Blogs & pictures from Pakistan

12/08/2010

News, information and stories from the Pakistan flood disaster zone.


 

November 29, 2010

Pakistan Floods: Oxfam prepares for winter with cash-for-work quilts, sweaters

Several months after Pakistan was hit by devastating floods, aid agencies are warning that the approaching winter could usher in a new crisis, with fears that flood-affected families in the north, who lost homes and belongings, will be ill-prepared to deal with sub-zero temperatures. 

Harsh winter climates could lead to a steep increase in illnesses, including pneumonia and other respiratory diseases. In preparation, Oxfam has been distributing thousands of winter kits to some of the worst flood-hit communities in Upper Swat, in Kyber Pakhtunkhwa (KPK) – areas often cut off by heavy snows and where temperatures can fall well below zero. 

These kits – containing quilts, sweaters, shawls, and socks – are being packed up and sent out to some of the most vulnerable flood-hit communities in northern Pakistan, including female -headed households  
 
 “The winter is going to double their miseries,” said Imran Khan, Oxfam’s public health promotion team leader in Swat and Shangla.  “Already, their coping mechanism does not exist. Now, when winter comes, it’s more or less death for them. The disease rate is high, they don’t have any household equipment to cope in this situation. The only way to help them against winter is these kits.”

Through a cash-for-work program, women in Ingorederai village are making winter quilts to be sent to flood survivors living in some of the worst-hit areas. The cash-for-work project, organized by Oxfam and its local partner, Lasoona, is giving women a chance to earn money for basic necessities and also helps to take their minds off their daily difficulties.

Women participating in the program said they’re happy to be able to work, as it’s a rare chance to earn some much-needed money.  “We don’t have any money for medical bills,” said 65-year-old Malyara Gujar.    

“We are poor people. Everything we had was damaged in the floods.  Everything.”
 
“I’ve got young children at home and my husband died four years ago,” said Pervin Gujar, 40.  “We still have a mud house, but everything was damaged in the floods.  I have an old father-in-law at home.  It’s been hard to earn a daily wage, a regular source of income/”

Another cash-for work project pays women for their knitting skills, paying them 5,6000 rupees after they’ve completed two sweaters.  
 
“I’m very happy to get this cheque because my husband is unemployed.  We have had to take out so many loans,” said Fatima Matkhankel, who is 10 months pregnant.
 
“We should have clean quilts and warm clothes for the children. But we have nothing.  Everything was damaged in the floods. My children are sick now because of the cold,” Hajera Mulian, a mother of six.

While most of the sweaters and quilts are heading to vulnerable communities in upper Swat, some sweaters are being distributed to orphans in Mingora.

High in the Swat mountains, the snows are already visible.  It’s a race against time to get help to the people who need it most  – so at least they have some insulation against the bitter cold.

******

November 1, 2010

Blog from Caroline Gluck, Oxfam

Rebirth among the flood ruins

Location: Dadu district, Sindh Province, Pakistan

The road heading towards Qaimjatoi, in Dadu district in Pakistan’s southern Sindh looked like it was literally disappearing into the river. A week ago, it was impassable; now, it was still surrounded by flooded rice fields, but most of the road had, at last, re-emerged from the waters.

All around us, rice fields and trees were submerged in water.

We were going to meet 18 year old Sakina Ghaincha, living with hundreds of other displaced families on a narrow ridge of an elevated embankment. The families are living here in makeshift wooden shelters, with straw mats hung over the top as a roof. Locally-made colourful hand-stitched patchwork cotton quilts, called rili, were strung along the sides of some shacks, affording families a little privacy and also some warmth when night-time temperatures drop.
Many people could see their flooded and damaged villages from the elevated bank, but couldn’t get back to them yet because the flood waters were still several feet high. For most, boat travel remained the only way in and out.

Sakina comes from Qaimjatoi, just a kilometer from where she’s sheltering. Heavily pregnant, she struggled through knee-high waters when the floods came in August. Two days later, she gave birth to a baby boy, Ghous Bux, in the open air.

“He’s our ray of hope in these difficult times”, she told me, shyly. “I was so happy after my son’s birth. It’s a miracle for us”.

Her son was her first child. There were no health facilities; but Sakina was lucky to find a traditional birth attendant who had also fled a flood-hit village and was sheltering on the same embankment.

Sakina also said she was very pleased to receive hygiene help and advice from Oxfam and its partner, SAFWCO, (the Sindh Agricultural and Forestry Workers Co-ordinating Organisation), who have been working with the community to keep the area clean, distribute hygiene kits, provide water and build toilets.

“They were the first organisations to work here. We’ve sat down with the health workers to hear about the importance of handwashing – how it can prevent disease – and good hygiene.

“Now I can properly take care of my son and give him a wash with soap. We have buckets to store water and I can take a bath. We had nothing before.”

Sakina smiles as her son wakes and wants feeding. She’s determined to provide him everything she never had – including an education, a chance to get qualifications and a good job.

Despite her joy at being a mother, Sakina worries about the future. Her family house was completely destroyed in the floods. Her husband, a tenant farmer, will be unlikely to be able to begin farming his land for at least six months as it is still under water. They lost all their rice crops just before harvest-time.

She also feels anxious at the lack of privacy she has when she breast-feeds her new-born son in her road-side shack. Trucks, motorbikes, cars and animal-drawn carts all drive past as we talk.

“We have no idea what the future will bring. We just live here day to day. If we go back home, there’s nothing for us; and nowhere to live. We’re worried about finding work to earn money to feed our family”.

The daily difficulties and the approaching winter months are a worry not just for Sakina but for tens of thousands of other families in Sindh – the region that was the worst-affected by the floods, and where more than a million still remain displaced because stagnant flood waters still remain stubbornly high.

Many are staying in large tented cities; others in makeshift shelters, like the one Sakina is staying in, on higher ground, waiting to be able to return home when the waters recede.

They’ve lost their homes and livelihoods. It’s been a struggle to survive; and now they’re not sure how they’re going to be able to feed their families over the next few months. It will be several months before many can even begin preparing their land for planting; and a year of more before they will be able to earn money from their harvests. Families are getting themselves further into debt and are becoming increasingly desperate.

“My only hope right now is my son”, Sakina told me. “He is our hope. Because of my son I have hope.”

***

09/16/2010

Blog 3 from Jane Beesley, Oxfam

A very long way to go

Location: Shikarpur District, Sindh Province, Pakistan

We have heard from Islamabad that there are rumours the flood is receding in Shikarpur and other areas in Sindh Province. We decide to try and go and see. If true then our teams are going to have to start planning how we can support people returning to their villages - which in effect means we will need to give two different types of aid: one for people who are displaced and won't be able to return home quickly; and another for those returning to destroyed homes and livelihoods. I head out of town with Zalynn and Abidah from our livelihoods team.

Once in the rural areas we soon see that the water has only gone down by a few inches. There's a very long way to go. We stop and have a brief chat with some people, living under plastic sheeting, close to the roadside. A local man tells us it will be at least a month before the waters go down to normal levels. We go as far as we can before the road disappears under water. The floodwater here doesn't look dramatic; no gushing, roaring torrents, strong currents sweeping all before it. This is a plain area and the water lies flat and still. A row of telegraph poles stretch out into to the distance, strangely marooned, casting shadows in the still water surrounding them. There are remains of mud houses crumbling and dissolving in the water. In places we can see small green shoots poking out of the water but these are not the green shoots of recovery or hope - these are the rice fields. The crop, just weeks from being harvested, has been totally lost. Rice is the main crop in this area and with only one crop a year the flood is a devastating blow after months and months of hard work. There will not be an other rice harvest until this time next year, and only then if people can return home, are able to clear the land, buy seed and plant in time. In the meantime, the question is what do they live on? How do they earn a living? Where do they live?

In the distance we see a few people living on a small patch of land. They are probably staying there to protect what remains of their property, and livestock. Otherwise, what was once a thriving village has a slightly eerie air. Walking back up the road to the car all that can be heard are the birds...

This trip has made me realise the enormity of the situation here in Sindh. Not only do we need to help people immediately, but also as they start to return home to rebuild their lives. Governments, NGOs like Oxfam and the UN need to be prepared to assist the people here in Pakistan for months and years to come.

* * *

Blog 2 from Jane Beesley, Oxfam

‘...the height of the water is more than the height of a human being.'

Location: Tented Camp Number 3, Kairpur, Sindh Province, Pakistan

The morning is spent walking round Camp Number 3 with Oxfam's Public Health Team. They are registering people for the much needed, and asked for, hygiene kits (containing items like soap, towels, buckets), which will be distributed over the next few days. The day is once again almost unbearable hot and humid. Close by some Oxfam latrines are almost completed. They are raised up on bricks due to the high water level, and steps and handrails are now being constructed to make it easier for children, the elderly and people with disabilities to use them. As we walk away from the latrines a woman comes up and asks if we can give her any shoes. She points to her feet and explains she lost everything in the flood. The ground is hard and it hurts her feet, which are now swollen. She takes us to visit her tent, which she shares with eight others. They've one simple, narrow, wooden bed frame where one of the adults, who is sick, lies resting. The rest of them sleep on the ground. ‘The ground is very hard to sleep on. It's sometimes wet and there are insects.' They hope that someone will give them mats to sleep on.

Further along the row of tents I meet several men. Ali Khan talks about the situation back in the area he's from, ‘the height of the water is more than the height of a human being.' It's a statement that makes you stop and think. When he talks about their current situation he tells me, ‘We don't have anything - we can't even buy a toffee for a kid because we don't even have a penny in our pockets.'

Withal Brunei tells me he was living very happily before the flood. He emphasises that he never used to ask anyone for anything. Now he has to ask anyone he meets to help him, ‘...it's this miserable condition that we now find ourselves in that is making me ask for these things. I have nothing and there is no one else to give us some little hope for the future.' On top of everything else people's dignity is also being compromised. Whilst talking to Ali and Withal, I notice a man behind him. He's holding a limp, crying child in his arms. The man moves forward as soon as possible. He's very distressed and wants to tell his story. While Shari Mohammed talks, for once, everyone else is silent, except Shakat, aged 1, who is crying. ‘My wife has gone. My wife has drowned in the water and I'm left with these four kids. She is drowned and now I'm left with nothing. This child needs breast milk but he's not getting any kind of milk, so he's always crying. I have nothing to give him and now this little boy is crying for his mother. Everything we owned is gone. We have nothing to eat. We used to have buffalos, cows and goats, but all was lost in the flood. Whatever we had at home is all gone. The flood has actually destroyed our lives. We are poor people and now we have nothing.' After he's spoken he gets up and leaves. What he had to say hangs in the air...

There are so many people here - each with their own heartbreaking story. The need is so great and there is so much that needs to be done. Yet international aid is starting to trail off. The UN floods appeal, which now doesn't even truly reflect the scale of need, is only 67% funded. With 21 million people affected by this flood, we can't turn our back on people like Ali, Withal and Shari. We need to be here and help people to regain their dignity and rebuild their lives.

* * *

Blog 1 from Jane Beesley, Oxfam

Location: Shikarpur District, Sindh Province, Pakistan

Breakfast arrives at 5.45am and we're ready to go at 6 am. It's already hot and temperatures will hit 45 degrees for much of the day. We're travelling out to some of the camps, based in schools, where Oxfam's distributing cash cheques to people displaced by the flood. We pass people living along the roadside, others in more formal tented camps - its painfully obvious how little they have. Water buffaloes, who should be plump and round, looking like they're made of polished ebony, now have hip, and other bones, sticking out. They wander down the road in their search for food. As we drive on the scale and number of displaced people slowly starts to sink in.

On the flight down from Islamabad, despite cloud cover, I could just make out the vast extent of the flood going on and on, seemingly never ending.

The first place we visit is a school where around 360 families are living. All the families are going to receive a cheque for 5,000 Rupees (around £38-40) to help support them through the next two or three weeks. I meet Raiza, a petite young woman of 21 or 22, who had just received her cheque. She tells me they'd lost everything in the flood, they ‘...didn't even have time to save some crockery'. She adds, ‘I'm worried about my children...at the moment they are not sick but they are weak because they don't have enough food to eat.' Before we leave the camp she comes and finds us again, this time bringing her children to meet us. She says she is going to spend most of the money on food for the children.

At all the camps we visit we are met with a warm welcome, and despite the little food they have they still offer visitors a share. I'm obviously hot, and very pink and pretty damp. Women offer me their own, handmade fans and several gather to fan us. We try and explain they don't have to do this, but they can't understand why we want to stop them. Despite the circumstances we are still guests and should be looked after.

The schools are crammed with people. Not built for so
many, or for living in, the conditions are bad. There are thousands of flies, most of the children have scabies and there's a lack of food, and widespread sickness - mainly diarrhoea. We hear that most of the money from Oxfam's distribution is being spent on food, medicine, medical fees and repaying debts incurred in getting here - a place safety from the floods.

My colleagues are working extremely long hours. Getting up very early and working through to 11, 12 at night, the heat and humidity are constant, and there is little or no privacy as bedrooms double up as offices. This is the fourth week of the crisis in Sindh, and staff have had no respite. Everyone knows the size and urgency of the need, and as my colleague Zalynn says, ‘our own conditions are nothing compared to having to live in a camp 24/7 in the 45 degree heat...'

Resources are thin on the ground, and yet we know we can respond to this. We can change people's living conditions, we can help people stay healthy, we can support people's eventual return home. But we desperately need the resources to do so.

 

09/08/2010

David Morley's Blog
President and CEO of Save the Children Canada

September 8,2010

Here is something I've learned while in Pakistan. I understand better now why the media is having such a hard time telling the story of the floods here in the Swat Valley.

Except for a few places here and there up the sides of the valley, you can't see the destruction. Why? Because it is here that the houses and shops and fields were just swept away. The Swat River changed its course in the flood, but in many places, if I had not been
told, I wouldn't have known that a village had been here, a farm there, a shop over there - because there is nothing left but rocks and the river, flowing on as it always has. Only the ongoing series of destroyed bridges - big bridges, like ones joining the Island of Montreal to
Laval, Ottawa to Gatineau, or across the Bow River in Calgary - show just how bad the destruction was.

But in our sound-bite world, it is almost impossible to tell the story of these people - how they suffered through the tensions of increasing extremism, the horror of an armed conflict that forced them to flee, and now, upon their return home, were met by the destructive
power of this flood.

So we have to listen before we can tell. We have listen to the farmer, receiving his tent at the distribution point: "My fields were washed away, now we are living with my brother and his family."

We have to listen, and we have to see. See things like the hopeful eyes of that girl at the health post when she said "this year, I thought I'd finally get to go back to school. Now with the floods, I just don't know."

Those eyes, that wish, tell the story hidden behind the bustle of a city, with its signs of a community, of a whole valley, trying to return to a normal life. Those eyes, that wish, are why our Pakistani colleagues here at Save the Children are working 14 hour days - and in the middle of the Ramadan fast! - to get food and supplies and clean water and medical care to as many people as possible. That is why we want to help the farmers and restock the small shops and open up the schools once again. So the hopes of that girl can be fulfilled.

Misery is not distributed fairly in this world, but life goes on

September 6, 2010

It is a beautiful morning. Men in flowing cotton robes walk on their early morning errands through the quiet streets - it will be bustling later on, but we have got up early to go and see some of the work of Save the Children.

As we make our way the destruction becomes more and more apparent. Torrents of water came through here - one of our staff showed me a video he made on the day the river burst its banks bringing logs and rocks crashing through, knocking buildings down and ripping villages apart like a disaster movie. But it was no movie - this happened here, in this beautiful place, and the half destroyed buildings and every bridge in the valley was destroyed - are a testament to the destructive force of the flooding.

Swat used to be a safe place, a tourist destination for Pakistanis, but in the past five years that has changed. Insurgent groups recruited and mobilized unemployed youth who brought their war to the area. As we made our way, we pass bombed out schools and destroyed police stations - the work of IEDs and suicide bombers - along with persimmon orchards and flood-damaged homes.

After intensive fighting, the area was sealed off from the rest of the world and most of the people fled. The cruelest part of all is that they had started to come back - to rebuild their lives. Then, just a month ago, the flood came.

Because Save the Children had already been working in the area, trying to reestablish schools and help families rebuild their livelihoods, we were able to spring into action. Soon we were distributing non-food items and tents. Our food distribution started by giving food we got from WFP, but as local markets have recovered in the weeks since the floods, we have switched to a voucher system. Our field staff assess the villages and find the families who have lost homes, or are child-headed households, and they get food vouchers. In a dark room in the back of an alleyway we talk with the sector coordinator. "People prefer the food vouchers. This way they have some choice in what food they may eat - they don't just have to put up with what we give them." Our teams work closely with local merchants, quickly redeeming the spent vouchers for cash - that is a way to make sure that merchants will support the program. And in this way the money stays in the community and stimulates, not suppresses, the local economy.

Outside of the distribution point I stop to watch some boys play cricket, but as a crowd gathers our country director comes up to me and says: "Let's keep moving, we don't want someone to make a phone call about the visitors". A year ago this region had been an insurgent stronghold. The army presence is very visible here. Frequent checkpoints, pillar boxes and guns mounted on pick-up trucks.

We make our way to a health post Save the Children has been supporting. In the yard some men are teaching people how to use sachets of water purifier to make drinking water safe. I'm told diarrhea cases have increased almost twofold. Until we get enough wells cleaned, water must be purified so more children don't get sick.

Children play outside the health post. "I had hoped to go to school this year," said one girl. "With all the trouble I haven't been to school for three years. I really thought this was my year - and then the flood. Now I don't know what will happen." Save the Children wants to help the government schools get open as soon as possible.

At all our points - the distribution point for household items, the voucher distribution room, the health post and the child-friendly spaces -a complaints procedure is clearly spelled out and posted in many places. Big posters outline what we are supposed to do - treat the beneficiaries with courtesy and respect, and what we expect in return - an equal level of respect. There is a phone number where complaints can be made by calling or by SMS. I ask my colleague how many complaints we receive.

"A few a week. Usually from people who feel they should have received something, so we re-assess, but usually we decide we were correct in the first place. But one person complained about the lack of clean water here at this clinic, so that is why we bored that well there. Then there was one fellow who called us saying he had received too many household kits so we should train our field workers better." He laughs. "I liked that one."

On our way back talk turns to our plans for early recovery - because we will soon be moving into that stage. We need to reconnect with the Parent Teacher Councils to help schools start up again and recharge our teacher training program. We need to assess the damage to this harvest, and the impact on the winter crops, too - farmers will need seed and tools. And local shops - the smallest ones - need some help to restock their stores so that those families can begin earning again.

There are certainly strong signs of a bustling community life beginning again. It's hard to believe that a year ago this was a place with hundreds of thousands of displaced people and savage fighting. "That's right," says my colleague who coordinates all our work in the area.

"All this activity we see here - there was nothing at all. Everyone who wasn't fighting had fled. Now they have come back."

Silently we look out the car. Quietly, Greg, a Save the Children colleague, says "misery is not distributed fairly in this world."

"But," adds the area coordinator, "life does go on." Yes it does. And I have such respect for the people of the region who are determined to rebuild their lives - the conflict didn't stop them forever; they returned to their homes. I don't think they will let the flood stop them either. But they need support to rebuild their lives, and I feel privileged to be working with a group of people who are doing such a fine job of offering that support.

Save the Children's emergency office in Islamabad

September 3, 2010

The rains started in earnest six weeks ago. Hard, heavy and long-lasting monsoons the wettest in living memory. And then the rivers started flooding their banks. First it was up in the remote villages of the north, and word couldn't get out to the rest of the world. Then the crest moved south, and farms and villages were under water. Soon more than 20 million people were affected. 20 million people - that is as many Canadians as live west of Ottawa valley. Homes were destroyed, crops damaged, livelihoods washed away.

"We were all slow to respond," a colleague here told me. "It rained hard for three days -and on the third day when I woke up and had six inches of water outside my house, I knew that if it was this serious here in Islamabad, it would be worse in the north. But we weren't ready for the size of this, nobody was. First we estimated 2 million people affected, then 4million, then 6 - our projections just kept going up."

This delayed response - the realization of the numbers and the severity slowly growing day by day - had a major impact on the world's response as well. Until people and governments around the world realized the catastrophic impact of the floods they were slow to respond. But now there are increasing levels of support coming in, and that means our work in health, child protection, supporting livelihoods and education is growing.

Save the Children was already the largest NGO in Pakistan before the floods, but in the last four weeks we have hired more people to help distribute survival kits, staff mobile clinics, set up child-friendly spaces and more. Last year, when we responded to the internally displaced person crisis we opened an emergency office here in Islamabad, and when I went there today it was humming.

People have set up work spaces on tables, and just about anywhere there is a flat surface there are papers and charts and laptops. The walls are covered with maps of Pakistan and thumbtacks are stuck into the villages in the regions where we are working - Swat Valley, Punjab, Sindh. White boards keep track of people's movements and the progress of the various projects in 45 sub-offices around the country.

At one end of a colleague describes the process of shifting thinking and activities towards recovery - as the water recedes clinics are still standing, but the equipment is destroyed, and he is concerned about increased reports of malaria. In front of a computer another team member looks at statistics showing how our cash voucher efforts are going, and discusses ideas for helping restore livelihoods. A small group sits around a flip chart planning for a coordination meeting with Oxfam and Care tomorrow.

These are impressive people. At a meeting with a Canadian government official, our Emergency Director describes how our teams have gone into some of the hardest to reach places - sometimes walking for 12 hours to remote villages to bring them relief. "We distribute the food well," he says. "I hate seeing those pictures of food and supplies being dropped from trucks or helicopters - when that happens you have no way of knowing if the elderly and the child-headed households are getting any help at all. We go into places that are hardest to reach - but we distribute carefully, and we know that the weakest are gettinghelp."

And this weekend I'll get to see them in action when we head up to the Swat Valley.

On the plane to Pakistan

September 3, 2010

The people of Pakistan have had more than their fair share of trouble, and their history of hardship is reflected in some hard statistics. Half of the population is illiterate and only half the children in the country are enrolled in primary school. Nearly one child in ten will die before her fifth birthday - an infant mortality rate almost 20 times that of Canada - and one quarter of children are underweight for their age.

Save the Children has been working in the country for more than 30 years. Together with our local partners (because if you don't work with local partners you cannot build sustainability) our programs have focused on improving education and health, increasing family income through credit assistance and business advice, and supported the creation of laws to protect children from violence.

And we've had successes, too. In Battagram District we've worked with 100 schools to help train teachers, develop Parent Teacher Councils that then work to improve school facilities - and we've seen school enrolment increase by 34 per cent. We've trained Lady Health Workers who provide community-based health services to rural women, and strengthened the clinics and hospitals and we've seen the number of people getting health services go up by the thousands. When fighting intensified along the Afghan border last year, 2 million people fled their homes in the North-West Frontier, and we were able to provide healthcare, relief supplies and emergency food to nearly half a million people, including 270,000 children - many of those in remote scattered villages where few others are providing
support. But the people fleeing the violence had to live somewhere - and so 5,000 schools became shelters for whole communities, putting new strains on the education system.

And all this - the large-scale health and education programs to help some of the world's poorest children - all this was already underway when, just a few weeks ago, these same children and families were hit by the heaviest monsoon rains in 90 years, and the biggest disaster in living memory began to unfold. I cannot imagine how we have and will continue to respond - I just know that we must.

 

09/07/2010

Blog from Mubashar Hasan, Save the Children

The children of the floods

I was on my way to Nowshera district of Khaybar Pakthunkhawa Province in Pakistan to look at how children were affected by the floods. In my mind I was preparing for an emotional day.

I'd read news of children affected by hunger, diarrhea, skin and other diseases. I told myself that I needed to pass my day in professional manner and keep my emotions in check.

However, what I found was different than I expected. I was mesmerized by the bravery and creativity of the children in the camps. They were suffering from many problems and deprived of basic human rights, but were standing high with smiles on their faces amidst all odds.

"We run in this camp, we jump into the muddy water next to the camp and love to play cricket everyday," said Rejagul, a fourth grade student who was living in an unofficial camp set up at Mundhighaz camp where Oxfam is working hard to provide clean drinking water.

Rejagul's school is closed. It's one of the more than 8,000 schools destroyed or damaged in the catastrophic flood in Pakistan. Rejagul was standing among a group of children who surrounded me amid midday scorching heat in a field where UNHCR had installed tents.

Their clothes were dirty and filthy and they didn't have any shoes. Many parts of their bodies were bearing signs of skin diseases. Some of them said the unbearable heat and flies made their life miserable, but they were adjusting themselves to their circumstances and had worked out plans to have fans.

I spent around an hour and half in this camp discovering how the children were passing their time. Like children everywhere, they were playing: blowing bubbles and playing noughts and crosses.

It requires a lot of courage to smile when there is little or no food to eat, no home to live, very little clean water to drink, no bed to sleep in and no air conditioning or fan to cool down the burning temperature.

The way these children were handling these floods was truly inspirational. The world needs to act to keep the spirit of these children high by proving aid to re-construct their homes, schools and lives.

09/03/2010

First-hand account from David Morley, co-founder of the HUMANITARIAN COALITION and President and CEO of Save the Children Canada.

Save the Children’s emergency office in Islamabad

The rains started in earnest six weeks ago.  Hard, heavy and long-lasting monsoons - the wettest in living memory.  And then the rivers started flooding their banks. First it was up in the remote villages of the north, and word couldn’t get out to the rest of the world.  Then the crest moved south, and farms and villages were under water.  Soon more than 20 million people were affected.  20 million people – that is as many Canadians as live west of Ottawa.  Homes were destroyed, crops damaged, livelihoods washed away.

“We were all slow to respond,” a colleague here told me.  “It rained hard for three days – and on the third day when I woke up and had six inches of water outside my house, I knew that if it was this serious here in Islamabad, it would be worse in the north.  But we weren’t ready for the size of this, nobody was.  First we estimated 2 million people affected, then 4 million, then 6 - our projections just kept going up.”

This delayed response – the realization of the numbers and the severity slowly growing day by day – had a major impact on the world’s response as well.  Until people and governments around the world realized the catastrophic impact of the floods they were slow to respond.  But now there are increasing levels of support coming in, and that means our work in health, child protection, supporting livelihoods and education is growing.

Save the Children was already the largest NGO in Pakistan before the floods, but in the last four weeks we have hired more people - to help distribute survival kits, staff mobile clinics, set up child-friendly spaces and more.  Last year, when we responded to the internally displaced person crisis we opened an emergency office here in Islamabad, and when I went there today it was humming. 

People have set up work spaces on tables, and just about anywhere there is a flat surface there are papers and charts and laptops.  The walls are covered with maps of Pakistan and thumbtacks are stuck into the villages in the regions where we are working – Swat Valley, Punjab, Sindh.  White boards keep track of people’s movements and the progress of the various projects in 45 sub-offices around the country. 

At one end of a colleague describes the process of shifting thinking and activities towards recovery – as the water recedes clinics are still standing, but the equipment is destroyed, and he is concerned about increased reports of malaria.  In front of a computer another team member looks at statistics showing how our cash voucher efforts are going, and discusses ideas for helping restore livelihoods.  A small group sits around a flip chart planning for a coordination meeting with Oxfam and Care tomorrow.

These are impressive people.  At a meeting with a Canadian government official, our Emergency Director describes how our teams have gone into some of the hardest to reach places – sometimes walking for 12 hours to remote villages to bring them relief.  “We distribute the food well,” he says.  “I hate seeing those pictures of food and supplies being dropped from trucks or helicopters – when that happens you have no way of knowing if the elderly and the child-headed households are getting any help at all.  We go into places that are hardest to reach – but we distribute carefully, and we know that the weakest are getting help.”

And this weekend I’ll get to see them in action when we head up to the Swat Valley.

08/23/2010

First-hand account from Oxfam's Qasim Berech.

Qasim Berech, 30, is a public health expert with Oxfam in Pakistan. He travelled to Upper Swat on 16 August.

Many parts of the Upper Swat Valley have been cut off from the rest of the country after severe floods swept through the region. Most of the region's roads and bridges have been destroyed by the rising floodwaters. For hundreds of thousands of people, helicopter drops have been the only way to get aid since the waters started to rise.

Qasim says: "People in Upper Swat Valley have been living in a nightmare since the floods began. They've been almost completely cut off from the rest of the country.
What most concerns me as an Oxfam worker is there's a chronic shortage of clean drinking water in many places. Worse still, some people are desperate enough to drink water from the river. The pipes which normally bring them fresh water from springs have been swept away by the floods.

It's a vicious circle. People need water. There's no clean safe water so they drink from the river. But the river water isn't clean and we're worried about outbreaks of disease. We're already hearing that people are suffering more and more from diarrhoea.

It's now about two and half weeks since the floods began and the waters have finally started to recede in Swat. Today, we have decided that it is time to try to get through and see for ourselves the situation on the ground.

My team of five plus myself begin our journey from Mangora in Lower Swat to reach the city of Bahrain, a city in Upper Swat. It's been cut off for weeks and is only accessible on foot.

We are carrying with us 100,000 sachets of water purifier powder, closely packed into 400 small cartons. Each sachet will make ten litres of clean water in just 20 minutes. It can make the difference between a sick child and a healthy child.

We leave Mangora at 9am by van. The rain is still coming down hard. As a Pakistani, I've never seen weather like this in my life. A very old local man says he remembers a flood in 1929 but that it was nothing compared to this. This is unique in my nation's history.

An hour and a half's drive gets us only to the village of Fatehpur where we're told the roads and bridges ahead have been destroyed. We have to leave the car behind and move ahead on foot. I arrange to hire eight labourers to help carry our cartons.

As we walk, I can't stop looking at the houses, hotels and shops around me. These are concrete buildings which collapsed as if they were made of paper. It's hard to believe that just water has caused all this destruction and misery.

Half an hour's walk gets us to a road where we stop and hire another van. This time, we get as far as Jarri village before another collapsed bridge forces us to start walking again.

This time, our walk is far more difficult since the track is muddy and slippery. We manage to reach the small town of Madain where, for the third and last time that day, we are able to find another vehicle. But we've only been on our way for two or three minutes before another collapsed bridge stops us in our tracks.

We're not alone on our travels. We stop and ask some men that we pass where they're from. Most have come from the remote parts of the Upper Swat and have walked for at least a day. They're heading for Fatehpur to collect food being handed out by the aid agencies. For most of these people, this will be the only food they will have had for days. They're hunched over and carrying sacks of wheat flour, oil, rice, pulses, sugar, salt and biscuits on their backs - enough to keep their families going for a week or more.

There are women too - collecting water from the river for their families. They know they shouldn't drink it. It will make their children ill. But they have no choice.
These people have nowhere to go. People from Swat are very poor - they can't afford to go somewhere else and rent a home. And they don't want to leave their homes or their livestock. The luckiest ones will have relatives they can go and stay with - but it's getting harder to find people not affected by the floods.
It starts to rain even harder which forces us to slow our walk. It's difficult to keep your footing in this kind of mud. Everyone is struggling but no-one complains.

There are frightening moments too. Because many bridges have been completely swept away, locals have done the best they can with whatever is to hand. We cross several bridges which are just pieces of wood held together with rope. They're pretty dangerous - I cross holding on tightly as the bridge shakes from side to side. What worries me most is my team - I have five people with me plus the labourers.

At last, after nearly four hours of hard walking, we reach Bahrain at 4pm. We're all tired and soaked but know it was worth it. We manage to distribute powder sachets to nearly 3,000 households. At 30 sachets per family, that will give them clean water for 15 days. We will go back again today (Sun) and as many times as we need to. We all need to work together to get help to wherever it's needed most."

* * *

08/18/2010

Blog by Thomas Schwarz, CARE media specialist in Pakistan. Originally published by http://www.CARE.org.

The Taliban helps flood victims and then publicly praises its own work. This is what I read in the news. In interviews, journalists ask if it is true, and I say yes. Of course they publicize their good works. Everybody who does good deeds for others publicizes it. But, is this the question we should be asking right now? Not for me.

This debate about the Taliban has nothing to with the reality we face here everyday across the country. The debate is a Western obsession, not one of the flood-affected people in need.

Frankly, I barely understand the connection between the topic and the biggest natural disaster of our time. We should be focusing our attention on how we can provide immediate relief efficiently and effectively to those in need.

I witnessed in Moltan just how CARE is supporting mobile health clinics so that primary health care is accessible to those who need it.

The temperature here is a humid 104 degrees, and flies are everywhere. A man shoos them away. Flood survivors queue patiently for their turn to registrater and receive medical assistance. The process is quick and efficient, and the people here are directly benefiting from this intervention because of generous donations to CARE.

Moltan lies to the south of Punjab Province, where new floods are predicted as monsoon rains continue.

CARE's warehouses here are all now empty and, as more donations come in, we are procuring more supplies to distribute to those in need. Since the floods began we have distributed tents, hygiene kits, mosquito nets and kitchen sets. It is not true that humanitarian assistance is not reaching those in need. It is - but simply not enough!

Along the main, four-lane road out of Moltan, we see tents, one after another like a string of pearls. Tents? That's an exaggeration. They are really just plastic sheets held up by wooden poles. The fronts and backs remain open, offering no privacy for those who seek shelter. But they at least provide some protection from the fierce sun.

70-year-old man sits alone, staring into space. Around him children sit likewise.

When we arrive, we are surrounded by people immediately. Everybody wants to say something. They all say the same thing, "We have no tents. Look!" They point to a village, less than 200 meters away. It is completely flooded - all we see are roofs. We know that these people will not be able to return to their village as long as the rains continue and the stagnant water refuses to recede.

We are relieved to hear that the villagers are receiving food. When we ask from whom, and they reply, "People from Moltan are coming every day to deliver food." The people from Molten are strangers, but the villagers know they can rely on them.

Today, as the holy fasting month of Ramadan has now started, the strangers arrive in the evening after sunset. Tomorrow, Pakistan celebrates its independence from the British empire. People help people in Pakistan. This is the true Pakistan I know and appreciate.

By the way, Zahid, the sick little boy I met in Charsadda, is back home and playing again! My colleague, Mujahid, just sent me an e-mail to let me know.

Another question often asked by journalists comes to mind: "Does the help reach people?" Yes, it does.

* * *

08/17/2010

Blog from Kevin McCort, President and CEO of CARE Canada

DAY 5: Every day has been different here this week.  We started off visiting tent manufacturers and buying relief supplies in Lahore.  We then moved to the flood zone around Nowshera, and witnessed vast areas still under water, waterlogged homes, and spoke to displaced families still shocked by what happened to them.   The next day took us further north, into the mountainous Swat valley where the flood damage was more violent, destroying homes, roads, fields, and leaving nothing behind.  Our return to Islamabad yesterday was a bit surreal, unaffected by the floods, life seems to be going on as normal.

Yet, nothing is normal.  Everyone is thinking about people like Hadia, who walked an hour to get to the CARE supported mobile clinic.  I met her in Medain, where she had her three children (two girls one boy) with her, and all had diarrhea.  Even the doctor treating them was suffering from the ailment. It is critical that Hadia and her children are able to get treatment, because children quickly become dehydrated, and weak, susceptible to other infections, and death if not treated.

Generally, treatments are simple, oral rehydration solution, zinc, and sometimes antibiotics. But people need to be able to access the clinic.  Hadia (and the 50 other women the clinic had served so far that day) were lucky they could reach the clinic.  Many cannot, and we need to scale up our response to bring these services to more women.  Because women are key to their communities, their children key to the future.

* * *

08/16/2010

Blog from Kevin McCort, President and CEO of CARE Canada

We left the flood zone earlier today, and are now in Islamabad. I already feel that I should be back there with those who have been so badly impacted. But in the reality of humanitarian response, we all have our jobs to do, and our local staff and partners don't actually need my help giving the next shipment of 2,600 tents to familieslike Ahmed, Faizla and their children, they don't need me underfoot when they are running our four medical clinics that are each serving 150 patients every day. What the flood victims and our staff need me to do is tell their stories, raise awareness and raise money. Our staff on the ground will ensure that aid is delivered to those who need it, they will ensure that our efforts are coordinated with local authorities and other agencies, and they will provide proof every day that the outside world is standing in solidarity with those so badly affected by these floods.

My biggest fear however is that the unfolding disaster is getting worse, and that my efforts at doing my job are inadequate. It is hard to believe that the floods and the stories I've been telling about those affected don't seem to be motivating donors the same way that the tsunami, or Haitian earthquake, did.

One of the first principles of humanitarian response is that assistance provided to survivors of a disaster must be equitable. To put that into perspective, Canadians donated $220 million dollars after the Haiti earthquake, addressing the relief, recovery and reconstruction needs of some three million Haitians. That is nearly $7 per Canadian, or over $70 per Haitian affected by the crisis (and this excludes money from CIDA). We are very far from that level of giving for Pakistan, and I don't know why. Our response is not equitable, and that troubles me a great deal.

My second fear is how I may have to answer the question "have you ever seen anything this bad before?" if we can't address my first fear above. On one level, I have never seen flooding this extensive, I have also never seem millions of people displaced over a two week period, and I have never seen 20% of a very large country affected by a single natural disaster. But on another level, I have seen worse. The cholera epidemic that struck the refugee camps in (then) Zaire after the genocide in Rwanda in 1994 were the result of the inability of the local authorities and the humanitarian community to provide clean water and adequate sanitation to the one million refugees who suddenly crossed the border. The death toll was horrific, with probably more than 50,000 people, mostly women and children, dying over a two week period as the epidemic ran unchecked through the refugee population. On the worst single day of that epidemic, we estimated between 5,000 to 10,000 people died.

I have seen the horrors of what an epidemic of water borne diseases can do to a displaced and vulnerable population. I'm going to do all I can to ensure that we prevent a catastrophic epidemic, so that when I am asked that question about the these Pakistan floods I don't have to say that "I have never seen anything this bad in my life".

So that is why I've left the flood zone - to do my job of raising awareness and raising funds to contribute to the relief effort. We can't undo the flooding, but we can still prevent the needless loss of life that will surely result if we fail to act now.

Kevin

* * *

Blog from Save the Children's Reporting Coordinator in Pakistan

TREACHEROUS TREK TO DELIVER AID

(August 14, 2010) The worst-affected areas of Swat are in the northern parts of the valley. For the past week, nine members of the Save the Children team have been distributing the food rations that have been delivered by helicopter by the World Food Programme. Myself and the senior programme manager decided that we should travel over to Kalam to assist the team and help document and monitor the food distribution. The only issue is that there are no helicopters available to transport aid workers, which meant if we wanted to get there, we would have to trek 50 kilometres to do so.

We set off at 0630 from Fateh Pur, a town 15 kilometers outside Saidu Sharif. From here the only road to Kalam had collapsed.

We reached the first town, Adyan, after crossing two hills. The entire shape of the city had changed - the floods created a river that went straight through the middle of town, completely destroying the main market. Mud and dust was everywhere, as were huge boulders that the flood had carried right into town. A lot of people from the town had already left and moved to the southern areas of Swat, but there were still some people there, protecting their homes and property. From Adyan we crossed a temporary bridge - two planks of wood - with the river 10 feet below us, flowing rapidly. When we had crossed the bridge, we saw that the road had collapsed and was 50 meters below where it used to be. So on one side of us was 20-30 meters of mountain face and on the other side was the river. We were forced to walk with the river water up to our knees, hanging on to the rock face. The water was ice cold.

We finally reached a city, Bahrain, which used to be a big tourist destination with lots of hotels, restaurants, and beautiful river side cafes. I was there five years ago on holiday with my family. The city is now unrecognisable. It is like something has taken a huge pile of rocks and mud and thrown in all over the city. The main bazaar is completely destroyed. Three story hotels have tumbled down and the main road through the town was covered in 5 feet of mud. Small shops and stalls are covered in mud and dust and rocks. Several of the main bridges that people used to commute from one side of the city to the other have been destroyed - some without any remnants at all. But what was most amazing was that the river had completely changed course and was now running 20-30 meters further west from where it was.

We walked along the old river bed out of the city and into the mountains. From here, cars took us along a small stretch of road - about 8 kilometers, to where the road ended. We were then forced to climb a couple of mountains on our right and walk through dense jungle with no sunlight. The only way to get through is via tight lanes and water canals used for irrigation. We walked through a number of mountainous villages and small farms. The majority of the people living here haven't moved. They are uphill from the river - but have been completely cut off from the rest of the world. Their livelihoods have been totally disrupted - there is no way they can sell their crops at the market.

Moving on, we walked for 6 kilometers in the mountains before we reached Toorwal, where for three hours we had small stretches of road interrupted by mountain - the road had been washed away by the flood water.

We came across a number of villages that had once been next to the river and had been completely destroyed. We met lots of people coming and going - some people, like us, travelling north with food rations. We met children who had 20 kilos of food on their backs for their families. We also met villagers who'd had homes destroyed, heading south in search of help. To reach Mankyal, we had to cross a 20-meter gap between the road and mountain. The bridge was a small tree trunk that the villagers had placed there to get over the river. This was very precarious and had a torrent of raging water running just under it. We had to crawl along. There was a line of people queuing up to get across.

We thought we were nearly there but found the road was destroyed again. We had to climb another two mountains, one of which was over 8,000 feet high, on a very narrow and steep track. We met locals also going to Kalam who said there were cars going the last few kilometers. We were lucky because they had just started operating. We crossed a few more villages, farmland and jungle. Everyone we met was asking if we were bringing aid with us. We met two young brothers, aged just 5 and 9, who told us about their experience. They had lost everything - their clothes, books, even their precious football -- so I gave one of my shirts to them.

We then climbed down to where the road took us to Kalam. We had been walking for almost 12 hours - and we didn't want to miss the jeeps driving to Kalam - which was another 17 kilometers. I couldn't feel my feet, my back hurt and I had no more strength. We were so thankful when we saw the Jeeps parked a few kilometers further down. By the time we got there, we realised they were actually waiting for the "two crazy outsiders" who were risking their lives coming here to help. It was nearing dusk and it had just starting to rain. Thankfully it hadn't rained during our walk as there was always the fear of landslides and slipping.

The Jeep ride was about another hour - we had to go over more canals and broken roads - only just accessible by 4x4. Five years ago when I came to this area, there were hotels and restaurants, and people from all over Pakistan were here on holiday. I can remember so vividly all the lights and noise everywhere. When we arrived, it was as if it was a ghost town, completely pitch black. I couldn't believe it was Kalam.

We met the team at 8.30 pm - so glad we had got here.

In Kalam, 90% of the main market, which provides a livelihood for so many people, was completely destroyed. It was unrecognisable. It looked like it might have 100 years ago: no cars - they had all washed away -- no clean water supply, which was previously run by an electric pumping station, now destroyed. The only means of getting across the river is by climbing into a cage that is then hoisted across the water using a pulley/rope system, one person at a time.

There is very little food here. The only way to get food in is by helicopter, and the major problem is that helicopters can't come in when it's raining. It's monsoon season so rain is almost continuous. Because of the bad weather, they couldn't fly in today. We had planned for food distribution on a daily basis, but we can't do anything if it rains. So far we have managed about two to three food distributions a week - far less than we had hoped. Save the Children is the only humanitarian organisation working out here.

 

Blog from Oxfam Program Officer, Madiha Shafi.

An emotional Journey

Shikarpur district in Sindh province of Pakistan was suddenly hit by flood. People are still shocked and helpless. According to official figure around 300,000 people are displaced in this district. Oxfam is there to assess situation and start rapid response very soon. Madiha Shafi, Oxfam's Program officer wrote this very emotional piece about her visit to Shikarpur.

When I reached Shikarpur, I saw people sitting on the roadside with blank faces while holding into last belongings. They seemed traumatized with unexpected flood. I slowly drove past them and entered into a relief camp located near by the city.

Here I became numb as I saw hungry people and children who lost everything in flood were waiting for food.Suddenly, a woman touched my feet and said in Sindhi "please give me something we have lost every thing. I have not eaten any thing in past 2 days". At that moment I felt someone was cutting my heart with sharp knife. I tried to stop her and stepped back. I was speechless and had no words to console her.

I moved ahead with a heavy heart. At this point I witnessed a lot of movement among people living in this relief camp. It is because a truckload of cooked rice arrived here and received attraction of people. Many children were running with bare foot to tell their parents that food has arrived. However, the amount of food given to each family is really far from sufficient. Each family was given a plate full of rice. In this area where at least six person forms a family this amount of food is next to nothing.

I realized why hunger is a harsh reality. We completed our assessment here and came outside of the camp. The weather outside was really hard for everyone to bear due to burning temperature. However, to me everything was burning here including frustrated eyes of the people, tears which are rolling down from the eyes of the kids and of course my aching heart.

We visited another camp. About 2000 people are living in this camp where as according to the authority a possibility of 2000 more people are likely to arrive in next one or two days from nearby flood hit zones. Story here is the same- grim and daunting. This is the time to help these unfortunate people.

While I am writing my feelings about Shikarpur I still am thinking about the woman who touched my feet. I am once again in agony and I am not able to see my laptop screen because of tears in my eyes which is making every thing hazy.

 

08/15/2010

Blog from Kevin McCort, President and CEO of CARE Canada

DAY 3: At the moment, in the upper Swat valley, the river is actually quite beautiful, a rough and rugged mountain river. Just a few days ago though it was a monster, and today we saw the destruction it caused in the towns and villages along its upper reaches.

Whole villages, riverside roads, bridges, power stations and the entire center of own town, are actually gone. Not flooded, or damaged, but totally gone. It wasn't easy to get in to see this damage either, since the roads were cut, we drove as far as we could, then grabbed our raingear and some water and started walking. After 20 minutes we found another stretch of road, so hired a driver to take us further. He could only go so far as the road was cut again further on, so we got out and walked again. We repeated this hopscotch process of walking then using stranded cars a few more times over the next couple of hours before we reached our destination of Maydan. It is in this town that one of the CARE supported medical clinics was operating.

It is also where some of the most extensive damage is found. The entire west side of the main street fell into the river and was washed away. A new channel was cut down another street, taking out the entire roadway and several storefronts. It also completely destroyed the office of our local partner, IDEA.

I didn't hear about any injuries during the flooding, but in my conversations with the male and female doctors in the clinic, they mentioned that many of the patients they saw today were traumatized by the floods. I can't imagine what it must have been like on that day.

The doctors also mentioned that diarrhea was an increasing problem, with many cases. An outbreak of diarrhea is my biggest fear, as this can be very dangerous, especially for children.

We are arranging to bring in extra supplies for the clinic to ensure they are well equipped to head off a possible outbreak. And until the road is fixed, we'll be hopscotching them in.

Please support CARE's ongoing work today.

* * *

Blog from Kevin McCort, President and CEO of CARE Canada

Helicopters were flying over the Swat valley today, as the UN secretary general Ban Ki-Moon visited flood affected areas to see the devastation first hand.

His message was consistent with what the Humanitarian Coalition members have been saying for days: the people of Pakistan need our help, so please give what you can.

The floods have passed through the Swat valley, leaving many homeless and at risk, but the flooding hasn't yet peaked further south, meaning more devastation is to come. CARE, Oxfam and Save are active, with our staff and partners, along the entire river system, in Swat, Punjab and Sindh.