So this was/is the village. Basti Korai in Sandeela, Muzaffargarh.
As you can see from the pictures I’m quite bad at making captions. Oh and that these people lost everything. We gave them three weeks of ration, two medical camps, clothes/blankets and finally set about rebuilding their houses a few weeks ago. By we I mean the following people, though these don’t even skim the surface of our volunteers, we’ve had truck loads of them over the four months, more than we needed really, at the end it just got sickening and we had to start telling people to fuck off and get a life or something.
True story. We took this guard man along for crowd control because good intentions alone can’t ensure a safe and equitable distribution of goods, but the idiot let off a round by mistake in the middle of our set up, the shrapnel narrowly missed my head and fuckhead up there explained that he was trying to unload the gun so as nobody got hurt, but it got stuck and his finger clipped the trigger. I must be nobody then, because I was certainly hurt. Emotionally as well as physically. I couldn’t hear anything for the next ten minutes. That’s my man Shah telling him to get a fucking grip.
Not the kind of people you want to meet in a dark alley. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Of course, to make sure there was no duplication or fraud and that everyone got their due (especially in terms of family sizes) in the numerous distributions we did, we had to survey the entire village and give them relief cards which they would shows us to receive our aid. Being an easy going and sociable person, this was no difficult task for me.
No amount of social skill can avert those inevitable misunderstandings though.
Of course, I’ve found that as long as your heart is in the right place, and you’re doing things for the right reasons, nothing can really go wrong.
All’s well that ends with my getting out alive though, so overall our intervention was, and continues to be, a roaring success.