The disappeared, the forcefully disappeared, are not merely lost; they are entombed within the hearts and souls of their loved ones.

Their memory burns incessantly, fuelled by an unyielding hope. And I am sure that, on the other side, the perpetrators of enforced disappearances bear the weight of this continuous crime — the act of holding someone’s beloved outside the bounds of law, shrouded in secrecy.

My own story is one of heartbreak.

On July 30, 2005, my beloved husband, Masood Janjua, vanished. Our lives were at their zenith — my three children and I basked in his unwavering love and care. Suddenly, the sky collapsed upon us, plunging us into a darkness of grief and despair. What followed was a colossal struggle, akin to pushing an immense boulder uphill.

During those early days, we vowed to shake the world — to make our voices heard. In September 2006, we gathered in front of Islamabad’s parliament house. Alongside my young children, my father-in-law, and other families of the disappeared — summoned from various corners of the country — we remained day and night.

This joint outcry of the victims gave birth to an organisation, named the ‘Defence of Human Rights’ (DHR). This platform belonged to everyone, built by victims and for victims, united in our collective struggle for truth and justice on behalf of our disappeared loved ones.

Masood Janjua went missing 19 years ago. Since then, his wife and their children have been involved in a relentless pursuit for justice, trying desperately to learn what became of him. In this poignant essay, Amina Masood Janjua details the impact of her husband’s disappearance on herself and her family and how it galvanised her to become the voice of thousands of others who have experienced a similar fate…

Our sole purpose: to advocate for our missing loved ones, undeterred by the toll it took on our daily lives. The media, both local and international, amplified our cause, especially after the then chief justice, Justice Iftikhar Chaudhary, took notice and actively started hearing cases of enforced disappearances.

PART OF A LARGER BATTLE

The struggle for the recovery of those forcibly disappeared became intertwined with the judiciary’s fight with the then military regime. Chief Justice Chaudhary boldly declared that there was ample evidence proving that the disappeared were in the custody of secret agencies, so much so that he even contemplated summoning the generals.

This pivotal moment, I believe, led Gen Pervez Musharraf, then both president and the army chief, to declare a state of emergency on November 3, 2007 and sack the entire judiciary. During this tumultuous period, human rights were trampled upon, the Constitution seemed non-existent, and leading human rights defenders and lawyers faced arrest. Even 60 judges from the superior courts, including the chief justice, found themselves under house arrest. It was a time of darkness.

However, the collective voice of civil society, politicians, human rights advocates, lawyers and victims of enforced disappearances rose against the dictator. For two years, rallies, seminars and massive gatherings swept across Pakistan, highlighting our grievances and championing the independence of the judiciary.

A FALSE DAWN

On March 16, 2009, one goal was achieved: the judiciary was restored, judges resumed their positions, and hopes of justice returned. Families of the disappeared, numbering around 485 at the time, held high hopes that the Supreme Court would finally address their cases.

Unfortunately, this did not happen. The newly restored judiciary closed its eyes to the cases of the disappeared. At this moment, I had to take new steps to get our voices heard.

For 13 days and nights, alongside other families, I sat outside the Supreme Court building in a makeshift tent, undeterred by bureaucratic hostilities and extreme weather. It was November 2009, and our tent was battered by storms, which drenched us from head to toe. Still, hope fuelled our persistence.

Finally, on November 13, 2009, the Supreme Court registrar informed me that the case of enforced disappearances was scheduled to be heard by a bench headed by the chief justice. Our hopes soared once again. We believed our grievances would be heard and our loved ones would soon see justice.

However, new disappointments awaited us.

In May 2010, the Supreme Court formed a commission, with the mandate to investigate enforced disappearances and provide recommendations for eliminating this practice. Less than a year later, in March 2011, the cases were transferred to the new Commission of Inquiry on Enforced Disappearances, created by the Ministry of Interior.

These decisions seemed calculated to keep the issue away from media scrutiny, shielded from public view and the superior courts. The commission’s intentions appeared far from providing real justice, truth or reparation to the victims’ families.

Since then, this flawed commission has engaged with thousands of victim family members across Pakistan, without any real outcome, documenting over 10,000 cases of enforced disappearances.

The commission also compelled our organisation, DHR, to appear before it, but we persisted in seeking justice through the superior courts. Between 2006 and 2018, we filed 749 cases in the Supreme Court. We filed many more after that, but none were accepted till late 2023.

This was despite some of the judges being seemingly committed to get justice to this oppressed and aggrieved segment of society. There was success in a handful of cases, where lost loved ones were reunited with their families. On the whole, however, the judicial system could not come up with any significant solution to the issue of enforced disappearances.

PERSONAL GRIEF AND PUBLIC EFFORTS

While building the structures of our rights organisation, organising rallies and travelling across Pakistan and beyond, I had my private moments of sadness.

The pain was relentless — sometimes bearable, at other times overwhelming. Masood’s shadow accompanied me, a constant presence guiding me through the thick and thin of my sorrow and hopes.

When we were together, we raised our three children with big dreams in our eyes. We never wanted to be far from each other; now, 19 years have passed without as much as a glimpse of the person I loved and cherished the most.

My children — two of them teenagers in 2005 and one still a child — coped, attending school and later college and university. They grew into remarkable individuals, who respected our shared cause and did everything possible to assist. They endured police brutality during protests and were beaten and arrested alongside me.

I’ll never forget my youngest daughter collapsing in my arms, begging the police not to take away her brother after her father had been taken away. That happened when my eldest son, then 15, was arrested during a protest rally. The ache persists, but so does our unwavering pursuit for justice.

ECHOES AROUND THE GLOBE

In September 2014, I visited Manila, Philippines, after DHR was granted membership in the Asian Federation Against Involuntary Disappearances (AFAD), an international collective that focuses on the issue of forced disappearances in Asia. This collective comprises passionate individuals from various countries of Asia, such as Bangladesh, India, Indonesia, Philippines and Laos, among many others. Together, we raise a collective voice against enforced disappearances, dreaming of a world free from this heinous crime.

Our vision extends beyond mere advocacy. We envision a world where enforced disappearances cease to exist, where victims receive compensation and reparations, and where monuments honour those who never returned. We long for a space where families can collectively remember their loved ones, sharing both grief and laughter. The year 2014 marked a turning point and there was no looking back.

The same year, DHR also actively engaged with the United Nations, lobbying in Geneva to spotlight Pakistan’s enforced disappearances crisis during its universal periodic review. Urgent appeals were penned to the working group on enforced disappearances, seeking swift action. The United Nations issued statements urging Pakistan to sign the UN convention against enforced disappearances and to enhance its domestic laws to properly investigate complaints of enforced disappearances.

Despite repeated promises, however, Pakistan is yet to fulfil these commitments. During the fourth cycle of the universal periodic review in January 2023, leading countries — 19 in number — called on Pakistan to ratify the UN convention on enforced disappearances, address victims’ grievances and create mechanisms to get rid of the menace once and for all. The path forward remains uncertain, but our unwavering hope persists.

THE REVOLUTIONARY MOTHERS OF PLAZA DE MAYO

In March 2023, I represented DHR at the prestigious Third World Forum in the Argentine capital, Buenos Aires. The long flight, with multiple stopovers, allowed my thoughts to flow endlessly. Memories of Masood — my reservoir of power and hope — accompanied me. I felt his presence, closer than ever.

During my 15-day stay in the South American city, I witnessed inspiring episodes: Argentinian lawyers, human rights defenders, victims, politicians and political parties united against military dictators and crimes against humanity. Together, these brave individuals had fought against enforced disappearances, human rights abuses, torture and illegal abductions, and to restore democracy and justice. Their tireless struggle is the epitome of what humanity can achieve.

It also resulted in the fulfilment of a lifelong dream: meeting the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, now aged 90 to 100. These remarkable women began their struggle against military dictators in the 1970s. The mothers, who claim that around 8,500 people were disappeared just in the seventies, continue to call for their recovery and for punishment for the perpetrators. The Mothers of Plaza de Mayo are the everlasting heroes of their nation. They led a massive rally on March 24 — the day Argentina celebrates democracy.

Witnessing the entire nation hand in hand — celebrating 40 years of democratic values, truth and justice — left me in awe. For a person like me, coming from a country grappling with human rights violations, target killings and enforced disappearances, the contrast was stark. Our own National Day, just one day earlier on March 23, felt worlds apart.

Witnessing a nation united against dark forces and celebrating 40 years of democratic rule was both encouraging and rejuvenating. Argentina’s freedom was forged through iconic struggles, unwavering passion, and the tireless efforts of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo. As thousands of delegates from around the world gathered in pursuit of truth, justice and human rights, they marvelled at Argentina’s transformation.

AN ODE TO THE MISSING

The once-notorious military camp in Buenos Aires — a site of torment, horror, torture and death — has been transformed into the ESMA Museum and Site of Memory, a place of beauty, justice and remembrance. Here, communities from across the globe can gather to share their joint struggles and raise their voices against enforced disappearances.

My eyes widened as I stepped into the Parque de la Memoria [Remembrance Park] — a sprawling 14-acre park in the capital, meticulously crafted to honour the memory of the disappeared. Here, around 9,000 names of the desaparecidos or disappeared are displayed. Visitors arrive with families and children, bringing flowers to place beside the names of their vanished loved ones.

Our delegation included Argentinian victims alongside those from Pakistan, the Philippines, Laos, Bangladesh and other Asian countries. Our shared grief and our struggle for our disappeared loved ones transcended borders. As we hugged, cried and shared our stories, I clutched a small poster of Masood — the beautiful face of my husband — alongside a family portrait from 2004.

While walking and talking, we encountered a striking monument: the statue of a 14-year-old boy standing in the middle of the sea. The artist had immortalised this boy, who had suffered the same fate — killed and dumped at that very location.

While reading the boy’s story etched at the ocean’s edge, a strong wind suddenly snatched Masood’s poster from my hand. Desperate, I chased it, but it fluttered into the sea near the boy’s statue.

Grief overwhelmed me like never before. Fellow victim families surrounded me, consoling my despair. The companionship of my fellow victims restored my heart. Their words still echo in my heart: “Don’t be sad. You’re in Argentina — the land of truth, justice and human rights. You haven’t lost him, you’ve actually found him.”

I haven’t found him yet but, yes, I have found the true ingredients for a life-long hope and a recipe for never giving up the struggle. It may transcend human lives, but it will go on till it will achieve success.

In January this year, the incumbent chief justice, Justice Qazi Faez Isa, while acknowledging my long struggle for justice, not just for my husband but others who have gone missing, asked me what I expected from the Supreme Court. My answer was, and is, truth. My family and I want to know where Masood is.

This is the same as the demand of countless families who pine for their loved ones, unsure of their fate. To this day, I cling to hope that we will get justice, despite the passage of 19 long years.

Yes, it is a very long time, but it will never be long enough to extinguish hope!

The writer is a rights activist and chairperson of the non-governmental organisation Defence of Human Rights, which works on cases of enforced disappearances. She can be reached at chairpersondhr@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, EOS, July 28th, 2024