As Pakistan's flood waters recede, damage is grave

THE floods in Pakistan have become old news, but the destruction and devastation of land and lives continue unabated. Heavy monsoon rains have come and gone, but low-lying areas remain under water. The international response has been slow and inadequate.

In the minds of some donors, a flood is a catastrophe somewhat less pressing than an earthquake. It is perhaps the visible devastation of an earthquake — the twisted buildings, roads, and bridges — that is so compelling and heart-wrenching.

In a flood, when the raging waters turn into stagnant lakes, the apparent tranquility of the surface belies the devastation beneath.

The floods have extracted an unprecedented toll: almost 2,000 people dead, most livestock gone, wheat and cotton crops destroyed, and much of the infrastructure — roads, bridges, and railroad beds — swept away in affected areas. The extent of the damage becomes evident only as waters recede and a scarred and unrecognizable landscape emerges.

Charsadda is a small town about 20 miles north of Peshawar in northwest Pakistan. Three rivers that bear mountain runoff empty into the nearby Kabul River. In 1921, the British constructed a dam on one of the rivers to bring large tracts of barren land under cultivation, ushering in an era of prosperity for generations of farmers who grew tobacco, wheat, and sugar cane.

This year, when surging waters from mountain runoff pounded the dam, it collapsed. Rushing waters engulfed Charsadda and hundreds of villages and towns downstream, and added to the already overflowing Indus River 50 miles to the east.

The Indus River is the lifeline of Pakistan. It starts in the highlands of western Tibet and passes through Kashmir before it enters Pakistan. For the next 1,400 miles, it meanders south to the Arabian Sea.

In addition to nourishing the land and providing sustenance to millions of people, the Indus also gives texture and substance to the cultures and languages that have flourished along its banks since antiquity.

In the 1980s and 1990s, I led a number of expeditions to explore and photograph the entire length of the river, from Tibet to the Arabian Sea. I still remember small villages and towns where we stayed during our voyages and the simple, kind, and generous people we met along the way. Now the same river — tranquil, placid, friendly, and life-sustaining — has turned into an angry and bloated serpent, destroying everything in its path.

On satellite images, the thin blue line running down the middle of the country has turned into a gigantic channel that measures 100 miles wide or more in some places. Submerged are towns and villages — Lieah, Mirani, Kalabagh, Mithan Kot, Moenjodaro, and others. Twenty million people have been displaced from their homes.

Though a flood of such magnitude has not been recorded in history, scholars and archaeologists say that major flooding of the Indus River destroyed the sophisticated Indus Valley civilization that flourished along the river between 2300 and 1700 B.C. At Moenjodaro in the southern province of Sind, archeologists have been excavating, since 1922, the world's first planned city from that era. The site likely will be engulfed by the Indus.

The response of Asif Ali Zardari, the president of Pakistan, and his government to this unprecedented catastrophe has been haphazard and dismal. As the country was inundated with floods, he left for an official visit to Great Britain and to spend time at his chalet in France. In the Pakistani press, he is called the “Nero of Pakistan” after the Roman emperor who fiddled while Rome burned.

In this vacuum, ordinary citizens and private organizations have rushed to provide desperately needed help to homeless people. With international aid finally arriving, immediate suffering is being addressed. But it is going to take many years to repair the breached dams, reclaim farmland, construct housing, and repair and build infrastructure.

The United States diverted much-needed helicopters from Afghanistan. It provided rescue missions to far-flung areas where people have been stranded for weeks.

If you are inclined to help, donate through a recognized charity that is registered in the United States. The Eidi Foundation, the Association of Physicians of Pakistani Descent of North America, and the Pukar Fund are three I am familiar with and can vouch for. Donations can also be made to the Flood Relief Fund of the Islamic Center of Greater Toledo.

Dr. S. Amjad Hussain is a retired Toledo surgeon whose column appears every other week in The Blade. Contact him at: aghaji@bex.net.