At the height of the confrontation between the Taliban and ‘others’ whoever, the western electronic media as usual had a field day. And where the refugees met with foreign relief agencies at the border, it was always the western spokesperson that spoke to the camera. The impression, especially from CNN, was as if only westerns came to offer succour, and the implication by non-mention was that Muslims and locals weren’t doing much. The reality on the ground turned out to be quite different.
To get to the Baluchistan borders where the refugees are, one has to get to Quetta first, Night driving has never been recommended, and to reach Quetta from Karachi before sunset, it is necessary to get out at twilight. This does not necessary help in winter when soon out of Karachi, fog descends and visibility is reduced to just a dangerous few feet. The distance normally covered in fifteen minutes or less takes over an hours one may as well have started out that much late or parked on one side of the road. But one would still have to keep the lights on and blowing the horn to keep unsuspecting drivers from the opposite direction from slamming into one on the narrow road.
At the day’s end, it’s no effort to eat a hearty meal and fall asleep on stiff, painful muscles. And one gets up reluctantly early on an even colder morning. Although destination Chaman is only three hours away, it means keeping as much time in hand for the return trip, apart from the maximum possible daylight for the charitable workers to do what they came for.
This second trip of the Medical Aid Foundation (MAF) had a dual purpose. On its first (unreported) trip a much earlier when the first refugees began to steam in, it brought a truck load of relief materials from groups and individuals in Karachi. But relief goods are not enough in themselves. Exposed to the elements, deprived of adequate basics, refugees are the most subject to disease and death even in a safe haven far away from bombs, bullets and mines.
No different from the conditions of peacetime poverty excepting degree, the women and children are the most vulnerable. Because of culture and the language barrier and women medical personnel not always medical attention. A part from distributing relief from the people of the city of Glasgow in Scotland, the object was to check the conditions on the ground, and how to organize to fill that gap. Wars may be short-lived, but the consequences, still dragging out two decades later, promised to be an indefinitely long haul. Being pushto speaking and a woman, Dr. Saira Khan of MAF had the advantage of being able to communicate directly with the refugees, and with the women.
When refugees number in the thousands or millions, there has to be a highly-organized system of dealing with them. More so when they are cold or hungry or thirsty or sick in pain or all of these. The ratio of aid personnel to recipients has to be manageable but only a fraction of what is really needed is available.
Consequently there is no choice but to have some military personnel to ensure order, and to keep people to designated areas and have them learn to wait their turn. This does not come easily to poor, desperate men who fail to understand why they keep being targeted in the worst possible way decade after decade when they have done nothing to anyone. Should they feel grateful for charity when they did not deserve to have their lives ruined and be driven out of home and country in the first place?
When refugees enter, they are first directed to a waiting area where they are documented and designated to specific sites to make their net-so-temporary homes. It is a painfully sad sight there is no water every drop has to be trucked in; there is not a blade of grass let alone a tree or bush for some shade. The only shade comes from one another, the turbans and the veils, the trucks and other vehicles, and a handful of small awnings stretched over aid personnel struggling over their tasks. The mountain ranges miles away, as brown and dusty looking as the ground, are the only walls. Everyone including the women and children sit on the ground, directly on the bone-dry powdered dust. The nights may be biting cold, but by day, the sun beats down mercilessly on them.
The utter barrenness hits one. So does the surprising silence despite the thousands of people milling around. And it is not just because it is open space. It is because of the sheer exhaustion and misery, clear on the people’s face, and the realization that they have no choice but to wait patiently. Also, just to be still means being able to rest; they have to conserve their strength. It will not be until nightfall that they will finally get their turn and find shelter in a UN tent.
But what struck one most was that even the children did not cry. It is natural for a child to whimper at some point, even if briefly. There was not even that. Nor did they run around and play. As if they were relatively safe only if they kept still and near their mothers. It was outrageous to think that a bewildered apathy had already begun to set in at this tender much otherwise since they born.
After meeting with the various agencies, MAF finally comes on one that, despite being overwhelmed with responsibility, offers to help the UK-based Islamic Relief. Given the scale of their work, one wonders why the Western media has been silent about them. Muslims, not only from that country but from all over the world, send them donations in the world, send them donations in cash and kind. They are the ones at this most difficult first staging post. A single modest flag and dark green barriers of drinking water along the tents are all that quietly mark their presence.
Materials brought in by MAF consisted mostly of jackets and sweaters, leggings, thermal under wear and blankets. Also 13,000/- worth of woolen shawls donated by philanthropist Mrs. K. Aminullah. Plus large quantities of biscuits and dates gifted by the Arab women’s Association. Dispelling naïve notions, Islamic Relief points out that there was no way the three truckloads of clothing could be distributed in the space of less than a day if they were to reach the right individual hands, and even though the Scottish donors had sorted and boxed everything according to type, gender and age. But a start could be made of course.
One of the trucks was brought near a space near the waiting women and children. Within minutes the men took up most of the space between the women and the truck. It took far more personnel to prevent the charity workers from being trampled than to distribute the goods. And all of sudden the silence was broken. Everyone was yelling, apparently why he or she deserved to get something. Not that we understood a word. But need requires no particular language.
Finally it was deemed safer for some of the workers to climb out of the way onto the top of the truck, and toss down things one by one to a their colleagues standing below, with several more to guard them from being knocked over. It took till Iftar time to finish the job. But it worked only up to a point. Because the old and the weak, whether men, women or children, were pushed back and couldn’t make it to the front. Ultimately relief would have to be distributed by the family, from tent to tent. That, Islamic Relief volunteered to do. All MAF had to do was request one of the UN agencies to allow the goods to be kept safely in one of their supply tents. For that one had to drive some distance away.
All those in charge (except in the case of Islamic relief) seemed to be western and white and not one except of the foreign media could be found all day long. May be it was their day off. May be they were working inside some tents. May be they had finished their stint and gone home. But all those working on their legs seemed mostly to be locals. Finally some one who could allow the use of a supply tent was found. A solitary young woman who looked still wet behind the ears, and who didn’t seem very enthusiastic about her work. When approached, although grudgingly allowing the goods to be off-loaded under Islamic Relief’s care, she was rude and condescending, and didn’t take long to tell us to get out of the way so as not to disturb their work.
This was a person who not only looked down on the unwashed, straggly-haired refugees, but also the host country. Why was she even sent here? She was however startled into an apology by being reminded of her status as a human being no different to that of refugees.
It could have been a bad ending to an otherwise positive day. But there were better things to talk about. About raising morel local relief in cash or kind for food and a lot of much needed medicines. After that we couldn’t wait to get the day’s dust off our hair, our shoes, our clothes and our lips. To think that the refugees had to live with it day in and day out for years and years on end! |
