Street Children

Dear Fiza,

Your FB share of Lewis Hamilton taking a picture with street children in the Philippines (UNICEF) gave me a major flashback to the street children I saw in Pakistan, Karachi and Quetta when I visited back in October 2006. All this time I had buried those images of small children scavenging through dumps and street litter for food, clothes or god knows what but now I feel like I need to write to you about that heart wrenching experience which I never shared.

Over time I have been curious about what leads innocent children to the streets in “3^rd world” countries. If I run into a documentary or an article I have to stop and read and educate myself. Deep down, I feel good that I am learning about the suffering of these young souls but then I am now feeling like something more actionable has to be done on my part. It is a sad fact that violence and poverty is driving these children to homelessness – they run away due to harsh family lives or abuse from extended families. It is estimated that in Karachi alone, approximately 10,000 children between the ages of 7-17 are living on the streets. Unfortunately, they eventually fall prey to coercion by street gangs who end up abusing them physically and sexually. In addition, the police add to the abuse because there are no consequences for their actions and biased beliefs. Hence, these lost souls live in the most extreme state any human being can live – no love, care, true companionship but mere fear. It is no surprise that their harsh realities turn them to substance abuse. Sniffing, smoking and injecting drugs such as glue, hashish, heroin etc. which are cheap to find in the streets and substance abuses seem to be their only escape; it helps them starve off hunger, loneliness and fear. Such a heartbreaking reality!

In 2006, when Noor and I arrived in Karachi – I was so thrilled to visit my old home town of Gulshan Iqbal-Johar Square and possibly see the old parks and shops that I use to visit with my mom, family and friends. My memories of Karachi were so fond – I always felt like a princess living there because everything I wanted was readily available to me; fun outings and picnics with the family, great friends whom I played with outside all day long without any supervision and the unforgettable months of Ramadan when neighbors would wake each other up for Sehri, Eid shoppings late into the nights. Life was very safe, secure and enjoyable as a child. I was only nine years old when we left Karachi to come to America in 1990 but those memories stayed with me and I always missed Pakistan. Now to think about it, I don’t remember street children from my childhood. I don’t know if I was oblivious to them or maybe so few existed and weren’t in the area that I grew up in. Johar Square was fairly new so maybe the later was true. Well, going back in 2006 my expectations, out of ignorance, were high. I thought I would find that town exactly the way I had left it. Clean, happy, green with little girls and boys running off to school in their neatly pressed uniforms and shops opening up to sell goods to the locals and those same Suzuki’s exclusively escorting travelers from the main roads to our town because cars were not allowed on the road to our “Johar Square” complex.

When we arrived at Karachi airport in October 2006, my aunt, her son and husband picked us up – it was night time so I didn’t see much as we were passing through some towns to go to Surab-ghot where they lived. I did notice lots of people on the street but thought it was normal because it was the last days of Ramadan and people usually would be out in crowds shopping for Eid. A few days past and I started learning more and more about the conditions in Pakistan and the amount of fear that existed. My aunt and uncle were very weary of their children going out to the streets to play, they were reluctant to Noor and I going out without an escort and they made sure to have a Taxi ready right in front of the house if we did decide to go out. I questioned the fear and they explained in very little words that it was due to the “street children.” I didn’t understand but basically the explanation was that there were many groups of gangs out there on the street near their house and they were always ready to steal or mug if they detect that someone had “goods” on them. Out of respect, I stayed cautious and listened to their guidance around the city. It was October but boy was Karchi HOT and super humid. Luckily I didn’t have to wear the burqa or full covering but was able to get a way with a long scarf with my cotton Salwar Kameez. This gave me the ability to view and take in how the area I grew up in had changed so much. On the second day of my arrival, I asked my aunt to take us out – I wasn’t really looking forward to the shopping but really taking in what I had left behind so long ago. As we ventured out to the main roads I noticed so much rush, so much pollution with trash burning on side roads and so much poverty. Immediately my attention went to the litter filled sidewalks/streets with dozens of children, boys and girls, ages ranging from 4-12 maybe older but because they were so malnourished I couldn’t tell. I saw young children smoking, some lying around/sleeping, many with ripped clothes grazing through the litter. It was the most painful scene and experience I had encountered. I asked many questions but was never given true answers, I realized that maybe it was due to ignorance on my families part or they had learned to accept it as a norm just like we here in the US have accepted gangs/drug dealers in inner cities as the norm so I stopped the questions and just observed. I was quite affected by these street children’s realities; I couldn’t sleep well or eat well because my mind would drift outside the gated house into the streets and think of what those young kids may be up to at that hour.

It was then that I contacted you to come take me to Defense so I can see a friend who could understand the emotions I was going through. I had never visited Defense before but when I entered the city I thought I had stepped back into my memories of Karachi and Johar Square from my young days. I was so happy inside because for once I was enjoying my trip without being reminded of the poverty that did exist in Karachi. Defense truly was beautiful, like a little cocoon and so perfect. I loved visiting you and meeting your beautiful mom and dad…meeting the generous and happy cook and driver. I mostly loved going upstairs to your room – it brought me back to the Mills days when we would visit each other’s dorm rooms and sit on the bed chit chatting or just sitting around trying to figure out what to do. I have such fond memories of my visit with you in Defense. The shopping mall, drive around Defense in the air conditioned car and me worrying the whole time about your driver waiting for us to shop (I thought, how cruel he must think we are to make him wait!) and of course the lovely dinner outdoors that your parents treated us to at the local club (can’t remember the name). It was fun to see all the snobby (no offense) aunties with their daughters by their sides like they were showcasing their prized possessions. It sure was an experience, truly loved every bit even the new money aunties – too bad I can’t recall the little jokes we made here and there but it was quite some fun. So thanks to the one day adventure with you, I felt more balanced and relaxed. I finally thought I could enjoy the rest of my trip. Maybe it was then that I shut out those images of street children deep within – a state that most will fall into when they feel helpless, hopeless and powerless.

The next few days passed and Noor and I headed out to Quetta, Pakistan to visit his siblings. I was happy to find that the weather was not as hot and humid – a great relief but it sure was more conservative then Karachi; I couldn’t get away with just a headscarf anymore but I didn’t mind because I truly wanted to experience the full living style of the area and it wasn’t as hot as Karachi. There was a huge Pasthun population there and of course the streets were busy and bustling with vendors, young and old shoppers and just people carrying on daily lives. It was nice to visit because I was also looking forward to meeting other cousins of mine and of course meeting the rest of my In-Laws. Everyone was so happy and hospitable; I felt very comfortable and felt genuine love from the young and old. Noor’s brother lived on the outskirts of town so every time we wanted to go to town, we would get a rickshaw or taxi to venture out to town. Poverty existed but it wasn’t as much as Karachi or maybe I didn’t witness it as much because we were staying outside of town, I felt quite comfortable – for selfish reasons. I couldn’t bear to see anymore suffering; I was enjoying the nice weather, cheery faces and young kids that were playing in the streets. We celebrated Eid in Quetta. Eid in Pakistan is amazing! So different from how we celebrate here in the states. Kids from all over the neighborhood came to visit my brother in law’s house. We had them come in and some came and sat in the family room for a cup of tea. We laughed and joked and shared stories about our new Eid outfits, henna paintings and preparations for this big day. I can not describe the giggles and smiles on their faces as I stood there chit chatting with them and complimenting them. It was truly a joy meeting all the kids from the neighborhood the funniest part was when they started comparing my looks to some Hindi movie star – I thought it was the most hilarious and cutest thing...good times.  

My month long trip was soon coming to an end and I had learned and seen so much. In Quetta I hadn’t experienced any major sufferings. One day I was going out to town and my eyes turned to some street litter. The images of those children in Karachi started re-appearing. To my surprise I saw young kids about 4 of them scavenging in the waste. Towards the last few days of my trip I again noticed a few children out on the street late at night. My cousin took Noor and I out to an ice cream parlor. When we were heading back home right there in the middle of the street laid a baby – maybe at the age of 3 or 4. I didn’t realize it was a child and when I did I wanted to run over and grab him/her my cousin re-assured me that they were not alone that the parents were nearby but usually put out their kids on the street like this to beg. To this day I think about that baby and why I didn’t stop. I should have stopped, I should have showed some love and care, I shouldn’t have been so fearful of the night or the possibility of what could have happened if I had stopped. That regret and guilt will forever be with me, those innocent children’s realities will forever haunt me and their images will forever strike me.

In 2008 when Slumdog Millionaire was released, I went to the theaters with Noor to see the movie. The first half of the movie just triggered my memories of Pakistan’s street children. The brutal lifestyle, inhuman treatments etc. were all replaying in mind. I sat there in the dark sobbing – not of what I was seeing on screen but of what I was reminded of. It sure was deep pains. I hope and pray for the young and innocent that fall prey to poverty and helplessness. I find great comfort when I hear of great organizations like UNICEF who are out there bringing light to these issues around the globe and helping fight unjust realities of our times.

In June of 2004 there was great study done: United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime - Solvent Abuse among Street Children in Pakistan. It outlines the drug abuse among this group of children. It also provides some viable recommendations of how local and international awareness is necessary in order to bring about an organized strategy around solvent abuse which would include prevention, rehabilitation and support to the affected street children.