For the Sake of Welfare

Rumbling train, trembling walls and shivering floors, were the few things that I noticed when I reached a private welfare school here in Karachi.

It was a fine morning; my heart was filled with excitement to visit a welfare center along with a group of O level students who wanted to spend a day for others. Sadly that feeling withered away as we reached the venue.

A slim door opened into a narrow, congested and a ceiling-less corridor. Right beside the door was a confine bathroom with a dented door. Facing it was a huge blue drum with a tap attached, beneath that an empty paint bucket was placed. On my right was a tall rack stacked with little dusty chappals. Some dead plants added to the depressing ambiance. 

As I took few steps inwards, it was heart rendering to see a whole row of tiny chairs with broken seats arranged adjacent to a wall. Classes were being conducted in room with partially covered ceiling and with walls encrusted with dust; students were settled on floor mats.

On one side of the picture was a tear jerking sight of innocent kids with little, bare feet, muddled hair, inconsistently uniformed and variably placed in classes without chairs, space and even without a proper roof and on the other hand was the discourteous attitude of the principal with volunteers who went to help them out. Well, I rather not go there.

Principal’s filled to capacity workplace, served multiple purposes. Besides being an office, it was a library, store room, dining room and even acted as a staff room. One door opened into a classroom, the other one into a small passage that could be called an exit. This passage was divided by a curtain into half; on the other side of the curtain was a filthy, fetid bathroom.

 While talking to the teachers, I made some astonishing discoveries. The teachers there had to go through a series of 2-3 year Urdu pronunciation program before they could teach students of KG! According to one senior and the most qualified teacher, she had to spend 2 years just to work on Urdu pronunciation and it was a tough course!

My heart sank and I felt I was sitting in an adobe whose base was so vulnerable, pillars too brittle; I felt the roof will rumble down anytime taking all of us with it.

Every second that I spent there made my heart heavier, partially, to see melancholy of young people; primarily, because misery was being imposed on them.

My pption of the scenario was at polarity with the common point of view. I was raged to observe that such welfare organizations are just portraying these chaste children as a symbol of misfortune, for me the organization it self was disparage in the name of “welfare”. It is no more than bandwagon.

I fail to understand the purpose of useless, broken chairs placed at the entrance when they have low desks and floor mats for the class. I can not comprehend the logic behind Urdu pronunciation course as compulsory for teachers of kindergarten. I can not grasp the purpose of such institutions. I can not foresight the future of students of such schools.

 If an organization is so impoverished and penniless, why in the world they open tens of branches all over the city with same pitiable conditions? Wont it be better to have only one center but with standards of education and teaching? A safe and pleasing place with uplifting milieu... There is no point of such schools if they can not provide something better for the kids.

I urge the government to fortify the educational standards and I request such welfare organizations to have an infrastructure and not to initiate such projects if you are already broke. It is a good thing for all of us to give something to others; every one should contribute, but let’s not embark on something with a hope to get funds.Please don’t play with the lives of these kids. They are going to so called schools but are they really learning anything? What ever people contribute dose it affect kid’s live at all? 

Let’s taste the bitter truth. It dose not!