Pakistan - that is all

In Bhai Pheru, a village 70 km from Lahore, I meet father Leopold.
Father Leopold, or Bara Father, the big father, or Baba Ji, or father Ji, or Leopold Evens from Meeuwen-Gruitrode, Belgium, is living since 40 years in Pakistan. As missionary. But not to convert. Because that word is often being misinterpreted.
Father Leopold is here to help the Christians of Pakistan out of their miserable situation, to integrate them in this society where Christians are still often considered as untouchables. Unbelievable. Sometimes I feel as if I am being transported directly into the Middle Ages. Villages where Christians are living together in miserable conditions far from the centre, next to the open sewers. Muslims who, as I am being told, don’t want to talk to them, don’t want to touch them, don’t want to eat with them. This is what is happening in the villages, in the city they are apparently and luckily a few steps ahead. But here, where literate people are exceptional (only 25 percent of the population is literate),here the future of the Christians is often hopeless.
To help them to integrate and to release them from the status of untouchable, education is the key, father Leopold realized. When one is literate and well educated, then the kind of his religion only comes in second place. Then he is appreciated because of what he can do for the society. Christian, Sikh, Muslim or whatever.
That is why father Leopold started founding schools. For the Christians, because they needed it, but also for the Muslims, because bringing together these two religions is of utmost importance to get rid of the prejudices.
The Middle Ages are not far, seeing the working conditions and the feudal system. The largest part of the land is in the hands of a few who own factories, brick ovens, land for wheat. The villagers work for them, often living in houses – if a room with a bed can be given that name – next to the working place. For cement there is no money. Bricks are being piled up and that is called wall. They are fully dependent on the landlord who often doesn’t even give them the minimum wage. Many children don’t go to school, because that means two hands less to work meaning less income.
When these people could be given the opportunity of a good education, even only one member of the family becoming literate, then there is hope for a better, independent future.
That is what Father Leopold knows and what he lives for. Child by child, stone by stone, school by school. He doesn’t keep anything for himself. His patience is endless. “You need to have 25 years of patience.” That is what his predecessor, Father Henri, told him and what he himself found out to be the truth.
Between the houses of the brickers he has started at least three times a little school. Every time he was chased out by the bosses. Bosses, at least these ones, don’t like smart people.
Under the name St. Paul’s educational system, Father Leopold has founded 15 schools now and 60 churches, spread throughout the villages of this parish as big as the Belgian province of Limburg.
Much money is needed. He doesn’t always know where it is coming from. People he never met before, but who hear about him and his work, and know that it is right what he is doing, transfer money or send containers. From different parts of the world.
In Bhai Pheru, where the missionary is based, there’s a hostel for boys and one for girls and a school. Since one week I am staying here. Filming. To show people what is happening here. To translate my amazement about the situation in images – the Middle Ages, they still exist, really. To capture the love that Father Leopold gives and is. There are almost no words for it, there are maybe images for it. I try.
Love, when pure and true, seems to be endless. As well as gratitude. The children of the hostel are eating out of his hands, hanging at his clothes, his beard. They realize, some more consciously than others, that they have been given an uncommon chance to improve their and their family’s lives. Everyone passing by, or visited by Father Leopold -parents, babies, Christians and Muslims, dogs and their puppies- everyone knows that he is here to help them. Not to help himself. His life is a life devoted to the weak, the suppressed, the children, the poor. Everything is in function of them. When the electricity runs out (from 6 hours per day up to 24 hours) he gets angry and irritated. Because the water pump doesn’t work anymore. Not because he can’t take a shower, but because of the children being out of water, the people of the neighborhood being out of water. Luckily the hostel has a generator, but what should the normal people do? Without water, without power? He wonders sweating in his sleeveless shirt. One fan, attached to the battery, is still working. The temperature is around 40°C now in may in Pakistan.
I watch with big eyes. Never before have I seen so much gratitude all together, never before have I been so close to the misery of people, never before have I realized so strongly how lucky a Belgian is.
Every day someone passes by, from nearby or from far away, with a gift. The first milk of the cow that has just given birth. They don’t possess much more than that cow. They can’t afford the journey nor the gift. But still. The Christian brickers we visit offer us meat and cola and fruit. Meat! That’s a few days’ wage, they can’t afford that. And still. And that shows the sincerity of their gratitude. After having spent a week here I know that their gratitude is rectified.
I learn what being a Christian actually means. Giving love. That is all. No sermons, no empty prayers. But help, food, education, hugs and chances. That is all. That is really all.