On the central reservation of Peshawar’s biggest motorway is a row of tents, which goes on for kilometres. Children play so dangerously close to the traffic racing past, that you dread to think what might happen if one of them ventures too far. For many Pakistani flood victims, this is their new home.
by Kjeld Duits
Tent is not really the right word. Often the shelter is just a piece of cloth that doesn’t even reach the ground. There is no privacy, and you can see straight through the shelters. This must be particularly painful in a region where people value their privacy highly - in the countryside, the houses are enclosed by high walls.
Possessions
Almost all the shelters are completely empty; few survivors were able to rescue any of their possessions. All that most of them have is the clothes on their backs.
The children are particularly vulnerable. They are exposed to exhaust fumes and the danger of fast-movinng traffic. They have hardly anything to distract their attention and they have to help their families to survive.
When a water truck from aid organisation Médecins Sans Frontières arrives to distribute drinking water, Maria (8) and Shama (10) run after it. The empty jerry cans and large bottles they are carrying knock against their small bodies.
Mud and sand
It is their job to carry water back to the tent for the family. Now that the flood waters have receded in northern Pakistan, the fathers are busy clearing the mud and sand where their houses used to stand. Simple new homes will be constructed on the same spot. Mothers watch over their many children – they have big families.
“It’s awfully hard work,” complains Shama. The girl is wet through as she took the opportunity to have a shower fully dressed under the water truck’s tap. She also has to help her mother look after her four sisters and two brothers. She carries one of them on her hip. “I don’t have time to play,” she says. Not that there is any room to play in the middle of the motorway. “I miss our house,” she remarks sadly.
Ramadan
Next week is Eid ul-Fitr, marking the end of Ramadan, but Shama and Maria won’t be expecting any presents or nice things to eat. It is the last thing they have to worry about in the disaster area. They are weak and there is a lack of hygiene in the improvised camps. More and more children are suffering from skin conditions, contagious diseases and infections.
In the small village of Utmanzai, Khadija holds her 18-month-old daughter in her arms. The baby’s face has a rash after an infected mosquito bit her. “We don’t have mosquito nets and fans,” Khadija explains. She can’t produce enough milk for her baby, because she doesn’t get enough to eat. But she is lucky: her family was able to move in with relatives and she’s got a skin cream from a field hospital for the baby.
“Eye infections and other illnesses increase by the day,” says Dr Fitrat, who works for a Pakistani aid agency. “We are concerned that there will be an epidemic.”
Aftermath
The biggest problem is the magnitude of the disaster. In the city of Charssada near Peshawar, a spokesperson for one of Pakistan’s largest aid organisations Al-Khidmat Foundation, gives an idea of the extent of the problems. In his region, 60 percent of 1.7 million residents are struggling to survive in the aftermath of the disaster. More than 20,000 houses have been completely destroyed, almost half a million are seriously damaged.
He is realistic: “It is impossible for us to help everyone.” He doesn’t say so but the message is clear: without assistance from abroad Pakistan won’t make it.
Photos Kjeld Duits
