Being in Dhaka city means sitting in traffic. But if the past week is anything to go by, it’s that it also means risking our lives every time we step out of our homes.
Much has been said about the accidents which have taken place in the last week. Discourse has been opened up about policies, safety, ministers, protests, students, even the usefulness and longevity of such conversations, having seen time and again how quickly we are to forget the tragedies we fight so hard to get justice for.
When a statesman, employed and looked up to for the safety and wellbeing of workers, nay, citizens, mocks the deaths that were brought on by what has been plaguing the capital for decades, I can’t help but question the legitimacy with which all of such statecraft is handled.
What’s incredible is that out of this tragedy emerged a strong remonstration from students, and dissent of such kind ignites tiny flames of hope that the current administration of political affairs may one day be handed down to those who do care about what this nation is headed towards.
For the past couple of days, the roads of Dhaka have been taken up by demonstrations of students wanting justice, and more so, they have taken up the tasks that our traffic police have failed to do on any occasion.
If one takes a walk down some main road somewhere, it won’t be difficult to see rickshaws lined up in an orderly fashion -- something I for one have never witnessed before -- and cars being slowed down and drivers having made to show their licenses and paperwork. Goes to show just how much traction a dissenting voice can have.
Another thing that has been brought up (not for the first time, of course) is the state of fitness testing for vehicles, especially for public buses. Take it from someone who has been riding government-owned transportation for quite some time now. Those Jeeps and Pajeros hauling themselves out on the streets you see every day?
None of them have been passed for fitness, save the one time they are purchased, with paperwork filed. That’s a long time, given that they are practically as old as I am, if not older.
So, if the vehicles allocated to government officials aren’t fit for the roads themselves, what chance do the public transit lines have of being anything but the metal-on-wheels that they are?
Bus drivers are paid on the basis of the trips they complete in a day. If they head over to Mirpur or Ekuria to get their licenses or paperwork stamped, they could lose an entire day of earning. So why would one miss out on a whole day’s pay, if they can just pay up a couple of trips worth of cash to the hands of the right people, so as to write off the whole act altogether?
These are questions which need to be asked to those who swore to keep the streets safe, who are responsible for the act of making sure that people are held accountable for their negligence and misconduct, those who allow for these things to take place without repercussions, and those who are in places of authority over a nation.
If these are the very same people who cannot see accidents and tragedies of the people as the horrifying turn the nation is taking, then that says something about the state of our statecraft.
It is time that the students out on the streets got some company.
It’s time for all of us, anyone who has been frustrated at the trips that take triple the time to complete just because a VIP is moving about the city with their entourage (of cars which probably don’t have sufficient paperwork, because who would check them anyway?), to take to the streets, and join the movement. It’s time for the civil society to add momentum in the effort of to take laws and lives seriously.
We want justice.
Luba Khalili is an Editorial Assistant at the Dhaka Tribune.
