By Madeeha Ansari

AS part of a global research project on forced migration, I was able to listen closely to the stories of children who had perhaps one, perhaps two parents of Afghan origin, and whose only memories were of life in Pakistan. The most powerful, common motif reverberating through their experiences was: ‘I was born here’.

In September 2023, an announcement was made giving undocumented families and individuals of Afghan origin a deadline of Nov 1 to exit the country. This impacts an estimated 1.7 million people, and includes communities that have experienced protracted displacement since the 1980s. For many, a second and often a third generation of children has grown up in Pakistan. However, without pathways to citizenship, their position has remained insecure — even for registered refugees, Proof of Registration (PoR) or Afghan Citizen cards have been subject to renewal after a certain time period.

What, then, is identity? If identity is a document, then it could be a valuable key opening doors to education, livelihoods, the dream of a future different from that of an uprooted generation. The PoR or Afghan Citizen card fit into some doors, enabling bright-eyed young people to enter formal schools and build, brick by brick, those imagined futures. But identity as a document can be a vanishing key, as many now fear deportation in the second phase of the plan as currently shared.

The fear of repatriation was one reason why some of the most vulnerable communities — often in informal, urban contexts — chose to remain invisible, even if that meant giving up even the most basic rights. There was nothing promised to them, yet they fought to stay — moving multiple times, even from the rubble of bulldozed settlements. Perhaps, then, identity is more than a piece of paper, and has something to do with homes built and rebuilt, relationships forged, children born and raised.

They were born here. When embracing friends, saying goodbye, tearing up at the border while facing uncertainty ahead, a voice somewhere whispers: they belong here.

In a parallel reality, children born in Pakistan would have had access to the same kind of birthright citizenship, according to the 1951 Citizenship Act, as those who came as refugees to the country in 1947. They would be able to open bank accounts, own property, enrol in schools with the confidence that comes from a secure national identity. In this alternative vision, they would have the responsibilities that come with citizenship rights, part of a social contract and contributing to a shared and harmonious future.

But our reality is less than utopian, with a crippling economic crisis and worsening security conditions driving both public and policy reactions. One question is whether the sudden exodus of Afghan communities will truly impact, for the better, the fuel prices having a paralytic effect on families in Pakistan — or the rising threat of violence from angered Taliban neighbours.

For the children and families now being sent to holding centres or across the border, the signs are pointing to a humanitarian and “human rights catastrophe”, according to the UNHCR, the UN refugee agency. It will be the latest wave of disruption and displacement, this time to a barely post-war pariah country with little international support, and few or no remaining personal networks to moor them. The likely scenario will be the setting up of yet more camps during a harsh winter, with little time to prepare for their arrival and basic survival in terms of food and shelter, let alone livelihoods and education. The journey itself is fraught with physical protection risks for women and children, who are ever the most vulnerable in a crisis. Once there, unless there are provisions for protection, sanitation and hygiene in camp conditions, there will once more not only be risks in terms of disease but also physical and sexual violence.

They were refugees here. And if they go ‘back’ to Afghanistan in this way, they will be refugees there. In the medium term, there are big question marks surrounding livelihoods and education, and whether Afghanistan has the capacity to absorb such a large number of people. For children, sudden and involuntary migration can have a deeply traumatic impact for which there are unlikely to be psychosocial support mechanisms, or the provision of safe and child-friendly spaces that can provide stability. In fact, there is a high likelihood of families relying on negative coping strategies such as early marriage and child labour to survive. Girls are expressing terror at the prospect of losing their chance to go to school, in the only country where female education is banned.

As of Nov 5, an estimated 128,000 people have left via Torkham. While this is a fraction of the intended numbers, there are reports of minors being separated from caregivers, and of Pakistani Pakhtun minors being mistakenly sent across the border. If anything, all this indicates that an undertaking of this magnitude needs more time, careful planning and communication across stakeholders — including governments, UN agencies, civil society and individuals at risk — to ensure that any return is truly what we as a country have for decades promised it will be: voluntary, safe and dignified.

Identity is a tangled mesh of past and present. For third-generation children, growing up in a ‘host’ country means their identities are informed by transmitted memories and culture — but also very much by their lives and experiences in the only home they have known. We owe it to them to consider them, their protection and rights in any next steps, so they can say with pride that they were born in Pakistan.

Featured Photo by Kevin Kremer

The post Born in Pakistan appeared first on Cities for Children.

The welcome address was given by Ms. Afshan Tehseen, Chairperson of the NCRC, who drew attention to the invisibility of street children and shared her own experience of working with them over the years. Madeeha Ansari (Founder, CfC) shared the findings of the policy brief in detail and talked about the importance of ensuring every child has the right to a childhood. Susan Andrew (Child Protection Specialist, UNICEF) applauded the rights-based approach adopted in the policy brief. Other distinguished panelists included representatives from civil society as well as the media.

Madeeha Ansari (CfC Founder)

Click here to read the full policy brief on street-connected children.

The policy brief launch is a huge milestone in our journey towards making sure street-connected children be seen, heard and counted. Our engagement with policy-makers began exactly a year ago on International Day for Street Children, 12 April 2021, when we organized a National Parliamentarians Consultation to start a conversation around adopting a rights-based approach towards street-connected children in Pakistan. Since then, we have been engaging with civil society as well as government to address the pitfalls of the current system and developing policies that best suit the issues on hand.

The next steps involve a call to action on implementing the policy brief and partnering with policymakers to make sure the recommended steps from the brief are turned into policies to bring a real system-wide change.  

Afshan Tehseen (NCRC, Chairperson)

Some of the key recommendations that were pointed out included reviewing and amending relevant federal and provincial legislation affecting street-connected children, removing barriers to formal schooling such as the requirement for B-forms and age-related barriers, expanding the availability of drop-in spaces or non-residential facilities and establishing a case management system.

The post LAUNCH: CfC and NCRC Policy Brief on Street-Connected Children appeared first on Cities for Children.

by Madeeha Ansari

IN February 2021, a landmark bill to ban corporal punishment in all educational and childcare settings was moved in the National Assembly by MNA Mehnaz Akber Aziz and passed with cross-party support. The Islamabad Capital Prohibition of Corporal Punishment Bill 2021 was then sent to the Senate where it was cleared by the Standing Committee on Human Rights — but not without amendments. Two guest senators called in to apply a religious lens had reservations, backing the right of the teacher to apply discretionary force to maintain discipline, and to prevent “moral deterioration of society”.

Whether or not these reservations have actual basis in religion, they certainly point to social and cultural norms that justify violence as a means of teaching a lesson. The validation of the use of corporal punishment “for the benefit” of children formerly lay in the law — in section 89 of the Pakistan Penal Code (PPC), which the new legislation overrides. However, it also lies in a tradition in which older people are vested with the power to teach through force — to hit, spank, pinch or use other creatively cruel means to punish a child for ‘not listening’, or ‘not learning’.

Violence as a means of establishing authority is a concept perpetuated across generations, from a time pre-dating the articulation of child rights. The idea of childhood has evolved even since 1860, when the PPC was formulated: no longer is it a time when children are to be seen and not heard, straitjacketed into a mould. The thinking around the effectiveness of corporal punishment has — or should — also change, based on scientific evidence. A comprehensive review of studies published by The Lancet journal in June 2021 presents overwhelming evidence that physical punishment actually makes children’s behaviour worse over time, rather than being linked to positive outcomes.

Fear of pain or humiliation can be a tool for deterring ‘bad behaviour’ as long as the threat is present — but not for self-regulating behaviour when the adult is not present. As for learning, the impact can only be detrimental, pushing children away from the teacher as well as the space of learning. The answer to a question has never magically dawned upon a child after being struck, or while squatting in a ‘rooster’ position, but substantial numbers of children in Pakistan have been driven away from school for fear of physical punishment and non-physical humiliation.

Violence as a means of establishing authority

is a concept perpetuated

across generations.

Learn more here: https://citiesforchildren.co/our-work/positive-caregiving/

The ICT Prohibition of Corporal Punishment Bill, passed in the joint session of Parliament on Nov 17, is a step towards recognising children’s dignity and human rights, as well as the science that points to the adverse impacts of violence on children. Remarkably, it is rooted in an evidence base that confirms the harmful effects of corporal punishment on the cognitive, social and emotional development of children, and directly addresses the psychosocial effects — including the creation of aggressive behaviour. Children experiencing corporal punishment in childhood are more likely to use violence to resolve conflict with peers, bully others, or to be involved in partner and domestic violence later in life.

The new law is hugely welcome, especially as a blueprint for other provinces where it can be taken forward by the Ministry of Human Rights. Its coverage spans spaces where children access education or protection services, including formal, non-formal and religious schools; childcare institutions, including foster care and rehabilitation centres; and the juvenile justice system. It also lays out varying penalties for violation of the ban — ranging from censure and withholding promotions, to dismissal from service. The call for a complaint system and clear consequences for violation add an important practical dimension, even though the highest level of consequence — disqualifying the offender from future employment — seems to have been removed in Senate deliberations. Presumably, this would have been for the most egregious form of violence or offence, so it can only be hoped that employers hiring people to work with children would carry out some form of background check.

What is essential now is the formulation of rules of business to take things forward. Protocols for implementation will be needed for the designated competent authorities — the Ministry of Education, Wafaqul Madaris and the Ministry of Human Rights. There will need to be greater clarity on the mechanisms for complaint and redress, and on how the penalties are to be applied. In addition, while experiences from all over the world have shown that legal prohibition of corporal punishment works, it is not enough. Teachers, care institution staff and — in the case of juvenile justice systems — the police, will need support in order to change and to embrace new codes of conduct in practice.

To transform a classroom culture that they themselves have known, teachers need to be equipped with alternative tools and strategies to corporal punishment. Another important aspect that will have to be addressed is how parents and caregivers approach the issue. The law is not a blanket ban that covers the private sphere or aims to regulate what happens within the home. However, there is a strong link between the home and the school: when holding workshops with teachers on positive approaches to discipline via Cities for Children, one response that came through was that children ‘did not know how else to learn’, because that’s how they were taught at home. Parents from underprivileged communities, working hard to send their children to school, would themselves tell the teachers to hit their children into submission and learning.

According to the Global Partnership to End Violence Against Children, “No culture owns corporal punishment, but all have a responsibility to disown it”. Cultural norms can change — as can people. The first step is to declare certain practices as unacceptable, which the bill clearly lays out. The second step is to share, through public campaigns and specialised trainings, the evidence that those practices don’t work; that they actually harm children and affect who they become in the world; and that there are other, better ways of teaching both academic and life lessons. The case for love is powerful, and is ultimately reinforced by science, religion and culture — we just have to adjust our lens.

The post Corporal punishment as culture appeared first on Cities for Children.

On 3 and 4 August 2020, Cities for Children organised two consultations with civil society members and government titled ‘Policy Meets Practice,’ with the aim of addressing challenges faced by street children in Pakistan. The Consortium for Street Children defines street-connected children, or “street children”, as children who depend on the streets to live and/or work and who often have strong connections to public spaces as part of their day to day lives.  A number of challenges faced by street-connected children in Pakistan were identified by the organizations in attendance at the event and actionable solutions were put forward as recommendations for policy makers.

Street-connected children are often neglected and left to fend for themselves; their thoughts and opinions are often unheard and ignored. How can we truly address their challenges without understanding what they are? This is counter-intuitive, but policy is often looks down and overlooks the voices of the most vulnerable in society, sometimes exacerbating the issues.

A child rights approach calls on all relevant stakeholders to incorporate the perspectives of street connected children in any policy-making process that can impact their lives. The recommendation was for policy makers to review relevant legislation surrounding street children and examine them through a child rights lens as offered by the UN General comment No.21 on Children in Street Situations.

Many street-connected children belong to refugee, displaced or mobile communities who often do not have the requisite identity documentation to access services like public education, healthcare, bank services etc. Obtaining this documentation retrospectively is a difficult process. A lack of identification documents can be a great hindrance to street children’s participation in mainstream education and economic activities.

Partners like SPARC and Pehli Kiran Schools shared their experiences on the issue. Without, for instance, birth certificates, children are prevented from accessing education and this eventually contributes to high dropout. There is a need to streamline and simplify the process of obtaining identity documents, a measure which would allow more children to attend school.

Every child has a right to an education. However, in order to sustain themselves and their families, children may have to look to create income from the streets. Street-connected children may no longer see the benefits of attending school for their children once they begin supporting their family financially. Policymakers must partner with civil society organizations to engage with parents directly, understanding their needs and wants, while also incentivising education. Such grassroots activities can allow families not only to understand the long-term benefits of education but also the short-term gains. Working directly with the people most affected allows us to truly understand their circumstances so that all the relevant stakeholders can work towards systemic changes. 

Street-connected children are especially vulnerable to physical, psychological and sexual violence. Every child has the right to be safe from cruelty and harm. Therefore, policymakers should look to strengthen the child protection system. Furthermore, authorities must make sure legislation and processes embody a do-no-harm ethos, installing protocols for duty bearers such as the police who handle vulnerable children to hold them accountable for their actions.

A continuum of care would mean following up with families after reunification processes, so that children do not end up back on the streets. The creation of drop-in spaces for children to learn and to play in safety is an important step to creating alternatives to the street.

Poverty affects people in many different ways. The conditions that street-connected children grow up in can potentially force them into potentially dangerous situations such as taking on labour that threatens their safety and wellbeing. It can also leave them vulnerable to violence and trafficking.

We call on policymakers to work with families to create alternatives to sending children into hazardous labour, or to work on the streets. This could include access to social protection and welfare programmes like Ehsaas being extended to communities in urban poverty; or creating sustainable solutions such as access to micro-finance for enterprise and livelihoods. Creating stronger financial foundations for families and providing opportunities for children to continue education could allow them to finally break the cycle of intergenerational poverty. 

The post Policy Meets Practice: Discussion Recommendations appeared first on Cities for Children.

On 23 June 2021, Cities for Children facilitated a workshop for civil society organizations in Pakistan entitled “Change Our Story” – Understanding and Implementing UN General Comment No. 21 on Children in Street Situations. 

This was the second in a series of three events to forge a path forward for street-connected children in Pakistan, with support from the Consortium of Street Children. The aims of this session were to promote participants’ understanding of the UNGC 21 as an authoritative international instrument; to discuss real-world challenges faced by organizations in education and protection; and explore how to embed the rights-based approach of the UNGC in practice.

Participants included representatives from a number of organizations who have been working on issues related street children and child protection in Pakistan, including  Dost Foundation, Sahil, Search for Justice, Door of Awareness, National Commission on the Rights of the Child and SPARC. 

The session began with a conversation on who we meant by “children in street situations” or “street-connected children,”  and an exploration of some of the salient features of UNGC 21. The UNGC 21 takes a non-discriminatory, rights based approach towards street-connected children, with an emphasis on children’s participation in matters concerning them. It lays out three kinds of approaches: the welfare approach, taking the lens of rescuing children as victims; the repressive approach, which includes criminalization for survival activities; and the rights-based approach, which considers the child as a rights-holder and the state as the duty-bearer.

UNGC 21 holds guidance for prevention (pre-empting the challenges of poverty and domestic violence) as well as the response that governments can adopt to ensure the rights of street children. It lays out a roadmap for developing comprehensive national strategies related to such children. These include a legislative and policy review to eliminate provisions that discriminate against street children, and the practices that place them at risk including forced eviction. Data collection to gauge the scale of the challenge (while avoiding stigmatising street children or placing them at greater risk) is another national level recommendation, as is the creation of comprehensive child protection systems. Also,  importantly, the General Comment reminds policy makers and civil society organisations to acknowledge the complexity of the issue and to prioritise individual children’s best interests in all situations. As adults, it is easy for policy makers and civil society members to assume that they know what is best for a child. The UNGC 21 emphasizes that children must be given a say in determining their future.

Urgent challenges 

After an initial description of UNGC 21, the workshop participants were asked to share their experiences and identify urgent challenges faced by street children in Pakistan. Five major themes emerged during this brainstorming session: 

• Violence of different kinds including physical, sexual and psychological
• Access to education, impeded by factors like lack of documentation
• Discriminatory laws and policies that criminalise children and families
• Lack of data on the nature and scale of the challenge
• Absence of a national strategy for street children. 

Sexual violence, corporal punishment in schools and domestic settings were identified as major challenges for street-connected children in the country. Azaz from Dost Welfare Foundation emphasized that breaking the cycle of physical, sexual, emotional and psychological abuse for street-connected children was extremely important as survivors could turn to violence if they did not receive the help and support they need.

Identity documents like B-form and birth certificates were also described as one of the biggest impediments to street children’s access to education. Participants pointed out that since many children were from displaced communities and had been on the move for years, they did not have the required documentation to access public schooling. Sabeen from SPARC emphasized that a national strategy was needed to address the challenges faced by street connected children, to ensure that national and provincial institutions were working towards the same end goals. 

Iqbal Detho from NCRC shared that the present criminalization of street children, their vagrancy and presence in public spaces could be traced back to colonial times. Colonial definitions of vagrancy were designed to prevent people from gathering and protesting, something that could not be extended to street children in the present day and rendered the current legislation problematic. A point of discussion in the group was shared that many organisations were using the pretext of rehabilitation to institutionalize street children, which was against the spirit of UNGC 21 and needed to be rectified. According to the UNGC21, “Deprivation of liberty is never a form of protection”.

Recommendations for action

After a brief introduction to the case study of Uruguay’s participatory national strategy on street-connected children, the discussion moved towards potential solutions for Pakistan. 

Some major takeaways highlighted during the discussion were:

• An urgent need for a national action plan to make progress on street children’s issues, possibly within a larger framework of child protection. Ifitkhar Mubarik from SJFP stressed that the government needed to make its commitment to street children clear before passing any national or provincial legislation to tackle the issue.

• Comprehensive legislative and policy review in line with the rights-based approach and UNGC 21. Iqbal Detho called for the removal of discriminatory laws in particular. 

• A  life skills-based educational approach including vocational opportunities for street children, for learning to be valued. Manizeh Bano from Sahil and Ghazi Taimoor from Doors of Awareness both had insights to share around this, as there is a need to frame education as something that will add practical value to the lives of children who often need to choose between earning or going to school.

• Simplifying the process for obtaining identity documents, especially for children with refugee or displaced community backgrounds. Sajida from SPARC shared that the difficult process of retrospectively obtaining B-form and birth certificates compounded problems by hindering their access to healthcare, public schooling and jobs.

• Strengthening of child protection legislation and systems. Children face multiple risks of violence with little recourse, and working to prevent them from taking to the streets as well as to provide real support in working with families to overcome the challenges of urban poverty will take careful thinking as well as investment. According to the UNGC, interventions moving children into alternative care without consultation don’t work – they won’t stay – so sustainable solutions must be found. There is need to train officials as well as law enforcement agencies and put in place measures to reduce risks of harassment and have transparent systems set up to protect their rights.

Overall, the workshop provided civil society organisations with a chance to share their expertise with each other and gave them an opportunity to use the UNGC 21 framework to discuss the challenges faced by street-connected children. It will be followed by an in-person action-planning session involving a broader swathe of policymakers and civil society representatives, being planned for August 2021.

The post Change our Story: Understanding and Implementing UNGC 21 appeared first on Cities for Children.

“The approach that is taken towards street children is either as victims or delinquents…viewing them as rights-holders is going to take a whole shift in perspective.”

Cities for Children’s work

The first part of the conversation was an introduction to Cities for Children’s work. Cities for Children was set up with a rights-based approach, to support organizations working with street-connected children and build programs around learning and wellbeing.

CfC’s work to support the Right to Childhood knits together three strands of child rights:

• The Right to Read – through programmes like Seekho Sikhao Saathi (Partners in Learning), with Big Partners teaching Little Partners within their communities and forming beautiful bonds, throughout the COVID-19 school closures.
• The Right to Play, especially through structured recreation and community volunteering programmes like Hansti Basti (Happy Hoods). 
• The Right to Feel Safe – psychosocial support and positive mental health. Most recently, CfC’s Maar Nahi Pyaar (Care not Scare) campaign was launched around the time the Anti-Corporal Punishment legislation was being pushed in the Islamabad Capital Territory. Maar Nahi Pyaar resources provide practical alternate strategies and positive caregiving tools that parents can use in place of corporal punishment.

Street Children and COVID-19

“There are some rights that children are entitled to no matter who they are and where they come from.”

The conversation then turned to how pandemic has had a disproportionate effect on communities in urban poverty, leading to an increasing number of children on the streets. There are several great elements to social welfare programmes like Ehsaas, including incentivising parents to send children – especially girls – to school. But when it comes to “street-children,” there is not enough conversation about who they are and the communities they come from, which means they often fall through the cracks.

A dominant narrative is that street children are sent by gangs or mafias – which may be true in some cases, but it is important to understand individual stories and the multiple identities that a child may have. Whether from a refugee, internally displaced, stateless or migrant community, lack of formal documentation often impedes access to rights. Lack of legal rights also makes street children vulnerable to exploitation and harassment.

Madeeha spoke about the massive impact of Covid-19 pandemic and learning losses for children, especially for those on the other side of the digital divide. She emphasized that now is the time to be innovative – benchmarks, especially around assessments, need to shift to give children the support and reassurance they need when they are eventually coming back into schools. 

Policy-making with children

“It’s not just about asking (children and their families) what they want, but saying ‘How can we support you?’”

Article 12 of the UNCRC says that children have a right to be heard in matters concerning them – and in order to make policies that work, it is not only important to consult them but also understand where they come from. Madeeha highlighted the importance of the UN General Comment No. 21 on Children in Street Situations for organisations working in this area, and stressed on the need to incorporate street children’s voices in all discussions about them

“How is it that we can support street children to go to school, and remove the barriers they face? How is it that we can better protect them and their best interests? How can we take this opportunity to build strong child protection systems?”

The Rights Podcast Series explores issues related to human rights in Pakistan. It is an initiative of the Centre for Human Rights (CHR) at the Research Society of International Law, Pakistan (RSIL), an independent, non-partisan think tank based in Pakistan. The Centre for Human Rights (CHR) is a dedicated Centre conducting research on international and domestic human rights issues, raising awareness and building State capacity in Pakistan.

The podcast can be heard on the link given below.

The post Living on the Margins: Street Children in Pakistan – RSIL podcast series appeared first on Cities for Children.

On World Children’s Day 2020, we are committed to a future where the #VoicesofYouth are amplified and understood. In the spirit of representation, Cities for Children conducted a “mythbuster” campaign to tackle some of the misperceptions that exist regarding street-connected children in Pakistan. Our hope is to help build a future in which street-children are counted, seen and heard.

While some children in street situations may be vulnerable to recruitment and exploitation by gangs, “street child” is not a monolithic identity. Some may be unaccompanied children “of the street,” but as urban poverty rises, an increasing number of street-connected children find themselves “on the street” to earn for themselves and their families, who they return to. This phenomenon is only growing due to the pressures created by the COVID-19 economy, with high unemployment as well as rising prices.

Society tends to alienate and stigmatise the “street child,” particularly criminalising their survival actions. Children on the streets are often stigmatised for being there, being treated as a nuisance or being labelled a “menace.” The language used to describe them and what they do often does not take their lives, their background and their own agency into account, either using a frame of victimisation or of criminalisation.

Let’s take the time to understand where street-connected children come from, and what pushes them onto the streets. Not all of them have the same story!

Although street children are exposed to a number of dangers on the street; they are often highly resilient individuals who have learnt to develop apt survival skills. Street children actively build connections and friendships in order to earn a living for themselves and at times for their families.

It is important to understand that street children should be able to exercise their right to participate and to be heard, as specified by Article 12 under the Convention on the Rights of the Child. Otherwise, policies created for their own benefit may end up being a less effective use of resources.

Research suggests that children forcefully removed from the streets will eventually return. They are used to practicing their independence, and are often distrustful of law enforcement agencies, as they or their families may have in the past faced harassment from the authorities as evidenced by the UNICEF Street Children Evaluation Report[1]. In addition, they may lack appropriate support in facilities set up for their own protection and may exhibit behavioural issues that present challenges for staff without adequate training.

While a large majority of street children are indeed boys, there are a number of girls who work and live on the streets as well. At least 10 percent of street-connected children around the world are girls. Gender matters, and risks for girls and boys can differ.[2] Reports by the Consortium for Street Children have stated that “Girls experience high levels of violence on the streets, including verbal abuse and physical and sexual assaults”^[3].

Poverty and financial constraints are the primary “push factors” for children to seek income generation activities on the streets. This can mean that parents face difficult choices, and often have to choose between schooling and work for their children. This does not mean that parents do not care or have their children’s best interests at heart, or would not respond positively to viable alternative options. According to the UN General Comment No. 21 on children in street situations, it is important to “help parents or caregivers to secure, within their abilities and financial capacities and with respect for the evolving capacities of the child, the living conditions necessary for the child’s optimal development”.[4]

Cities for Children takes a rights-based approach towards children and communities in urban poverty, by which we hold certain economic, cultural and social rights to be inalienable for all. We believe that every child has the right to a childhood – the right to read, to play and to feel safe. In order to provide these rights, we have a duty to understand and address the realities faced by street-connected children, and design solutions that work for all.

[1] UNICEF Street Children Evaluation Report: https://www.unicef.org/evaldatabase/files/CP_Street_Children_Evaluation_Report_Final.pdf

[2] Consortium for Street Children: https://www.streetchildren.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/CSC_Myth-Busters_FINAL1.pdf

[3] Consortium for Street Children: https://www.streetchildren.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/CSC_Myth-Busters_FINAL1.pdf

[4] General UN Comment No 21: https://www.streetchildren.org/wp-content/uploads/gravity_forms/1-07fc61ac163e50acc82d83eee9ebb5c2/2017/07/General-Comment-No.-21-2017-on-children-in-street-situations.pdf

The post Mythbuster: Street Children in Pakistan appeared first on Cities for Children.

INTRODUCTION

Over the past four decades, Pakistan has experienced several waves of refugees due to recurring conflict in neighboring Afghanistan, as well as repeated internal displacement caused by complex emergencies within the country. It has hosted one of the largest refugee populations in the world—4 million at its peak—and in spite of efforts to facilitate return, is still home to about 1.4 million registered refugees.[1]

Although designated “refugee villages” were created by aid agencies to accommodate large numbers of refugees, many chose to live and work in cities. The capital city of Islamabad has seen refugee populations enter and leave multiple times since the 1980s. As of June 2018, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) had registered 33,286 Afghan refugees in Islamabad Capital Territory (ICT).[2] However, it is widely recognized that the numbers of unregistered refugees as well as internally displaced persons (IDPs) are far greater.[3]

This report looks at the integration experiences of Afghan refugees in slum areas of Islamabad, particularly in the neighborhoods of F-11 and I-10 (see Figure 2). Drawing from my own experience working with street-connected children, it presents stories to illustrate the obstacles to integration for those lacking formal legal status, especially in terms of education. Finally, it highlights good practices that would improve the refugee experience of education, including wellbeing as a consideration for mobile children in cities.

The Author’s Position in Pakistan and Experiences Researching this Report

I was born and raised in Islamabad, living there until the end of high school and then returning as a young professional. My mother tongue is Urdu, the local language that many refugees, after protracted displacement, now speak or understand. I was part of the first generation “belonging” to the relatively new city. I watched it grow from a quiet, contained capital to one experiencing the challenges of rapid urbanization. During this time, I have observed how perceptions of Afghan refugees have evolved, and how these perceptions have affected their everyday lives.

Islamabad is a hub for development in Pakistan, with agencies across the aid spectrum. After returning from my undergraduate studies, I started working concurrently for a think tank and a small trust called Jamshed Akhtar Qureshi Education Trust operating a network of non-formal, open-air schools in multiple slum areas. This meant stepping outside my comfort zone and becoming immersed in the lives of Afghan communities in urban and peri-urban settlements: the way they interacted with other communities; the options they had in terms of accessing services; and the barriers to integration.

I was able to explore—and formally articulate—my interest in education for forcibly displaced communities during my graduate studies at The Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University and later while setting up the non-governmental organization (NGO) Cities for Children. This document is a cumulative result of the academic and professional experiences related to education for refugees.

For more on the methods used for this case report, continue to Appendix A.

[1] See UNHCR country pages, https://www.unhcr.org/pakistan.html, https://unhcrpk.org/who-we-are/.

[2] See UNHCR operational portal, https://data2.unhcr.org/en/country/pak.

[3] While this is widely accepted as true in the city, the unregistered are not in official counts and they move around, so exact numbers are not available.

LOCATION

Map data ©2020

Continue to the appendices for more information on the methods used for this report, and for background on refugees in Islamabad and Pakistan.

A NOTE ON TERMINOLOGY

“Refugees” as used here includes unregistered families, those having Proof of Registration (PoR) cards, as well as those who have been able to access Afghan Citizen cards since 2017. Afghan Citizen cardholders are no longer classed as refugees/persons of interest by UNHCR, as they are seen as migrants seeking education and livelihoods. “Refugees” is used as an umbrella term in this report because most of these individuals came to Islamabad before 2017, and while the new PoR card offers some legal protection, the report findings apply to most Afghan people who live in urban poverty. The report does not address the integration issues of IDPs, although recurring internal displacement is a challenge for Pakistan.

A NOTE ON SCOPE

The report is limited to a discussion only of the integration experiences of Afghan refugees living in urban poverty, primarily in slum settlements. Many other Afghan refugees live in middle- or high-income households and have had different experiences of the city.

MAPPING THE REFUGEE POPULATION

Islamabad was constructed as a purpose-built capital city in the 1960s, when the seat of government was moved from the port city of Karachi. It is laid out in a grid structure, with each developed “sector” having schools, markets, and green belts. Slum settlements are not recorded on the official maps but have sprung up in existing green belts.

Specific points of interest for refugees include:

• Ministry of States and Frontier Regions (SAFRON) and UNHCR head office;

• The head office of the National Database and Registration Authority (NADRA), which holds the database for identity cards;

• Proof of Registration (PoR) Card Modification Centre (PCM) in Rawalpindi, where PoR cards can be modified/renewed and births can be registered;

• Offices of international humanitarian and development organizations coordinating with UNHCR to offer services, e.g., Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit GmbH (GIZ) and ICMC. Among other services, ICMC offers safe shelter for individuals referred by UNHCR, including survivors of gender-based violence and children at risk;

• Legal assistance project office of the Society for Human Rights and Prisoners’ Aid (SHARP), a local implementing partner for UNHCR.

Two areas of interest in terms of livelihoods are:

1. F-7 Markaz, where refugees can be small vendors selling “Afghani chips” or jewelry as well as larger shop-owners;

2. Sabzi Mandi, a wholesale fruit and vegetable bazaar.

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Some neighborhoods that were previously densely populated by Afghan families have been highlighted on the map. One was known as the “Afghan Basti” in Sector I-11, close to the Sabzi Mandi market (highlighted on the map in blue). This neighborhood was demolished by municipal authorities in 2015.[4] Another is the green belt of Sector I-12, a recognized settlement where 3,000 Afghan individuals were relocated with the support of UNHCR in 2009. According to interviews with NGO staff, one result of ongoing repatriation efforts[5] is that there are few openly majority-Afghan settlements. While many families have relocated to Afghanistan, others have scattered across the city.

[4] For this demolition, the Capital Development Authority (CDA) cited a court-authorized drive against illegal settlements that allegedly bred crime and terrorism—allegations for which evidence was not provided.

[5] See Appendix B, “Refugees in Pakistan,” for more details.

THE HOST POPULATION AND INTEGRATION

During the Soviet-Afghan war (December 1979 to February 1989), Pakistanis welcomed Afghans with hospitality and a sense of kinship. Particularly in the mountainous northern territories, refugee families were able to easily integrate into Pashtun society due to a shared language and culture.

Given its geographical proximity to the northern province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (KP), Islamabad was the second-most significant urban center to receive refugees after Peshawar. However, unlike KP, Islamabad is ethnically diverse. Over the decades, there has been a shift in the perceptions of Pakistanis towards refugees. Attitudes have become reserved or even hostile as host communities began to see the spillover effects of the neighboring conflict on the local economy, culture, and polity.

In Pashtun culture, the concepts of “Melmastia” and “Nanawati” represent hospitality and asylum, and are among the six basic principles of the social code, Pashtunwali. When Afghans first entered Pakistan they experienced “Melmapana”—open hospitality extended to those who arrive at the doorstep without first being extended an invitation.

While some in urban society do hold more empathetic views towards people of Afghan origin, today, many Pakistanis in Islamabad link refugee presence with the proliferation of Kalashnikovs (rifles), narcotics, and violent extremism. They blame regional politics for Pakistan becoming a route for the regional illicit opium and heroin trade. The pressures of hosting a large refugee population, in spite of substantial international aid, have also become a source of tension. National government-level politics have shaped attitudes too; in recent years, relations between the Afghan and Pakistani governments have deteriorated, and there has been a push for refugee return. Current public attitudes are reflected in the populist reaction to Prime Minister Imran Khan’s announcement in September 2018 of the possibility of citizenship for Pakistan-born refugees. One step towards better integration in 2019 has been financial inclusion; for the first time, Afghan refugees holding PoR cards have been able to open bank accounts. However, their status is still insecure. In the face of public outcry and political backlash, the issue of citizenship has not yet been taken up in Parliament.[6]

[6] For more on identity, see Appendix B, “Refugees in Pakistan.”

A FOCUS ON EDUCATION

Education is a fundamental right, as set out in the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. For children whose lives are disrupted by emergencies and displacement, education can be a source of stability.[7] Education serves a protective function by meeting cognitive and psychosocial needs, and helps young people access livelihoods and pathways to a better future.[8]

“The State shall provide free and compulsory education to all children of the age of five to sixteen years in such manner as may be determined by law.” Article 25a, Constitution of Pakistan (2010).

The government of Pakistan has committed to providing education for all.[9] There are several categories of primary and secondary schools for Afghan children in Pakistan:

• Registered public schools;

• Registered private Pakistani schools (for middle-high income households);

• Private Afghan schools registered with the Ministry of Education Afghanistan, through the Afghan Embassy/Consulates (for middle-high income households);

• Refugee village schools supported by UNHCR;

• Non-formal schools, including those run by non-profits;

• Madrassahs (religious schools).

However, there are barriers to education for both Pakistani and Afghan children, and Pakistan has the second-highest population of out-of-school children in the world. This is because of lack of adequate school facilities and trained teachers. For Afghan refugees, there are numerous barriers in accessing education, particularly for those who are unregistered. As a result, according to UNHCR, the literacy rate of Afghans aged ten and above is 33%.[10]

UNHCR has a range of education programs for refugees in the 54 refugee villages, through which 57,000 refugee children access primary-level and sometimes secondary-level education.[11] It also provides tertiary-level scholarships to 400 Afghan refugee youth through the Albert Einstein German Academic Refugee Initiative (DAFI).[12]

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Compared to the designated refugee villages, the urban educational experience is different for the majority of refugees. Non-camp refugees and IDPs often lack access to mainstream schooling and rely on non-formal or religious schools. UNHCR’s new education strategy aims to address this gap by extending support for public schools in areas of high refugee density.

However, there are barriers to education for both Pakistani and Afghan children, and Pakistan has the second-highest population of out-of-school children in the world. This is because of lack of adequate school facilities and trained teachers. For Afghan refugees, there are numerous barriers in accessing education, particularly for those who are unregistered. As a result, according to UNHCR, the literacy rate of Afghans aged ten and above is 33%.[13]

[7] See Kirk, 2011.

[8] See Dryden-Peterson, 2011.

[9] From 2010 onwards, Article 25a of the Constitution affirmed the right to free and compulsory education for all children in Pakistan regardless of origin. In November 2012, the Islamabad Capital Territory passed a bill guaranteeing the fundamental right to free and compulsory education to every child regardless of sex, nationality, or race.

[10] UNHCR Pakistan, 2017.

[11] UNHCR Pakistan, 2018.

[12] Ibid.

[13] UNHCR Pakistan, 2017.

EDUCATION AND IDENTITY

Legal status affects refugees’ ability to apply for educational opportunities. Even after decades of living in Pakistan, there are no laws for refugees, and the reliance on temporary international agreements makes their status insecure. The citizenship status of the second generation is still “Afghan,” and there are no pathways to Pakistani citizenship.[14] As a result, large numbers of unregistered refugees live under the official radar in Pakistan’s cities, with little access to formal housing, sanitation, and education services.

The following stories and testimonies from young people illustrate the challenges for refugee education and integration in informal settlements or “katchi abadis.”

[14] See Appendix B “Refugees in Pakistan,” sub-section on “Integration and attitudes of host population” for more details.

A CHILDHOOD STORY

As a child in the 1990s, I had regular contact with refugees in everyday life. At the time, their presence was simply accepted as a reality of the city’s businesses and culture. In the markets, there were shops selling Afghani carpets and Afghani jewelry, silver/metallic accessories inlaid with semi-precious stones like lapis lazuli. “Afghani chips” were crinkle-cut potato fries sold at street stalls in small newspaper bags, with signature spices and chutney. An Afghan vendor sold Afghani chips at my high school and was a rival to the official canteen. One day, the boys in my class came back with their trigonometry problems solved during the lunch break. It turned out that the man selling fries had been a professor at a university in Kabul. His degree was not recognized in Pakistan. Like this Afghan professor, refugees often lose their national-level certification when they cross into a host country. Unless provisions are made to recognize this, they often have to start from scratch in terms of livelihoods, education, and identity.

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EDUCATION INTERRUPTED

Many families have moved between Pakistan and Afghanistan several times, disrupting their children’s education. Ali Khan[15] started out in the Pehli Kiran non-formal education system, which he attended until Grade 4 (age nine or ten).[16] Then his family moved back to Afghanistan, and he was able to continue classes in Pashto and Farsi, the local languages. When his family moved back to Pakistan again, Ali needed to repeat some classes, again in the non-formal system as opposed to a mainstream school. After completing primary education in English and Urdu, he was lucky to be enrolled in the local government school. There he tested well, and instead of Grade 6, was offered a place directly in Grade 9.

Ali’s experience of interrupted education followed by an accelerated non-formal program places him among the more fortunate. Many whose schooling is disrupted are more unlikely to return to school, especially if they move between academic systems in different languages. Schools in Afghanistan recognize the Pakistani system of education for children who are repatriated, but a transition back into a Pakistani school is not as straightforward.

[15] Pseudonym.

[16] Actual ages in grades may vary considerably.

GENDER AS A BARRIER

According to UNHCR, in Punjab (and ICT) only 20% of school-going-aged girls were enrolled in schools.[17] Afghan girls face a host of practical and cultural constraints in accessing schooling, including lack of gender-segregated facilities and trained female teachers. Distance is also a factor; if girls have to travel, even in densely populated urban contexts, they often do not get permission to go from male family members. One girl from an Afghan family provided written testimony about her experience:

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I am the first girl in my family to study further. When I passed Class 5 in PK-4, my brother did not accept that I would study in another school. The teachers of PK-8 talked to the administration to add Class 6 to the school. When Big Madam agreed, the teachers came to our house to talk to my brother. My brother accepted, and I am now studying in Class 6 in PK-8. — Gul Bibi[18]

Many girls like Gul Bibi are forbidden to access a mainstream secondary school by a male family member. Gul Bibi continued her education through an extension of the non-formal school in her community after a mobilization effort by staff. In most situations, these are not options, and girls fall out of the educational system.

[17] UNHCR Pakistan, “Mapping of Education Facilities,” 14.

[18] Pseudonym.

ECONOMIC CONSTRAINTS

Even when access to educational services exists, the economic pressures families in katchi abadis experience lead to high dropout rates—as early as age eight or nine—when children start working. Afghan children in katchi abadi neighborhoods work to pick through trash, particularly to find and sell metal items, or as fruit and vegetable vendors. In one school, attendance dropped on Thursdays because the boys would be helping their fathers sell produce in the local bazaar. A smaller number drop out after gaining apprenticeships at local mechanic workshops rather than continuing to secondary school. Erratic attendance impacts learning outcomes, which negatively affects motivation to attend school.

RISKS FOR THE UNREGISTERED

EXPLOITATION AND HARASSMENT

One of the Pehli Kiran schools in Sector I-10 served undocumented refugees in a mud settlement hidden from view from the main roads. The school shed served multiple community purposes, including weddings. The legal status of the families meant that they were constantly at risk of exploitation as well as harassment. A local cleric used his connections with the police to threaten the community and sought to expand his mosque by encroaching on land occupied by the school shed. In spite of this pressure, a Jirga meeting was convened.[19] All the men of the community attended and collectively decided in favor of the school. The story illustrates the high value placed on education by underserved refugee communities and the obstacle that police harassment presents to integration. Fear of harassment was cited as a major reason why Afghan families opted to return to Afghanistan in 2016.[20]

[19] A Jirga is a traditional gathering of elders to make decisions by consensus based.

[20] Conversation with UNHCR staff.

TENSION WITH MUNICIPAL AUTHORITIES

Lack of legal status means refugee in slum areas typically lack housing security, even though settlements may have existed in the same location for decades. In recent years, there has been a crackdown by the Capital Development Authority (CDA). In February 2014, a court ordered municipal authorities to clear the slums in Islamabad. A month later a double suicide bomb attack in the district courts increased the government’s motivation to act; no evidence of a link was provided, but slum areas were perceived to be unregulated havens harboring terrorists. In April 2014, the I-10 settlement where the community had voted in favor of keeping the school open for their children was demolished by the CDA. The children and their families were given no alternative housing and were dispersed to different parts of the city.

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Slum demolition continued through 2015. However, during this time an unprecedented political movement gained foothold in the city. The All Pakistan Alliance for Katchi Abadis emerged as a platform for organized protest by inhabitants of informal settlements across Islamabad. Brought together by the efforts of the left-wing Awami Workers’ Party, this Alliance garnered enough attention to bring an official halt to demolition at the end of 2015. Currently, tensions with municipal authorities are continuing for slum-dwellers of different ethnicities.

BUREAUCRATIC OBSTACLES

Education in Pakistan is a right, not a privilege, and Afghan children should be able to access education without facing bureaucratic hurdles. This has not been their experience. Ali Khan[21] was determined to continue his education in spite of the challenges of urban poverty and disruption caused by migration:

In the morning, I would work as a laborer and go to school in the evening. My father was very poor. He could not afford my education…After passing Class 5, I wanted to study more and continue education in a government school. However, things were very bad then, and I faced many difficulties in gaining admission. When my father went to get me admission in a government school, they said we can’t give you admission without a No Objection Certificate (NOC). I was told to go to the Federal Directorate of Education (FDE) to get a NOC, then I would be able to get admission. In fact, they sent us to D block SAFRON Ministry and said we had to get an Afghan Citizen card and a letter from the school where you first got education. The school prepared all the relevant documents and (a teacher) also went to the FDE, Interior Ministry, SAFRON Ministry, and Police Foundation with me to get me a NOC and admission.

This experience was at a time when the government and UNHCR were encouraging registration for Afghan Citizen cards. To go through the steps of obtaining an additional NOC is time-consuming and can be a prohibitive factor for families for whom lost time equates to lost income. The right to education for all exists on paper, but there are significant bureaucratic hurdles for Afghan children trying to enter oversubscribed mainstream schools. [22]

[21] Pseudonym.

[22] In Islamabad, UNHCR researchers working on education mapping in 2017 were not able to gain access to public schools—even telephonically—without the approval of the Federal Directorate of Education. This approval was not received in spite of several follow-up attempts (UNHCR Pakistan, “Mapping of Education Facilities,” 12).

CITIES FOR CHILDREN

Even when refugee children from slum communities gain access to schools, barriers to learning remain. They lack support at home due to time, knowledge, or resource constraints on the part of parents. The chronic stress of urban poverty takes a toll on all family members, with children experiencing neglect and often emotional and physical abuse. These factors affect their performance as well as behavior at school. During a workshop of the NGO Cities for Children that brought together mental health professionals and teachers, the teachers discussed their troubles dealing with behavioral difficulties, especially without corporal punishment. Boys from Afghan and Pashtun communities often demonstrated aggressive or hyper-masculine behavior, and the only strategy the teachers saw for dealing with it was violence. There was a problem of school refusal too: children sometimes ran away from class, particularly if there were attempts to discipline them.

Cities are challenging places for children, and schools should represent an opportunity for integration and for building the resilience of street-connected children. The teacher can be an important attachment figure, supporting refugee students, and school-based programs involving socio-emotional learning can improve behavior and academic performance, while also promoting positive mental health.[23]

[23] INEE, 2016.

LOOKING AHEAD

LEGAL RECOGNITION

Recent efforts to register births and provide Afghan families with the chance to claim an identity have had some impact in Pakistan. Legal recognition of status entails recognition of human rights and of children’s right to education. However, for unregistered families to have the confidence to come forward, they need the reassurance that they can retain the choice to live in a country that many have come to call home. For the second generation, it is the only home that they have known.

EDUCATION AND INTEGRATION

Urban settlements in Islamabad are loosely organized according to ethnicity, as people from similar backgrounds tend to cluster together. Within the open-air schools, Afghan, Pakistani, Pashtun, and Punjabi children are sometimes divided along linguistic lines, with students speaking the same language preferring to sit together. Education can be a powerful force for integration. It provides the opportunity for host and refugee children to interact as peers and share the experience of learning and growing. Play-based interactions and learning within the school space can additionally aid integration by blurring the lines drawn by ethnicity and class.

A curriculum designed to support integration can promote the ideals of peace and tolerance, as well as an appreciation for diversity. It can challenge notions of male dominance and promote better gender equity. Teaching might be arranged such that students are not partitioned by linguistic group, to allow normalization and social cohesion to build. Access to secondary and tertiary education can further provide adolescents and young people with opportunities to contribute positively to their households and to participate in broader society.

A USEFUL EDUCATION

For Afghan children facing the challenges of urban poverty in Islamabad, unhindered access to quality education would provide the opportunity to overcome vulnerabilities and to build true durable solutions for their families. Skills that would be useful to focus on as part of education for both documented and undocumented Afghan children include the following:

• Language skills. Fluency in Urdu helps overcome barriers to local communication, and English is the language of social mobility. English skills are particularly useful if young people return to Afghanistan. Languages are offered in most schools but can be challenging for children to learn if parents are not fluent. Language barriers can affect their performance in all subjects.

• Vocational skills. Many children living in katchi abadis are pushed to choose between work and school at an early age, and time spent at school is seen as loss of income. The perceived and actual value of time spent at school would be higher if they were able to gain access to technical skills:

  “For us Afghan children, along with education it is important to learn skills, because we are from poor households. By using these skills, we can increase our income and improve our economic situation, e.g., through computer courses, driving, and electrician courses, etc. If Afghan families go back, then along with education it is important for them to have skills they can use and contribute to the prosperity of their country.” — Ali Khan

• Socioemotional skills. Beyond literacy and numeracy, children in urban poverty also need spaces where they can gain respite from daily stressors. There is a strong case for creating play-based programs that build socioemotional skills for children, as well as their resilience to cope with difficult circumstances.

  One example from Cities for Children is the “Happy Hoods” project, which equips local volunteers to build socioemotional competencies like self-awareness, self-management, social awareness, and relationship skills. The programs involve discussion and extracurricular activities, based on the premise that “happy memories build resilience” for vulnerable children. The pilot programs were conducted with a school and drop-in center for migrant children, with the aim to scale up to reach refugee populations. At the end of the pilot, staff reported improvements in confidence and interpersonal skills, with shy children coming forward and speaking up, and higher general motivation to attend school.

CONCLUSION

The integration of Afghan refugee children in Islamabad will continue to face obstacles, including police and municipal government harassment, financial barriers, insecure housing, and limited legal protections. However, educational efforts that improve language abilities, build vocational skills, support connections across populations, and build social skills may help improve wellbeing and integration.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the students and team from the Pehli Kiran Schools, in particular Managing Trustee Sabira Qureshi and Operations Coordinator Ghazanfar Ali for support in the research; Wali Kandiwal for his comments; and Usama Khilji, Director of Bolo Bhi, for his feedback.

About the Author

Madeeha is currently spearheading the non-profit Cities for Children, which seeks to protect the “right to a childhood” for street-connected children—the right to read, play, and feel safe. Cities for Children partners with other organizations to provide services to children from refugee, internally displaced, and migrant communities on the margins of urban society. Previously she worked with open-air schools for mobile children, Save the Children, and the Malala Fund. She has written on issues of forced migration for leading newspapers and think tanks in Pakistan, as well as for international blogs. Madeeha completed her master’s degree as a Fulbright scholar at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University and earned her undergraduate degree at the London School of Economics.

REFERENCES

1. Dryden-Peterson, S. (20110). “Refugee Children Aspiring Toward the Future: Linking Education and Livelihoods,” in Educating Children in Conflict Zones: Research, Policy and Practice for Systemic Change, edited by Sarah Dryden-Peterson and Karen Mundy, 85–100. New York: Teachers College Press.

2. INEE. (2016). “Background Paper on Psychosocial Support and Social and Emotional Learning for Children and Youth in Emergency Settings.” Available at: http://s3.amazonaws.com/inee-assets/resources/161114_PSS_SEL_Background_Paper_Final.pdf

3. Kirk, J. (2011). “Education and Fragile States,” in Educating Children in Conflict Zones: Research, Policy and Practice for Systemic Change, edited by Sarah Dryden-Peterson and Karen Mundy, 15–32. New York: Teachers College Press.

4. UNHCR Pakistan. (2017). “Mapping of Education Facilities and Refugee Enrolment in Main Refugee Hosting Areas and Refugee Villages in Pakistan.”

5. UNHCR Pakistan. (2018). “Fact Sheet.”

APPENDIX A: METHODS 

For this report, I relied on my personal and professional experiences while working for non-formal schools in slums around Islamabad, and while setting up Cities for Children, a non-profit to address the wellbeing of street-connected children. The report draws on personal, in-depth contact with approximately 250 refugee children at two non-formal schools from the Pehli Kiran School System (PKSS); a focus group discussion with 15 mothers from a slum community; and written responses of 4 pupils to a questionnaire. I would like to acknowledge the cooperation of the schools’ management team in facilitating the written responses.

In order to obtain a fuller picture of available services, I also conducted key informant interviews with the following people:

• A staff person formerly at the International Catholic Migration Commission (ICMC);

• Two representatives from UNHCR Pakistan;

• Two representatives from the International Rescue Committee.

To compare the experiences of non-camp versus camp refugees, I talked to an Afghan researcher who was educated in a refugee village. Information about practical challenges was obtained from informal conversations with staff from the Society for the Protection of the Rights of the Child (SPARC) as well as staff and teachers from the Pehli Kiran school system (PKSS). I gleaned insights about the host population from informal conversations with residents from Islamabad in group settings, as well as from social media responses to policies for Afghan refugees.

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APPENDIX B: REFUGEES IN PAKISTAN

The largest ethnic group of refugees in Pakistan is of Afghan origin. Historically, Pakistan shared a porous border with neighboring Afghanistan—the Durand line—where tribes could cross without passport or visa restrictions. Following the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in the 1970s, Pakistan experienced an influx of refugees fleeing violence and became host to one of the largest refugee populations in the world. Movement continued during the Taliban regime, and a second wave of forced movement occurred after the invasion of US-led coalition forces in Afghanistan from 2001–2005. At its peak, the number of registered Afghan refugees in Pakistan was estimated at 4 million. Non-Afghan refugees are from Somalia, Iran, and Iraq. See Table 1.

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Despite hosting one of the world’s largest refugee populations for over 40 years, Pakistan is not party to the 1951 Refugee Convention and its 1967 Protocol and has not adopted any national refugee legislation. Since 2003, there has been reliance on a tripartite agreement between UNHCR, Pakistan, and Afghanistan that formally establishes voluntary repatriation as the durable solution for Afghan refugees. The timeline for return has been periodically extended, as return has been fraught with challenges.[24]

Afghan refugees in southwest Asia have experienced the world’s most protracted displacement. The majority of Afghan refugees live in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province (58%); 2% live in Islamabad Capital Territory.[25] Out of the registered refugees, 32% live in designated “refugee villages,” which are located primarily along the borders with Afghanistan in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan. The remaining 68% have long been settled in rural, urban, and peri-urban areas.[26] A large proportion of the Afghan population was born and raised as a second generation in Pakistan.

Out of the registered refugees, 39% are school-aged children between five to eighteen years of age.[27] Within the refugee villages, only 30% of the total school-aged children were enrolled in school.[28] This number drops further for refugee families settled elsewhere.

REGISTRATION AND REPATRIATION

A UNHCR-funded repatriation program for refugees was initiated in 2002, but conditions in Afghanistan were not conducive for voluntary return. Since then, there was an effort to document refugees and issue PoR cards, which temporarily provided the legal right to stay. PoR cards originally set to expire at the end of 2015 have been extended several times since then. In 2015, there was a greater push towards return from the Pakistani government, with revised incentives from UNHCR. The numbers of repatriating families have fallen in 2018.

As of June 2018, there were 1.4 million registered refugees in Pakistan (see Table 2). Unregistered refugees are still estimated to be between 600,000 to 1 million.

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There was an additional drive for registration of undocumented families of Afghan origin in 2017 and for the issuing of Afghan Citizen cards. These help to protect cardholders from arbitrary arrest, detention, and deportation, and give the option of applying for visas to stay on as students or families. However, Afghan citizens are not considered “persons of interest” by UNHCR, as they are not categorized as seeking asylum but as having migrated for other reasons, e.g., livelihoods opportunities.[29]

In order to address the challenges that Pakistan was experiencing as a host country, from 2009 the government partnered with a Consortium of UN agencies to initiate the Refugee-Affected and Hosting Areas (RAHA) Programme. One goal of this program is to promote social cohesion and coexistence by addressing challenges such as access to livelihoods and education.

[24] Original tripartite agreement available here: https://www.refworld.org/docid/55e6a5324.html

[25] UNHCR Pakistan, “Mapping of Education Facilities.”

[26] Ibid.

[27] Ibid., 25.

[28] Ibid.

[29] From telephone conversation with UNHCR staff members Faisal Azam Khan and Uzma Irum, September 13, 2018.

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APPENDIX C: REFUGEES IN ISLAMABAD

As the seat of the government and bureaucracy, Islamabad is not associated with any other provinces but exists as a federal territory. According to the 2017 census, Islamabad Capital Territory (ICT) houses a population of just over 2 million. It is often associated with the older city of Rawalpindi as a “twin city,” and the Islamabad-Rawalpindi metropolitan area is the third largest in Pakistan, with a population of more than 4 million.

Islamabad also has some of the fastest growing slums in the country, as informal settlements have grown in the absence of affordable housing. These are populated by ethnically diverse communities including rural migrants from Punjab province, Pakistani Pashtuns, and Afghan Pashtuns.

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The post A Case Study of Refugees in Towns – Islamabad, Pakistan appeared first on Cities for Children.

by Madeeha Ansari, Founder

CHILDHOOD is a precious, fleeting experience. As we navigate our way through the most extraordinary time in living memory, one of the most important things we can do is to remember how this time will define the earliest memories for an entire generation, growing up in the ‘new normal’.

To understand what the Covid-19 crisis has meant for children from all socioeconomic backgrounds requires stepping out of our shoes and into smaller ones. To varying degrees, it has meant: No school. No friends. Fear of hugs. Stressed adults. Sibling care. More time. Less time. The trauma of unexplainable loss affecting people in inner as well as peripheral circles, and an invisible terror that pervades every space, spares no one — and is seemingly without end.

The reality of phenomena like ‘no school’ translates into learning losses from which it may take years to recover. A study of the 2005 Kashmir earthquake by the Harvard LEAPS project found that four years after the disaster, children who had missed three months of school were 1.5 years behind where they should have been. Since students were behind the curriculum when schools reopened, they continued to fall further back. The story of education during the pandemic has not been a uniform one; those for whom digital options are not viable have struggled to keep learning, and will continue to do so unless low- or no-tech options are truly strengthened.

However, there is a radical argument to be made even for children who are soldiering on with access to Zoom: perhaps we need to be worrying them less, and giving them more space to play. Schools are closed and we urgently need to think about mitigating imminent learning losses. But there is one big missing piece in the conversation in Pakistan: children’s learning is affected by multiple factors, one of which is well-being. There is a lot of science to support the positive impact of happy, playful experiences on brain development for young children; they can provide respite from the stressors of everyday reality, and can help build the resilience to keep coping and hoping.

What has the crisis meant for children’s well-being?

Let’s then take a closer look at those who have been disproportionately affected by the pandemic. Children in fragile households are experiencing even higher levels of vulnerability. Those at risk of being forced into child labour are experiencing higher push factors from families whose livelihoods are impacted. Those who were already vulnerable to abuse are facing increasing risks due to stress faced by adult caregivers — evidenced by more calls to children’s helplines globally. In India, calls went up 50 per cent during the height of lockdown, reporting cases from violence to child marriage. Compounding these are real fears surrounding the virus, which may have a lasting psychological impact. The motivation to engage with learning and return to school, particularly for those already at risk of dropping out, will be even lower than before.

In June, the Ministry of Human Rights launched a directory of organisations for reporting abuse. There have been a number of other significant steps in an incredibly short time span: a bill to declare domestic labour hazardous for children, and the convening of an official National Commission for the Rights of the Child. In its first public message, the NCRC stated, “it is adamant that the child be given the environment that is needed to raise a productive citizen”.

If we care about creating that environment — making sure children are going to school, learning all they can and able to be their best selves — it is crucial to remember that this environment also includes social, mental and emotional well-being. The lens of well-being is a powerful one that can impact all aspects of the Covid-19 response and what comes after.

Public service messages, for instance, need not only include an emphasis on masks and handwashing, but can actually be tailored to help both adults and children with coping, even teach adults to support children better. Teleschool broadcasts could incorporate a similar dimension, and take a more structured approach to boost resilience. A big part of a return to school should go beyond basic literacy and numeracy, to enabling teachers to be supportive attachment figures especially for children facing difficult circumstances at home. And a common thread running through these would be the provision of playful experiences for children to cope better — and emerge stronger.

Protecting children’s rights can seem like a massive undertaking when there are so many structural factors threatening them. Protecting childhood may seem like an even more elusive idea. However, if we are able to step into smaller shoes, simple solutions will suggest themselves as we walk through this extraordinary time.

The post Protecting Childhood appeared first on Cities for Children.

April 12 is a day for the invisible. As the International Day for Street Children, it is a time to extend recognition to young people who are too often uncounted, unseen and unheard – and therefore bereft of fundamental human rights.

Pakistan is unique in being a country where street children have been acknowledged by the government as a policy priority. They were mentioned in the Prime Minister’s very first address to the nation, and again as part of the “Ehsaas” poverty alleviation programme.

While this is truly laudable, there are a few things to remember in order to drive systemic and not superficial change. “Street child” in itself is not a monolithic identity, but is a way of clustering together the challenges faced by children in urban poverty. The International Day for Street Children extends recognition to a range of young people on the margins of cities – refugees, IDPs, migrants, street vendors, child beggars and even domestic workers. Many of these identities can be overlapping, which make policy and programme design more complex than is first assumed.

From the policy angle, there is an important distinction between children “on” the street – who work or spend time on the streets – and children “of” the street, who are unaccompanied. Street-connected children who do have families to return to still face insecurities that threaten their childhood. Those who live in slum communities often lack security of tenure and face constant threats from municipal authorities. Only last week, a settlement was demolished in sector E-12, Islamabad – not long after the announcement of the Ehsaas social protection programme.

Another prickly issue is to do with children from refugee backgrounds. Progressive intentions on the part of the government to provide citizenship opportunities to Afghans were waylaid by backlash. This means that in order to avoid involuntary repatriation, some families prefer to remain under the radar. Being unregistered makes families vulnerable to a range of risks including exploitation, and bars children from accessing rights like education.

This begs introspection on the part of the administration as well as the public. To say, “We will protect street children” will get unanimous approval – but are we going to be selective in our benevolence?

The bedrock of a rights-based approach is non-discrimination. It is to say that every child, regardless of background, deserves basic services, protection and dignity. For some street children, this might mean access to the kind of residential centres that have been planned by the government in provinces like Sindh and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. For others, it could mean plans to provide affordable housing for families, and strategies to combat the poverty or violence that keep runaway children from returning home. Otherwise, there is a danger of embarking on ventures that are less than successful – because they were designed for the idea, not the reality of a street child.

The first proposed step of the Ehsaasprogramme is indeed to create a strong enabling environment, through a constitutional amendment acknowledging food, shelter and education as fundamental rights. In the kind of state we are aspiring to become, therefore, no one would be left behind. The factors that lead children to live or work on the streets would be addressed at the roots, with viable alternatives being provided.

Moving from paper to practice is a sizable challenge. For everything that is to follow a legal commitment, one radical idea would be to consult the actual young people to be served by state policy. This would mean looking at street children as individuals and agents, not just passive victims deserving of pity. An asset-based approach would draw upon their strengths and the knowledge they have of their own circumstances.

Street-connected children can be resilient, vibrant individuals with sometimes innovative strategies to cope with uncertainty on the streets. The first step was seeing and naming them; the next steps should be counting them and listening to their stories. Having an idea of numbers of children “on” and “of” the streets, understanding where they come from would help guide the use of resources. As many commentators have said, a welfare state can be a beautiful but expensive vision – so it makes sense to do the homework before designing solutions.

April 12 is a day when the different identities of young people on the margins of cities coalesce into one recognizable form. However, if we are to follow this year’s theme and truly “Commit to Equality,” we need to recognize their different faces. From the Afghan refugee to the Punjabi migrant moving for a better economic future, every child facing the risks of urban poverty deserves what is being promised plus a little more: a home where she doesn’t sleep hungry, a safe space in which to learn and play – and a voice that is heard.

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