A 'Tea Party' in the Islamabad children's hospital ward

The Islamabad hospitals are filled with refugees from mountain villages along the Mensehra, Balokot, and Muzafarabad route. Even in the best of times, relatives must provide the majority of daily care to patients...in this time of the earthquake the nursing staff available is minimal.

And many of the patients are children. Often the parents of injured children are themselves in hospital... or worse... dead. So adult relatives remain with the children 24 hours a day... or sometimes there is no one to look after the child...its true...except for the rare visit by a staff person, the child fends for herself helped out of simple kindness by a mother or aunt of child in the next bed. Often the adults themselves are ill. And most have no means...no money...no belongings...to support their own needs....yet they remain faithfully besides the beds of the children. The fidelity is inspiring.

Desiree, Ben, and I had visited the hospital earlier. We were received first with apathy...and after a while suspicion... by both the children and the adults.

The circumstances in the hospital are grim. The rooms are bleak and crowded. And the food...dahl (lentils) and chapati (flat bread) is simple but colorless and unappetizing...just providing sustenance..only barely better than nothing.

I know that I would not be able to manage in this circumstances.

The children and their caretakers need everything. We attempt to direct specifically some of the massive aid flowing into Pakistan here to the hospital. The needs are great all over the northern portion of the country. Without advocates individual situations like a hospital ward for children can easily be overlooked.

The Mueenuddin Fund certainly could not provide everything, so we decided to plan a party...a tea party... and to invite everyone in the ward. If this sounds frivolous in the midst of the deprivation, we concluded that two hours of excitement, newness, sweets, attention, music, people exhibiting some concern for them would be worth the time and the small amount of money.

Our idea of a 'tea party' is silver containers, flowers, tablecloths, colorful sweets, congenial surroundings, music.

We hold the party at the hospital in a meeting room. We invite the whole children's ward and the staff. Many people from other wards stand outside the room and peer through the windows. We don't have enough for them.

The room is bright and clean with shelves and even a toy or two. It is a surprisingly pretty room, small yet enough if everyone sits on the floor. Some chose a raised platform in the middle. The food is fresh and colorful. We serve Pepsi, rather than tea, to drink because for the children colas are a real treat.

The results of the party exceed all our expectations.

In the images that accompany this posting, you will note that everyone puts on their best clothes and best faces. The images belie the desperate everyday conditions.

We spread everything out on the floor on a big pretty starched tablecloth bracketed by fresh cream-colored gladiolus and we bring rugs and mats from Lauren's house and place them around the room.

Lauren singa 'Ghazals' with her music teacher. He plays the
tabla and the harmonium. He also sings alone. His songs
from Kashmir strike a chord. This style of Pakistani music is very emotional.

Everyone, including all of us (Ben, Desiree, Josh, Nyal, Kailen, Liam, Lauren, me) cries. The women weep into their shawls, the men shed tears that stream down their faces. I think that kind of communal grieving relieves the soul better than solitary grief.

Kailan, Nyal, and Liam (Lauren's and Tamur's children) serve the Pepsi and are sweet with the children. The reserve of the adults dissipates somewhat when they learn that Lauren speaks their language and sings their songs.

We cut up the many cakes, pass out candies, serve salty fried things.

We receive requests for clothing, warm socks and sweaters from the staff and the guardians.

Although we had earlier concluded that we couldn't meet their needs, we discover that its impossible to ignore the personal entreaties, so we decide that we would attempt to get together some packets for the families in the hospital ward.

Desiree, Josh, Ben, Nyal, Kailen, and even Liam, and I go to the International School in Islamabad to help create packs for individuals with boots, warm coat, wool wrap and 2 pairs of socks. All sizes...destined for the mountains.

UNISEF bought tons of these items from China...enough for 52,000 packs each to be loaded on trucks as it was filled. The school took on the packaging as a project and the project overwhelmed everyone. Three days into it and it is far, far from done.

Another huge load is coming in two days. At least a hundred people are required.

Tamur Mueenuddin, in his emergency response capacity with UNICEF, is coordinating the purchase, packaging, and delivery of these aid goods to the Muzzafarabad area.

Reports of many deaths and cold related illnesses in the mountains are coming in.

I find working at the International School today satisfying and will continue to do it. It is very concrete, and communal work, and you can send one's own personal blessing with each pack.

Kailen is fascinated with writing...he has learned the word 'caligraphy' and likes the sound of it. He writes SB (for small boy) on more than 30 individual bags so that they can be distributed with accuracy. Plus he watches Liam while the rest of us help out packing.


Katherine Ingram