One of Egypt’s few shelters for abused women is offering them a chance at a better, safer future
By Ali El-Bahnasawy
Surrounded by open fields and few buildings, a five-story building far from Cairo lays shrouded in secrecy. It stands as a silent witness to the visitors who slip in, wounded and desperate for shelter. Many are disillusioned and depressed after weeks, months or years of suffering.
The women and children come from homes where the walls veil a nonstop tragedy. Insults, threats or physical abuse is often a common language between family members. The victims of domestic abuse are taught to remain silent — only a few find the words to speak out. For those who do flee their homes, the House of Eve, a shelter for abused women, is the first place where they can feel safe.
“After arguing with my mother-in-law one day, she and her daughter beat me and burnt me with cigarettes on my face,” says Asmaa Lotfy, a shelter resident who asked that her real name not be used. The 25-year-old mother of two points to an old burn mark below her right eye. “That was three years ago. I was pregnant and my husband stood silently watching them. Then they kicked me out of my house in pajamas. I had no other place to go.”
Between January 2007 and July 2008, local newspapers published stories of 236 women killed by members of their families, according to the Land Center for Human Rights (LCHR), a non-governmental organization (NGO) established in 1996 to defend human rights in rural areas. The murderer is usually a husband, brother, father or son. More than 314 cases involving murder, attempted murder, or serious injury from burning or pushing from a high place such as a balcony were reported over those 18 months, according to LCHR. That is nearly one case every 36 hours, and many others go unreported. Often, like Lotfy, the victims of domestic violence have no place to go and are chained to their abusers because they are financially dependent upon them. They think of their children’s future and decide to stay, hoping that tomorrow will be better. They need help, but are aware that little exists.
In many countries, such as the United States, United Kingdom and Turkey, the primary response by governments and NGOs in supporting abused women is to establish a system of shelters. The shelters are usually designed as temporary residences. Inside, women are given free professional medical and psychological care to help them overcome both the physical and emotional effects of domestic violence. In Egypt, the Ministry of Social Solidarity owns and operates seven shelters for abused women.
The number of shelters is low for such a large population, and shoestring budgets mean poor conditions. In 2004, Human Rights Watch (HRW), an international human rights organization, criticized women’s shelters here, saying in a report: “Ultimately, the shelters in Egypt are not intended to protect women.”
Mohsen Allam For some women, the shelter is the launchpad for a new, independent life.
HRW also condemned the government for not advertising the shelters’ existence. Even police officers, according to the report, are completely unaware of the shelters’ existence and suggest that battered women go to hotels if they don’t want to return home. Moreover, the government shelters usually notify the abuser of the victim’s location, something which undermines their ability to provide sanctuary. They also force working women to pay one quarter of their salary in fees to the shelter.
Lotfy made her first escape three years ago. Her parents are divorced and her seven siblings refused to take her in, she says. Desperate, she headed to a government-run shelter in Alexandria. She didn’t stay for long. Living conditions were unbearable, she says. Crowded, filthy, and lacking any sort of privacy, Lotfy says the residence was not the kind of place for her baby to make his start in life. After selling her gold jewelry, Lotfy rented a private room and set to work creating a better life for her child. She remained in contact with her husband. The room made a decent home, but the money, a small amount to begin with, diminished every day. Finally she gave in to her husband’s pleas and constant phone calls and returned home. Within months she was again receiving regular beatings from her husband.
Lotfy says her husband is an alcoholic who abused her continually for two years. She gathered her courage and ran away for the second time in December 2008, but says she felt a painful sense of déjà vu when she realized she was on the streets again, this time with two children. However, there was now a new place to turn. When Lotfy went to the National Council for Women, a counselor referred her to Beit Hawa, House of Eve, a shelter founded in 2006 by the Association for the Development and Enhancement of Women (ADEW). The NGO was founded in 1987 to offer a range of services for women in poor areas. Micro-credit, legal assistance and literacy skills are some of the programs they have implemented to empower Egyptian women. The idea for the shelter came when Dr. Iman Bibars, founder of ADEW and regional director for Ashoka Arab World, a social entrepreneurial organization, noticed that many of the women the organization was working with complained of domestic violence. Extending its mission to help those who need to escape abusive homes, ADEW set up the House of Eve.
The house is the first non-governmental shelter for abused women in Egypt, and despite having shut for 6 months last year due to a lack of funds, since opening in early 2006, the shelter has provided a safe house for 107 women. Owned and managed by ADEW, the building was donated to the NGO by the local governor and the location is not advertised. Free for all women, it is a place where they can stay with their children without worrying about how to pay. Originally designed as a residence, the five-story building houses ten small, white apartments that each have two bedrooms, a lounge, a kitchen and a bathroom. The furniture is simple, too: four beds in each bedroom, wooden chairs and a table in the lounge with a 14-inch TV, and crockery and an oven in the kitchen. It is clean, with no rugs covering the white floors. In the backyard, there is a fenced playground with swings and slides. The shelter can hold up to 80 women at one time, but has never served that many at once.
Lotfy arrived at the shelter in December with her two children. She speaks about her experience with embarrassment and disgrace, as if she had ruined the marriage. “I tried to convince him to stop drinking [alcohol], or at least stop inviting his friends over to drink. He did not listen, and kept on beating me,” she whispers, looking at her feet while holding her child closer to her chest.
“If not for this shelter, only God knows where my children and I would be,” she says. However, Lotfy’s plan, as of two days after her arrival, was to stay at the shelter for just two weeks— long enough to let her husband know that she doesn’t have to live with his abuse. She does not want to look for a job because she says that her children need her more than she needs money. She is one of the few that have been able to break out, if only temporarily.
“Abused women usually need an external ‘catalyst’ to help break the cycle of violence,” says Reem Mehanna, the head of the Elimination of Violence Unit at ADEW, summarizing the role of House of Eve. Mehanna is a 28-year-old political science graduate who has spent the last eight years working on women’s and children’s issues. Learning in the field, Mehanna became an expert in the causes and consequences of domestic violence. The main reason behind the violence, as Mehanna perceives it, is cultural. Society, in her opinion, worships the male figure, and criminalizes women who complain about family members. Women who dare to expose their family’s internal conflicts are perceived as sinners bringing shame to the family. It is a culture of silence and denial, says Mehanna.
Many women are taught to accept violence without complaint. “The level of what women accept is unimaginable,” Mehanna says. “They accept insults. They accept being tarnished in front of their children and relatives. They accept being beaten. They accept that the man receives more food or better health care because he is a man. They accept their daughters suffering from female genital mutilation, or an unhappy early marriage.”
The acceptance of such abuse is impossible to understand for someone who has not experienced it, Mehanna says. The women themselves cannot be blamed. “The trauma that comes from being beaten by the person who is supposed to provide her with security is torturous. It is an unimaginable level of confusion,” Mehanna says. Solving this internal dilemma is the key to recovery, she says.
ADEW’s trained staff does everything they can to help the violated woman feel secure starting with the first night. Many victims are desperate for privacy and security during their first nights. They ask to stay alone in an apartment with the keys in their hands. They want to feel the security of four walls and a locked door protecting their children. The shelter’s administration does not mind. They make sure each woman gets everything she needs and deliver food to her door. Those with serious injuries are taken to the small local hospital immediately. The staff is trained to handle minor injuries and illnesses, but the tight budget does not allow much money for doctors’ fees.
Beyond the physical care, many victims also require psychological therapy. ADEW cooperates with other organizations, such as El-Nadim Center for the Rehabilitation of Victims of Violence, to train the staff to conduct psychological assessments. But it is not enough, says Mehanna. She would like the victims to attend weekly sessions with a professional psychologist. However, money is always the problem. Mehanna is already understaffed with only five employees in the violence elimination unit including herself. Volunteers have let her down so many times that she is skeptical about their commitment.
“We equipped the shelter as well as we can, nothing fancy, but it meets the bare minimum needs,” Mehanna says. Each woman costs the shelter nearly LE 1,000 per month, she says, based on the cost of utilities, food and four employee salaries, but not including any specialized psychological treatment, medicine or clothes that may be needed. Currently four women live in the shelter, one of whom is pregnant and expected to deliver soon. ADEW offers the empty apartments to other NGOs; giving women shelter is what really matters, the association says. However, it is unclear how ADEW would actually manage the cost if all the apartments were full. Financial complications have sunk the operation before. After reopening the house in October following the 6-month closure, Mehanna has been working around the clock to raise sufficient funds to sustain the shelter’s activities and enhance its facilities.
“I wrote proposals to everyone: the Germans, the British, the Japanese, UN agencies and other NGOs in Egypt. Some of them responded and they are willing to invest in the shelter in different ways. But we still need a lot of money,” Mehanna says, pulling out a proposal she sent to embassies asking for donations including water heaters, refrigerators, baby cribs, rugs, and first aid kits.
Women can stay in the shelter for as long as nine months. Minors are not allowed without legal permission from a guardian. A team of ADEW lawyers offers legal assistance, and when the women feel they are ready to leave, there is a micro-credit scheme through which they can start taking control of their lives and gain financial independence.
“Once a woman rejects violence and gains some empowerment and control over her life, she totally refuses to be a victim again. She transforms into a confident, strong individual who can protect herself and her family,” Mehanna says.
According to the LCHR report, 95 percent of the women whose abuse or death was reported over the 18-month study did not have jobs outside the home.
Mehanna talks about one woman from Beni Sueif who entered the micro-credit program after leaving the shelter. The woman started by taking a LE 50 loan to serve tea to mine workers. The next loan she took was LE 70 to expand her business to sandwiches and some basic tools for the miners. Working hard, she now owns a kiosk financed by a LE 3,000 loan and has managed to build a private bathroom inside her house, something very rare in her village, according to Mehanna. Now her six children all go to school and are in perfect health. Her story is one with a happy ending.
Like 96 percent of Egyptian women who have been victims of physical abuse by their families, based on an ADEW survey of 444 women in Cairo and two rural areas, Lotfy and her children have very few options.
“Life is tough on everyone. My siblings have enough on their plates and no one should take care of me and my children,” Lotfy says, justifying both why she took refuge in the shelter and why she plans to return to her husband. Her elder child looks like she’s enjoying her new temporary home; her safest house so far. Playing with a giraffe toy and sucking a piece of tangerine, here she can be content: She doesn’t have to see her mom get beaten before bedtime. Tomorrow the family will spend the day in the backyard playing and enjoying moments free from fear. et
Thanks TL for this. I've heard about this before but there is so little about this shelter in internet.
Posted by Hermione Heliotrope. (Member # 14248) on :
Apparently it is a scam from someone who worked there
What are we talking about here? Mismanagement and misappropriation of funds? Publicity seeking and self-marketing (bribing journalists)? If that is the case then shouldn't we say the Ministry of Health, the Ministry of Education, the Ministry of (fill in the blank), etc. are all scams too? And what about all the so called International schools in Egypt that are taking upwards of 30,000 LE per child and can't even provide textbooks for the kids? Half of the money is ending up in the director's pocket - certainly not going toward your kids education. Egypt is a third world country.
There is no sector in Egypt that is not touched by corruption in some form or another. But to call this place a scam, that is just plain wrong. Egypt is already 20 years behind the rest of the world in women's rights (among other things). Let's not knock the efforts of those few pioneers, who are striving to bring attention and light to this serious issue in a place where most women remain helpless and uneducated about these matters. If this shelter has helped only one woman flee from her abuser and establish herself as a free independent woman - then it has done a fine job in my book.
Posted by Ngeg (Member # 1271) on :
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Posted by Ngeg (Member # 1271) on :
quote:Originally posted by The Ministry of Common Sense:
What are we talking about here? Mismanagement and misappropriation of funds?
If this shelter has helped only one woman flee from her abuser and establish herself as a free independent woman - then it has done a fine job in my book.
Amounts of money that could ve made the 2 million homeless kids happy for a year being directed towards a parlaiment campaign is not acceptable, it's wrong and should not be supported. Especially if that money is FOREIGN AID!
Anyways, it's fine to have different measures, and different books. I, at least know 10 foreign volunteers who left their work in development entirely after their terrible experience with this particular NGO.
But it's ok after all, as long as your colorful book says that it's fine that 10 000 000 LE make ONE FREAKIN WOMAN HAPPY in a cty where over half of the citizens live on 5 LE a day ...then fine.
![[Frown]](frown.gif)