Shatti

“I lost everything in the flood. So everything that is in this relief package I need it.”

We met Shatti at a household distribution point. She is slight in figure and one can barely make out the bulge of her fourth expected child beneath her brightly coloured shawl. She is dignified and yet has the uncanny ability to break her regal poise with peals of childlike giggles. Grasping her white sack of bowels, cups, plates and other essential household items, which we collect at the town hall she seems particularly tiny. We ask if we can accompany her home. Once aboard the rickshaw, the literal effect of Cyclone Sidr can once more be felt. The tidal surge that came with the winds of November 15th 2007 wrecked the roads. The damage makes what would otherwise have been a straightforward journey an exercise in balance and backside stamina. As we approach her village, Shatti’s mood visibly lifts and her statue takes on the quality of authority that only a mother of three can possess.

A week before the distribution a survey searched out four hundred of the most vulnerable families in the area. This was to target those who are particularly at need. Shatti’s household’s was one of those families, and as we stoop through the Sari flung across the door of the make shift shelter she, her three children and her husband share, it is not hard to see why. “You are sitting in my bedroom,” she says, with a twinkle of welcome in her eye. There is only really this one room, and a small lean-to entrance way. We are sat on a bed of hay and blankets; one wall is made of material, the other three straw. We pull the saris closed in an effort to keep out some of the neighbours who also want to give their opinion in our discussions. It is thanks to these same neighbours that the family survived the night of the Cyclone, when local volunteers spread the word of Sidr’s approach. The family fled the flimsy structure of their own home to take refuge in the more solid brick house next door. This brick building and the five of them survived. Their house did not. In the temporary shelter where we are now sat there is the smell of urine and dampness in the air. Alongside her ten, three and six year old as well as her husband there is barely enough space to sit crammed in together. But it is cosy as they tell their story.

Shatti’s husband’s first wife left him years ago. The two children from this marriage were sent to live with a maternal uncle, while Shatti, then aged fourteen, became her husband’s second wife. A recent discussion with a group of women on Middle Char Island covered the issue of early marriage. The average age of marriage in this area as twelve, recently early marriage has also been accompanied with dowry payments. This tradition often leaves young girls with few directions for their future; become a child bride, like Shatti, or move to Dhaka to become a garment worker. Recognising the particular vulnerabilities and pressures on adolescent girls is important for offering appropriate support in a child’s right to childhood. This is particularly important in the aftermath of a disaster, when economic pressures as well as added stress within a household might increase the likelihood young girls will marry early. Shatti’s has an ability to switch between looking like a wise woman, who has experienced and known far more than her twenty-five years suggest, to an impish glee that would seem more appropriate to the child she must have been. This is a reminder of the multiple identities we inhabit. Shatti’s ten-year-old daughter is shy, but with a similar look of strength in her eyes. When asked what Shatti hopes for the determined looking child she says “education”. If education can be a part of her future her options and ability to decide her direction might expand beyond the limitations many young girls in the area face. To look at her is to sense an immense and burning potential. It is deeply comforting to be visiting her with as part of an NGO team. It gives me confidence that Shatti and her community will continue to foster this potential, despite and beyond the devastating impact of disasters such as Sidr.