I made my first visit to the Islamic Republic of Pakistan last month and outside Lahore I met Jesus.
That is, I met with Christ’s compassionate heart and caring hands in the ministry of Pakistani Christians amongst the poorest, most oppressed of their neighbours, the brick kiln people.
My colleagues and I stayed in Youhanabad, the Christian-majority area of Lahore – the largest slum in Asia I was told – where the poverty and deprivation were bad enough. The filth, the free-flowing sewage and the sheer physical brutality of the area were depressing, and relieved only by the cheery welcome and genuine warmth of the believers.
But if Youhanabad was depressing, the dry bleak brick kilns outside Lahore were distressing. There whole families including children as young as six spend all day outdoors – in summer the temperature can rise to an unbearable 45 degrees or more – trying to make their target number of bricks in order to pay off loans from the brick kiln owners. They are entirely in the owners’ unregulated hands. They live on the desolate sites in crumbling fly-blown cattle sheds, are usually illiterate, receive no reliable or independent verification of how much they owe, and may be forced to stay on the brick kilns into a second or third generation as they have no way of knowing if or when their debt has been repaid.
The first couple we met had nine daughters all working all hours every day by crouching down and shovelling brick clay into moulds with their bare hands. It’s pitiless mind-numbing shoulder-wrenching work. The next family were doing the same. They had taken a loan out from the kiln owner to pay for the parents’ medical expenses following a road accident. They could neither read nor write, had no idea how much of the loan was outstanding, and in practice could be forced to remain on the brick kilns for a lifetime paying off the debt.
In polite circles this is called bonded labour. In fact they are simply slaves.
I felt anger rising in me. And, reminded of the UK’s Factory Acts, Chimney Sweepers Act and other worker-welfare legislation pioneered by ‘Poor Man’s Earl’ Lord Shaftesbury and 19th century social reformers, I naively asked our Pakistani hosts whether authorities or activists ever intervene. “No. Nothing is done. There’s too much corruption at all levels,” they explained quietly. There’s also no political will for change. I looked across at two small boys, six and ten, turning over endless rows of bricks to dry in the hot sun and clenched my fists…
But soon I found that my hosts were too reticent. They themselves are intervening brilliantly.
They took us to a row of hovels that pass for homes where we were introduced to a group of girls at a Sunday school that takes place any and all days of the week. Like a normal English church Sunday school, the girls learn Bible stories and how to worship and pray. But they also learn how to read and write in Urdu and English, and elementary Maths too.
And, most amazingly in this male-dominated Islamic country where girls usually are bottom of the social pile, they are taught to sew, crochet and embroider so that, as our hosts explained, they can set up their own small businesses and thereby finance their way out of the brick kilns. “It’s economic empowerment,” smiled the teachers, self-consciously employing western jargon.
And there was more. A few days later we assembled at a Lahore church with 300 girls, all transported by bus from brick kilns around the city. It was the annual Graduation Day organised by our hosts, where the nimble-fingered efforts of the girls were honoured and 104 of them stepped up to receive a graduation certificate and their own brand-new Victorian-style hand-powered sewing machine (here). The smiles, the laughter, the tears of joy, the prayers and hymn-singing, the varied colours of the girls’ saris and shalwar kameez, the scent from the garlands of rich red roses – it was an astonishing and emotional event.
While in Pakistan I enjoyed other astonishing occasions too. I spent an hour with a young man who had been an Islamic fundamentalist and member of the banned militant group Lashkar-e-Taiba that gained global notoriety by their 2008 terrorist attack in Mumbai (here). One night he met Jesus Christ in a dream, read some verses from an available New Testament and converted to Christianity. His wife promptly left him. Then she herself had a dream about Jesus and returned to her husband a Christian too. They had to leave their home in the fundamentalist stronghold of Faisalabad and now live elsewhere in Pakistan with their four young children.
We also visited Gojra where tragically in August 2009 a mob of Muslims slaughtered eight Christians, injured eighteen and destroyed over 100 homes (here). The courageous Christians are rebuilding their lives and homes despite the prevalent fear of further attacks – we met one young man who had been shot in the street by a Muslim assailant just a month before our visit.
But it was the work of the Pakistani believers in the brick kilns that stuck with me most. If Jesus Christ visited Pakistan in person today, that’s exactly where he would go – amongst the poorest and most oppressed. It’s amongst them first that he would preach the gospel, heal the sick and set the slaves free.
But of course that is what he’s doing by his Spirit anyway through the stunning work of his Pakistani followers. They are light in a very dark place.
I returned to London humbled and inspired.