WUNRN
SRI LANKA – MAIMED BY CONFLICT, FORGOTTEN BY PEACE – STRUGGLES OF WAR-DISABLED WOMEN
A woman on
crutches walks past a row of shops in northern Sri Lanka, where over 110,000
people disabled by war struggle along with very little official assistance.
Credit: Amantha Perera
MANNAR, Sri Lanka, Feb 16 2015 (IPS) - It is a
hot, steamy day in Sri Lanka’s northwestern Mannar District. Mid-day
temperatures are reaching 34 degrees Celsius, and the tarred road is
practically melting under the sun.
Sarojini
Tangarasa is finding it hard to walk on her one bare foot. Her hands constantly
shake and she has to balance on a crutch. “I am just trying to get to my
daughter’s house,” she says.
Her
destination is just two km away, but it feels like a lifetime to Tangarasa, who
cannot afford any form of transport, or even shoes.
The last
25 years of this 58-year-old grandmother’s life have been ones of daily
struggle. A resident of Sri Lanka’s war-ravaged Northern Province, Tangarasa’s
left leg was amputated in 2001 after she was injured in a skirmish.
Worse
was to follow in 2008 when she, her husband and her four children fled the
fighting that erupted in the Mannar District between government forces and the
Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), a guerilla army fighting to carve out
a separate state in north-eastern Sri Lanka.
The
family would be on the run for almost a year and a half, before spending an
equal length of time in a centre for the displaced after the 26-year-long civil
war finally ended in May 2009.
Tangarasa
was injured in a shell attack in 2008. The head injuries have left her with
trembling hands and a slur when she speaks. “It has been hard and it will be
the same till I die,”
Tangarasa
contends, as she slowly recommences her journey, the sun beating mercilessly
down on her.
Thousands
of miles away, the story of 33-year-old Chandra Bahadur Pun Magar, a former
Maoist fighter from the Dang District in southwest Nepal, follows a similar
trajectory.
This
father of three, including a two-and-a-half-year-old baby girl, lost a leg in a
landmine blast in 2002 when he was just 20, four years before the end of the
country’s two-decade-long civil war between government armed forces and Maoist
guerillas.
Now
his biggest worries are how he will replace his miserable prosthetic leg,
nearly a decade old, and provide for his family.
He
chose a life as a dairy farmer after the war and now struggles every day. “I
need to walk a lot and it is tearing my artificial leg apart. I heard a new leg
costs 40,000 [Nepali] rupees (about 400 dollars).
“I
don’t have the money, but my limb hurts during summer and winter, morning and
night. Both cold and hot weather are bad for my injured leg,” he tells IPS.
Nepal’s
Peace and Reconstruction Ministry estimates that there are 4,305 war disabled
in the country, but some experts suspect that the figure could be closer to
6,000. Even at the highest estimate, the number seems manageable compared to
Sri Lanka’s post-war burden.
The
Sri Lanka Foundation for the Rehabilitation of the Disabled estimates
that over 110,000 were left disabled by three decades of civil conflict. The
bulk of the war-disabled lives in the northern and eastern provinces, which
bore the brunt of nearly 30 years of fighting.
In
both countries, generations of war have piled hundreds of problems on top of
one another; in both places, the war-disabled have been relegated to the bottom
of the pile.
For
those like Magar peace has not brought much respite.
Soon
after his debilitating injury, the young man received treatment in India,
funded by his party, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA). Afterwards, he lived
in a commune where support for the Maoists was strong.
Soon
after the signing of the 2006 Peace Accords, which marked the PLA’s transition
to mainstream politics, Magar received a prosthetic leg from the International
Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and the option of a retirement package of
between 500,000 and 800,000 Nepali rupees (5,000 to 8,000 dollars).
He
chose to buy a plot of land and attempt to make a living as a farmer, but this
was easier said than done.
He
gets an allowance of about 6,000 rupees (roughly 60 dollars) each month, and
supplements it by selling dairy products, but the joint income is scarcely
enough to put food on the table.
“It is not
enough to support my family; everything is expensive these days and I am the
only breadwinner. It would have been different if I had been an able-bodied
person,” he laments.
He
also accuses his former party of neglecting those like him who have been
injured. Indeed, the disabled here are disproportionately represented within
the 30-40 percent of Nepal’s population living in poverty.
The
same refrain of neglect and misery can be heard all across northern Sri Lanka.
The tale of Rasalingam Sivakumar, a 33-year-old former fighter with the
separatist LTTE, is almost identical to that of Magar.
Sivakumar
was injured in the eye in January 2009, as the war drew near to its bloody
climax, and is partially blind now. He cycles miles everyday to sell poultry
produce in his native town of Puthukkudiyiruppu in the northern Mullaithivu
District.
The
father of two kids aged one and seven years old, Sivakumar did receive some
assistance – amounting to about 50,000 Sri Lankan Rupees (roughly 450 dollars)
– through a programme run by the ICRC, which also served some 350 other
disabled persons across Sri Lanka last year.
The
sum is barely enough for a family of four to survive on for two months in Sri
Lanka. Since then, he says, it has been a constant struggle to make ends meet.
Records
maintained by local government bodies in the north indicated that unemployment
among the disabled was as high as 16 percent in 2014, four times the national
figure of four percent. Activists suggest that the real figure is much higher,
since only those persons who went through official rehabilitation programmes
were surveyed.
Vellayan
Subramaniyam, president of the Organisation for Rehabilitation of the
Handicapped in Sri Lanka’s northern Vavuniya District, who has also toured
Nepal, says that neglect of the disabled is a combination of a lack of
policies, and discriminatory social attitudes.
“We
live in cultures that treat the disabled as not differently-abled, but as a
burden. And post-conflict policy makers work in that conundrum. The disabled
are relegated to the sidelines until someone from [that same community] reaches
a decision-making position,” the activist contends.
Until
government policies take into account the disabled, arguably among the most
marginalised members of society, those like Sarojini Tangarasa will continue to
plod along a lonely road without much hope for a better future.