Lockdown from a basement apartment in Pakistan
Over a third of the world is currently in lockdown due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Experiences of lockdown differ vastly from country to country. Our Voices from the Field officer Sibtain Haider gives us his account of what lockdown is like in Pakistan.
Lockdown at home
It has been over four weeks now since the lockdown started in Islamabad, as it did in most parts of Pakistan. The lockdown looks different in different parts of the country. But overall the virus does seem to be in some control given the 207 million population, as so far the cases are below 6,000 as of mid-April.
The lower-income proportion society is finding it hard to make ends meet, especially for the many losing their daily wage as their only income. But at the same time, numerous local organisations and individuals are donating food and groceries to the poor and less fortunate. Philanthropy has seen a huge upsurge in the country, as tends to be the case during the Islamic months of Ramadan and Muharram.
In these times, being able to stay home without worrying about your paycheck is a blessing and not something the majority enjoys. I, fortunately, am one of the lucky ones who can work from home. But even then, there are parts I am struggling with. Not worrying about your finances is great, but being stuck at home still is tiring, boring and monotonous – I assume most people across the world are feeling the same way.
I live with my family of five in a basement unit in Islamabad. Most houses in Islamabad are separated into three separate units and are rented out separately – the ground floor, the first floor and the basement floor. Living in the basement floor means we don't get much light. We don't have any outdoor space unless we step out of the house.
Cherishing every ray of sunlight
I love sunlight coming in from the windows – it keeps me feeling lively and happy. But now that I'm working from home, I rarely get to see sunlight.
Neither my bedroom nor my workstation in the guest room have windows that would get the limited light that we do in the basement like my parents’ room does.
Being at home all the time, I appreciate whatever sunlight we get in the house. So, I am capturing the moments and things when the natural light is entering and hitting in different parts of the house, mostly the kitchen and my parents’ bedroom. Life feels to be at a standstill, but it is giving us time to focus and appreciate things we often neglect or take for granted.
As well as missing the light, I was not happy working on the small desk I have in my room which I sometimes use to do personal stuff on my laptop. It didn't feel like a place I could concentrate on my work.
So, I took the opportunity of no one visiting our home right now to use our guest room and set myself a workstation there.
Adapting to the new normal
Now, there is enough room for everything on the desk, so it does not feel cluttered. I am actually liking the new space. I have a bigger room to myself which means I can have my laptop, camera on a tripod and the light all in one place. I can shoot anything I want and edit all in one place. It feels like a studio. And I don’t think I will be ready to give this space up when life comes to ‘normal’! Too bad for any guests coming!
I do step out some days for a 10-15-minute walk in our street. Thankfully there is a lot of nature and inspiration for sore eyes.
Thinking of other communities in my country, those less fortunate
Lockdown also means no more visits to the communities we work with, no more listening to them about their lives, and most importantly, for me no more capturing people on my camera. Not to mention the chai, the sweet, milky tea they serve in their homes. That chai has a distinct taste which they make using fresh milk from their own cattle. And they won’t let you leave unless you have chai, the most wonderful Pakistani hospitality.
Knowing that so many familes now have water close to their homes, thanks to WaterAid, fills me with contentment. To know they are able to wash their hands when it is more important than ever, is a greater feeling than anything.
But as I reminisce, I also think of the women and girls I met who had to walk for almost an hour to bring water home. The first person who comes to my mind is Noor Bano, whom I met in 2018. She had to take over 2,000 steps to get to a water point, wait there in queue for 15-20 minutes and then return with just one garha (clay pot used to carry and store water) of water. A few months later, I was told by our partner staff that there was a water pump installed near her house.
It makes me feel so relieved that things changed for Noor, as it did for Shama in another village called Thatta. These women have so many more opportunities now that their lives aren't dedicated to collecting water for their families.
But there are still many people who do not have handwashing facilities with soap and water close to their homes. That, in these times of crisis, worries me.
But I am hopeful that this shall end soon. We shall soon be back to our normal lives. We shall soon resume our work with the communities. I shall be out more often seeing light and also capturing the lives of the people we work with.
We shall come out strong. We shall win. Stay hopeful, you all!
Right now, our teams around the world are working urgently to provide handwashing essentials to stop the spread of coronavirus. See the latest and how you can support.
