Thursday, October 29, 2009

沉默会杀人(中文版)

Mautik Hani 是谁?

我们关心吗?

她不是这些

她不是“一个数据”

她不是“单一的个案”


Mautik Hani是一个女人

她是别人的女儿,她是某些人的朋友,

有些人会叫她“我的邻居”,而一些可能称她做“我姐姐”


Mautik Hani有想要追逐的梦想;

一些想要问的问题,想要分享的回忆。


有些事情会让她伤心,

有些事情会让她喜悦。


她有情感、她有想法、她有想要分享的礼物,


她的身体可能装载着满满的痛苦,或装载着喜悦

她虽然背负着负担,但是可能,她亦拥有希望。


Mautik Hani是一个人。

她和你一样,

她和我一样。

我们让她进来,

然后我们让她死去。


瘀青、被殴打。她的骨头显露了出来

空气中充满了她的身体的味道

她失去了意识

我们亦如此

~~~

过去的两年,妇女行动力量处理了265宗关于家庭女佣的案子,她们被殴打、被强暴、没有获得薪金、被骚扰、权益被侵犯、被孤立、被暴力的对待。虽然我们在没有获得薪金的案子中我们可以获得一些赔偿,但是没有一宗暴力或被虐待的案子被带上法庭寻求正义公道。


警方的调查不够专业,司法体系没有办法运用,整个审讯程序过于冗长。很多时候,受害者选择放弃做证人,然后带着失望的心情回家。有一些朋友选择坚持下来,她们每一天在创伤中度过,为的是等待正义的到来。


我们看待的案例不断的上升,数据不断的增加,而我们将眼睛闭起来,看着一个又一个的迫害者离开。


这些妇女的故事让人震惊;

被鸡奸

被拳打脚踢

被迫吃蟑螂

嘴里塞满了辣椒

用物体插入阴户

被火烧

被水淹死

脸被渔网攻击

被强暴


这些都是真实的故事。她们都是实际存在的任务。每一个都是在我们真实生活中的验证。


我们一直看不到这些妇女,听不到她们,她们好像不存在于这个世界。只有我们需要她们为我们工作的时候,她们才有存在的意义,可是我们甚至不承认她们做的是一份“工作”


我们那么害怕她们会逃跑,我们说服自己她们会染上病菌然后传染给我们。我们告诉自己我们只是要保护我们的家人。私地下我们觉得我们比她们优越。我们不让她们和邻居说话。当她们有朋友的时候我们感到担心。我们觉得她们的工作非常容易,但是我们自己却不愿意去动手。周末如果我们需要工作我们会抱怨,可是对于她们,我们连一个休息日都不愿意给。我们期待老板会加薪,可是当她们要求的时候我们却感到震惊。当我们听到“有女佣被虐待”,我们很快的就会分享关于“有女佣偷雇主的东西”的故事。我们看到我们的朋友如何对待她们,然后告诉自己“我们不会这样”,接着我们保持沉默。


这不是单一的“我们”。这个“我们”包括了你、我、你的姐妹、你的朋友、你的丈夫、你的妻子、你的老板、你的邻居、你的父亲、你的老师 --- 这个“我们”包括了马来西亚的每一个人。是的,是“我们”造就了这一切。


我们造就了这一切,因为我们漠视那些会让这一切发生的讯号。这些讯号包括,家庭女佣从来都没有被支付的薪水、她们被孤立、她们每一天都必需工作、她们被打巴掌、她们被火灼、她们被羞辱。难道真的要让上千的家庭工人死亡了,我们才会决定“够了”或者我们就让自己的离得远远的,让这一切成为我们继续保持沉默的话题?


我们所做的一切让她们受到极大的伤害

但是我们所没有做的一样让她们受到伤害。


沉默会将一切的暴力合理化,而我们的沉默已经证明了这一点。

Mautik Hani 36岁的时候因为被她的雇主殴打而死亡。

Mautik Hani的死亡是因为在这之前,我们将每一起事件都看成“单一事件”而不重视它真的存在。


我们看到这一切,我们将眼睛闭起来,然后我们让她死去。


an article by
~ katrina jorene maliamauv~
26th October 2009
from tenaganita

translated by SZ ika YX

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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Silence Kill 沉默会杀人

Who is Mautik Hani?

Do we care?

This is who she is not:
She is not a 'statistic.'
She is not an ‘isolated incident’.

Mautik Hani was a woman.
She was a daughter; she was someone’s friend.
Somebody called her ‘my neighbour’; another called her ‘my sister’.

Mautik Hani had dreams to chase;
questions to ask; memories to share.

There were things that made her sad;
and there were things that made her laugh.

She had feelings; she had ideas; and she had gifts to share
Her body could be flooded with pain, or pierced with joy.
She carried burdens, and somewhere, she bore hope.

Mautik Hani was a person.
No different than you,
No different than I.

We let her in.
And then we let her die.
~
Bruised. Beaten. Her bones exposed.
The smell of rotting flesh permeated the air.
Bound. Gagged. Unconscious.
Her body weary; attacked; abused.
She slipped away from consciousness.
As did we.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the past two years, Tenaganita has handled 265 cases of domestic workers who’ve been beaten, raped, deprived of wages, harassed, violated, kept in isolation, tortured and abused. While we’ve been able to get some compensation for cases of unpaid wages, not a single case of violence or abuse has gone to court or been brought to justice.

Police investigations are sluggish, court systems inaccessible, and processes drag on endlessly. Often, the victims drop the cases out of weariness, and go home as the final tethers of hope snap. Some wait persistently, stuck in the hole of trauma, each passing day taking with it possibilities of justice.

We see the numbers grow, we watch the statistics swell, and we close our eyes as the perpetrators walk away.

The stories of these women are horrific;

Sodomised.

Scalded.

Lacerations on the vagina.

Forced to eat cockroaches.

Mouth stuffed with chilies.

Drowned.

Burned.

Face attacked with a fish scraper.

Raped.

These stories are real. These women are real. Each one is testament to the reality we’ve created around us.

We keep these women unseen and unheard, invisible from the world. They are present only when we want them to work for us, and yet we won’t even recognize what they do as ‘work’.

We are so afraid they’ll run away; we convince ourselves they’ll pick up ‘diseases’ and infect us. We tell ourselves that we’re just protecting our families. We quietly feel superior to them. We don’t let them speak to the neighbours. We worry when they have friends. We feel their work is simple, and yet we don’t do it ourselves. We throw a fit when we need to work on weekends, yet we won’t even grant them a day off. We expect pay raises, and cluck our tongues in shock when they ask for it. We hear about ‘a maid who was abused’ and quickly share the story about ‘the maid who stole from her employer’. We look at the way our friends treat them, convince ourselves that ‘we’re not like that’ and yet we stay silent about it.

This is not a generic ‘we’. It’s a ‘we’ made up of you, of me, of your sister, your friend, your husband, your wife, your boss, your neighbour, your father, your teacher — every person in this country is contained in that ‘we’. Make no mistake of this; we let this happen.

We let this happen because we’ve ignored the thousands of signs that have led to this point. Signs contained in domestic workers whose wages were never paid, who’ve been kept in isolation, who’ve been made to work every day of their lives, who’ve been slapped, who’ve been burned, who’ve been put down. Did a thousand domestic workers need to die before we decided it was enough? Or have we removed ourselves so far from our conscience that this becomes something we merely wince at but stay silent about?

Our actions have harmed these women so severely.

But so have our inactions.

Silence has a way of legitimizing violence, and our deafening silence when faced with the realities of domestic workers in our country has done exactly that.

Mautik Hani died at 36 years old from the beatings of her employers.

Mautik Hani also died because we brushed off each case that came before her as an ‘isolated incident’.

We saw the signs, we closed our eyes, and we let her die.

an article by
~ katrina jorene maliamauv~
26th October 2009
from tenaganita

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