Badam Zari becomes Pakistan’s first ever tribal woman to stand for election

"I want to reach the assembly to become a voice for women, especially those living in the tribal areas."

 

Pakistan’s tribal areas are not known for female empowerment. The Federally Administered Tribal Area (Fata) which borders Afghanistan is an ultra-conservative region where women are mostly uneducated, and rarely leave the house without their husbands, if at all.

However, a female resident from Bajaur district made history yesterday, by becoming Pakistan’s first ever tribal woman to stand in elections. Badam Zari is a 40 year old housewife, with no children. "I want to reach the assembly to become a voice for women, especially those living in the tribal areas," she told the Associated Press on Monday. "This was a difficult decision, but now I am determined and hopeful society will support me." Her husband, Sultan Khan, accompanied her when she went to file her nomination papers. He says she has his full backing.

Zari appeared at a press conference on Sunday, wearing a colourful scarf over her head and face, which left just her eyes uncovered. She said that no lawmaker from the tribal area had ever raised women’s issues in the National Assembly. “I want to work for the betterment of women in the tribal area, especially Bajaur Agency, which has suffered immensely in the tribal system,” she said.

She asserted that she is not afraid of anyone or anything, and that contesting the election is her constitutional and religious right. Although she says she has not received any threats yet, there is no doubt that this is a brave move by Zari.

Fata, already a deeply conservative region, is beset by Taliban militancy. In the 2008 election, around a third of the women registered to vote in Fata were prevented from doing so due to threats from local Taliban militants. Pamphlets distributed in Bajaur, Kurram, and Mohmand agencies warned tribesmen of bombing or other “severe punishment” if women were not kept away from polling stations. In addition to this, many candidates struck private agreements to ban women from voting.

“Women are half the population of tribal areas, but unfortunately they have always been deprived of their basic rights,” Zari said, acknowledging the fact that women in Fata are under-represented at the ballot box. Of the roughly 186,000 registered voters in her constituency, about 67,000 are women, according to government records. Often, those women that are allowed to vote are expected to do so in accordance with the wishes of the male members of their family.

Pakistan’s National Assembly has a long history of prominent female politicians, including Benazir Bhutto, who was the first woman to head a Muslim state. Around 17 per cent of the seats go to women, under a quota system. Even for women from less conservative areas of the country, standing for direct election as Zari is doing – rather than being allocated party seats – is unusual.

Analysts say that Zari, who is standing as an independent candidate, does not have much chance at winning the seat. But most concede that the mere fact of her candidacy is of huge symbolic value in a region where women are barely allowed to have a political opinion or a stake in society. "This is very courageous," said Asad Sarwar, a political official in Bajaur. "This woman has broken the barrier."

Despite the taboos around women appearing in public in this region, Zari has said she hopes to hold rallies. "I am taking part in elections because our area is very backward and living condition of women is poor over here," she said. "There will be a lot of people opposing me, but we will try our best."

If nothing else, she is making a serious attempt to give women in Fata a voice. The importance of that cannot be underestimated.

 

Badam Zari.

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

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United States of Emergency: will the North Carolina riots stain Obama's legacy?

The latest flare up of violence in the US is a reminder that the election of the first black president did not herald a new age of post-racial harmony.

Last April I travelled to Baltimore the morning after the Governor of Maryland had declared a state of emergency in the city, following riots that erupted after the death of Freddie Gray in police custody. Time had just published a poignant article comparing images of disorder on America's streets in 2015 with those 50 years earlier, during the struggles of the civil rights era. However, the scene that greeted my companion and I as we looped round the I-95 into the inner harbour looked more like photos we had seen of Helmand in 2001, or Mosul in 2003. Except this wasn't Baghdad, it was Baltimore – the birthplace of Edgar Allen Poe, Babe Ruth and The Star Spangled Banner. And yet it was clearly a warzone, for how else could you explain the presence of 4,000 national guardsmen, either poking out of armoured vehicles or patrolling the streets with automatic weapons?

During the protests that have erupted in Charlotte, and elsewhere, following the shooting of yet another black man by the police, US Attorney General Loretta Lynch has warned against this kind of violence becoming the “new normal”. As North Carolina governor Pat McCrory declared a state of emergency on Thursday morning, the horrible truth was that the normalcy of it all was plain to see. Such is the frequency with which riot police and even soldiers have been deployed on America's streets over the past few years, that the “United States of Emergency” would not seem like an inaccurate rebranding. Of course all of this civil disobedience plays into the hands of a Republican presidential candidate who is making the restoration of “law and order” one of the central tenets in his bid for power.

It is not hard to see the desperation on Obama's face as he reaches the denouement of his own tenure. While the 44th President's political legacy will be debated for years to come, it is now obvious that one thing it did not herald was a new era of post-racial harmony. America's obsession with symbolism almost willed him to the White House but as so often is the case with US politics: the higher the pretensions, the harder the fall. 

Charlotte doesn't represent anything particularly unique in this long struggle against police racism. It's just another place name to be added to Ferguson, Baton Rouge, St. Paul and dozens of others that could form a particularly grim tourist trail. The horrible truth is that as long as there have been black men in America – especially in places like Charlotte – they have always been unfairly targeted by police. For decades in the South these same forces were the “thin white line” promulgating a form of apartheid against the black majority. The difference now is that 21st century technology allows witnesses to capture and disseminate proof of this worldwide. The power of images to expose racial violence is unquestionable. The campaigner Mamie Till, mother of Emmett, knew this when she published photos of her son's mutilated corpse in 1955. As did George Holliday when he filmed Rodney King's beating in 1991.

There is a kind of despair when it comes to trying to find solutions to America's devastating gun and racial problems. Unfortunately neither presidential candidate seems to offer much hope of significant change. One is perceived as being in thrall to big business (of which the gun lobby represents a significant part) and the other, well, it is not hard to imagine Trump's glee at further proof of how “broken” and disorderly the country is under the Democrats. Both of their reactions to this latest incident have been muted. If either of them care at all about fixing this problem they need to take action and it needs to be drastic. The late comedian Robin Williams once quipped that in Britain the police shout: “Stop! Or I'll shout Stop again”. In America that first “stop” is all too often followed by a much louder sound.

The problem is that whenever a “taskforce” is created to fix the problem – such as Obama's 21st century policing initiative – its recommendations are always non-binding. On top of this is the fact that there are nearly 20,000 distinct police departments in the US representing a myriad of vested interests and demographic differences, and all adhering to slightly different codes of conduct. American police need to revert from a militarised occupying force to a pacific consensual one, perhaps by sending officers out unarmed. Unfortunately the likelihood of this happening with either a Trump, or even Clinton, presidency is sadly close to none. 

Alexis Self is a writer based in New York City.