By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai
MARDAN, Pakistan (June 2, 2009) - The military action in northeastern Pakistan has brought in its wake a plethora of miseries for some 3 million people forced to flee the conflict zone. But for women in particular, the agonies will continue to haunt them even if the operation ends and internally displaced persons (IDPs) are able to go home.
Dunya Jehan, 45, fled her home in the Swat Valley and is living with her five children at a school. She fears her husband is dead. (M. Ashfaq Yusufzai)
Dunya Jehan, 45, of Mangalore, a town in Swat Valley, is terribly worried about her husband Rahim Shah, a day laborer, who has been missing since May 8. A father of five, he left his Mangalore residence in search of food and never returned.
"We are shattered. Perhaps my husband is dead," his wailing wife told a team from CARE that visited to assess the IDP situation. They met her at the 16-room Par Hoti Government Girls' School where she and her family have taken refuge.
"On May 10, when the curfew was relaxed, we came on foot to Batkhela and ended up at this school, but my husband is missing," she said in a feeble voice. "My one and only wish is to see him alive."
"The children are weeping the whole day and night for their father. I cannot console them," she went on. Asked if she would be happy if the military operation ends and there is subsequent peace in Swat, she says these questions are meaningless to her.
The school is home to 500 grief-stricken people, including 200 women, who all are saddened by the painful tale about Jehan's husband.
In Sheikh Yasin Camp, in Mardan district, we came across another woman, Johara. Her tale resembles that of Dunya Jehan, but with the slight difference that she suffers from diabetes. She misses her husband Abdul Shakoor, a watchman, who went missing on the way to Mardan with his family.
"In Rahimabad outside Mingora, he left us to arrange a vehicle to bring us to Mardan on May 10. We are still waiting for him," she said with tears rolling down her cheeks. Any talk about the militants, army operations, and going back comes second, she said. "I need my husband. He would rush here if he knew that we were here, but I suspect he's no longer alive. He has fallen to the bullets of the militants or the army."
Johara said that another woman, Tabana, at the nearby Sheikh Shehzad camp, had also lost her husband, Shakil Rehman. While trying to get out of Matta, Swat, on May 7, her husband, a schoolteacher, just went outside to see if the situation would permit them to travel. He didn't return.
"Now, his three children and wife are begging everyone who visits their tiny tent to locate her husband. She doesn't want food or money, but her husband," Johara recounted.
Unfortunately, such touching episodes concerning the women IDPs have largely gone unreported. For some, a halt to fighting is great news. For others, it's like a hell. Without their husbands and fathers, such women and children still face a difficult future, even if peace is restored to Swat.
