A Voice For the Voiceless

MISSION

The Advocacy Project seeks to help community-based advocates produce, disseminate and use information, and so become more effective advocates for human rights and social justice

From the Field, July 14, 2005

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AdvocacyNet
Intern Update, Number 6, July 14, 2005
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Headlines:

• AP Intern Retraces Srebrenica Death March
• Behind the Veils: The Strength of Afghan Women
• One Tsunami Survivor's Struggle in Sri Lanka
• The Changing Face of Afghanistan
• Integrating Trafficking Victims into Italian Society

AP Intern Retraces Srebrenica Death March

Sabri Ben Achour (Georgetown University) is working with the Forum of Srebrenica NGOs, an umbrella organization combining several non-profits in Srebrenica, Bosnia. He is also working closely with one of the Forum's members, the organization Drina that assists IDPs from the war.

On July 10, 1995, several thousand Muslims left the besieged town of Srebrenica in a last desperate attempt to escape the approaching Bosnian Serb Army. The trek - through mountains and woods - was one of the most brutal episodes in the Srebrenica massacres. Thousands were ambushed and killed. Last week, on the eve of the tenth anniversary of the massacre, Sabri Ben-Achour, an intern with The Advocacy Project, retraced the death march with some of the survivors. They included Zulfo Sahilovic, director of Sabri's host organization (DRINA) and one of the leaders of the Forum of Srebrenica NGOs, a multi-ethnic network. In 1995, it took Zulfo forty days to reach the town of Tuzla. Last week, the march took three days. Still, it was exhausting, heavy with symbolism and emotionally draining, as Sabri's blogs make dramatically clear.

"We began in a village near Zvornik, near the border between the Bosnian Federation and Republika Serpska (the Bosnian/Croatian part of Bosnia and the Serb area, which retains the name of Republika Serpska from when it tried to separate from Bosnia). Zulfo Salihovic, director of Drina, stayed in the rear of the column because he was one of the last to leave Srebrenica in 1995. It took him forty two days to reach the safety of Bosnian controlled territory. We planned on making the journey in three.

We walked through dirt roads and many small villages on the first day. Bewildered families came out to watch. There were occasionally men, but mostly women and young people. Some older women wept. When we settled in a field for a break, one lone Grandmother busily plied as many people as she could with coffee she had made, as well as water and sandwiches provided by the Red Cross. When Zulfo fled in 1995, he ate snails, mushrooms, and nettles.

That night I met Ahmed Hrustovic, 19, and his cousin Kadrija, 25. Both of them had lost their fathers, uncles, and grandfathers in 1995. Ahmed, only 9 at the time, left early with his mother and sisters. Kadrija had managed to escape on a bus and survived only because his mother broke down in tears and pleaded with a Serb gunman to let her take him with her. Ahmed told me 'he is like a brother to me, I am all he has left.'

[in 1995] One man lost his mind - from biological gases they say - and put a grenade in his mouth, injuring four other people around him. We, on the other hand, were treated quite well. The climb over the mountain was awful - beautiful, but exhausting - but there were tents and food waiting for us at the second base camp in Konjevic Polje, and there we collapsed en masse. I was able to rest well enough for my blisters to heal over, and the third and longest day began early at 7:30 am the next day.

Finally, we arrived at the memorial site. That night, there was a torrential rain and our tents leaked and flooded. Me, Ahmed, Kadrija and some others took our sleeping bags and backpacks to the nearby ruins of an old battery factory where thousands of Muslims had been held before being killed.

Hung on a hillside fence at the back of the memorial site was a banner, several hundred feet long, with all the victims so far identified listed on it. Ahmed called over to me and said 'I want to show you something.' He scanned for the name he was looking for. Hrustanovic, Rifet. 'Here,' he pointed, 'This is my father.' "

Behind the Veils: The Strength of Afghan Women

Carrie Hasselback (New York University) is working with the Afghan Women's Network, a network of NGOs committed to improving women's rights in Afghanistan.

"The topic of the burqa was brought up as well. I asked why women still wear them when they don't have to. She [my colleague] told me that it is partly out of habit, and partly out of fear. Fear? I wondered. The fear of having acid thrown on their faces if they are uncovered. Even my colleague is afraid of going to the market because she doesn't wear the entire burqa, though she still adheres to Muslim dress."

One Survivor's Struggle in Sri Lanka

Sarosh Syed (Georgetown University) is working with the Home for Human Rights (HHR), a human rights organization in Colombo, Sri Lanka.

"This HHR beneficiary was a slight man, probably in his mid-thirties. He lost his wife, his daughter, his home, and all his possessions in the tsunami. He now lives with his remaining daughter in a temporary house smaller than my storage space in Washington. He looked tired; not the way one looks after a hard day's work, but the way one would look anticipating the hard days ahead. He managed to smile every now and then, but the obvious effort behind the smile made him look even more tired. "

The Changing Face of Afghanistan

Shirin Sahani (Georgetown University) is working with the Omid Learning Center in Afghanistan. The organization specializes in girls' education working on a school project that would bring education to remote villages without schools.

"From one wedding party, a [beauty] parlor can easily make about $500. If the parlor is well-known it can easily get three to five wedding parties in a week. That's $1500 to $2500 a week and $6000 to $10,000 a month. Even if you subtract overhead and supplies, one can still earn a pretty living. It's not surprising then that most women are drawn to the business. It's better than the alternative of sewing, the only other business opportunity that seems to be open to women."

Integrating Trafficking Victims into Italian Society

Ewa Sobczynska (Georgetown University) will be working with the Turin, Italy branch of the Transnational AIDS Prevention Among Migrant Prostitutes in Europe Project (TAMPEP). TAMPEP is an Italian grass-roots NGO committed to advocating human and civil rights.

"Sara was first trafficked to Italy in the late 1990s - as she described in her earlier story, she was 'enrolled' by a school friend who offered her opportunity to study and work Italy. But already before arriving to Italy, she underwent a dramatic trip for many months through different African countries with other Nigerian girls. While seeking the most convenient and safe way for trafficking, her tormentors raped her and other girls daily before finally flying them to Russia. In the meantime, Sara had to endure the violence of her traffickers, constant fear of being caught, uncertainty and an involuntary abortion. Seven months later, she was first trafficked into Eastern Europe and finally arrived to Italy with a debt of circa 30,000 euros."