Schools
A visit to Pakistan's brick fields
Here, on the opposite side the world, a Santa Monica teacher sees again a lesson in gratitude
By Michael Ashcraft --
A 5-year-old girl flips earthen bricks to be baked on their side in preparation for loading in the truck. A 65-year-old man hobbles in the dust. He is injured and old but is too poor to stop working.
Welcome to Pakistan's brickyards, where the poorest of the poor -- the minority Christians -- labor from cradle to grave making $5 a day.
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This was my second trip to Pakistan, and my second time visiting the brickyards. I wondered what new thing I would see, but my host insisted that I must go.
The brickyards of the Indus River Valley are as old as civilization. To the north roamed nomadic tribes that neither cultivated the earth nor had brickyards.
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After thousands of years, much has changed and much stays the same. Islam swept through, and today Pakistan -- the only nation in the world founded as an Islamic Republic -- is 96% Muslim. That leaves Christians, at a mere 1%, out in the cold.
Pakistan's Christians are subjected to oppression and rioting. Last summer, Muslims, inflamed that somebody apparently insulted Mohammed, burned churches and the homes of Christians in widespread chaos.
Pakistan's Christians get discriminated against in the job market.If they don't get a college education, their work opportunities are limited to things like domestic works, armed guards and the brickyards.
The cycle of poverty, per usual, is self-perpetuating. The 5-year-old girl, Kinza Masih, will be condemned to become the 65-year-old.
Despite the lifelong grind, the people who work in the brick fields know only how to smile, contrary to pictures I had seen in news accounts prior to visiting them myself. In those news accounts, the sad and dreary faces matched the articles. But after visiting the brick yards myself, I wonder if the reporters staged the photo. Did he ask them not to smile?
I saw nothing but smiles. Kinza Masih, who was flipping bricks, sang a song to us, as she was held in her father's arms. It was in Urdu, so I didn't understand. My host said, she sang, "Jesus is always with me. I am never alone."
A smiling 65-year-old invited me to tea. Of course, I accepted, but I was crushed by anguish. I should invite him, not he me. (Sadly, my host informed me we could not stay for the invitation to tea, nor was it practical for the labors to leave their job at that moment.)
The visit to Pakistan's brickyards was a slap in the face. I get upset over being cut off on the freeway, over my phone running out of charge, over losing my property taxes bill. I get upset over stupid stuff.
First World problems.
To see the dirt poor welling with gratitude is a reminder for me -- and all Americans -- to count our blessings, not are complications.
Shouldn't we do something to help the Pakistani Christian kids get an education?
Michael Ashcraft teaches journalism at the Lighthouse Christian Academy in Santa Monica.