Afghan Refugees - Lasting Guests

Great news for all OTR ladies in New York and Wild Gang members in Islamabad, who kept their fingers crossed - she won the Oscar for her documentary "Saving Face"! Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, the first Pakistani to receive and hold this "Naked Man in Gold" (as it was described in a local newspaper!) in her hands. Much joy and pride - only a few voices of concern, that the film might add to an already negative image of this tormented country.
It will certainly support these poor affected women, to bring these hideous crimes on the agenda and last but not least to her work and her great commitment to stand up for the weakest and most vulnerable in this society.

A visit to an Afghan Refugee Camp in Peshawar near the Afghan border begins with tea and biscuits offered by the elders from the community, who express their needs and concerns about the future. After thirty years of hospitality to a large number of Afghan refugees, currently still 1.7 million registered and supposedly another million unregistered refugees,  the Pakistanis are increasingly impatient to see them settling back in their own country of origin. The elders see big obstacles to a successful relocation, as the  lack of security, shortcomings in law and order and governance as well as land disputes that would not allow them to settle as farmers anywhere, giving them no perspective to generate an income to support their families and most of all a paralyzing uncertainty about what will happen after ISAF troops withdrawal by the end of 2014.

The atmosphere is friendly and calm, but sorrowful. The camps became such permanent institutions, that the younger generation's identification with their own country is very limited, living here as Pashtuns among Pashtuns, hardly distinguishable from the local Pakistanis.
The repatriation centre established by UNHCR in 2002 is empty at the time of our visit - still winter with ice and snow in Nangarahr and Kabul Province, where the majority of these refugees come from. The registration for resettlement allows a repatriation assistance of 150 Dollars per person. There is a sophisticated biometric database to ensure that people apply only once for their return package. Fathers and children appear with their photo on the registration form - wives with their fingerprints only.

An elder, who guides me through the camp, invites me into his house: a very modest single room, the earth floor covered with mats and a fire place in front of the house besides the entrance. Three women greet me with excitement, but the conversation is rather limited due to my lack of Urdu. To make me understand the relationship among them, the older woman squeezes vigorously her breast and points to the younger ones in the room to demonstrate that they are her daughters whom she breast fed - at least that is what I assume she meant to show!

The walls show the signs of last year's heavy flooding with brown marks five feet high above the ground; one can only imagine how the camp must have looked like at that time. A water pump in the middle of a street provides water for drinking and washing, the youngsters carry the heavily filled  containers to their homes.

At the schoolyard of the primary school two girls manage the refreshment shop for the break and I buy a package of rice crisps on chicken/mushroom/cream sauce (??) for 10 rupees (10 cents). Many interesting delights on that table, imported from the western snack industry with unfamiliar flavors added for the local market!

Schooling is taking place - on the floor, cramped together in a small room, exercise book and pencil in hand, girls and boys mixed and the plastic sandals lined up in neat rows in front of the class rooms. Schoolbooks are scarce, the black board is the main if not the only tool for the teachers.
Only a third of the children get a basic education, two thirds remain illiterate, despite the ongoing support of numerous humanitarian institutions.

The three hour long drive back home leads through the greener part of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (formerly known as North West Frontier Province) with first blossoms of a rich variety of fruit trees (thanks to a project from the Swiss Development Agency many years ago, named "tutti frutti", and still known among the local population under that name).
The golden light, that I find only here in Asia, softens the impressions of this day, lets the scenery glow in intense colors and me finding some distance and peace again.

Arriving in Islamabad at the Enclave, the unique sound of thousands of cawing crows, these large black birds sitting in the leafless trees as if being part of them, an incredible population of croaking flying animals, always present here, hits me and announces the early evening hour. Back home again!