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IN THE EARLY DAYS,
Angela Gomes used to borrow a bicycle and pedal alone through the
dusty countryside near the Bangladeshi city of Jessore. She would talk
to village women, listening to their problems and offering what little
help she could. Indignant at this interference in their traditional
ways, the menfolk would sometimes hurl rocks at her as she passed. For
all the effect they had, they might as well have been throwing
ping-pong balls. "The oppression and insults merely made me more
determined to achieve my goal," says Gomes.
Some 20 years on, Gomes, 47, runs one of the largest women's rural
organizations in Bangladesh. Operating out of a 1.5-hectare training
complex in Jessore, Banchte Shekha (meaning Learn To Survive in
Bengali) offers female-empowerment programs to more than 25,000 women
in nearly 430 villages, benefiting through them an estimated 200,000
family members. Banchte Shekha - founded by Gomes in 1976 - teaches
rural women a vast range of income-generating skills, including
handicrafts, raising crops, poultry and livestock, fish farming,
beekeeping and silk making (from the cocoon to the weaving loom to the
printing). It also provides health-awareness programs, maternity care
and basic schooling through adult education courses.
Working with their earnings and with financial backing from
international aid organizations, Banchte Shekha's members have formed
village credit societies, lending money among themselves and providing
instant cash in cases of emergencies. And, perhaps most radical of
all, the organization trains paralegals - male and female - in Muslim
law and associated legal procedures. In some villages, cases such as
domestic violence against women, dowry disputes, child support and
other gender-related conflicts are deliberated not by the traditional
all-male mediation councils, but by arbitration panels including
members trained by Banchte Shekha.
Women's rights in Bangladesh are a notion more than a reality, no
matter what the Constitution may say about equality before the law. In
a society already poor, women are poorer than men. A woman who is
widowed, divorced or abandoned by her husband is usually left to fend
for herself and her children. If a woman lodges charges of desertion,
assault or rape, her fate is routinely decided by men. This is the way
it has always been. And millions of women accept that this is the way
it will stay. But not Gomes. A Christian in a mainly Muslim country,
she recalls how, as a student at a mission school in Jessore, she
would accompany one of the nuns on visits to local villages. The women
spoke of mistreatment. The nun counseled patience. Gomes says: "I
decided to talk to her. I said, If you can't bring any change, if you
can't save these women, why do you keep telling them to be submissive?
Why don't you help them to protest?'" The activist-to-be was expelled
from school for "revolutionary" activities.
Known affectionately as Bara Apa (Eldest Sister), Gomes speaks
Arabic and has studied the Koran. But when she was younger,
even that was not enough to avoid suspicion about her motives and
background. She says: "I rubbed butter oil on my hair to make it gray,
but it didn't work. I found my Christian name a great obstacle, so I
changed it to Anju, which sounded more Muslim. I identified myself as
a married woman whose husband had gone abroad to study. And I invented
a son and a daughter." Gradually she won the support of open-minded
clerics who understood, as she did, that the Koran was not the
source of local practices demeaning to women. For a while, Gomes was
given shelter in a Muslim home. "The husband encouraged me to go on
with my work," she says. "He assured me of every help and protection.
I can't find the words to properly praise the goodness and affection
he showed me."
For the past two and a half years, Gomes has been fighting ovarian
cancer. She says it has slowed her down and forced her to adapt her
work pattern. But she still manages visits to Banchte Shekha villages
to check on developments and meet the members she has come to know
over the years. She has also had to tussle with official harassment
and lawsuits based, she says, on malicious rumors designed to destroy
her operation. As a consequence, donations have sometimes slowed.
Programs have not been affected, but some staff have not been paid for
seven months. "It's a miserable situation," she says. "This is the
first time this has happened."
Naming Gomes as the winner of the Ramon Magsaysay Award for
Community Leadership, the board of trustees cited her role in "helping
Bangladeshi women assert their rights to better livelihoods and gender
equality, under the law and in everyday life." Informed of the award,
Gomes exclaimed: "It's just incredible. I never dreamed of receiving
such an honor. I believe this is recognition from God, who has
entrusted me with responsibility for the welfare of oppressed women."
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