Disir
Platinum Member
- Sep 30, 2011
- 28,003
- 9,608
- 910
The weight of the hours that flew by added to the grimness of the space. Families and friends of the victims gathered at the site of the accident, or lined up outside nearby hospitals to give their samples for DNA testing, in order to identify and collect information, or take home the bodies of their loved ones.
In the midst of this sea of people, a middle-aged woman named Sheema Akter roamed about haphazardly, hoping to find traces of her daughter, 12-year-old Shanto Moni, who had gone to work at the factory that morning. “I did not want her to work here but as schools were closed, she wanted to utilize the time by working,” Akter told TBS News.
Shanto Moni, who worked at the Shezan juice processing unit, was just one among dozens of children who had signed up for work at the factory to earn a little extra money, in order to contribute to their families who have struggled to stay afloat since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. Most of them were below the age of 18.
According to another report published by the national daily Prothom Alo, the names and age of some of these children were: Shanto (12), Takiya (14), Munna (14), Nazmul (15), Mahmud (15), Kompa (16), Himu (16), Ripon (17), and Taslima (17), in addition to many more.
Speaking of her 11-year-old nephew who had gone to work the same day as the fire and is now missing, Laizu Begum recalled, “We heard that the door of the floor where my nephew worked was padlocked. Then we realized, after seeing how big the fire was, that he is probably dead.”
Factory work for 14 and up in Bangladesh is legal and I understand that this is a different culture. I am having difficulty understanding the need for padlocking doors.
In the midst of this sea of people, a middle-aged woman named Sheema Akter roamed about haphazardly, hoping to find traces of her daughter, 12-year-old Shanto Moni, who had gone to work at the factory that morning. “I did not want her to work here but as schools were closed, she wanted to utilize the time by working,” Akter told TBS News.
Shanto Moni, who worked at the Shezan juice processing unit, was just one among dozens of children who had signed up for work at the factory to earn a little extra money, in order to contribute to their families who have struggled to stay afloat since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic. Most of them were below the age of 18.
According to another report published by the national daily Prothom Alo, the names and age of some of these children were: Shanto (12), Takiya (14), Munna (14), Nazmul (15), Mahmud (15), Kompa (16), Himu (16), Ripon (17), and Taslima (17), in addition to many more.
Speaking of her 11-year-old nephew who had gone to work the same day as the fire and is now missing, Laizu Begum recalled, “We heard that the door of the floor where my nephew worked was padlocked. Then we realized, after seeing how big the fire was, that he is probably dead.”
Factory Fire Reveals Bangladesh’s Child Labor Problem
Child workers were among the casualties of the July 8 fire, shedding terrible light on an all-too-common problem.
thediplomat.com
Factory work for 14 and up in Bangladesh is legal and I understand that this is a different culture. I am having difficulty understanding the need for padlocking doors.
