Aid is trickling into the town of Shikarpur, but not fast enough for thousands of refugees, writes MARY FITZGERALD, Foreign Affairs Correspondent, in Sindh province
IN THE years to come, Amanullah and Zulfikar Ali will be known as children of the floods. Born within days of each other as their native Sindh succumbed to the worst flooding in memory, the two boys face an uncertain future, but the fate of Amanullah is by far the more precarious.
His mother Manjhoo gave birth during the family’s desperate journey from the sinking village they once called home. After walking for more than 40km, at times wading through waist-high floodwaters, they finally reached the town of Shikarpur, where tens of thousands like them have sought refuge. Fearful of low-lying areas, Manjhoo’s family made for the highest point they could find – an overpass that arcs high above the ground next to the dreaded river. They now live on the overpass, their only shelter a table – one of the very few possessions they hurriedly lashed to a mule’s back as they left their village for the last time.
Manjhoo, dressed in the colourful mirrored and embroidered clothing beloved of Sindhis, draws her blue veil back to reveal Amanullah’s tiny body nestling against her. Only 10 days old, he looks very sickly. Rivulets of sweat run down his wrinkled face and his eyes are shut tight against the baking sun. Amanullah has hepatitis, his mother whispers anxiously.
Other mothers crowd around. The overpass is now home to around 1,000 displaced flood victims. Very few have tents, most are living under the shade of upturned rope beds, donkey carts, or, worst of all in temperatures like this, plastic sheeting. The women are carrying babies of varying degrees of illness. Many have crusting and weeping sores or livid rashes on their scalps and faces from the filthy floodwaters. The heads of others loll in the heat. Several older children scratch themselves incessantly.
A short drive away at a school now transformed into a shelter for the displaced, Saira has just finished feeding Zulfikar Ali, her 10th child. He was born the day Saira and her family arrived at the school after travelling for two days by tractor from their submerged village. “I was very worried when we were trying to get to somewhere safe because I knew I was due to give birth,” Saira says, gazing down at Zulfikar Ali whose eyes are rimmed with thick black streaks of kohl to ward off evil spirits. “We lost everything except for our animals, but we were lucky compared to many others.”
The baby’s health is fine so far, and the family receives regular meals at the school which is run by one of Concern’s local partners in Sindh. Asked what she hopes for her youngest son’s future, Saira smiles. “An education, a good job and a long life,” she says.
In the case of Manjhoo, her wishes for Amanullah are far more basic and urgent – for now, she only wants him to survive.
In the catalogue of misery that has followed Pakistan’s catastrophic floods, Shikarpur surely rates as one of the worst affected. Locals estimate more than 70 per cent of the surrounding area is under water. Of the thousands that streamed into the town and its environs as the floodwaters crept higher, only a fraction have been accommodated in the few hastily erected relief camps. The others have been forced to seek out any kind of shelter they can – under bridges, among the date palms or under roadside trees. Most are sleeping in the open. “There are so many people and they are scattered in so many different places that it will take time to locate them all and assess their needs,” said one aid worker. “It’s a huge challenge.”
When evening comes – heralding the end of that day’s Ramadan fasting – many of the displaced roam the streets, looking for food and water. From time to time, a van or truck will drive by, its occupants throwing packages of food or bottles of water from the road. This usually causes a frenzy which often leads to scuffles and fights as the hungry and the desperate scrabble for a precious bag of rice or a packet of biscuits. As the days go by, the atmosphere becomes more volatile and edgy. Aid is trickling in but nowhere near swiftly enough to even begin to address the enormous needs in Shikarpur and elsewhere.
“We fear the outbreak of serious unrest,” says Agha Arsallan Khan, an adviser to the chief minister of Sindh. “We have all these people walking the roads with nowhere to go. They are hungry and desperate.”
Later that evening, in the nearby town of Sukkur, which has also absorbed thousands of displaced, an army truck pulls up at the side of the highway to distribute food and water. An orderly queue of several hundred forms parallel with the busy road but within minutes the mood has changed. After some people at the beginning of the line begin to get restless and push forward, the soldiers try to beat them back with sticks and canes from the back of the truck. A woman’s head is struck, and her face is soon covered with blood. Perhaps sensing further trouble, the soldiers drive off quickly, leaving a seething crowd of hundreds behind to scatter across the highway.
HOW TO HELP IRISH CONTACTS
Action Aid 1890 704 704
www.actionaid.ie
Christian Aid Ireland 01 611 0801
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Concern 1850 410 510
www.concern.net
Goal01 2809 779
www.goal.ie
Irish Red Cross 01 642 4600
www.redcross.ie
Oxfam Ireland 1850 30 40 55
www.oxfamireland.org
Plan Ireland 1800 829 829
www.plan.ie
Trócaire 01 629 3333
www.trocaire.org
MSF Ireland 1 800 905 509
www.msf.ie
Unicef Ireland 01 878 3000
www.unicef.ie