(Click photo to enlarge.)
Dr. Mubarak with Nazia, age 9, and her father at the CARE health clinic (2009 Rick Perera/CARE)
(Click photo to enlarge.)
CARE Project Manager Zulfiqar Alam with children visiting CARE's mobile health clinic. (2009 Rick Perera/CARE)
(Click photo to enlarge.)
Dr. Mubarak, CARE Project Manager Zulfiqur Alam with patient Bacha, age 65. (2009 Rick Perera/CARE) |
It's hard to know what's worse – the homesickness, or the irritation that's plaguing her eyes. Nadia, age 9, and her family trekked for days from their home in the Swat Valley of northwestern Pakistan to get here to the village of Pirano Banda, in Mardan district. Now she's waiting in line at a CARE-sponsored medical clinic, blinking and squinting, as her anxious father Nazir holds her hand.
"My eyes have been hurting ever since we left home," says the third-grader. "It's so hot and dusty here." She misses the cool, green countryside where she was born, over the mountains and a world away from these brown plains and this scorching summer heat.
She's not the youngest patient in the makeshift clinic waiting room, shaded under a green tarpaulin. More than half a million children under age 5 are among the nearly 2 million internally displaced persons (IDPs) who have fled violence in their picturesque valley, some of them seeking refuge in camps, most sheltering in crowded schools or private homes.
Nadia's family of 10 is living in a small rented house here, waiting for the day when it's safe to return home. Her father doesn't know how long he can afford to pay the rent of 600 rupees ($7.50) a month.
"I'm a laborer, and there's no work here," says Nazir. "Meanwhile back in Swat, the wheat crop is rotting, because there's no one to harvest it."
There is indeed work here – but not the kind we're happy about, remarks Pir Akbar Jan, the elected councilor who represents the village. "Child labor was already a problem in this region, and it's been growing since the IDPs started coming." He's heard stories of children taking jobs for pitiful wages – in the tobacco fields, driving donkey carts or as ticket collectors on buses – anything to support their destitute families.
Children make up many of the patients waiting to see the staff at the daylong medical camp – with separate clinics for men and women. "We're working as fast as we can, but we can't treat any more than 200 people a day, and there are so many waiting," says Dr. Mubarek, the physician in charge of the men's clinic. Next door, the women's clinic is even more overcrowded, in the hands of a frantic female health worker because a female doctor isn't available yet." As it is, we only get here once a month. We need more doctors," says Dr. Mubarek, as he leans down to examine Nadia's eyes.
Medicines as well as health workers are in short supply, while the number of IDPs seeking care jumped from 41,113 to 72,892 in just three weeks, according to the World Health Organisation. Only 27 percent of the funds requested to meet IDPs' health needs have been raised. The situation is only likely to get worse as the monsoon season quickly approaches, and both camps and host communities deal with inadequate sanitary facilities, raising the risk of diarrheal diseases.
At current funding levels, CARE's mobile clinics will reach about 12,000 people – both IDPs and the community members who are stretched to the breaking point by hosting them. With an additional $40,000, CARE can bring lifesaving care to twice as many people.
Dr. Mubarek has finished examining Nadia. His verdict: she has a seasonal allergy, and it should clear up soon. He writes a prescription for some medication. "Don't worry, by the time you turn 18 your allergies should go away on their own," he reassures the girl.
As Nadia clutches the form she wonders: How soon will my homesickness heal?
