offer courses to help you keep improving.

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How to be a Culture Tourist was published on January 4th, 2012, with the tags , , , under the Uncategorized category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

Traveling Guest Posts

Visiting Port Harcourt by Funmi

I was in Port Harcourt city twice this summer. If you were born in Port Harcourt or have lived there at all, you understand that there is only one way we eat bole (roasted plantain). This food originated in the West amongst the Yorubas but is eaten there with ekpa (groundnuts). In the south, however, fish is first coated with palm oil and pepper, and  roasted alongside the plantains. Then a special sauce is prepared and the entire meal is covered in this sauce. In PH city, bole is a meal. I had missed bole and fish (as well as isi-ewu, ekpang kukwo, native soup and isam (periwinkles)) and I enjoyed all these while I was there. (More here).

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Cheesy Berlin by Temitayo

It is important to mention that Germany has adopted many meals from its settlers. Many of the dishes were brought by the Russians, the Arabs, Asians and of course Africans. There were restaurants that specialised in this. I ate Spaghetti, prawns, soup and nuts at Asian Cosiate. I came home with the sticks I could not use. I had chicken and chips at McDonalds. Not much different from what you would get at KFC. I ate falafel, vegetarian food at an Arab food spot, where I met an Arab who had stayed in Berlin for less than two years but spoke fluent German. Food was loads cheaper, with 10 euros, I was well fed. Food was a way to celebrate difference. It created that cultural potpourri; each meal, an encounter with a culture. Different smells, unique tastes, different people. (Read more here)

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The Festival of Nations in St. Louis

On Saturday there were 40 different nationalities grilling, stewing and stirring ethnic treasures in booths that lined a promenade through the eastern end of the park. The choices ranged from bratwurst to Turkish borek, a pillowy pastry stuffed with spinach and feta.

The Paces had already sampled several sweet Malaysian drinks including rose milk; tried a thick slice of himbasha bread; indulged in Bosnian food; and had heard buzz about Eritrean food, piled high on thin, spongy rounds of injera bread.

Under a shady tree, Kyle and Jean Schenkewitz of St. Louis must have heard the buzz. They were already sampling several Eritrean delicacies, including stewed spinach, spiced lentils and a hearty tomato beef stew. The couple were aware that St. Louis has had an influx of immigrants resettling from Eritrea, a country in the horn of Africa. Both said they are fascinated by how other cultures get their protein from beans, noting that America is one of the few countries that primarily depends on meat. (Read more: here)

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Traveling Guest Posts was published on August 28th, 2011, with the tags , , , , , , under the Uncategorized category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

After the Cup: Post 2010 Perceptions of South Africa

A guest post by Jeff Norman who also writes for onlineuniversities.net and onlinecollegedegrees.net

Spain garnered the majority of press headlines from the FIFA World Cup tournament that took place last year. And for good reason — the Spaniards’ victory in the championship round was the country’s first ever World Cup win. Spain’s great finish also unfortunately marked a metaphorical dimmimg of the spotlight on the country that hosted their success, South Africa. Johannesburg, diamonds, apartheid, and Nelson Mandela being South Africa’s primary keywords, some might feel that the country’s decision to host this massive event did little to alter the world’s perception of the nation.

The fact that this was the first WC ever to take place in S.A., in all of Africa for that matter, remains the most salient detail of South Africa’s 2010. This article looks to shine a light on what is new and what is of import in South Africa, nearly a twelvemonth after its inaugural World Cup hosting. Let’s commence with that beautiful sounding instrument that melodicized its way into millions of international hearts, the vuvuzela (note sarcasm). Any adoration of this loud and obnoxious horn-like sounder seems to have remained in South Africa. Still, the fans of many countries took to the vuvuzela as a way of making it known that their team loyalty was, well, loud. Vuvuzelas stateside successfully made their way into the zeitgeist, landing appearances on nearly every nightly news broadcast and even a comic stint on Saturday Night Live.

It might not be the most glamorous way for Johannesburg to slip into Americana, but it’s for sure an indelible one. The people of South Africa took full advantage of exposure the World Cup inevitably brought on. Superstar siren Shakira composed one of YouTube’s biggest sensations in its history, with her effervescent tournament theme “Waka Waka.” The song’s styling and video made an attractive vehicle for traditional South African rhythms and dance to export themselves en masse to millions of viewers. But despite the increased attention to S.A.’s culture externally, it also seems that the country’s populace saw the World Cup as an occasion to turn inward as well. Throughout the matches, the post-apartheid flag could be seen waving with more pride than ever before. All indications seemed to depict a South Africa that had successfully turned its back on the senseless bigotry brought on by apartheid decades prior.

Word has it that before this tournament, only black South Africans participated in football with any real verve. Now, after the WC has concluded, citizens of all colors have taken to the patch and made the game their own. This societal shift and sense of freedom can be summarized in one elusive but always popular idea: democracy. Long before the World Cup, Oprah brought South Africa into American popular media, as the country was the location for the uber-powerful figure’s first-ever school. Now it looks as if South Africa, after the games, is schooling the world on what toughness, and togetherness, really mean.

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After the Cup: Post 2010 Perceptions of South Africa was published on March 19th, 2011, with the tags , , , , under the Opinion, Travelling category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

The Art of Witness and Peace in Bosnia: Ways people have remembered and reconciled since the the war

This was written by guest blogger Sean Amiri who also works as a radiology technician and writes on the subject of top online universities.

In the close to 20 years since the beginning of the Bosnian War, much has happened. Thousands have been massacred, international forces have intervened, peace agreements have been negotiated, individuals have been tried for war crimes, refugees have fled. Yet, in the midst of this difficult story, it is inspiring to know that people have resisted against the brokenness and destruction that consumed the conflict. Here are two examples of how human spirit and creativity have used art to remember and reconcile the war from its very first year until today.

Witnesses to Evidence

The seige of Sarajevo began in April 1992. Six months later, in the shelled and rundown Sujetska Cinema, a gallery director and eight artists gathered to create something as a witness to the conflict. From that October to April 1993, the artists collaborated on a series of works inside the hidden hallways of the cinema, where Sarajevans frequently passed through to escape snipers outside. The gallery director, Mirsad Purivatra, and the eight artists – Nusret Paši?, Zoran Bogdanovi?, Ante Juri?, Petar Waldegg, Mustafa Skopljak, Edin Numankadi?, Sanjin Juki?, and Radoslav Tadi? – created a living testimony to the war they themselves were living.

The exhibit was themed around and subsequently named Witnesses to Evidence, after Nusret Paši?’s piece. The exhibit was invited to represent Bosniz-Herzegovina at the 45th Venice Biennale, but because of the wartime blockade, the artists and their works were unable to travel. However, later in the spring of 1994, they could finally leave. Witnesses was brought to exhibit at the Kunsthalle in New York, and the schedule was ideal. At the time, international audiences were gathering in New York to discuss the aftermath of the Bosnian conflict. More attention was being given to the consequences of the war.

What many found compelling about Witnesses was not so much its representation of the war, but more so the sense of obligation it passed on to its viewers to act as witnesses to history. After he saw the exhibit in New York, Johannes H. Biringer, an artistic director and the author of Performance on the Edge: Transformations of Culture, wrote a commentary about what the artists had done:

“They build meaningful compositions of the human spirit and intelligence in midst of the war’s insanity,” Birringer stated, “Thus they become also witnesses of our indifference; their irony and resiliency shame us. Their work also proves that it is neither impossible nor frivolous to make art in the time of war; perhaps making art in such a time is as necessary as finding food and shelter and healing the wounded.”

Most Mira

A little over a decade after Witnesses exhibited in New York, Bosnian-born Kemal Pervani? and social researcher Lea Esterhuizen founded Most Mira, a charity organization based in Britain and Bosnia. Most Mira means ‘Bridge of Peace’ and fittingly, the organization’s mission is to build understanding and tolerance among youth in Northwest Bosnia by means of creative community arts.

Imagine this: 500 Bosnian, Serb, Croat, and Roma kids frolicking around for a week dancing, playing games, playing music, painting, writing, and singing. It’s a picture in stark contrast to war. That picture is of the Youth Festival that Most Mira has organized since 2009. And now, the charity’s energetic and innovative Trustees and Action Team are in preparation to launch this year’s festival scheduled for May 16-20, five days of workshops in art, drama, circus skills, dance, music, media, and performance. With May approaching, they’re in the last leg of the hunt to recruit volunteers, the ones who really make the festivals possible. Though, the point of it all reaches far beyond the fun and games. In a fragmented society shadowed by the war’s aftermath, what Most Mira and these volunteers do is help continue the work of remembrance and reconciliation that began in Sarajevo all those years ago.

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The Art of Witness and Peace in Bosnia: Ways people have remembered and reconciled since the the war was published on March 15th, 2011, with the tags , , , under the Opinion category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

Coffee with the Quakers

A guest post by Adeleke Adesanya

Anyone looking in through the glass from outside would think we were just having a coffee break, while working on a Sunday. We talked about politics, heard a first person account of the civil demonstrations against planned cuts in child services. Someone brought up the issue of expected redundancies at the museums and I wondered whether it would have been preferable to charge entrance fees for adults instead. The majority did not seem to agree with me. I was having my first meeting with the Quakers of Birmingham, otherwise known as the Society of Friends. They are a religious organisation, founded in the 1630s and infamous for being non-conformists. But I am getting ahead of myself.

In the middle of the healthy debates, an elderly lady asked me if I had attended a Friend’s meeting before. I said, “No”. Truth is, I had attempted to find their meeting place the previous week but had a difficult time locating them and arrived just in time for coffee. I decided not to partake then.  Their meeting rooms are tucked discretely into the middle of Bull Street, at Birmingham’s commercial centre. The premises, without any signage, are better known for hosting seminars and business meetings. Inside, the decor was stylish in a minimalist, business like fashion.

The elderly lady asked how I heard of them. I told her of a handbill I had received in my post graduate student induction pack. But once again, the truth is a bit more complicated. Many years prior, I read Charles Colson’s Born Again. The lasting impression that book made on me was that President Nixon was a Quaker. Later, I found out, President Hoover was also a Quaker. They were arguable the two most unpopular US presidents before George.W.Bush.  Both of them demonstrated placid sedateness in the midst of the worst public storms and they credited their faith for the fortitude to stay calm. I was intrigued; what made these guys tick?

I got a clue when I joined them for worship last Sunday. It was devoid of any ceremony; we sat for an hour in easy silence. Quakers believe God is an inner light that should speak to us as we wait on it. Sitting in meditative silence, they waited to hear. I was informed that sometimes, someone who was inspired will speak up but that did not happen on my watch. It was a refreshing silence, so humbling to listen in prayer for a change. The challenge was, of course, not in abstaining from speaking but in quieting the mind. Anyone who has taking part in meditation would know that thoughts seem to wait for one to be calm before intruding. But I can imagine a habit of silent meditations being useful in dealing with worries.  After the silent service, there were some brief announcements, and then we had coffee together.

A first time visitor would like to ask Quakers when their service starts. They like to say it is immediately after worship stops. Quakers have been conscientious objectors throughout their existence and made history as a result. They founded Pennsylvania to escape persecution.  They were pioneers in the anti-slavery and women’s rights movements.They still campaign against the death sentence. Perhaps, in the UK, much is made of their past because today they have shrunk in size, numbering 25000. The meeting I attended had only eleven members in attendance, excluding myself. The other thing I was made to realize is that English Quakers have an inclusive, flexible and unwritten theology that now includes atheist Quakers. What struck me most about them was what was absent; loud prayers, direct exhortations.I left feeling I had spent a Sunday morning rather well and thinking, I could do this again. And that was one more item off my “Things to Do before I Die List”.

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Coffee with the Quakers was published on October 18th, 2010, with the tags , , , , under the Opinion category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

My Dad and I

A guest post by Angura Rani Elke

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Today is the birthday of the first man that I ever loved, my father. I met my father on October 22, 1956, you see that was the day that I was born in Jahnsi, India.

My Father’s name is Bharat Bhooshan, a second generation preacher. My Grandfather and my Papa were both ordained as Methodist Preachers. Papa moved to United States of America in the fall of  1961, reuniting with my Mama. She came here in Januarry of 1961, leaving their five children in the care of my dad’s mom. During this time my parents were doing college credits because they were here on student visas. Life was hard for them, but they were a team. They worked at anything and everything they could do to make money for their children back in India.

My parent’s worst nightmares were coming alive. My brother (their only son) lived with an aunt and was diagnosed as being an eplepitc. I was crippled by a quack of a doctor when my two sisters were in boarding school. My little sister and I lived with our grandma. Its funny to think about the past and not feel sick at what my parents were doing here and what was going on in India to their children. Physical, verbal, emotional and yes sexual abuse was going on and they had no idea. My brother finally came to America in 1963. My little sister and I came in 1964, I went into to a hospital almost right away, I somehow had gangrene up to my knee. My older sisters finally made it to America in 1965. That is when the healing began for all of us.

Papa got his first church in Northeren Wisconsin, He became a United Church of Christ Congrational preacher. We lived in Elco, Winsconsin. We were the only ”dark” people that some of them had ever seen. We lived here for three years, moved to Appleton, WI, which was another town that had never seen our kind. Wisconsin is very cold in the winter and very pleasant in the summer. Papa had his first heart attack in 1978 at the time I was living in Arizona going to college. They moved from Appleton in 1979 to Grantfork, IL. 20 miles from Edwardsville (where I now live.)

My relationship with my Papa was a very smart and loving. I was the tomboy, that wanted to learn from everything, the only one that went to college out of the five kids. I was the one that would listen to him and let him feel that I knew what he was saying. We would go for walks together. You see. I was the one when I could talk, would tell my mom that I didn’t want my diaper changed by anyone but him. So, ya stubborn was a good word. When I came to the USA, he would carry me up and down the stairs from the apartment that we lived in. When the pain was unbearable he would make a concoction of milk and brandy, it would knock me out. I loved to read books which I got from him or I bought and he would read them. I could talk to him about anything. I remember having a talk with him about getting high on pot, he said Batie (darling) I got high on Jesus Christ. I laughed and we talked about how life has more meaning with Christ in our life. Pot will make you feel good for a while but Jesus Christ will be with you forever. I miss him so much.

He had a total of four heart attacks. The last time I saw him before he went to surgery he was happy and told us his Alice was coming to get him. You see Alice was my Mama’s name. By golly she did come get him, partners forever and ever.

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I met Rani in Edwardsville, Illinois at a get-together for the Rotary visitors from Nigeria in April (I think). She’s one of the most fun adults I’ve met in my life. I hope you enjoyed reading her story which she managed to write impromptu immediately after I asked her today. I hear that Rani also means “queen” in Hindi. She could as well be an author, don’t you agree? (Previous guest-posts here.)

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My Dad and I was published on June 10th, 2010, with the tags , , , under the adventures, Opinion, Travelling category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

India – Gender and Human Dignity

Here’s a guest post by a friend and colleague Catherine Xavier. In this write-up, she talks about the less talked-about “third gender” in India – a class of people maltreated and discriminated against on the basis of their sexual orientation. Read it up to see why they do not fall into the class of homosexuals or lesbians or transgenders, but a different category of men raised or conditioned from birth to behave like women. There is a Youtube video interview with one of them here, for anyone interested in further information on the matter.

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The India society is patriarchal to the core – simply stated, men rule the roost. The society in general seems to have resigned to this, while women have been forced to reconcile to be the ‘fairer sex’. However, we are a society that worships women. Our goddesses of strength, wisdom, love, and power, are all personified as women. I cannot understand that irony here; India has one of the highest rates of female infanticide and dowry-deaths, while the society and the government claim to vigorously promote the girl-child and women’s emancipation. How can a society that boasts of a rich, ancient, and varied culture simultaneously glorify and dehumanize women  – how can mythical womanhood be celebrated and worshiped in the form of a  goddess at the temple, while helpless women are subject to eve-teasing, torture, abuse, discrimination, and unspeakable indignity. I was taught as a young girl that there is greater modesty in ignoring the lewd comments from your male counterparts, as it saves a woman a lot of shame and disgrace – yes, the same society that celebrates week-long festivities in honor of women deities, while sublimely accepting its men resorting to eve-teasing, ogling, and trying to grab women’s breasts in crowded public places.

I could write a lot about the Indian mentality of gender discrimination and the stifling of individual feminine freedom. However, I choose to focus on that part of Indian sexuality and gender that is not broached by most Bollywood movies or Indian novels (You can find this on the BBC though). The simple truth is that the Indian society recognizes only two types of genders – male and female. We prefer to be oblivious to the third gender classification: the hijras or eunuchs.

Hijras are physiological males with feminine instincts. They adopt feminine identities and don feminine attires. The Indian society describes the hijras as ‘neither men nor women’ thereby, making them the most ostracized section of our society. Young boys with feminine instincts are a shame to their family and to the society. Most times, the family is not supportive because they fear social boycott; they abandon these young men who are forced to live with people like them, thought they are not their kith and kin. I doubt if our society recognizes the trauma that the family and the young man go through in this entire ordeal of family bonding, wanting to belong, social belonging, and social abandonment. Most times, the hijras are castrated and they earn a living by working as sex slaves, and by performing dances at the weddings and birth ceremonies of the so-called cream of our society.

It is so strange that though the hijras have a recorded history of living in groups in India since the 17 century, the Indian constitution does not guarantee them any rights – it does not even provide validity to the marriage of hijras. Ironically, the Hindu religious texts in India have several references to them since ancient times; while our society has never accorded them any respect.  I am sure that in the US, there is greater privacy, legal protection, and respect for human dignity of the parents and the young man involved. In India they are a joke, everyone laughs at them, pokes fun at them, and metes out violence and abuse to them – worse still, Bollywood portrays them as comic relief. They are no special schools for them, and regular boys/girls schools do not admit hijras – hence 95-96% of hijras are uneducated; carrying with them all the evils of illiteracy – who is to blame???

I just discovered today in a conversation with a friend that the Hijras are becoming a more and more organized community in India –the faint sign of conviction of their part and an utter failure of social justice on the part of the Indian society. I was happy to hear that hijras celebrate communal fellowship and festivities every year at a temple in Villupuram district of Tamilnadu in India, and this festivity encompasses their marriage to a god ( because  mortals are far too superior for the hijras, I guess), and to discuss their hijra rights. I would be very curious to see how they react – a caste of India that has endured the most unspeakable indignity and shame – they sure have a right to the heights of indignation towards a society that simply fails to acknowledge and respect human dignity. I wish a goddess could appear overnight to shed wisdom on the males and females of our society, while soothing the scars of abuse and shame endured by the hijras in India.

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Catherine is an MBA holder from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, and a PhD student in the University of Arkansas.
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India – Gender and Human Dignity was published on May 10th, 2010, with the tags , , , , under the Opinion category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

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