Peshawar is a typical frontier town in Northwest Pakistan that’s home to a number of refugee camps. North of Peshawar lies the tribal zone, an area where Pakistani law does not apply. The zone is divided up among tribes and controlled by tribal "agencies." Each agency has its own set of rules. A foreigner cannot enter this area without a permit issued by the ruling agencies. Refugees arriving in towns within the tribal area have to pay their way into Peshawar. The journey from Kabul to Peshawar takes two and a half days and costs several thousand rupees.
The Peshawar bus station is a transit area for refugee families. Most refugee families from Bara, a tribal town within the Hyber Agency, come through the station. Bus drivers tell us that they bring in anywhere from 1500 to 2000 people from Bara daily. There’s a steady arrival of buses each day from 5 p.m. to 6 a.m. It’s here that we meet Sereft Ali. He’s carrying two small bundles and tells us that he’s brought his family from Kabul. "Kabul is being bombed," he say, referring to the US air attacks around the Afghan capital. "There are many dead people and the hospitals are full with the injured."
Another bus arrives. As people exit, a woman wearing a burqa reaches out for my hand. She is shaking. I try to find Zohra to translate but I’ve lost her amid the chaos: in the mass exit from the bus, people are shuffling about, unloading luggage, and hurrying away. As I yell for Zohra, the woman, still shaking, tells me in a muffled voice, "I speak English. I am educated." Her name is Sukufe, she is coming from Kabul. "Kabul is bad, very bad," she whispers, "everywhere is being bombed." As she tries to find words to say more while clinging to my hands, a Pakistani man charges toward us from the crowd and starts yelling in Pashto. The woman doesn’t understand what he is saying, since like most non-Pashtun Afghans she only speaks Deri, a Farsi dialect. But we can feel the tension rising around us. "I have to go," she says and disappears into the crowd that has started to gather around us.
The Pakistani government has banned foreign reporters from entering the refugee camps around Peshawar. Nevertheless, with Zohra’s help, we get clearance to enter Shamshatoo, a camp for new arrivals set up on the outskirts of Peshawar.
Though Peshawar is busy, the area around the city is barren. Traffic is light — mostly donkeys, trucks, and the occasional private car. The road to Shamshatoo village is bumpy — and dusty. By the time we reach the camp, our car is covered inside and out with a fine, powder-like dust. It presages the conditions inside the camp. There’s a "main square" where refugees gather monthly for aid distribution. The dusty square quickly fills with people waiting for rations from the World Food Program, the largest distributor of aid in the world: 15 kilograms of wheat flour, one kilogram of lentils, and three-quarters of a liter of vegetable oil per person. Given the circumstances, it seems like a reasonable amount of food. The problem is that the only refugees eligible for food are those who’ve registered in the camp. But most of the refugees taking shelter in the camp have made it into Pakistan illegally. Fearing forced repatriation, they’ve chosen not to register with governmental and non-governmental agencies helping the refugees. Instead, many take shelter with relatives or friends who are registered, and they share the now-meager rations.
One such refugee is Ahmet Shah, a 26-year-old Pashtun. He describes his stay with his parents in Shamshatoo as temporary. "I have only come to accompany my family and make sure they are safe here in Pakistan," he says. "I will go back to Kabul and fight with the Taliban against America." Ahmet supports the Taliban, and soon he will join the mujahideen — Muslin guerrilla warriors engaged in jihad. When I ask him why he left Afghanistan, he says, "I had to get my family out of Kabul. We were afraid the Northern Alliance would advance in on the city. They harass our women and burn our houses. We know them well."
Ahmet tells us that he brought his family over to Pakistan by negotiating with the tribes along the border. He says that they had to walk over the mountains for two days to enter Pakistan, that there were approximately 20 men and 40 children among the people accompanying them. "People are running away from the air attacks," he says. "Taliban does not bother us. We prefer them, they have brought us peace. And as long as they are in power we have nothing to be afraid of. They will bring us peace, peace and the Islamic rule."
Although Ahmet Shah has a clear view of the war, the lines are not so clearly drawn within Afghanistan or its neighboring countries. Still, as the flood of refugees puts ever more pressure on Pakistan, the tension continues to mount. In Pakistan, the anti-Afghan sentiment is giving way to anti-US sentiment, which is expressed in the now-routine Friday demonstrations against the bombing campaign. Pakistan is taking in refugees and spewing out mujahideen. With no viable political solution to the crisis on the horizon, hope and aid are running short for the millions of Afghans who have fled their country.
Bikem Ekberzade can be reached at bikem71@yahoo.com Visit her Web site at www.geocities.com/bikem71/
