THIS is a region where wars produce warlords. Banking on bloodshed, they do business in guns, bullets, mortars, grenades, rocket launchers and every other possible implement of doom that money – ill-gotten mainly from plunder and the narcotics trade – can buy. So long as they can live, these warlords live it up. But that's just one side of the macabre scenario emerging from the Pakistan military's ongoing offensive in the northwest Swat Valley to eliminate the so-called Pakistan Taleban, the jihadist ally of Al-Qaeda. The picture on other side is equally disturbing. For the hundreds of thousands of civilians callously uprooted from a way of life that had for generations nurtured only the spirit of hospitality so typical of touristy Swat – the Switzerland of Pakistan because of its icy blue lakes, lush gardens and orchards set against ice-capped mountains – life is equally precarious. Evidently without the evil adrenalin pumping up the reckless warlords, these refugees appear hopelessly trapped at the bitter end of life's cruel road. It was by chance that I arrived in Khozkhilla Jallah Camp in Mardan, some 50 km from the war front when the military's ground offensive began last Friday. Hundreds of men, women and children lined the road as our car drove into the camp. They were carrying on their heads bundles of clothes and whatever little they could retrieve from their homes in Swat. Hundreds of others were packed into overloaded taxis, cars and trucks heading for the camp. Our arrival caused barely a stir among the refugees. Young or old, they all seemed lost in their thoughts, their eyes wide open from sleeplessness and blanked by shock painfully dissipating into despair. Nearly every attempt at conversation with the refugees received this opening response: “We have escaped from Taleban hell to the unknown. Chaos and destruction everywhere – no water, food or medicines.” They were bitter. They were sad. They told of torture, fear and humiliation at the hands of the Taleban. “All I can remember is the horror and terror,” said Naushad Aurangazeb, in his 40s. He said he lost his wife and three children in the military's opening wave of aerial bombardment that was meant to hit the Taleban hideouts. “I saw hundreds of charred bodies lying on the ground,” Zaib said. “It was a horrible!. I had no choice but to escape – to what? This?!” Nasreen Hussein, an old woman who appeared to be in her 60s, blamed the Taleban. “My husband was killed though we had nothing to do with the Taleban who used us as human shields,” she said. “The troops were heavily shelling the buildings, especially the areas they thought the Taleban were hiding. Sometimes they bombed civilian areas.” Many had little hope of survival in the camp. “We are sleeping in the open. Our children are starving and dying of infectious diseases,” said Nazeer Shour, a 25-year-old man. “Diarrhea, scabies, malaria, you name it, it's all here.” He said the international relief agencies should move in quickly to provide them with essentials such as water, medicine and food. A North West Frontier Province (NWFP) government relief official said the camp was overcrowded. “We have so far registered about 3,000 families and still there are many thousands who need help but we cannot take them in because there is no more room in this camp,” the official said, asking not to be identified. Jalalah Camp is one of 17 camps set up by the government in Mardan, the gateway to Swat Valley. All the camps in Mardan were already overcrowded when I visited last week. By Thursday, the refugee count rose to 834,000. NFWP officials said they expect another two million refugees as the war intensifies. They said they plan to open six more camps in Swabi and Mardan. At Katlam relief center located in Rustom, just 20 km from Buner, the flashpoint of the war, I saw 10 trucks loaded with medicines and food supplies. There were no tents at this center. The refugees were huddled outdoors, in scorching 40° C heat. Here I met Hajji Fatah Khan and his big family. He told me that the Taleban had robbed all their valuables and belongings. “I saw gangs associated with the Taleban threatening and forcing the inhabitants to leave,” Khan said. “I don't want the kind of Shariah and religion that the Taleban are speaking about.” “Islam does not allow the bloodshed of innocents so what Islam are they advocating? These people only know the language of bloodshed.” Khan was despondent. “We were leading an honorable and dignified life in our hometowns but now we are homeless, living in this miserable camp.” Some refugees accused the government of not caring enough for them. They wondered how the government can ever hope to shelter millions of refugees with an allocation of just $2.49 million. The Red Crescent has warned of a major humanitarian disaster in Mardan if more aid was not forthcoming. At every camp I visited, I saw long lines of refugees waiting to be registered by only two or three officials. “Look at our miserable condition,” said Hajji Mirza Matwkel, a weary old man who was in a 30-40 meter-long line. “We reached this camp at 10 o'clock last night and we are still here in the open without a tent!” Does he expect to return to Swat any time soon? “I don't know,” he said. “You tell me.” Clearly the cash-strapped Pakistan government is facing its biggest refugee crisis since the 1947 displacement caused by the partition of the subcontinent. The war to crush the Taleban may take a while. But time may run out far sooner for these helpless refugees.
