Devastation in Pakistan: Information and How to Help

One third of Pakistan is underwater due to flooding, killing more than a thousand and destroying the homes of millions. 

Sindh province in Pakistan underwater 2022. Ali Hyder Junejo. CC BY 2.0. 

Since June of 2022, Pakistan has been hit with floods, monsoons and tsunamis. These floods have tragically ended the lives of thousands, including many children, and forced millions of families to abandon their homes, as an astonishing one third of the country is underwater as of September, causing the death of approximately 1,500 people. Many people are wondering how an environmental disaster of this scale is possible: how have the floods not ceased for months, and how can people around the globe help the people of Pakistan? Scientists say it all comes back to climate change. For about two months prior to the floods, Pakistan experienced severe heat waves, with temperatures ranging from 40 degrees celsius to a high of 51 degrees celsius (a range of 104 to 123 degrees fahrenheit). These heat waves alone qualify as an environmental crisis, but what they led to was much worse. 

There are two primary reasons that this heat wave led to flooding. The first is that hot air tends to contain more moisture than cold air, leading to higher rates of rainfall following the heatwave. The second is a devastating effect of climate change that has been seen all over the world: higher temperatures cause glaciers to melt, flooding into bodies of water which then overflow. In the case of Pakistan, this overflow of water has caused dams to break, leading to extremely dangerous floods, with water unexpectedly rushing onto the land.

Previous flood in Pakistan, 2010. Oxfam International. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0. 

These disastrous climate events have resulted in destroying agricultural products, displacing roughly 30 million Pakistanians and killing over 1,000 people, with around 500 being children.  The destruction of crops has led to further economic crises as well as increased hunger and disease. The chief of the World Health Organization noted an increased risk of several diseases in Pakistan, such as gastrointestinal diseases, skin infections and respiratory illness. Additionally, many hospitals have been destroyed, leaving the country even less prepared to address the millions of people in need. 

Get Involved

There are several organizations which are sending aid to Pakistan right now, such as UN Women, which is sending food, medical supplies and sanitary products to Pakistan. There are also several Pakistan-based organizations to support, such as HANDS Pakistan and the Indus Hospital & Health Network, which provides free healthcare to people in need in Pakistan, at a more-important-than-ever moment like this.

Calliana Leff

Calliana is currently an undergraduate student at Boston University majoring in English and minoring in psychology. She is passionate about sustainability and traveling in an ethical and respectful way. She hopes to continue her writing career and see more of the world after she graduates. 

Pakistani Women Continue to Push for Societal Change

On March 8, Pakistani women’s rights activists took to the country’s streets for the Aurat March, which celebrates International Women’s Day and advocates for better treatment. The organizers of the protest immediately experienced backlash from the Taliban. 

Pakistani woman sitting with friends. Vicki Francis. CC BY 2.0

Pakistani women, despite the presence of the Taliban in the country, still organized and marched on International Women’s Day. The Aurat March included pushing for accessible health care, basic economic rights and equal opportunities for women. After the marches, the Taliban posted a forbidding statement: “We want to send a message to those organizations who are actively spreading obscenity and vulgarity in our beloved Pakistan. Fix your ways.” The Taliban accused participants in the Aurat March of insulting Islam. The group falsified photos and videos, signifying that protesters held the French flag.

The social media organizer for the Aurat March in Karachi responded to the Taliban’s accusations of “obscenity and vulgarity” on Twitter: “Their attempts do not and will not deter us. We will continue to organize and speak out against the violence we are subject to. We will continue to build political power and fight back.” 

Pakistan was ranked the world’s fourth worst-performing country when measuring women’s well-being and empowerment in their homes, communities and societies, according to the 2020 Women, Peace and Security Index. At least 28% of women aged 15 to 49 have experienced physical violence, according to the Pakistan Demographic and Health Survey. In the same survey, 40% of men agreed that it was acceptable to beat one’s wife under certain circumstances. With no national data for comparison, the scale of the violence against Pakistan’s women is difficult to gauge with other countries.  

The fight for women’s rights in Pakistan is not new. In 1983, over 200 women marched on the Lahore High Court in protest against former Gen. Zia ul-Haq’s discriminatory laws. In 1979,  Zia enacted the Hudood Ordinance, which required four male witnesses for an accusation of rape. Under this same ordinance, women who filed accusations of rape without without the proper witnesses could be sent to jail for adultery.

In December 2020, President Arif Alvi signed into law an anti-rape ordinance that approved the speedy trial of rape cases with women and children as victims. The ordinance also include the creation of a countrywide registry of sex offenders. The law came months after a rise in social outcry across Pakistan because of a motorway gang-rape incident. 

Inequalities are still seen between men and women in Pakistan through lower literacy rates, lesser wages and a smaller representation in government. Pakistan ranked 151 out of 153 countries on global gender parity, according to the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report 2020. 

Despite the adversities facing women in Pakistan, they continue to organize and push for sweeping changes. In the words of Aurat March Karachi’s social media organizer, “Merely existing is a radical act of resistance.” 

Kyla Denisevich

Kyla is an upcoming senior at Boston University, and is majoring in Journalism with a minor in Anthropology. She writes articles for the Daily Free Press at BU and a local paper called Urban Media Arts. Pursuing journalism is her passion, and she aims create well researched multimedia stories which emphasize under-recognized narratives to encourage productive, educated conversation.

Amid COVID-19, Garment Workers Are Asking Employers to #PayUp

While the COVID-19 pandemic has slowed down many sectors of the economy, online sales have spiked—as well as the vulnerability of many laborers working with little to no safety net. 

Sweatshop workers mass producing fabrics for below average wages. Marissa Orton. CC BY-SA 2.0.

Since the beginning of COVID-19 lockdowns, e-commerce has reaped significant monetary benefits. In the United States alone, online sales rose 43% in September, totaling $60.4 billion. Though online shops gained countless new customers, not all in the industry were celebrating.

Since March, many frontline workers have been laid off. For example, the American startup company Everlane, a clothing line that promises “radical transparency,” came under fire for terminating workers who attempted to start a labor union amid the pandemic. Despite founder Michael Preysman’s statement that the layoffs were “the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make,” non-management employees called them out. Those who held leadership positions in the company retained most of their salaries.

Across the globe, COVID-19 has weakened both the bargaining power and socioeconomic mobility of garment workers. Its consequences have been especially devastating for those in developing nations. In India, the closure of schools has led around 80,000 children to begin working as laborers. If unaddressed, the pandemic could set the country back decades on child exploitation. With limited options, families are often strong-armed by traffickers into believing their children will lead better lives in the big city. Many never see their families again.   

As a European Trade Union Institute article reported, COVID-19 did not break labor rights; it only revealed how broken the system already was. In Leicester, England, predominantly female and migrant sweatshop workers from Eastern Europe, Bangladesh and Pakistan faced wages as low as $4.50 an hour, received threats and humiliation, and were even denied bathroom breaks.. A June report from Labour Behind the Label found that online fashion retailer Boohoo’s Leicester factory was operating at 100% capacity despite lockdown orders. In the same month, the company projected that its shares had increased by 22%.Some feel that fast-fashion workers are stuck in a lose-lose situation. A Bloomberg report found that the closure of roughly 1,090 garment factories in Bangladesh amounted to an economic loss of $1.5 billion. Workers were not entitled to unemployment benefits, rendering them even more vulnerable in the face of pandemic uncertainties. A Solidarity Center article found that because of social distancing measures, workers’ ability to unionize and collectively bargain for their rights was severely limited.

Not all hope is lost, however. COVID-19 has created opportunities for critical change. As online sales have gone up, so has social media usage. In March, after notable labels such as Nike, Gap and Levi’s had canceled billions of orders, the nonprofit organization Remake revealed the plight of garment workers through the #PayUp movement. Stores like H&M and Zara were pressured into compensating their suppliers for orders that had already been produced, passing that money on to workers. While the fight is far from over, garment workers’ future may become brighter as consumers take a longer glance at the fast-fashion industry

How To Get Involved:

  • The Awaj Foundation is a woman-led organization based on addressing gender-based violence in the garment industry. It supports workers from Bangladesh. For more information on ways to support it, click here.

  • Based in Los Angeles, the Garment Worker Center aims to restore agency and dignity back to workers currently strong-armed by sweatshop conditions. To learn more, visit its website here.

Rhiannon Koh

Rhiannon earned her B.A. in Urban Studies & Planning from UC San Diego. Her honors thesis was a speculative fiction piece exploring the aspects of surveillance technology, climate change, and the future of urbanized humanity. She is committed to expanding the stories we tell.

BANGLADESH/INDIA: From No-Man's Land to the Unknown

For decades, more than 50,000 people have been stranded, without access to basic rights, on tiny islands of no-man’s land locked within India and Bangladesh. 2015 finally saw an end to these enclaves, or ‘chitmahals,’ bringing hope and change to communities living on the world’s most complex border.

The party lasted long into the night across remote patches of northern Bangladesh. As the clock struck midnight people played music, danced and sang using candles for light, and for the first time in their villages they raised a national flag. Similar events were also taking place on the other side of the border in India just a stone’s throw away. 

For 68 years, ever since the formation of East Pakistan in 1947 (which later became known as Bangladesh), the residents of one of the world’s greatest geographical border oddities have been waiting for this moment; for their chance to finally become part of the country that has surrounded yet eluded them for so many years.

At 12.01am on July 31st, 2015, India and Bangladesh finally exchanged 162 tracts of land — 111 inside Bangladesh and 51 inside India. 

Known in geographical terms as enclaves, or locally as chitmahals, these areas can most easily be described as sovereign pieces of land completely surrounded by another, entirely different, sovereign nation.

Inside an enclave, a man prepares jute by removing the long, soft vegetable fibres that can be spun into coarse, strong threads, and keeping the sticks. For many enclave dwellers, jute is where most of their income comes from and also what they use to build their houses.
 

Enclaves aren’t as rare as you may think, and until now this part of South Asia has contained the vast majority. Existing around the world, mostly in Europe and the former Soviet Union, they were once much more prevalent — until modern day cartography and accurately defined borders eliminated many. Some still remain, such as the Belgium town of Baarle-Hertog, which is full of Dutch territory. The locals have turned the unusual border into a tourist attraction. However, for this region of southern Asia, where political and religious tensions run high, the existence of enclaves is not so jovial. Life for those who are from these areas is far harder than in neighbouring villages, only minutes away.
 

Sisters Lobar Rani Bormoni, 11, and Shapla Rani Bormoni, 12, stand in a paddy field in the enclave in Bangladesh where they born.
 

“These enclaves are officially recognised by each state, but remain un-administered because of their discontinuous geography. Enclave residents are often described as “stateless” in that they live in zones outside of official administration — since officials of one country cannot cross a sovereign frontier into administered territory,” explains Jason Cons, a Research Assistant Professor at the LBJ School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas, Austin and author of the forthcoming book, ‘Sensitive Space: Fragmented Territory at the India-Bangladesh Border.’
 

Muslim men from Dhoholakhagrabari enclave pray in their mosque. Mosques are usually the only solid structures that exist inside the enclaves.
 

Several folktales tell of the origin of these enclaves being the stakes in a game of chess between two feuding maharajas in the 18th century, or even the result of a drunken British officer who spilt spots of ink on the map he drew during partition in 1947. Captivating as these stories are, the most likely explanation dates back to 1711 when a peace treaty was signed between the feuding Maharajah of Coch Behar and the Mughal Emperor in Delhi. After the treaty their respective armies retained and controlled areas of land, where the local people had to pay tax to the respective ruler, thus creating pockets of land controlled by different people.

Prior to 1947, when this region was entirely Indian territory, living in these locally-controlled enclaves made little difference. However, during the drawing of the boundary between India and Bangladesh, the Maharajah of Coch Behar asked to join India — on the condition that he retain all his land, including that inside the newly formed East Pakistan, which his ancestors had rightly won control of over 200 years ago.

So, through no fault of their own, the lives of 50,000 people turned upside down — for decades they have been stranded on islands of no-man’s land.

A man fishes at dusk using his large bamboo fish trap. This river exists just outside the enclave but as it’s in Bangladesh territory, enclave dwellers are forbidden to fish here otherwise angering the local fishermen. 

Enclave dwellers fish in a flooded paddy.

During the early 1970s a framework to find a solution to this problem was put in place — called the 1974 Land Boundary Agreement. For forty years, as governments came and went, neither the Indian nor the Bangladeshi politicians were able to agree with their counterparts at the time. And whilst the politicians squabbled, the residents suffered.

Only informal work, like at this sawmill, is available for enclave dwellers in Bangladesh.
 

On the ground there are no border fences or security checkpoints, and without realising it, you can walk in and out of India countless times, crossing an international boundary completely obliviously. However, there is a serious lack of infrastructure and this has been one of the most serious problems facing the residents. Paved roads quite literally stop at the boundaries to the chitmahals, as do electricity poles. The enclave inhabitants in Debiganj District of Bangladesh, as non-Bangladeshi citizens, were even barred from sending their children to school, also receiving no state assistance or even the most basic of hospital treatment.

Sheltered within their small bamboo house, located inside the enclave of Dhoholakhagrabari, Eity Rani, 14, and Shobo Rai, 8, carefully do their homework by the light of an oil lamp. Life is much harder for children who are born in enclaves.

 A Bangladeshi man sits in a shop in the market of a small town that sits between enclaves.

Every Saturday a jute market is held in Debiganj. For the many inhabitants of the enclaves that surround the town, jute is where most of their income comes from.

Wearing just a lungi — a traditional sarong worn around the waist — Sri Ajit Memo is sitting in the middle of a small muddy courtyard, surrounded by houses made of bamboo and jute sticks. At 55 years old, his family have lived in a Dhoholakhagrabari chitmahal for generations. Chewing on the twig of a certain tree that locals here use as an alternative to toothpaste, he explains, “All kinds of problems exist here. The government doesn’t care about us, or our children, and so it’s very difficult for them to even go to school. Honestly, we are Indian, but how can we feel this way when we get no help from them?”

For enclave dwellers on both sides of the Indian-Bangladeshi border, the entitlement to receive even the most basic of rights has eluded them.

Reece Jones, an Associate Professor in Political Geography at the University of Hawai’i Manoa, who has visited many chitmahals on both sides of the border, explains further, “After decades in this situation many people have found ways around it through bribes to officials or through friends who helped them to obtain the documents they needed, such as school enrolment forms for their children. However, the situation was not stable or secure. They were extremely vulnerable to theft and violence because the police had no jurisdiction in the enclaves.”
 

Rupsana Begum, 7, (pink dress) and Monalisa Akter, 7, (orange dress) are from an enclave but were able to come and study at Sher-e-Bangla Government School because their parents managed to acquire fake documents and were able to pay the school.

In Dhoholakhagrabari enclave students and their teacher sit in a madrassa class. Because enclave children have a difficult time accessing the education system in Bangladesh the locals of this enclave formed an Islamic Foundation funded on donations.

Today, after decades left living in limbo in these randomly placed no-man’s lands, around 47,000 people on the Bangladeshi side and some 14,000 on the Indian side have finally been given the right make a choice: stay where they have lived for generations with official citizenship of the country that will absorb them, or return to their country of origin.

None of the residents living in Bangladeshi enclaves within India asked to return to Bangladesh and as a result they will now all become Indian citizens. However, on the other side of the border in Bangladesh, whilst the vast majority of the Indian enclave dwellers decided to stay and become Bangladeshi citizens, 979 people requested to return to India. For these families, the enclave saga has yet to end.

Of those 979 individuals, a total of 406 come from Debiganj district. In 2011, a team of Indian officials visited every home in every enclave in Bangladesh and produced the first ever detailed census of all those living within the Indian enclaves. This report formed the basis of all subsequent decisions on the status of each person living in the enclaves.
 

An old lady inside her home, which has no running water or electricity, in Dayuti enclave.
 

Dhonobala Rani, 70, gets emotional knowing that she has to leave her son (in the blue shirt) behind in Bangladesh, as she takes Indian citizenship.

Several months after my visit to document the enclaves during the final days of their existence, those who had chosen to leave for India finally crossed the border, leaving their homes in Bangladesh forever. In India they were given land and began the process of integrating into Indian society. Those who chose to stay behind in Bangladesh also started to receive such basic rights as eligibility to vote and access to health care.

Let us hope that after decades of struggle on these isolated political islands, the lives of these ex-enclaves dwellers can begin to reach some level of normalcy. In the end, after so many years of uncertainty, the world’s strangest border region has now become a thing of the past.

A lady from Ponchoki Bhajini village, in the enclave of Dhoholakhagrabari. She has chosen to leave for India, to start a new life as an Indian citizen. 
 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA.

LUKE DUGGLEBY

Luke Duggleby is a British freelance documentary and travel photographer living in Bangkok.