The old woman and the flood
When we started early this morning from Islamabad, I didn’t exactly know what would be awaiting me in the region of Mardan.
There is still water in the streets and the victims are waiting for support. (Photo: CARE/ Schwarz)
I had seen many reports on TV, read the papers, listened to the radio and had spoken with my CARE colleagues. The whole weekend I had met UN representatives as well as other international humanitarian organisations.
We drove the motorway No. 1, direction Northwest. This highway is cut into three pieces, almost through half of the whole country, from Lahore in the South to Karachi in the Northwest. On both sides there are fields, women and men alike are working there. Everything seems to be okay at first – at least it looks like it’s okay. No flooding, not even rain, no water – until, after about 50 km, we saw the Indus River. Aggressive, powerful, somehow threatening. It has broadened itself to the double size of it origin. We cross it, over a long bridge, and all of a sudden it disappeared, as if it were trying to hide from us. Suddenly the fog makes it invisible. But there it is, the monster, which has claimed lives and stolen everything from millions of flood victims. And, as always, it was taken from the poorest and most vulnerable.
The water has stolen everything
After the bridge and the fog, maybe 60 to 70 km later: tents, again and again. They stood in fields, along the highway. People put them anywhere they found some space – and no water. There they live now, those who have lost their homes. Those, whom the flood almost took their lives. Another 30 km maybe, after the tents: we are in Zareenabad, in Gharebabad and in Nawan Kili. These names are for me almost unspeakable, although I really gave it a try. Altogether 26,000 people are living here, in normal times.
Not far away from this community settlement lives Nambarj. She’s 65 years old and a widow. “Watch here, this house. It simply disappeared,” she says. “It is simply not there anymore.”
The 56 years old widow, Nambari, has lost everything during the heavy floodings. (Photo: CARE/Schwarz)
CARE has provided her with a tent. When the flood came, the water jumped more than two metres above the wall of the courtyard. What is left? “Look there,” she says. She shows the old kitchen, where she used to have all her kitchen utensils. “There, this is everything I have now. Two small machines. Everything else the water has stolen from me.” His son works on a daily basis in Mardan, the centre of the region. Every day a new start, everyday finishing and so on. Now he has married and has problems enough to feed his new family.
Terrible pictures, unbelievable poverty
CARE promises the woman to bring her kitchen utensils within a few days. When one has lost everything, even small things can make a really big difference. By the way: here also CARE is cooperating with local partners. Imran Inan of the CRDO (Community Research and Development Organisation) is a person who deserves my deepest respect. The way he accompanies me and not only translates, impresses me. He has a word for each and every remark of the survivors. His patience and humble work is really something I admire. CRDO is one of several partner organisations of CARE in Pakistan.
I have an idea about poverty. I have seen it in many different countries; it is a reality. What I have seen now, though, leaves me stunned. Not only the situation of the widow, but also the one of the old man, who tells us simply: “I don’t even have shoes anymore.” He lives with his children and grandchildren in a tent next to his son’s house, which is still standing. Imran is listening carefully. “He will get them tomorrow,” he says. “We just received shoes. He will get them tomorrow. Promised.” The people in the north-western part of Pakistan are poor, even poorer than many in other parts of Pakistan.
Is there Zahid in rich countries, too?
But the situation of this small boy, who is laying on the wet, muddy floor of this small, simple house that survived the floods, shocks me. We were just about to go to the next meeting when someone stopped us. “Please, come to my house, please!” Zahid is only four years old. Coughing and a high fever exhausted him so much that he is sleeping, laid out on the wet, muddy floor. His chest is only slowly going up and down. It is 3:30 in the afternoon. The mother cries, when she sees not only me, but also the others coming to her house. It is empty, besides the fact, that Zahid is laying on the floor.
Zahid is badly ill. His two brothers take care of him. He urgently needs a hospital, but his mother has no money to affort it. (Photo: CARE/Schwarz)
The mother does not have enough money for the transportation to the next hospital. Not to mention any money for the medication he needs, urgently needs. Someone gives her some money, at least for the transport. “Do you know, Thomas,” my CARE colleague Mujahid says, “there are many cases like this one in this region.” He adds: “We will find a solution.”
I find it profoundly shaming, how we – the rich countries – are coping with one of the biggest natural disasters in decades. At the same time I try not to become unjust. Also in our countries are poor people, of course. There is poverty, yes. But I wonder, if there is Zahid in the UK, the Netherlands, France or Germany, too. I am not sure.
Tags: climate change, emergency, flood, Pakistan
August 11th, 2010 at 16:50
It is horrible and terrible disaster. It devastated everything. Imagine when you don’t have a cent in your pocket; you are hungry and a member in your family get a severe sick and need to go to the hospital. What would you do?
Without relief, they can not do something besides waiting for death. For this situation what you, your friends and you family can do?