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In troubled Pakistan, a humanitarian light shines through

COLUMN ONE

The Edhi Foundation funds hundreds of centers nationwide for orphans, senior citizens, the disabled, even injured animals. Though its bookkeeping may not be perfect, it is beloved by the public.

October 04, 2011|By Mark Magnier, Los Angeles Times
  • Abdul Sattar Edhi, head of the Edhi Foundation, collects donations for flood victims in Sindh province during a demonstration in Hyderabad, Pakistan, last month.
Abdul Sattar Edhi, head of the Edhi Foundation, collects donations for… (Nadeem Khawer / European…)

Reporting from Karachi, Pakistan — He owns a single set of clothing and often sleeps in a storage room — even though millions of dollars pass through his hands annually. At 83, creature comforts don't matter much to Abdul Sattar Edhi. He is far too busy caring for the sick, feeding the hungry, burying the dead.

Known to some as Pakistan's Mother Teresa, Edhi is a humanitarian light in a violent and troubled land. The vast majority here struggle daily in a moribund economy. Natural disasters are common. Poverty, political instability, corruption, and attacks by Islamic militants, criminals and political enforcers are facts of life.

In this environment, a shrinking violet won't make much headway, he says. You've got to be tough.

Gruff and confident, Edhi refers to himself as a bhikhari, or beggar, and he wears his worn black tunic as a badge of honor. He has a picture of Karl Marx, as well as Mother Teresa, on his office wall. He has been condemned by some Pakistanis as a communist, a madman, an Israeli agent or a bad Muslim for his work with "infidels" — his charity does not discriminate by religion, race or gender.

He counters that his true religion is human rights. That the government is hopelessly inefficient, and most social workers corrupt. That politicians and religious leaders know they can exploit the poor. That foreign contributions usually come with unacceptable conditions.

And then there are Pakistan's rich, who seek him out in hope of absorbing some of his reflected glory. Even as he welcomes their donations, he chides them for their priorities and their motives.

A few months ago, he says, a Pakistani industrialist asked him at a reception what he could do for humanity.

"I told him, 'Pay your taxes and stop wasting money on luxuries and sipping tea,'" he says. "That was it. He ran right away."

Donations to the Edhi Foundation fund hundreds of centers nationwide for orphans, senior citizens, drug abusers, the mentally disabled, abused women, even injured animals. It operates hospitals, mobile dispensaries, free kitchens, helicopters, airplanes and hundreds of "little white" ambulances resembling oversize bread boxes.

His foundation has been chided for its less-than-exact approach to accounting, but the public keeps contributing, a reflection, supporters say, of how much Pakistanis trust him. But that also creates something of a Catch-22. As he fills the vacuum, the state has even less incentive to step up.

"If the government did anything, we wouldn't need to rely on people like Edhi," said Mohammad Arif, who sells lace and buttons in Karachi.

In the words of Hussein Manzoor, 47, who sold fruit until his cart was stolen recently, Edhi is a "godsend." Manzoor visited a free dispensary operated by Edhi in Karachi for treatment of an allergy that developed after an earthquake in Kashmir in 2005. Twelve relatives died, but he survived and moved to Karachi. Without his cart, Manzoor is struggling to support three children, but he is grateful to be alive.

"He's chosen to work among the poorest of the poor," said Mazhar Zaidi, a documentary filmmaker. "Others put a water tap in villages and go home. They don't live there."

In fact, the octogenarian often sleeps in a cluttered storeroom of his office, relegated there by his wife, Bilquis, a nurse who is also a key figure in the charity. "My wife kicked me out, so I stay here," he says with a laugh.

For decades, Edhi's popularity in this country of 170 million people has allowed his ambulances to brave riots, gun fights and ethnic battles. Thieves, political goons and even the Taliban have offered contributions and free passage. But in a worrisome sign underscoring Pakistan's deterioration, his ambulances were shot at and a rescue worker wounded in July during rioting in Karachi.

Ambulance dispatchers field 6,000 calls a day in Karachi and route patrolling vehicles by radio, boasting a 10-minute response time in Pakistan's biggest city. It was an Edhi ambulance that picked up the body of American journalist Daniel Pearl, who was killed by Al Qaeda here in 2002.

Reflecting the breadth of services Edhi provides, ambulance drivers wait outside a downtown Karachi control center beside a steel cage filled with goats, four-legged donations-in-waiting that benefactors can buy for the poor.

There also is a steel basinet where mothers can leave unwanted babies, night or day.

"Recently we're not seeing so many left," dispatch supervisor Aftab Husain said. "More babies are showing up in garbage cans again. We're not sure why, since everyone knows Edhi."

Edhi's trademark service has been washing unclaimed bodies to prepare them for burial in keeping with Islamic tradition, something until recently he often did himself. Some question the logic of diverting resources to the dead, but he says it's important for religious reasons and to emphasize dignity for all.

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