Pakistani Educational Leadership Project at Plymouth State University

Following is a true story written by me (already published in ‘Natura’ – the WWF-P monthly Magazine in 2006.

Uncle! Don’t go away!

It was the noon of 27^th October when we picked up a group of about 20 people from Bheri who were either critically injured or had an injured person to be attended. While flying back from Serli Sacha the chopper was almost empty but now it was so overcrowded that I along with some of my other fellows had to stand against the door opening to the pilot cabin. A number of injured people were lying down on the floor while a few minors were held in arms of their elders.

While standing against the door, I was trying to have some snaps of the people when a child of about four captured my attention. He was in the arms of a young man and had a white strip on his forehead, bearing his name, address etc. The worn out brownish shalwar qamees reflected that he had a narrow escape from a collapsed school building. He seemed weak and hungry but the wounds on his left leg would not let him think about these problems. He was gazing me while I was taking shots. I looked at him and give him a brief smile. His eyes glittered and I felt the return of my smile. I again became busy and took out my video camera but I couldn’t help to throw a glance on him once again. The dirt on his face and hair could not veil the innocence and purity of his eyes and face. Suddenly I felt that I was feeling something very close, like I had known him, for this injured kid. The feeling which I missed for the last four – five days due to keep watching people in agony and pain in almost every village of this area. I tilted towards him and asked about his wounds but in the roaring noise of the chopper I could not even heard my own voice. He didn’t move for he couldn’t but he returned me a silent ‘ hello!’ I give away to talk to him for it was useless however, he was fully attentive to me and kept watching me as I took a shot of him as well.

I felt the chopper landing on the ground and suddenly every body panicked. I also started preparation of putting myself off board. The big back door of the chopper was opened while we came down from the front smaller door.

As we were standing aside and watching the people unloading their relative and loved ones off the chopper, I totally forgot the kid I just exchanged smiles with. All the injured were guided and taken away by the army Jawans, when the young man with moustaches came towards me holding the same child in his arms. He started asking something, which I understood, was about the medical camp. I pointed towards the medical camp run by the German team of doctors at one end of the huge Stadium used as a helipad. He stopped and said ‘ No Sir! This kid is mine. I came here with my injured mother!!’ I didn’t understand for short while what he was trying to say. ‘ Then who is this kid?’ I asked in a casual voice. ‘ He has nobody to care. None of them survived’

I began to feel a little tension when an army Jawan came and took the kid away from the young man. ‘Don’t worry we have a number of such cases. He will be kept in a very good care until someone come to get him’. He took the kid and started walking towards the medical camp. ‘ Uncle! Don’t go away!’ I heard the voice of the injured kid behind my intentionally kept stiffed neck. It was heart – piercing and I could not withstand against the strange wave of emotions starting from my feet and creeping up to my head. ‘ How come I became your uncle? I know you hardly for a few minutes? Please don’t repeat it again. Please!’ I tried to keep myself standing by getting support of the opened backdoor of the chopper, never looking back for I know I was the only person whom he felt belongingness with after that nightmare.

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