CARE staff are on the ground in Pakistan responding to the needs of families and communities who have been displaced by the conflicts. These are their blogs and stories from survivors.
07 July 2009: Faces I'll Remember
06 July 2009: Little man
06 July 2009: The hosts with the least
06 July 2009: Healing hands for the homeless
16 June 2009: The unseen toll: psychological trauma haunts displaced people
15 June 2009: A crime against home
08 June 2009: Can't we do more?
03 June 2009: Women IDPs crying for missing husbands
02 June 2009: Forced to flee
27 May 2009: Born in a turbulent world
26 May 2009: "We just want to go home"
24 May 2009: "I have no friends here"
23 May 2009: There is a good plan
19 May 2009: Squeezed into small spaces
22 May 2009: Today, Pakistan is a different place
18 May 2009: New born life amidst desperation
18 May 2009: Voices from a refugee camp: our heads drown in shame
17 May 2009: A glimpse of hope - CARE starts distribution in Mardan
07 July 2009: Faces I'll Remember
by Rick Perera, CARE Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
Farewell, Pakistan. My month among these kind, hospitable people is coming to an end. As I leave this country that is struggling with a massive wave of civilians fleeing conflict, my mind is full of thoughts, and my heart full of emotions. I’ve seen the sacrifice of ordinary Pakistanis doing their best to help their suffering compatriots. Their generosity is an inspiration, but also a challenge, to the rest of the world.
The crisis in this country is not just a matter for Pakistanis. The terrible violence that is forcing millions from their homes here is intimately linked to larger geopolitical events that concern us all.
The pregnant women who need medical attention; the breadwinners without work, struggling to support their families; the children worried about their interrupted education; the villagers whose modest houses are overflowing with people they’ve taken in – theirs are the faces I’ll remember.
Once I return home, where I’ll have enough to eat, safe water to drink, and a doctor when I need one, I’ll always wonder: am I doing all I can for these, my brothers and sisters in need?
Whether we live next door, or on the other side of the planet, these are our neighbors, and we must never forget them.
06 July 2009: Little man
by Rick Perera, CARE Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
Just 12 years old, he carries the weight of the world on his narrow shoulders. The eldest of five children of a widowed mother, Sajjad Ahmad feels responsible for his family. It’s not easy being the man of the house at such a young age.
Sajjad reminds me of myself at 12: small for his age, with a mop of brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and a turned-up nose. But the resemblance stops there. At a time when my life was filled with friendships, games, and learning, his are long days of idleness and worry.
His childhood was cut short a month ago, when his family fled their home in Pakistan’s conflict-ridden Swat Valley. “There was fighting on every side, and we didn’t know where would be targeted next,” Sajjad recalls, standing in a schoolyard in worn sandals and a dirty salwar kameez, the traditional attire. “We left, and were searching for a place to stay. We thought this would be a good place, safe at night.”
The Ahmad family is crowded, along with 80 other newly homeless people, into this three-room schoolhouse in the village of Kanghar, a five-day journey from home across forbidding mountains. They sleep on a mat on the porch, trying to escape the stifling heat. Food is short – a little rice, some flat roti bread, whatever their generous but poor hosts can spare. There’s nothing for the children to do but sit and brood about what they’ve left behind, about an uncertain future.
There’s sadness in Sajjad’s eyes, but tenderness too, as he drapes his arms around his little sister Hadiya, 8, and their two-year-old brother Waqas. “I miss my classmates and friends,” says the third-grader.
What would you like to do when you grow up, I ask – imagining that, with typical youthful optimism, he might have big dreams: doctor, engineer, pilot.
Instead, Sajjad sees a future of duty and devotion.
“I want to take care of my mother,” he says. “We want peace.”
06 July 2009: The hosts with the least
Pakistani communities, already poor, are stretched by taking in displaced
by Rick Perera,Media & Communications Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
They say it’s better to give than to receive – but for the people of northwestern Pakistan who have opened their homes to families escaping conflict, giving is starting to hurt.
The majority of the 2 million or more internally displaced persons (IDPs) are sheltering in private houses, schools and public buildings in districts bordering the conflict area. Host families and communities are generously sharing what little they have, but as time passes, worries grow.
Who will feed all these extra mouths, when there is no work for newcomers and what little cash they brought is running low? How will families cope with inadequate and overwhelmed water and sanitary facilities? What will happen when schools now serving as shelters re-open after summer vacation?
“There are 88 people from Swat staying in our three-room school,” said Jamshid Khan, a teacher at the Government Primary School in Kanghar village. “They have no money and no food. Local people are giving as much as they can, but we need help from the outside world.”
Zahid Mahmood, Program Coordinator for CARE International in Pakistan, said CARE’s priority is to reach IDPs living in host communities. “Although 80 percent of IDPs are living in communities, they are less visible than those in tented camps, and get less help. In some cases even hosts have been driven to leave home and go to the camps, where at least there is some measure of support.”
The normal population of Pirano Banda village, 50 or 60 families, has almost doubled with the influx of 50 displaced families. Permanent residents say they’re worried about what will happen if their temporary visitors have to stay for the long term.
“My electric bill has more than doubled since I’ve taken in three IDP families,” said Bashir Ahmad of Pirano Banda, a volunteer at a mobile medical clinic sponsored by CARE. “The price of staples like flour, sugar and vegetables has nearly doubled. Of course we want to help those in need, but how long can we go on like this?”
Life here was hard even before the crisis, he said. “We had no proper facilities for the sick or for pregnant women, no ambulance service to the nearest health facility. And monthly supplies of medicines would run out after a week.”
With the arrival of the monsoon rains, host communities could face even more health problems from waterborne diseases like diarrhoea, said Zahid.
“Our medical clinics are open to all who need them, IDPs and hosts alike. But they are costly to operate, and we need donor support to reach more people in need.”
CARE is also seeking funding to meet other crucial needs, like kitchen and hygiene items for IDPs living in host communities. The shortage of basic household equipment creates extra hardships – in some cases, for example, children must fetch water many times a day because of the lack of storage containers.
The seven extended families staying in the Kanghar school have just one small cooking pot between them, said Mr. Khan, the teacher. “The school staff have lent them whatever we can spare, but we are poor ourselves.”
06 July 2009: Healing hands for the homeless
CARE medical clinics bring lifesaving care to displaced Pakistanis and their hosts
by Rick Perera, CARE Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
It’s hard to know what’s worse – the homesickness, or the irritation that’s plaguing her eyes. Nadia, age 9, and her family trekked for days from their home in the Swat Valley of northwestern Pakistan to get here to the village of Pirano Banda, in Mardan district. Now she’s waiting in line at a CARE-sponsored medical clinic, blinking and squinting, as her anxious father Nazir holds her hand.
“My eyes have been hurting ever since we left home,” says the third-grader. “It’s so hot and dusty here.” She misses the cool, green countryside where she was born, over the mountains and a world away from these brown plains and this scorching summer heat.
She’s not the youngest patient in the makeshift clinic waiting room, shaded under a green tarpaulin. More than half a million children under age 5 are among the nearly 2 million internally displaced persons (IDPs) who have fled violence in their picturesque valley, some of them seeking refuge in camps, most sheltering in crowded schools or private homes.
Nadia’s family of ten is living in a small rented house here, waiting for the day when it’s safe to return home. Her father doesn’t know how long he can afford to pay the rent of 600 rupees ($7.50) a month.
“I’m a labourer, and there’s no work here,” says Nazir. “Meanwhile back in Swat, the wheat crop is rotting, because there’s no one to harvest it.”
There is indeed work here – but not the kind we’re happy about, remarks Pir Akbar Jan, the elected councillor who represents the village. “Child labor was already a problem in this region, and it’s been growing since the IDPs started coming.” He’s heard stories of children taking jobs for pitiful wages – in the tobacco fields, driving donkey carts, or as ticket collectors on buses – anything to support their destitute families.
Children make up many of the patients waiting to see the staff at the day-long medical camp – with separate clinics for men and women. “We’re working as fast as we can, but we can’t treat any more than 200 people a day, and there are so many waiting,” says Dr. Mubarek, the physician in charge of the men’s clinic. Next door, the women’s clinic is even more overcrowded, in the hands of a frantic Lady Health Visitor (LHV), because a female doctor isn’t available yet. “As it is, we only get here once a month. We need more doctors,” says Dr. Mubarek, as he leans down to examine Nadia’s eyes.
Medicines as well as health workers are in short supply, while the number of IDPs seeking care jumped from 41,113 to 72,892 in just three weeks, according to the World Health Organisation. Only 27 percent of the funds requested to meet IDPs’ health needs have been raised. The situation is only likely to get worse as the monsoon season quickly approaches, and both camps and host communities deal with inadequate sanitary facilities, raising the risk of diarrhoeal diseases.
At current funding levels, CARE’s mobile clinics will reach about 12,000 people – both IDPs and the community members who are stretched to the breaking point by hosting them. With an additional $40,000, CARE can bring lifesaving care to twice as many people.
Dr. Mubarek has finished examining Nadia. His verdict: she has a seasonal allergy, and it should clear up soon. He writes a prescription for some medication. “Don’t worry, by the time you turn 18 your allergies should go away on their own,” he reassures the girl.
As Nadia clutches the form she wonders: How soon will my homesickness heal?
16 June 2009: The unseen toll: psychological trauma haunts displaced people
By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai, CARE International Pakistan, Rustam
The conflict raging in parts of northwestern Pakistan has not only forced thousands of people to flee their ancestral villages, it has also deprived them of their spiritual assets: their identity and personality.
Thousands of internally displaced people (IDPs), especially women and children, are in desperate need of psychological assistance. Doctors say some 70 percent of them suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
People wander back and forth like zombies outside their tents in parts of Mardan district, including this small village, swollen with almost as many displaced people as the permanent population.
Mardan, located closed to embattled Buner district, is host to 30,000 displaced persons who fled their homes to escape the military action against militants beginning in April.
“We have been examining about 200 patients per day. During the last two weeks we have seen 1,400 patients. Of them 70 percent, mostly women and children, suffer from mental problems caused by the shelling and destruction they have seen back home,” says Dr. Jawad Ali of Islamic Relief, with which CARE has partnered in its relief efforts, at the Civil Hospital Rustam.
With government and humanitarian agencies concentrating on the critical threat of illnesses such as diarrhoea and other water-borne diseases, little has been done to probe the psychological aspect of the IDPs’ health. CARE is seeking funding to provide crucial psychosocial support and education services to roughly 11,000 children and women.
“I dreamt last night that my two sons had fallen to army shelling in Swat. I woke up and wept but later found that my sons were sleeping beside me. Then I thanked Allah,” Zareena Bibi of Kabal region, Swat, told CARE. Already having lost one son and a daughter at the conflict zone, she suffers severe psychological trauma.
Dr. Kashif Muqarab at the same clinic is terribly perturbed over the scenario confronted by IDPs. “The displaced people have to face mental problems for at least five to seven years even if the conflict ends and they return home,” he says. The IDPs avoid speaking about the situation they witnessed in their native places because it reminds them of the shelling, executions by militants, headless bodies hanging from electricity poles, and charred bodies lying in pools of blood.
A seven-year-old boy examined by the doctors at the Rustam Hospital was unable to speak for three weeks, after witnessing the collapse of houses, noises and strafing from helicopters in his native town of Buner. The children urgently need psychotherapy sessions to restore their mental health. Otherwise, they risk becoming psychologically ill for their entire lives, Dr. Kashif says.
Lack of living space, frequent power outages, unhygienic food, contaminated water supplies, and homesickness are other factors contributing to the mental trauma of IDPs, who number as many as 4 million, according to the latest government figures.
“We are 332 persons staying in one tiny (12 feet by 12 feet [4 meters by 4 meters]) room at the Government Girls High School Rustam,” says Ghaffar Khan of Gorkan Buner. “Women face the brunt of the situation, because they are unable to take care of themselves and children in presence of strange men.”
A child, Jamil, 5 who happened to be the most active and mischievous in his original home in Gulkada Swat, is now reluctant to speak. Living at the same school, he faces flashbacks of what he saw in Swat, and is afraid of helicopters and airplanes passing over the school.
“He starts crying and takes refuge in my lap, fearing that helicopters will kill him, like his elder brother Usman, 7, who died on April 29 due to army shelling in Swat,” his mother Naseem Akhtar, a schoolteacher, told CARE.
Sultana, 58 and a grandmother of three, says her family had run out of money and ran from pillar to post to find some cash for daily expenses. “We had an orchard spreading over 50 acres, but we are unable to pick the produce. It is rotten now.” she says. “We used to give money to the needy and now it’s our turn to receive charity.”
“We have become a laughingstock, which is disheartening,” she adds. “My husband and son wait in queues under the scorching sun to get 20 kg. of wheat, which has thrown us into a state incomprehensible for us.”
One day soon, Sultana hopes she and her family will return to their orchard and again harvest a bounty. CARE hopes to help them cope with the bitter fruit that will grow in their hearts for much longer.
15 June 2009: A crime against home
Rick Perera, CARE Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
It’s become depressingly familiar: a tragic attack on civilians. Tuesday’s hotel bombing in Peshawar is just the latest in a string of events marring this beautiful country.
At least five UN workers were killed in the blast, along with diplomats, businessmen, and government officials. The attack has rattled the UN, prompting it to suspend, for now, relief operations in the embattled North West Frontier Province.
The humanitarian community is in shock, and grieving over the deaths of our colleagues. But let us not forget the unseen victims -- the kind of people who don’t stay in luxury hotels. They are the country’s poorest, most vulnerable citizens. People like Dunya Jehan, sheltering in a crowded school since her husband disappeared while looking for food for their five children. Or 11-year-old Husna and her nine-year-old sister Robina, sharing a bed in a crowded hospital ward after being diagnosed with cholera.
Anything that disrupts the flow of aid to these families kills hope. What quarrel could anyone possibly have with homesick, fatherless children and their bereaved mothers? Who would want to condemn little girls to sleep on the hard ground, without a tent to shelter from the rain, or even a net to protect them from disease-carrying mosquitoes?
Let us channel our grief into renewed determination to bring help to the millions who need it. Let us turn our outrage into tents, water tankers, health clinics and schools. Let us send the message to the innocent, suffering people of northwestern Pakistan that they are not alone in the world.
08 June 2009: Can't we do more?
Rick Perera, Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
It’s frustrating to sit in an air-conditioned office while 150 kilometres away people are crowded dozens to a room in the simple homes of generous but poor compatriots. To sleep in a comfortable bed while families lie under open skies for lack of shelter, their children kept awake all night by mosquito bites. I know CARE and other humanitarian agencies are doing everything in our power to get help to Pakistan’s millions of internally displaced persons (IDPs), but it still seems like too little, too slow.
I visit CARE’s warehouse here in the capital. Most of the relief items in stock have already been distributed, and we are desperately seeking funds to replenish them. Seeing the half-empty storage space brings home the challenges of addressing an emergency of such vast scope. The few remaining boxes of kitchen sets, hygiene kits, water canisters and mosquito nets are concrete reminders of the urgent human needs. But packages are not people.
I am anxious to go to the sites where IDPs have taken refuge – chiefly among host families and communities, but also in tented camps. The sheer scale of this disaster is hard to imagine, and the written reports from our colleagues in north-western Pakistan can’t begin to capture what these people are suffering. I want to meet them for myself, shake their hands, and try to understand what they are going through.
But for now, as reports of ongoing violence continue to cross my computer screen, I’m not going anywhere. This weekend a suicide bomb struck in Islamabad, just 3 km from the CARE staff residence where I am staying. Debris flew across a wall into the yard of a local colleague. Luckily he and his family were out at the time.
Our security officer, Khalid, is very strict about limiting staff movements – trips out of town are out of the question, for now. “A dead aid worker is of no use to anyone,” he says with a wry smile. In any case, I can accomplish more here at headquarters, helping get the financial and administrative details in place as quickly as possible for a huge logistical effort. Better to let the local staff and partner agencies, who know the terrain and can keep a lower profile, do the work on the ground.
It’s strange to be so close to such a monumental catastrophe, and yet so far removed. I can only hope that people around the world feel what I do: an urgent need to help our neighbours in need, whether they’re in the next town or on the other side of our little planet.
03 June 2009: Women IDPs crying for missing husbands
By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai, CARE International Pakistan
The military action in northeastern Pakistan has brought in its wake a plethora of miseries for some 3 million people forced to flee the conflict zone. But for women in particular, the agonies will continue to haunt them even if the operation ends and internally displaced persons (IDPs) are able to go home.
Dunya Jehan, 45, of Mangalore, a town in Swat Valley, is terribly worried about her husband Rahim Shah, a day laborer, who has been missing since May 8. A father of five, he left his Mangalore residence in search of food and never returned.
“We are shattered. Perhaps my husband is dead,” his wailing wife told a team from CARE that visited to assess the IDP situation. They met her at the 16-room Par Hoti Government Girls’ School where she and her family have taken refuge.
“On May 10, when the curfew was relaxed, we came on foot to Batkhela and ended up at this school, but my husband is missing,” she said in a feeble voice. “My one and only wish is to see him alive.”
“The children are weeping the whole day and night for their father. I cannot console them,” she went on. Asked if she would be happy if the military operation ends and there is subsequent peace in Swat, she says these questions are meaningless to her.
The school is home to 500 grief-stricken people, including 200 women, who all are saddened by the painful tale about Jehan’s husband.
In Sheikh Yasin Camp, in Mardan district, we came across another woman, Johara. Her tale resembles that of Dunya Jehan, but with the slight difference that she suffers from diabetes. She misses her husband Abdul Shakoor, a watchman, who went missing on the way to Mardan with his family.
“In Rahimabad outside Mingora, he left us to arrange a vehicle to bring us to Mardan on May 10. We are still waiting for him,” she said with tears rolling down her cheeks. Any talk about the militants, army operations, and going back comes second, she said. “I need my husband. He would rush here if he knew that we were here, but I suspect he’s no longer alive. He has fallen to the bullets of the militants or the army.”
Johara said that another woman, Tabana, at the nearby Sheikh Shehzad camp, had also lost her husband, Shakil Rehman. While trying to get out of Matta, Swat, on May 7, her husband, a schoolteacher, just went outside to see if the situation would permit them to travel. He didn’t return.
“Now, his three children and wife are begging everyone who visits their tiny tent to locate her husband. She doesn’t want food or money, but her husband,” Johara recounted.
Unfortunately, such touching episodes concerning the women IDPs have largely gone unreported. For some, a halt to fighting is great news. For others, it’s like a hell. Without their husbands and fathers, such women and children still face a difficult future, even if peace is restored to Swat.
02 June 2009: Forced to flee
Rick Perera, CARE Media Officer, CARE International in Pakistan
No one deserves to be driven from home by conflict, but somehow the plight of displaced people in Pakistan seems particularly unjust. The horror of mass population flight runs deep in this country’s psyche, given the trauma of partition that accompanied its creation.
In 1947, as the former British India was divided into what today are India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, as many as 12.5 million people fled their homes in one of the largest population movements in history, amid bloodshed and ethnic strife.
So today’s mass flight in northwestern Pakistan – at least 3 million internally displaced persons (IDPs) and growing – touches a particular nerve in this country. Maybe that helps explain why Pakistanis are so sympathetic to the plight of their displaced compatriots. Families and communities have opened their doors, taking in about 80 percent of the IDPs, at great sacrifice to themselves. Most of the displaced people so far are staying with friends, relatives, or even strangers – many of them very poor themselves. In some cases, dozens of people are sheltering in a single room.
I’ve felt the warmth of Pakistan’s hospitality myself, since arriving last week to help with CARE’s emergency response. My own movements have been limited, given the strict security measures imposed due to ongoing violence. But the Pakistanis I’ve met have been unfailingly kind and gracious. So I can understand how their neighbors would extend that hospitality to those in great need.
Local tradition encourages people to share everything they have, even if it’s little. The host families, many of them of limited means themselves, are stretched to the limit.
When I watch news about the conflict, I see constant images of government actions against militants, and relatively little coverage of the humanitarian consequences. The few images of IDPs tend to focus on camps, where families are living in tents in blistering heat. But these camps shelter a minority of the displaced. Some of the greatest needs are hidden behind closed doors, scattered among the poorest villages and towns that have taken in the newly homeless.
I’m thinking of those generous families, and hoping they will get the help they need. Their compassion should stir ours.
27 May 2009: Born in a turbulent world
by Thomas Schwarz, CARE Germany-Luxemburg
Thousands of people and a baby
While travelling to places like Pakistan, I naturally meet many different people. All of them have their own story and background, their traditions, cultures and personal experiences. Talking to the displaced people in Pakistan, I realized right away how different their path of life is compared to my own. Living in Buner, Kohistan, Dir and the village of Swat bears no resemblance at all to lifestyles in so many western countries. The gap could not be much bigger.
Human dignity
People are fleeing by the millions from these regions of the country, in naked fear for their lives. When we hear about the ongoing fighting in the media, we always want to know about the political reasons causing these events. We are also interested in the so-called “bigger picture”, trying to put what’s happening into a global perspective. A lot of times we also simply ignore what we see.
True, it’s close to impossible for us to save the whole world. But there’s a difference between good and bad, and it shows on the ground. With a small amount of money we can help displaced people afford a tent, soap, toothpaste or a sleeping mat. Children are also in need of writing materials, books and pens. It is important for them to keep doing what they’re used to doing: Drawing, writing or even calculating. Since there was no time for packing things, most displaced people left with only a handful of belongings. It is difficult to really make their situation better in a substantial way, but we can still show them we care. It doesn’t matter whether we understand the overall situation or not, we should feel responsible for the displaced people.
Thinking of Bertolt Brecht
In these days, the German author Bertolt Brecht crosses my mind quite frequently. One of his most famous plays, “Mother Courage”, tells a story about poor people and war. It talks about people who somehow have become victims of their circumstances. They work hard, care for their families and concentrate on their own life, trying to create a better future for their children. It is the same here: I met extremely peaceful and modest men and women who are the most welcoming hosts, even to strangers like me. It is their stories I want to tell, in particular one about a little baby.
One of the most upsetting experiences during my journey happened in a school in Mardan. This town is about 50 kilometres from the district of Dir, where battles are still ongoing. More than a thousand displaced people found shelter in this school, where temperatures reach up to 47 degrees Celsius. In the afternoon, it was hard to avoid it, especially because of the humidity. The displaced people were huddled together. I saw an older man who had to flee from his village with all of his people. Women were sitting together while children greeted us curiously. While we were talking and cautiously joking around, I suddenly heard a baby crying. I could not believe my eyes when I saw a newborn under the blackboard in a corner of the room.
Sohail deserves to live in peace
The baby’s name is Sohail. His mother tries to wave some air to him with a broken corn broom. After the last power cut, neither the ventilator nor the air conditioning are working. I was really curious about the little boy who was born right before his family had to escape. He has literally been born into a turbulent world. In this school building, his family depends on neighbouring communities to get healthy food. There are countless UN reports about children like Sohail and his family. In the city of Jalozai in the Northwestern Province, a single person has donated a large amount of money that helped about 2,400 displaced people to receive food and other emergency supplies.
Sohail’s father, Khan Faraz, is holding his little baby. His other three children are also by his side. They look as if they have been put up there for a picture. One of the boys likes to play soccer and cricket. “I want to go home with Sohail and the rest of my family,” Khan Faraz wishes. That’s a hope shared by all the displaced people: going home.
I am a stranger to these people, but they still invite me to join them. I could hardly reject this invitation. When peace will be restored, Khan Faraz says, we should get together “and have a good cup of tea”.
“You really have to come and visit us up in the mountains, ” he says, placing his right hand on his heart.
26 May 2009: "We just want to go home"
by Thomas Schwarz, CARE Germany-Luxemburg
Cars, trains and refugees
Today I visited a place close to Mardan, where tens of thousands took refuge from the ongoing fighting in Dir, Buner and the village of Swat. Their overall situation is horrible.
Alongside the national road N45 more than 100 families are living without shelter on an area of less than five kilometres. While there is a canal with dirty water running on one side of the route, there is a railway line and the N45 on the other. It is noisy and very hot. The refugees tell me that they cannot live in one of the camps since they do not want to leave their animals behind. They brought their cows, goats, sheep and chicken with them. But in camps where already more than 10,000 people are living together in small tents there is no room for the animals as well.
Animals are drinking the dirty and hazy water of the canal. I observed a little girl sitting on top of a big black cow, washing it. Children are romping and playing close to her. They are washing themselves with the water of the canal – and they are also drinking this water.
“We only want to go home again”
Somewhere on this route of poverty we meet Khan Zada and his three children. He is lovingly taking care of them. All three of them are very different. Menaz, an extremely beautiful girl, seems to be very confident of herself, in contrast to her brother Shahzad, who is a bit unsure, anxious and serious. After a short period of getting to know each other he loosens up and starts joking around. Menaz holds h smallest daughter in her arms.
“We just want to go back home,” Khan says. He prays for “everlasting peace” in order that he and his family can all go back to where they come from. They want to go on living as usual. “But only Allah knows when this will be.” While he is telling me his story, we are resting in his “new home”. It is a poorly equipped hut without a roof. The bottom is a carpet of grass; one wall is totally missing. They protect themselves with blankets and fabrics. The noise in the street does not stop in the night.
For the women in particular this dwelling constitutes a very unworthy situation. In their tradition they rarely show themselves in public. Here on N45 there is hardly any privacy from the street. When I came to visit the Khan’s family his wife therefore left to visit some female friends in another “home”.
A kind of farm without animals is the place where they get water to drink. Since there are not enough water containers, they have to go back and forth a lot. However, it is now most important that they have enough tents in order to be shielded from the extreme heat as well as from the street. First and foremost the women have to be able to keep their intimacy and privacy.
When I ask the children what they are doing the whole day, they react quite ashamed on this seemingly harmless question. It is not only that a white man is talking to them that make them blush but also that they do not really know how and what to respond. “Well,” some of them say. “We are playing together.” Being curious I want to know about the games they play. “Well, playing,” they simply answer and smile. They giggle and leave.
Most of the things they possessed before their flight they had to leave behind. This includes their working material for school, books and writing material. “I would prefer going to school than staying here,” says a boy of maybe nine or 10 years old. “We also learn English and maths at school.” A little girl adds: “and reading and writing anyway.”
The refugees stay in between the canal with the dirty water on their left hand side, the railway line and the national road on the right. This place has been the new home of Khan Zada, Menaz and Shahzad for the last couple of weeks. They are still waiting for tents to stay in. In a few days CARE will supply them with at least some so that they will have a protective shelter.
24 May 2009: "I have no friends here"
“I feel lonely. I have no friend here. All are scattered elsewhere. I don’t know where my street and classmates are”, says Shahid Ali, a student of fifth grade in Nawagai Primary School, Buner, now living in Yar Hussain camp in Swabi district, Pakistan.
It is not the tale of one boy: every child who lives with images of his village cannot forget his longing for the pastoral life. Trees, flowers, rivulets, goats, hens and birds knock on his memory door. He feels something dances in his mind. He wants to touch all these images, but he cannot. All of them are hidden behind the curtain of trees. This is nostalgia, but children cannot explain.
Ali is not the only child who has been missing his village fellows in this tented camp which is now home to 7,944 persons, uprooted by military operation against the Taliban. Like hundreds of other children, he wanders aimlessly the whole day in the camp, and does not know if he’ll ever be able to go back to his village. A question no one has answered.
Jamil Khan, a grade 3 student in Ambela Buner, got his forehead injured with his elder brother when he fell upon a rock outside the camp. He said that he had just plastered the wound and had no injection and other medicines. “My father is a teacher, who took care of us, but now he has ran out of money”, he says innocently.
Kashif Riaz, 9, is from the same district, but his village Swari is far away from Ali’s village, Nawagai. The boys are strangers to one another. “I managed to take my cricket bat when leaving our home, but the boys aren’t ready to play”, a visibly perturbed Kashif says. “Will my school bag be safe back home? It contained new pencils, sharpener and new book which my father had bought for me when I was promoted to 4th class at Government Primary School Swari this year in March”.
Such stories are galore. Most of the children in the camps are dirtily dressed as if they were beggars. However, it appears that mot of the estimated 2,000 children in the camps were in schools before they were devastated.
“I used to wear clean and spotlessly Shalwar-Qamees, but there is no water here. My mother is also feeling ill. No washing machine. No electricity. We are poised to stay dirty. I haven’t taken a bath for the past 10 days. I took a shower daily when I was home”, Jawad Shah, 12, a student of 6th grade in Daggar High School, says.
Shah is angry at the Taliban. “They are ignorant and enemy of education. All the people should get united to eliminate them and purge our village from them once and for all”, he says. He says he used to play cricket with friends in his neighborhood and was enjoying it, when his mother came after him and brought him home from where they rode on a truck to his present destination.
“Save our schools from the Taliban, before it becomes too late and Buner goes Swat’s way in the hands of Taliban”, replied several children at the camp where children are afraid of night’s darkness and wait for the sunrise. They encircle every white-collared newcomer and ask him when Buner will return to normalcy.
23 May 2009: There is a good plan
Thomas Schwarz, Media Director CARE Germany-Luxemburg
Yesterday I was invited to attend a meeting of the United Nations (UN). A dozen people – diplomats, government officials and organisations such as CARE – met at the national library of Pakistan, located directly next to the prime minister’s house. The only topic on the agenda: How can we help the refugees in the best, most efficient and safest manner?
It was interesting to observe how everybody is working together during such a crisis. On one side there is the government of Pakistan. It was represented by Hina Rabbani Khan, the responsible minister. On the other side you see the UN. And there are the diplomats, speaking for their respective countries, praising the plan. The plan, loosely translated as “Humanitarian solution for Pakistan”, is 124 pages. This clearly states how complex the answer to such a catastrophe is.
Protection and care for children
CARE works a lot with the UN. Some say we are prime partners because we have such a long and versatile experience in humanitarian work. Examples are the Somali refugee camps in Daadab, Kenya, the crisis in Georgia last year and last but not least our assistance after the tsunami in Asia in 2004. And therefore the UN bestowed upon us another task: helping the refugees in Pakistan.
For thousands of children it is important to get psychosocial assistance in order to handle their traumatic experience of the flight from the conflict area. Therefore, CARE will help organise school lessons for the refugee children. Most of them are between five and eleven years old. Yesterday, at the donor meeting I met a school teacher. He works one and a half hours away from Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan. He told me: “When the children study together, they forget the hours of war and the noise of the arms for a few hours. Then they are fine. At least for this short time.”
Once the noise of the rifles stops completely it is our task, to protect their souls.
19 May 2009: Squeezed into small spaces
By Zahoor Ahmed, Saibaan Development Organization, Implementing Partner of CARE in Mansehra District
It was a heart-breaking experience to witness the extremely miserable condition of migrants from Swat trying to seek shelter at Mansehra. It seemed the action replay of the 2005 earthquake. The crumbled faces of these people had uncountable stories of misery, sorrow and grief. If the motionless eyes of the aged ones were filled with agony and sorrow, the disappointment and anger was quite visible in the eyes of young ones. The innocent but worried faces of little children reflected untold stories of fear and apprehension.
The team of Saibaan, one of CARE’s partner organisations was shocked to hear a small girl. When I asked about the situation that forced them to leave their homes, she spoke before her father could reply. “They have guns, they fire, they kill. Houses have been turned into debris. I saw the dead bodies of soldiers lying on the ground.” She told me this in her trembling shrill voice. I could easily feel the mental stress she was undergoing.
We found thirty-six members of four families staying in a single room. Jamshaid, the head of one family did know someone inhabiting a house. This man gave one single room to these four families. Jamshaid told me that women and children sleep in the room. The men sleep outside in the open air. He said that they have no money to buy food. They left everything behind. He further added: “We have nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, we don’t know what would become of us.” Jamshaid, a father of nine children, could take only three children with him when he left his hometown. He does not know what happened to the rest of his beloved. When I asked where they are he told me with tears in his eyes: “I don’t know. I don’t know where they are, how they are, whether they are dead or alive. The shelling was so heavy that we ran out of the village in great panic, only with those who were at home at that moment.”
Jamshaid is not alone in his sorrow. The hopes of Sultan Hameed, a 59 years old villager of Maidaan in lower Dir, to see his son and grand daughter again are getting dimmer and dimmer with every passing minute. “I fled from the house with my wife, daughter in law and children when my elder son was out of home, along with my little granddaughter. Since then we have no news about them”, he said. He and Jamshaid are just two migrants who eagerly wait for help and support from national and international humanitarian agencies.
CARE International, together with local partner organisations has distributed emergency items to 500 families (3500 persons). They have received 1000 plastic floor mats, 1000 mosquito nets, 1500 female and 1500 male shawl, 500 hygiene kits and 500 kitchen sets.
22 May 2009: Today, Pakistan is a different place
By Thomas Schwarz, Media Director CARE Germany-Luxemburg
It’s been two and a half years since I last visited Pakistan. At that time I was in the valley of Allai, in the north-western part of the country. In October 2005, a massive earthquake struck the North-western province. I visited the region twice: right after the disaster and a year later.
CARE was able to help, in great part due to donations. Together with the affected population, we built new schools that girls can attend as well. A big step, because girls’ education is not a given in this part of the world. In cooperation with Pakistani engineers, CARE offered trainings for housing construction, so that buildings would be more stable and hopefully not collapse when another earthquake hits the region. With CARE’s support, Pakistani experts also built ditches in order to support agricultural activities.
At that time, I met a man in the valley of Allai who told me something I haven’t forgotten since: before the aid workers came, he didn’t know that strangers could also become friends. At first, the people in the mountains of Pakistan seemed totally foreign, their homeland like a terra incognita to us. By now we have gotten to know each other. The people have very old traditions and are extremely religious. I really felt at ease with them.
Today, not far from the valley of Allai, in the Swat valley, people are in great danger again. Millions and millions are fleeing their homes and run for hours to escape the fighting. Because they are still within their own country, we call them “internally displaced persons”, rather than “refugees”. But nevertheless they are on the run, trying to escape the violence. Two and a half years ago, Pakistan suffered from a natural disaster. Today it is not nature but a human-made catastrophe.
The figures that circulate are changing on a daily basis, but the UNHCR estimates that most likely almost 1,5 million people are on the run. For now, most of them find shelter in the homes of family or friends. Many of my CARE colleagues have family or friends who are affected by the situation. Along with Islamic Relief, CARE provided first aid to 500 families, the equivalent of 3,700 individuals. They received kitchen sets, hygiene kits, plastic mats, shawls for women and men, mosquito nets and family tents. Compared to the total number of victims, that is not a lot. But it is a start and the support provided will change the living conditions of these families. CARE and the other relief agencies working in the region urgently need support to scale up their activities.
The country I come from has not known war for more than five decades. Germany is spoiled in that respect; most of us know nothing but peace. I wish that my people and all the others living in wealthy and peaceful parts of the world will show solidarity for the people in Pakistan who so suddenly have become victims. To help spread this message – this is why I came to Pakistan.
18 May 2009: New born life amidst desperation
By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai, CARE International Pakistan
Jallozai, Nowshera district, May 14th. Musafir Khan, who is about 80, has worries written all over his face. He is not sure how to express his feelings over the birth of his granddaughter last Thursday. Under normal circumstances he would be happy. But not this time. His granddaughter was born at the health centre – in a newly set up camp for internally displaced persons.
“How could I be happy? Look at our condition. My son is missing and we have no hope of returning back to our home in the Swat valley,” Musafir Khan says. The family had not named the baby. Musafir said that they will name her once they return to the tent that is their home now. A doctor at the centre run by Peoples Primary Healthcare Initiative (PPHI), a government-run programme, said that it was a normal birth attended by a female doctor and a female health visitor.
Musafir Khan said that his son Abdul Mateen, the father of the newborn baby, went missing around 20 days ago. His wife and his now six children are without a father now. “Five days ago when the curfew was relaxed me along with my family left for Peshawar. Now we have taken shelter at the Jallozai camp”, he explains. And continues: “We left our residence in hurry as we were terrified by the continuous bombing. We left only with the clothes we were wearing and took no other valuables. We have nothing.” A health attendant gave the family a sheet of cloth to wrap the new born baby in it. Even the mother of the child was not having a spare dress, the health attendant says.
Almost all the visitors to the health centre have similar tales of miseries and agonies to tell. Another father, Sher Bahadur, was looking after his daughter suffering from gastroenteritis. The girl, who was about 10, was lying on a stretcher and the doctor was injecting her some fluids and medicines. “I am a skilled worker and used to polish gold ornaments in Mingora. When I left my area, Faizabad, I was having only 400 Rupees,” Mr. Bahadur says, adding that they were twelve family members including his old parents. All of them had to walk for several hours to reach the camp. “We have mostly been receiving patients with gastroenteritis, skin and respiratory track diseases,” explains Ashfaq Ahmad, an executive officer of PPHI. He says that they had set up the centre on Wednesday. “We are in need of ambulances here for transportation of serious patients,” Ahmad said.
The sprawling Jallozai Camp, situated 10 kilometers off the road from Pabbi Station in Nowshera, was set up last year after the conflict started in the area of Bajaur and Mohmand. It has already been housing 7787 families with 47738 individuals. Till last Thursday around 2350 newly arrived families from Malakand region, with about 16000 persons, were registered at the Camp. Most of them are missing relatives and friends. They are waiting long hours to get food and relief items. It is a tragic start for a new life such as Musafir Khan’s granddaughter.
18 May 2009: Voices from a refugee camp: our heads drown in shame
By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai, CARE International Pakistan
Sheikh Shehzad, IDP camp, Mardan. The gloomy atmosphere welcomes you the moment you get into the Sheikh Shehzad Town, which is home to 8,079 internally displaced persons uprooted by military operation in Malakand. Located on Mardan Charsadda Road, the camps are frequented by donor agencies, government officials and volunteers, but the sufferings of the displaced families are yet to get away. “We have been here for the past three days. It’s like a hill. No electricity, no clean drinking water and substandard foodstuff have made life worst for us”, says Ajmeer, who left the Swat valley on May 11. Ajmeer, 49, a peon at Rahimabad Primary School in Mingora, says life was good there as compared to here.
His wife and three children live in a shanty and tinier camp set up by the government. During my stay there, I saw people running after vehicles that were driven to the camps loaded with relief goods. “If you are young and shameless, you can get more relief items from the charity groups. Otherwise, you have to content with the food only”, a grief-stricken Ajmeer says. The stories of most of the camp’s residents aren’t dissimilar to that of Ajmeer.
Daulat Khan, 51, is a case in point. He fled Buner district on May 5 and travelled on foot for six hours to reach to Rustam village before taking a vehicle to get registered at the Sheikh Shehzad camp. “We were all working people. Our heads drown in shame when we extend our hands to collect alms from the people. There’s no other way to feed my three children”, Khan, a vegetable-seller in Swari Buner, says.
All refugees have one question on their mind: When will the military operation end and when will they be in a position to go back to their homes? The question has no answer. Mohammad Aslam, a college student in Swari Degree College, Buner, who now resides in this camp, says they were passing sleepless nights due to the mosquitoes. “We had a prosperous life, but the Taliban snatched our peace of mind. I’m sure justice will tip in our favour and the day is not far off when we will be proceeding to our native villages”, he says optimistically.
The army launched operations in Dir Lower (April 26), Buner (April 27) and Swat (May 7) of the North West Frontier Province (NWFP) to flush out the Taliban. To escape the operation, about 1.5 million people left these violence-wracked districts and took refuge either in the 16 new camps set up by the government or are living with friends and relatives.
So far, 21,291 families or 162,632 persons have been registered in the camps while 133,557 families or 1 million individuals have been registered at different centres set up for registration of off-camp IDPs at Mardan, Malakand, Nowshera, Charsadda, Peshawar and Swabi. But the people living in camps are facing problems, ranging from contaminated water to substandard food, medicines, electricity etc. Indications are that these people will suffer in the wake of impending hot season. As time passes, they fear international attention will lose interest and they will remain at the razor’s edge.
17 May 2009: A glimpse of hope - CARE starts distribution in Mardan
By M. Ashfaq Yusufzai, CARE International Pakistan
Today, CARE International Pakistan started its distribution of relief items for displaced persons in Mardan. I was able to observe it and could listen to the speech of Ayub Khan, Mayor of the Union Council Bazaar, who held an official ceremony on the occasion. The mayor, also called ‘Nazim’ in the traditional language, is the coordinator of cities, towns and union councils in Pakistan. Nazim Ayub Khan appreciated the effort of CARE International Pakistan and thanked for the assistance to the internally displaced persons. He said: “Since April 28, when migration from adjacent Buner district started due to military action, it is the first time that an organisation has distributed relief goods in a formal way.”
Amidst all the sad news about fights and displacement I could detect a spark of hope. Ayub Khan mentioned that there are 18,973 registered persons from Buner district, who are being supported by the local people. Even though people here are poor too, they try their best to help their landsmen and share the little they have. However, after this short uplifting comment, I heard the sad news again: the government has not shown any assistance so far. “The attitude of the district as well as provincial and federal governments towards this humanitarian crisis is lamentable. People sleep under shadows of trees, but no help has arrived”, Ayub Khan said. I can see it with my own eyes, people here are in desperate need of medicines, foodstuff and other essential items of daily use.
Today, relief goods worth of 400,000 US dollars were distributed among the displaced. About 500 families, approximately 3,500 people, were given 1,000 plastic floor mats, 1,000 mosquito nets, 1,500 female and 1,500 male shawl, 500 hygiene kits and 500 kitchen sets. Khan applauded the spirit with which CARE International had helped the people. In his opinion, the local people had made history by helping the people from the neighbouring Buner district. And I certainly agree with him on this.
During the distribution, I talked to many refugees. I wanted to listen to their voices, I was eager to hear their opinions. I spoke with Lal Babi, for example, who is from Pacha Killey Buner and lives in Bazaar village now. He said that life was good there before the Taliban’s foray and the subsequent military operation. “We still fear going back due to the fighting of the Taliban and the military”, he said. Abdul Karim of Pir Baba Buner was of the view that begging for help was against Pashtun tradition and the religion of Islam. But he cannot survive otherwise. People here are undergoing an awful time. Nauroz Shah of the same locality, asked Nazim Khan to bring in more assistance to help the people and earn the blessings of God and people’s prayers.
After the distribution I remember Nazim Ayub Khan’s words. He assured the people of his utmost help and said that the government should not forget the refugees who live with host families. He cited official figures, which state that only 13 per cent of the internally displaced persons live in camps. The majority, 87 per cent are staying with local communities. The coping mechanisms of these families are stretched; they lack all essential things to survive. They were poor before, now they have more mouths to feed. I can only hope, that more relief arrives soon and that the people, who have suffered so much will finally see hope again.