With more than 1,600 people dead, 14 million people affected and one fifth of the country under water, Pakistan faces a mammoth humanitarian and economic crisis that threatens to overwhelm its already fragile government, writes MARY FITZGERALDIn Nowshera, Pakistan
THE WATERS came silently like a thief under cover of darkness and before Mukhtiar Akbar knew it, the swirling currents were up to her neck. Long into the night, she and her family waded desperately through the floods, at times struggling to keep their heads above water, until they reached higher ground. Shivering from the cold, their hands wrinkled from hours immersed in water, Mukhtiar and her family huddled together as dawn broke, thankful that they had survived where so many others had perished.
More than a week after that night, Mukhtiar stands forlornly at the door of what remains of her house. Her stained, damp shalwar kameez is the only item of clothing she has left. The walls of her modest home tell their own story. The water line left by the floods reaches almost to the ceiling. Just above it, on a shelf Mukhtiar reserved for her most treasured possessions, sits a delicately-patterned china tea set. Untouched by the foul-smelling sludge that has covered everything else in the room, it serves as a poignant reminder of life before the deluge. “What little we had before is gone,” Mukhtiar says, as she swats away numerous flies. “Everything has been destroyed. Only God knows what will happen to us now.”
Mukhtiar, her family, and the neighbours that share this warren of narrow streets and alleyways in the northwestern town of Nowshera, now talk of their lives in terms of before and after. Before the torrential downpours that brought such devastation to Nowshera and massive swathes of Pakistan. Before the unprecedented floods which Islamist groups have declared a “punishment” from God. Before the mammoth humanitarian and economic crisis that threatens to overwhelm Islamabad’s already fragile government.
The UN has estimated at least one fifth of the country is under water, including huge tracts of Pakistan’s agricultural heartland in central Punjab, but the scale of the destruction seems far greater. The figures collated so far offer only a bare sketch of this unfolding crisis, the magnitude of which hints at far-reaching social, economic and political repercussions.
More than 14 million people have been affected, of whom six million are children. The number of dead is tentatively estimated at more than 1,600.
Although the death toll so far is lower, the UN has noted that the total number of people whose lives have been turned upside down by Pakistan’s worst flooding in memory outstrips the more than three million affected by the 2005 Kashmir earthquake, the five million affected by the Asian tsunami and the three million affected by the Haiti earthquake earlier this year.
But unlike those disasters, in which the enormity of damage was almost immediately apparent, this one has played out in slow motion over several weeks. After wreaking a path of destruction through the mountainous northwest province of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa late last month, the deluge made its way south through bloated rivers, inundating vast areas in the densely populated provinces of Punjab and Sindh.
Amid warnings of further rainfall, there are fears that the worst is yet to come. Of particular concern is the threat to two of Pakistan’s largest cities, Hyderabad and Karachi. Many in the humanitarian community fret that the world has not yet taken notice of the extent of the catastrophe. The UN has appealed for almost $460 million (€359 million) in emergency aid, but the total pledged so far stands at only $157.8 million (€123 million).
“The death toll has so far been relatively low compared to other major natural disasters, but the numbers affected are extraordinarily high,” says John Holmes, the UN’s under-secretary-general for humanitarian affairs. “If we don’t act fast enough, many more people could die of diseases and food shortages.”
To get to Nowshera from Islamabad, you must take the Grand Trunk Road, a route that dates back to the Mughal era and remains one of the most celebrated arteries in south Asia. A week ago, parts of the road were submerged, but now the waters have receded leaving it clear. On lower ground around Attock, where the River Kabul meets and intermingles with the mighty Indus, there is water as far as the eye can see. Knots of tree-tops here and there provide the only distraction in what looks like a series of joined-up lakes the colour of milky tea. Where once there were fields, farmsteads and cemeteries, now there is only shimmering water.
TV footage shows similar scenes across Pakistan’s central and southern belt, the watery vista broken only by miserable archipelagos of isolated homes and makeshift tents erected on tiny patches of higher ground. Those who have not been evacuated wave frantically at the helicopters overhead, looking for food, water, and, above all, rescue.
Everyone expects the death toll to rise. “Six thousand villages wiped off the face of the earth,” says Abdullah Hussain Haroon, Pakistan’s ambassador to the UN. “From 5,000 to 50,000 per village, we have no way of counting. We have nothing operational as to how many of those have died and how many are alive.
“It is horrendous . . . It is going to put us back so many years that we’re not even starting on the infrastructure.”
IN NOWSHERA,Mukhtiar's nephew Arif counts 20 to 30 people he knew personally who have died. Another man tells how three days after the waters had receded, he found the bodies of several friends who had not been able to escape. "The floods came at night and many people were in bed," he says. "It happened so quickly, they drowned in their sleep." Some talk of the countless others still missing, and wonder if their bodies lie buried under the thick silt surrounding the swollen river bank.
An elderly woman stands weeping as she surveys dozens of collapsed homes close to a mosque, where more than 180 women scrambled to safety at the height of the floods. For three days they were stranded on its roof top without food or water until army helicopters dropped aid packages from the sky.
Of the displaced, the lucky ones have set up home in empty schools. The not so fortunate are forced to endure Pakistan’s searing August heat in fetid tents pitched along roadsides.
Nowshera’s main market, once home to hundreds of shops and stalls, lies shuttered and deserted apart from a dozen or so vendors selling pitiful piles of mangoes, bananas and pears amid the churned-up mud. Much of the produce is beginning to rot, yet prices have more than doubled. “The crops are all ruined and the roads are blocked, we had no other choice but to put prices up,” says Bahadar Ali. “Most of us have lost our shops. This is all we have left.”
While the water may be slowly receding in towns like Nowshera, the anger and frustration of people is not. Dwindling food supplies have added to the sense of desperation felt by those who have lost loved ones, livelihoods and homes. “I’ve seen people fighting like animals over small bags of food,” says one man from a nearby village, shaking his head. “What will the next weeks and months bring if already people feel so desperate?”
MUCH RAGE IS DIRECTEDat Pakistani president Asif Zardari and his administration, which was already considered weak before the rains struck. Given the sheer scale of the floods, even the best-prepared government would have struggled to cope. Damage to roads, bridges and other infrastructure has severely hampered relief efforts, as has continuing rains. But Zardari's behaviour has served only to fuel public fury. He chose to press ahead with an official visit to Britain and France last week, despite mounting evidence that Pakistan was experiencing the worst natural disaster in its history. Pakistanis were appalled to see TV reports of homes, crops and animals being washed away juxtaposed with footage of a grinning Zardari meeting British prime minister David Cameron or visiting his family's chateau in Normandy. Zardari's supporters insist his visit was necessary to secure international aid, but most Pakistanis disagree.
Fatima Bhutto, niece of Zardari’s deceased wife Benazir, and a long-standing critic of the president, has described the floods as “Zardari’s Katrina” – a comparison with George W Bush’s much criticised management of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath.
The political fall-out is likely to be serious – many believe the crisis has dealt what may be a fatal blow to people’s faith in the current civilian government while enhancing the standing of Pakistan’s all-powerful military. The army has quietly taken the lead in relief efforts, using helicopters to evacuate people and dispense aid.
Also likely to benefit is the country’s constellation of Islamist groups. As during the 2005 earthquake in Kashmir, these organisations and affiliated charities have lost little time in mobilising their extensive networks of volunteers to fill the vacuum left by government delays and ineptness.
The Falah-e-Insaniat Foundation, an alleged front for Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) – a banned militant outfit blamed for the 2008 Mumbai attacks – has been distributing food and aid supplies in several parts of the country. Another group, Jamaat ud Dawa, officially outlawed due to its links with LeT, has also been involved in relief work.
I saw one leaflet distributed by Jamaat ud Dawa which describes the floods as divine retribution, a message its activists are also disseminating by word of mouth in camps for the displaced. Analysts warn that Islamist groups may exploit growing public resentment to rebuild support, particularly in pockets of northwestern Pakistan where the military was forced to move against an emboldened homegrown Taliban last year. There are also fears that the militants – who have largely lain low since the army offensive – may take advantage of the post-flood chaos to stage a comeback. Last week, the Pakistani Taliban called on people to reject any aid provided by the US for flood relief. It also crowed over the impact of infrastructural damage on Nato supply routes into Afghanistan.
As the true scale of the flooding becomes apparent across Pakistan, aid workers have prioritised needs such as food, water and shelter, while medical personnel are focusing on preventing the spread of disease in chronically unsanitary conditions. Relief agencies, including Concern and Trócaire, are distributing emergency supplies. Many admit to struggling with the overwhelming nature of the crisis.
“Given the geographic scale of the situation, and the inaccessibility due to damaged roads and bridges in large areas, Concerns efforts are only a small part of the bigger needs of the population affected,” says Lucia Ennis, Concern’s regional director. Her colleague, Mubashir Ahmed, agrees. “The task before us is immense. We want to do more, we must do more, but we can do only as much as our resources allow.”
How to help Irish contacts
Action Aid
1890 704 704 or actionaid.ie
Christian Aid Ireland
01 611 0801 or christianaid.ie
Concern
01 417 7700 or concern.net
Irish Red Cross
01 642 4600 or redcross.ie
Oxfam Ireland
1850 30 40 55 or oxfamireland.org
Trócaire
01 629 3333 or trocaire.org
MSF Ireland
1 800 905 509 or msf.ie
Unicef Ireland
01 878 3000 or unicef.ie
