In Pakistan, she sees the value in children who ‘are never seen or heard’

On the outskirts of Islamabad, Pakistan, there is a neighborhood a world away from the luxury cars, private schools, and orderly streets in the capital. Here, around a Sufi shrine called Bari Imam, mud-brick houses line the dirt roads, little boys with dirty faces offer to wash cars for less than a dollar, and girls in torn dupattas, long scarves, try to sell flowers to people who come to pray at the shrine.

But not far from the shrine is a school that provides education and solace to these street children, who otherwise would face abuse by gangs that operate in the area. Zeba Husain, the founder of Mashal School, is greeted enthusiastically by the students as she walks in the gates with a smile. There is a never-ending flow of people to her office – mothers, volunteers from the country’s top colleges, and private donors with their checkbooks.

Ms. Husain is clearly loved in the community. And yet her life has been an uphill struggle. Getting her initiative to where it is today – with close to 1,000 students, four branches around the capital, and 790 former students mainstreamed into the government school system – has not been easy. “I started with just two children 10 years ago,” says Husain, who is in her 50s now.

Recommended: A former street child in Afghanistan, now giving back where he found help

What spurred her to dedicate her life to these children were her own experiences in her youth. She says that as a child, she encountered sexual advances by mullahs in madrassas: “They would try to touch me.” She says she also experienced racism during a short stay in London in the 1970s.

“Feeling harassed and feeling uncomfortable was something that was truly embedded in my feelings. I could feel that a person needs to be free of these things, of exploitation,” she says.

But it was working with refugees as part of United Nations operations in Pakistan that really gave her a sense of what some people have to go through. “That was something that changed my life because I had never seen that aspect of humanity, the human suffering,” she says.

“Some of us just get trapped. I’ve seen so many [people] just taking their own lives because of the hopelessness that they have created in themselves,” she adds.

This hopelessness is something that Husain could see in the eyes of the street children at Bari Imam when she first came across them 10 years ago. She had come to the area to go hiking up the lush Margalla Hills that surround Islamabad. “[There], I saw these children,” she says. “I asked them, ‘Don’t you go to school?,’ and they said, ‘Nobody keeps us; nobody wants us.’ ”

Husain had returned to Pakistan from the United States, where she had moved with her parents and children after a difficult divorce. But her father’s sudden death persuaded her to accompany her mother back to Pakistan. It was around this time that she found out she had a brain tumor.

“I cried a lot,” she says. “But then I had a dream which made me realize there is a reason for this, that my life is only starting now.” The tumor was diagnosed as benign, but she knew it was time to act on her longtime dream of helping poor people.

THE SCHOOL AT FIRST

So Husain told the children that she would start teaching them. But the task ended up being more complicated than she expected, with the children first needing attention for some health issues.

Slowly, she started teaching them arts and sports. “I didn’t start from regimented things because of the regiment they’ve had in their lives of every day going out to fend for themselves. They needed a change,” she says.

As the school gradually grew, the women in the community also became interested.

“It was very, very encouraging that the mothers would come in, not the fathers, because the mothers have gone through a lot with the fathers,” says Husain, referring to the fact that some men have used drugs and behaved violently.

She decided to start providing the women with skills development. “They could see their future in these children’s eyes,” she says.

The school day was arranged so the children would still have their afternoons free for work. Otherwise, persuading the families to allow the children to come would have been difficult. And the curriculum was tailor-made to suit the needs of the children. Husain added subjects like nutrition and hygiene – topics that most other Pakistani children learn about at home.