Humans, not statistics
Best way to honour the sacrifice 65 polio martyrs is to make sure that never again does any worker face death
Poverty takes away identity. Few would immediately recognise the names Hameeda, Sania, Hamida and Ijaz. There was no international solidarity campaign for them, no twitter hashtags to increase awareness about their loss, no emotional speeches from the PM, no vigils and no discussion of what hell their families are going through. It was, as if, the four were just a statistic. There were 61 before, now the tally is 65.
The news that four people, who were out to work on the national polio campaign, killed in the line of duty was about everything except those who lost their lives. The stories, from the New York Times to the BBC — focused on Pakistan’s political challenges and failures in the polio campaign — did not even bother to name the victims, as if they just do not matter. They do matter.
Hameeda, Sania, Hamida and Ijaz are not just a statistic. They represent the bravest members of our health-workers family, who do what most will never have the courage to do. For an insultingly low wage, our health workers risk their lives, day after day, for a better tomorrow.
The violence is indeed mind-numbing but our collective response is also suffocating. Automatic, heartless and pre-fabricated condemnation is insulting and insensitive. We need to recognise that our health-workers, both women and men, are among the bravest sons and daughters of our soil. If it were not for them, there would be a whole lot of more suffering. Even those of us who have access to functioning hospitals would be vulnerable with outbreaks of diseases that are currently in check because of our frontline force in public health. If there was ever any doubt about the bravery and sacrifice of Pakistani women and their contribution to the workforce, we just need to look at the selflessness, grace and bravery of our lady health workers, who against all odds and with paltry salaries, save the lives of millions every day. Many leave homes and families, never to come back. Many of these brave men and women continue to work in dangerous environments, without a permanent position, with no chance of real benefits or pension, but still face baseless criticisms from politicians who know little about health or governance.
In the light of the recent tragedy in Quetta, the increasingly fragile policy on polio — or any other disease outbreak — needs to recognise that any real action is just a theory without those who carry out the mission. If there is no foot soldier on the ground, the policy may make for an interesting academic debate, but is powerless in saving a life. The list of things to do to recognise the efforts of our health workers is long, but there are a few urgent things that we all need to do. By ‘all’ I mean all of us, those in the corridors of power, those vying to be in those corridors and those who are permanently outside that fraternity, willingly or unwillingly.
First, we need to give our health-workers a voice. Whether through our growing list of TV channels or through newspapers, we need to honour them and ask them for their thoughts on our challenges and strategies. They are our best hope and need to be a part of the conversation about a healthy future. Second, we need to push for accountability, both in finances and in management. Where are we failing our brothers and sisters? How is all the aid and commitment utilised? Is Rs250 or Rs500 a day really the best we can do for them? Is it incompetence or a deep-rooted social attitude that wants to keep them permanently at the bottom of our economy?
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there needs to be real commitment in pursuing those who are there to silence their will and commitment. We are quick to create task forces when a politician or a soldier is assassinated, but mute when our healthcare workers are targeted. The best way to honour the sacrifice of Hameeda, Sania, Hamida and Ijaz and 61 other polio martyrs is to make sure that never again does any worker face death while giving the gift of life.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 2nd, 2014.
The news that four people, who were out to work on the national polio campaign, killed in the line of duty was about everything except those who lost their lives. The stories, from the New York Times to the BBC — focused on Pakistan’s political challenges and failures in the polio campaign — did not even bother to name the victims, as if they just do not matter. They do matter.
Hameeda, Sania, Hamida and Ijaz are not just a statistic. They represent the bravest members of our health-workers family, who do what most will never have the courage to do. For an insultingly low wage, our health workers risk their lives, day after day, for a better tomorrow.
The violence is indeed mind-numbing but our collective response is also suffocating. Automatic, heartless and pre-fabricated condemnation is insulting and insensitive. We need to recognise that our health-workers, both women and men, are among the bravest sons and daughters of our soil. If it were not for them, there would be a whole lot of more suffering. Even those of us who have access to functioning hospitals would be vulnerable with outbreaks of diseases that are currently in check because of our frontline force in public health. If there was ever any doubt about the bravery and sacrifice of Pakistani women and their contribution to the workforce, we just need to look at the selflessness, grace and bravery of our lady health workers, who against all odds and with paltry salaries, save the lives of millions every day. Many leave homes and families, never to come back. Many of these brave men and women continue to work in dangerous environments, without a permanent position, with no chance of real benefits or pension, but still face baseless criticisms from politicians who know little about health or governance.
In the light of the recent tragedy in Quetta, the increasingly fragile policy on polio — or any other disease outbreak — needs to recognise that any real action is just a theory without those who carry out the mission. If there is no foot soldier on the ground, the policy may make for an interesting academic debate, but is powerless in saving a life. The list of things to do to recognise the efforts of our health workers is long, but there are a few urgent things that we all need to do. By ‘all’ I mean all of us, those in the corridors of power, those vying to be in those corridors and those who are permanently outside that fraternity, willingly or unwillingly.
First, we need to give our health-workers a voice. Whether through our growing list of TV channels or through newspapers, we need to honour them and ask them for their thoughts on our challenges and strategies. They are our best hope and need to be a part of the conversation about a healthy future. Second, we need to push for accountability, both in finances and in management. Where are we failing our brothers and sisters? How is all the aid and commitment utilised? Is Rs250 or Rs500 a day really the best we can do for them? Is it incompetence or a deep-rooted social attitude that wants to keep them permanently at the bottom of our economy?
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there needs to be real commitment in pursuing those who are there to silence their will and commitment. We are quick to create task forces when a politician or a soldier is assassinated, but mute when our healthcare workers are targeted. The best way to honour the sacrifice of Hameeda, Sania, Hamida and Ijaz and 61 other polio martyrs is to make sure that never again does any worker face death while giving the gift of life.
Published in The Express Tribune, December 2nd, 2014.