Some
Mother's Son
By Beena Sarwar
21 June, 2004
Countercurrents.org
There
is strength and inspiration to be drawn from those who use their pain,
not to cause further destruction, but to heal and move ahead. One such
woman is Visaka Dharmadasa, whose young son Achinte went missing in
September, 1998 when the LTTE attacked his unit of the Sri Lankan army.
Only a missing person's family can know the pain of waiting, day in
and day out, every moment of 24 hours, for news of their loved one.
They don't have the luxury of mourning, and getting on with life.
Visaka's uncertainty
and the agony are intensified because of another son still on active
duty. But she has transformed her personal pain and sorrow into a powerful
force - not in anger against the army for sending her son into a dangerous
area, or the LTTE for attacking his unit, but to connect with Tamil
mothers. She obtained a pass from the army to take five other women
ostensibly to visit a Christian shrine in an LTTE controlled area, where
the priest got them in touch with 'the other'. At an uneasy first meeting,
Visaka broke the ice by asking a young soldier about his children, and
pretending to be surprised that he didn't have claws, or horns on his
head.
On a more serious
level, they found something very special. "We found that they did
not have hatred towards us, and nor did we towards them." When
young LTTE boys risked their lives to get her group back across the
divide, it formed the basis for a firm friendship that has transcended
the breakdown of peace talks.
"I don't feel
angry with the LTTE at all. They didn't target my son as an individual
but because he was from the other side. And for him too, the LTTE was
the enemy," says Visaka, implicitly acknowledging the common humanity
of both sides - something that armies, whether state-run or private,
obliterate in order to condition their cadres for violent action against
'the other'.
In 2002 Sinhala
and Tamil women joined hands publicly at a rally for the missing - 12,000
in this last phase of conflict alone. The organizations Visaka founded,
Parents of Servicemen Missing-in-Action and the Association of War-Affected
Women build upon the grassroots desire for peace. They lobby the government
to reciprocate the LTTE's actions of releasing soldiers and civilians,
mobilize cross-community dialogue, and design workshops on rehabilitation,
reintegration and reconciliation. They also try to get the government
and the LTTE to respect the dead, and make identification disks compulsory.
"The highest
number of missing in Sri Lanka is because dead bodies go unidentified,"
says Visaka. "Even after death, bodies are mutilated and disfigured,
and we are trying to get them to agree to respect the dead. At least
the parents will know that the child is dead." Once, talking to
a general at his office, she made her point by saying that if they were
both killed in a bomb attack at that moment, she could end up getting
the ceremonial honours in burial, as he wasn't wearing his identification
disk. "I'll do anything to make them realize the importance of
identifying the dead," she says, smiling.
"Because this
happened to someone like me who had the courage, I've been able to help
thousands," she adds. "Unless there is peace, there will be
more mothers like us. Since 1999 I have been going to the Norwegian
embassy and asking them to include women in the peace process. At least
let women sit in as independent observers."
Such inclusion may
positively impact negotiations, given women's greater empathy to other
people's feelings, says Visaka. "We know by the sound of our husband's
footsteps when he comes home from work, what kind of mood he is in.
But we have to burst into tears or do something dramatic for them to
realize if we are upset!"
Of course, not all
women are sensitive, just as not all men are insensitive. If some women
exhort their husbands or sons into violence for the sake of 'honour',
others can smilingly torture prisoners. But for all those who demonstrate
such internalization of negative values, there are also those like Visaka
in Sri Lanka, whose humanistic values link them to apparently unrelated
organizations, from New York Not in Our Name, or Military Families Speak
Out in the USA, to Israel's courageous 'refuseniks'.
The pain of the
mother whose son was beheaded by Al Qaeda militants in Saudi Arabia
is no less than the pain of one whose son died in a targeted missile
attack in Wana, or whose political activist son was gunned down in Karachi
-- or those who lose children in bomb blasts in Karachi mosques or the
Iraqi cities. And if these women, like the Tamil and Sinhala mothers
that Visaka leads, can make their voices heard above those who channelise
their frustration and anger towards destruction, the world may yet become
a better place.