Last Monday, two housemaids aided the Defence Police to capture two dacoits at the Defence Mor and earned a thousand-rupees as a reward. One of the housemaids works for me and told me this story I am about to relate.
I think it is more important than the charade everyone in the city is getting involved in, which goes by the name of General Elections 2008.
Last Monday, the two housemaids were waiting at Defence Mor for the Quaidabad bus. There were two persons clad in burqas, with veils covering their faces.
My maid's friend said, "They look like men". My maid, a rather timid and simple woman, said they were undoubtedly women because they were not only wearing burqas but they carried their purses just as women do and they had women's shoes on their feet.
The Burqa-women did not like the housemaids staring at them. In soft, low voices they said, "Why are you staring at us? We are ladies." The observant maid boldly said "You are not women!" To avoid further argument the two burqa-women moved away from the other people who were waiting for the Quaidabad bus.
This is one time it was fortunate, the buses take so long to arrive at a stop. It gave the observant maid a chance to run to a nearby house (perhaps she worked there) and tell the lady to inform the police, which she did.
The Defence Police responded immediately and reached Defence Mor in five minutes.
Just then the bus arrived and the burqa-women made a dash for it. They got into the ladies compartment before the Police van stopped.
The bus began to move but the police made it stop and after locating the women roughly pulled them out of the bus. All the while the burqa-women were protesting they were women. "Hum ladies hain" they kept repeating.
My maid said people on the street and the passengers were getting upset at the way the police was treating two women.
The police pulled off the veils and, sure enough, the burqa-women turned out to be men, about 25-years-old, according to my maid.
A police officer angrily asked, "Why are you dressed like women?" They said, where they come from both men and women dressed the same way and covered the face. And where did they come from? "Up North". I would not have believed this comedy except that my maid is too simple to invent such a story.
The young men were wanted in theft cases, or so the police told the public who had gathered around. They gave a thousand rupees to the lady of the house who had telephoned them and another thousand rupees to the two housemaids. They beat the two criminals and pushed them into the police van and left.
I have not been able to get confirmation about this incident, nor any details from the Defence Police. The officer on duty said he did not know anything, and they had not caught any dacoits from Defence Mor. A colleague tells me this is standard reply. The Police plays dumb for several reasons.
One is that only the top officer may claim the credit for a capture; subordinates are punished if they are too forward. Another reason is that they want to interrogate (read beat up) the captured criminals to get information of the gang they are working for. According to crime reporters there are no amateur operators. Even petty thieves, who snatch mobile phones and ladies purses, belong to organised gangs.
Although the public thinks all policemen are hand-in-glove with these gangs, crime reporters say this is not strictly true. The Police force has got itself a bad name because of a few bad apples, and a few notorious thanas. Be that as it may. My purpose in recounting this adventure of working women is to note how the city affects villagers.
Most of the female labour force of the city comes from villages of Sindh and the Saraiki belt. I know several of them who work as housemaids and as ayahs of invalids and of very old people who need twenty-four-hour care. There are many who work as part time cooks. They usually have large families and husbands who work in factories or building construction.
Culturally they have the peasant's mentality and customs, and are dominated by their menfolk. But the city changes them. They have a sense of freedom they never enjoyed in the villages. They come and go from their home to their workplace on their own, without a male escort. They want to educate their children. None of the fifty odd women I know wears a burqa. They do not look browbeaten.
In fact they look self-assured, they exude confidence which their own sisters in the villages do not have. Sometimes when the village-sister comes for a visit, they bring her over to say "salaam" to their employers, and you can see the remarkable difference.
The manner in which they led to the capture of those burqa-clad thieves is proof that the city has given them an awareness of their own power to do something. Even my timid maid is not a helpless woman. They know the evils of the city and how to handle situations so that they are not afraid nor are they stupid to trust either men or women who may try to sweet talk them.
It takes both courage and sense to move independently in a city where the labour class women are vulnerable. It is important for crime-fighters to know the characteristics of village women working in the city. I believe those who become victims of mugging and rape are those who are new to the city and do not know their way around yet.
The villagers who have been in Karachi a long time, believe in networking. They do not accept employment just because the pay is good. They vet the employer just as the employers vet them for a job. Few realise these women are a bridge between the sophisticated city and the interior.
My maid tells me that the women of her village, (and she herself before she first came here) imagine cityfolk are immoral, evil, exploiters. These stories are put about by the servants of feudal lords and landowners as a way of discouraging migration to the cities.
Two interesting developments from this interaction between village women and city folk are in the area of religion and politics. A number of female labour has told me that they learnt true precepts of Islam in Karachi. In the village they had a vague knowledge, limited to a few kalimas, namaz and roza. They were told Islam gives men the right to beat women. It was in the city they learnt the truth.
About politics, too, they developed a personal point of view based on what radio and television and what their employers tell them. "I will not vote as if I was a sheep taken to the polling booth and told by my husband to vote for this one or that one. I will not tell him, but I will vote for who I please", said one woman recently. She works for a friend of mine.
So I asked my maid about her views on voting. Shyly, she said the same thing but she would have to go to the village to vote, that costs money, meaning thereby, that she will not be called upon to dupe her husband. In short she does not feel good if she disobeys her husband's wishes. But what if you were in the village and did not like the candidate he likes? I asked. In replay she just laughed. So do you think the city is making the village women more aware and confident about their religious and constitutional rights? I think so.
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