ABBOTTABAD: When Shazadi Gillani, the highest ranking female police officer from Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa, wanted to join the force she had to defy her father, forego marriage and pay for her own basic training.
During the next 19 years, Inspector Gillani and her faithful sidekick Rizwana Zafar – brought up as a boy after becoming her frustrated father’s ninth daughter – have battled bandits, earthquakes and militants.
But the women’s biggest challenge is helping new female police recruits. Women make up just 560 of the province’s 60,000-strong force. Police chiefs hope to double that within a year, but tough working conditions make recruitment hard.
There have been small victories. Germany funded female dormitories at three training colleges. Women recruits no longer wait years for basic training. This summer, the province opened women’s complaint desks in 60 male-run police stations.
Many Pakistani women face horrifying violence and officials hope more abused women will report attacks. Tradition forbids them from speaking to male officers.
The province opened two women-only police stations in 1994. But they have long been starved of resources and responsibility.
As a schoolgirl, Gillani wanted to join the army like her father. They were not recruiting, so she proposed the police instead. Her father and seven brothers were horrified.
“They said police disrespected women,” she said, auburn hair peeping out from her cap. “I had a lot of opposition.”
After a week of refusing to eat – and lobbying by her college lecturer mother – Gillani’s father gave in. He had three conditions: Be brave. Marry your job. Bring a friend. So Gillani recruited her school friend Zafar.
Zafar cut her hair short and dressed like a boy. She taught herself to ride motorbikes, use computers and fix engines.
Women police were not respected when Gillani joined, but the military was. Her army major father shoehorned them into courses and footed the bill. Gillani’s training cost $2,000. The money was returned eight years later.
Not everyone had a powerful father.
Rozia Altaf joined 16 years ago and waited six years and submitted more than 50 applications to get her basic training. Now head of the women-only station in Peshawar, she says things have changed – a little.
“We were neglected,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “But now I make sure my junior officers get training and promotions on time.”
Peshawar’s women-only station gets about 50 complaints a year, far less than a male-run station. The last crime reported at the Abbottabad women-only station was in 2005.
But some policemen still say no woman willing to join the police is worth having.”Women who join the force don’t care for their reputations or have nowhere else to go,” said one senior officer.
While she must wear a burqa to head home, she refuses to do so in the station. “Change is a challenge for all of society, not just police.”
