Child beggars line roadsides

Five-year-old Shahzeb cannot read the notice he holds up. Scrawled on a piece of white cardboard are four large letters in English. They read simply, ‘HELP’. “My big brother made this notice for me. I go to school but we haven’t yet learned to read English,” Shahzeb explained. The mischievous grin that lights up his face as he talks suggests that despite the cold and the fact he has had no cooked meal for many days, he is rather enjoying his new task. Shahzeb sits with dozens of other small boys and girls along the roads leading out of Balakot, 90 km from the capital Islamabad, in North West Frontier Province (NWFP), and from Mansehra towards Battagram and Shinkiari, hoping to attract the attention of passing relief teams. Their number grows daily and many now call out for “amdad” (aid) whenever a vehicle slows, extending their hands to collect money, packets of biscuits and other items. Many of the children sip at small cartons of juice, an item many had never seen before the quake. “It’s very nice. It tastes sweet and it’s nicer than water,” says Zakia, 10, helping her younger brother, aged two, insert a straw into a packet of mango juice. While these children are often watched over by a family elder, it is feared their actions might lead to organised begging. Lucrative child beggary rackets exist in all large cities and many smaller towns in Pakistan, but until now the mountainous areas further north have been spared this criminal activity. “It’s really not good to get children used to begging. It’s exploitative and even in these desperate times it’s not what is required,” said Ryan Williams of child-rights group Save the Children, which is setting up shelters for child quake victims. Qayyum Muhammad, a shopkeeper in Battal, agreed. “People are now just using their children to get what they can,” he said. “It’s not dignified and it’s not good.” However, the practice is increasing by the day. With schools across the region still closed because of continuing aftershocks, roadside begging has turned into a game for many children. “We also compete to see who can collect the most. It is good fun,” says Wali, 11, before racing off to grab a carton of milk offered by the driver of a passing jeep. He keeps the items he has collected in a tattered rucksack he will take ‘home’ at the end of the day to his family’s plastic tent, set up a short distance from the road.