“CITIZEN,
THIRD CLASS”: FINDINGS FROM RI’S STATELESS PROJECT
Profiles of Stateless People
Aran’s Story
Aran says life is a
struggle. There is no work in the Bihari camp where he lives, and
the living conditions are bad. There is “no health, no
sanitation, and no education,” Aran says. This year the
government of Bangladesh reduced the relief aid, and that hampers their
lives still further. Sometimes the family goes hungry if he can
not get work. This week he worked two days and earned 80 taka (US
$1.25). Due to the shortage of money, they do eat every day each
week, only a few meals. Aran has three daughters. He
worries about their future because he can not afford to get them
married.
Saida’s Story
Saida has resided in
Geneva Camp since its establishment in 1972. Geneva Camp is the
so-called Paris of the Bihari camps because it was rebuilt by embassies
and non-governmental organizations after a fire destroyed it in
1996. There is electricity and well-water for drinking and
washing, but men and women share the same latrines. Saida’s
husband died two years ago. Now her 19-year-old son is the
primary breadwinner for the family, and he has been able to secure
embroidery work. He earns about 250 taka (US $4.15) for the two
pieces he completes each week. Once he completes a piece, he
hands the completed work to a local Bangladeshi businessman who in turn
sells the pieces for 800-1,000 taka (between US $13 and $17).
Since it costs about 800-1,000 taka to feed the family each week, Saida
also works making flower garlands. She usually works about six
hours a week, and can make about 15 Taka (US $0.25) a day. Mostly
though, she worries about her children. “There is no future
here,” she says.
Ivan’s Story
Ivan grew up in the northeastern section of Estonia where more than 96
percent of the population is Russian-speaking. His mother holds a
Russian passport, and his father resides inside Russia, but one aunt
who came to Estonia from the St. Petersburg area learned Estonian very
quickly and passed the citizenship exam in a short time. After
seeing her success, Ivan moved to Estonia's capital, Tallinn, for
better job opportunities. It was a difficult move for Ivan.
This year, when Estonia became part of the European Union, Ivan was
motivated to start the process of becoming an Estonian citizen.
He says he is lucky to be living in Tallinn, because the language
portion of the citizen test is especially difficult for people who live
in areas where Russian is spoken and do not have an opportunity to
practice language skills. After passing the test, Ivan says he
felt safer both practically and psychologically. Ivan says his
children won’t be Estonian. “They’ll get the blue passport, but
they won’t be Estonians,” he says, “because the wife I choose will be
Russian.”
Katrina’s Story
Katrina says the current
situation for “undetermined citizens” or gray passport holders “is all
about politics.” She says she is going to get a Russian
passport. “My father came from the Ukraine, and my husband’s
family from Kazakhstan. He worked in a coalmine in Siberia for
some 25-30 years.” Katrina worked in a Russian school in
Oru for almost as long and continues to help out part-time. The
number of students at the school has now dropped from 400 to 200.
Katrina gets a small pension for her work, over half of which goes to
cover her rent. “Our situation is not good, but it could be
worse,” she says. There is little work for residents in a
part of the country where unemployment hovers near 20 percent.
Utilities, such as hot water, used to be provided free of charge, but
recently the policy changed and now those who refuse to pay or cannot
afford it, especially the elderly, go without.
Kamal’s Story
Kamal is one of the few Bidoon willing to talk about what it is like to
be stateless in the UAE. “What have we done to be treated like
animals?” he asks. We can’t get jobs and can’t move. We are
like a boat without a port.” The struggles of the Bidoon are not
limited to employment and travel. “Access to education is also a
problem,” Kamal says. “I didn’t finish high school or go to
college.” Bidoon can seek health care at private hospitals, but not
government ones. In Kamal’s case, not being able to travel
outside the UAE for specialized medical services meant that a treatable
condition became a permanent disability. While some Bidoon are
able to find work as drivers or mechanics, others survive by begging,
an illegal activity in the UAE. Kamal says his sisters have
married local men. Fifteen years from now they will be able to
claim Emerati citizenship for themselves. “They have solved their
problem,” Kamal claims, “and their children have local nationality.”
Han’s Story
In the Mirpur area of
Dhaka, twenty-two-year-old Han spends his days in a small two-floor
wooden structure completely filled by two huge looms and a set of
narrow steps leading upstairs. Sitting for long hours at the
machine is not physically difficult for him because he has worked like
this since he was age ten. He can produce about three saris in a
nine or ten hour work day, with a break every three hours.
A six-meter garment made by two people is sold for about 300 Taka (US
$5.00). Most of this earning is used to rent the equipment from a
local Bangladeshi owner, and the rest Han uses to help support his
parents and siblings. Han acknowledges that the camp where he
lives needs education and a technical institution, but he says that
what Biharis really need is a solution. “We are not citizens of
Bangladesh or Pakistan. It’s like being in a ‘hanging position,”
Han says.
Monica’s
Story
Monica, age 40, was born
in a Bihari camp, but married a local Bangladeshi man more than 25
years ago because there was no other way to get citizenship. Now
a mother of five, she lives as a citizen in a Chakma area. Her
husband is a dressmaker. All of her children are able to attend
school, and the oldest one is now in 10th grade. She is
happy that her family no longer lives from hand to mouth. She
says that is the reason many Bihari women marry Bangladesh citizens and
now live scattered throughout the country.
|
|
View
