This month, SARID (South Asia Research Institute for Development) began a program in Muzaffarabad to support women who were widowed after the October 2005 earthquake.   The town of Muzaffarabad suffered extensive damage and hundreds of thousands of people lost their loved ones, their homes and their jobs.  On July 4, Javed Sultan, our Executive Director, and I met with two women who will be receiving monetary support (monthly stipends) from SARID, as well as guidance in healthcare, job training, and career development.  Javed, who is engaged in starting a self-help housing program for the victims of the Earthquake, had identified the widows. Widows living in cities and towns, are one of the overlooked groups who need immediate help. SARID Board had recently approved the program and wanted Javed to launch it as soon as possible. He had asked me to help coordinate SARID’s effort.

Both women lost their husbands and their homes during last year’s earthquake. They have been living with relatives in makeshift shelters, overcrowded homes, and tents since then. 

The first woman that I met was Nazmeen.  She is young and dynamic. She talks about the computer classes that she has been taking; two hours a day for the next three months. While she seems positive and optimistic about her computer class and English training, memories of her husband and oldest daughter’s death are still raw and lurking just below this upbeat veneer. In her mother’s home, she shows me a photo album with pictures of her husband, while reminiscing about her oldest daughter’s birthday parties.  Then she details the disaster that befell Azad Kashmir on October 8th. The roof caved in over her daughter’s school, killing all 44 students. But both of Nazmeen’s feet were broken, so she couldn’t search for her daughter or her husband, who was missing. This fact – that she couldn’t even walk that morning to find her daughter and husband – is extremely painful for her. But despite all this trauma, Nazmeen remains an incredibly strong woman, and a doting mother for her two remaining girls.

While we are looking through the photo album, Nazmeen’s mother sits on a bed near the window.  She is wrapped in a blanket, mumbling and crying to herself.  Two of Nazmeem’s brothers died in the earthquake.  Since their death, her mother has been in a state of shock. She is now blind. Nazmeen, her brother’s wives, her blind mother, and almost a dozen kids all live in the undamaged portion of the mother’s home.

Hallima, the other woman that we will be helping to support, is also here with her son and daughter.  She too lost her husband in the earthquake and has been left to raise her children alone. She is shy, beautiful and extremely grateful. She insists on taking us to the tent where she has been living for the past eight months to serve us tea.

Over a cup of Kashmiri tea, rose-colored and unexpectedly salty, both Nazmeem and Hallima talk of how hard these past few months have been.  After wiping her eyes, Nazmeen pulls out a bag and presents a traditional beaded-necklace and earrings.  She ties the string around my neck, threads the hoops through my ears and hugs me.  You are my sister, she says. Hallima’s daughter then takes off her bangle and slides it onto my wrist. Thank you, she says.  I am overwhelmed by the generosity of these women and by their strength. I am dumbfounded at their warmth and generosity. They have nothing and are willing to give whatever little they have for the warm embrace of a total stranger. I am embarrassed as I have come empty handed and I am not sure if I will really be able to reciprocate such sincere and heartfelt kindness.

After going to the bank and setting up accounts for both of the women, we say goodbye to Hallima.  We then drive across town, and walk through the bazaar towards the pile of broken cement blocks, formerly the residence of Nazmeem, her husband, and her husband’s family.  Amid the gravel and glass, there is a tent and two chairs that serve as their living room. A ceiling fan hangs under a tarp, strung up between two trees.   We walk past it and into the tent.  Here we meet Nazmeem’s in-laws, who are finishing lunch and watching television inside the tent.  After another photo album session, the mother shares several stories of the lives about her deceased sons. 

Walking back to the car we go over some of our plans.  Javed and I strategize with the widows on how to get them on their feet. We talk to Nazmeen about her English and computer classes, about Internet accessibility in Muzaffarabad, and tell her to really think about the things she enjoys doing.   We also brainstorm about a women’s support center with computers and information about healthcare and nutrition.  As we talk, I notice the swollen area above Nazmeen’s collar and asked if she had been checked for goiter.  She shakes her head. This, I tell her, is first thing that we were going to do together.  She hugs me and says thank you. 

That day Javed makes a commitment to give each of these women a monthly stipend of Rs.7, 500 (approximately $125/month) for a one-year period. He has asked them to look for jobs, and/ or enhance their skills by taking classes, etc. SARID has agreed to pay for some of the vocational training as well.

Since the above article was written SARID has identified other widows to support, besides the ones SARID is already supporting, and is waiting for help from fellow SARIDIANS to further expand this program.

SARID LAUNCHED ITS FIRST WOMEN CENTER IN MUZAFFARABAD

UPDATE ON SARID's WIDOW REHABILITATION PROGRAM