"We're living day by day," he said. "We don't worry about winter coming. We're worried about what's going to happen today and tomorrow, not some blizzard coming in two weeks. My child is sick today."
On the camp's outskirts, Bajwa tends to the most destitute of residents.
Shar Khan had lashed together a wood and burlap shelter in an unlikely place: between the newly built women's latrine and garbage dump where two cranky goats foraged for food. Hundreds of flies hovered near the tent's opening.
Khan's daughter has diarrhea that will not subside.
Bajwa implored Khan to move, saying the surroundings were making his daughter sicker.
The young man listened but said he did not know where else to move his tent. At first, he said, the smell was so bad the members of his family could not sleep. But now they were used to it.
Later, finishing his rounds, Bajwa walked wearily back toward his field clinic. A young boy emerged from the twilight and whispered in his ear.
The doctor reached for his wallet and handed the boy some money, saying to no one in particular, "You know it's going to the right place."
