I came home two weeks earlier than I planned—March 7th, 2020—due to COVID19. Wondering at the time whether I was being overly cautious, I quickly concluded that it was a wise choice. As I have sheltered in place for two months, safe in my home, the plight of those I visited near the end of my time in Pakistan continues to come to mind, reflecting on their vulnerability as they live on the edge of society.

The people I refer to are the brick kiln workers who make bricks, the main construction material in the country. Housed primarily on site, the workers are some of the poorest of the poor in Pakistan, essentially indentured servants, and primarily Christian. Families are required to make between 1000 and 2000 bricks a day and all the members of the family are involved, even though children are not supposed to work.

It is virtually impossible for families to get out of debt. When it rains, the family’s previous day’s labor disintegrates and work stops for several days. The kilns have to close during the monsoon season and the government occasionally closes them when air pollution is extremely high. These factors and the typical family crises for those who are always living at the margins keep the workers in debt. They have continued to work throughout the COVID19 crisis, likely knowing little about it.

These workers and their families are supposed to be paid the government rate of Rs 1100 per 1000 bricks, but the kiln we visited pays around Rs 800 ($5.40) per 1000 bricks. The owners then deduct another Rs 200 ($1.30) as an installment on debt. The guarantors get Rs 50 ($.33) on every 1000 bricks. These are people to ensure that the workers stay and pay their debts. If a worker disappears, the guarantor will find them and bring them back. Typical family debt is Rs 150,000 to Rs 200,000. ($1000-$1500). In turn, the owners sell the bricks for between 8000-10,000 ($55-$65) per 1000, or 10X the wages of the workers.

My reason for visiting the brick kiln was to go with Dr. Vaqas who was recruiting young women to attend a sewing class. When young women reach adolescence they become especially vulnerable and often stay home. I was visiting a project that attempts to intervene at that point and help these young women develop sewing skills to supplement the family income while keeping them away from the brick kiln. Dr. Vaqas had developed entre into the community and approval from the owner. We spent several hours going from family to family where he would talk to the male head of the family about the project. The women of the family would often listen from a distance. And the factor of debt would come in—could they afford to lose the labor of anyone? In one particular instance, a young woman was doing the typical work of a man in the brick-making process. You could read her frustration as she carried out the work and as she listened to the conversation. As it turned out, two of her brothers had broken legs and could not work so her father was not sure he could afford for her to attend the sewing class. In another case, a young man was working who had lost most of his fingers in a factory accident and was back working with his family in brick-making. Dr. Vaqas talked with another man who likely had hepatitis, evidence in the yellow in his eyes. Heaviness was present as people were hesitant to stop their work for conversation and contemplate the cost of losing the labor of a daughter.

The process of brick-making begins with mounds of clay being brought in. The men dig holes on the margins of the mounds where they mix water and clay to the right consistency. A wood cart is then used to take the mud to the place where women and children use a simple mold to form the bricks. When partially dry, the children take the bricks and pile them up in long rows. Eventually they are then put on a motorized rickshaw to move them to the kiln.

The smoke stack of the kiln sits in the middle of the areas where the bricks are baked. The firing is actually done by sections. First a section of bricks are stacked about 10-12 feet high with spaced air pockets. This section is then covered and coke, which continued to be stoked in the center of the kiln, is poured down holes in the section at regular time intervals. Two rows of these holes, covered with metal lids, are kept live for 4 hours and then the fire moved to the front of the section being fired, until the entire section has been fired. Once this is completed, it sits covered for several days to cool. Finally this section is opened up and the finished bricks are loaded onto trucks.

A pilot for the sewing project has been started in another village. We visited that center and met young women who proudly showed us their work. They had learned to sew and were now making clothes for family members, rather than having to pay a tailor. One of the brother’s of a young woman came by and showed how he looked up examples for them on the internet, and bought cloth in the market so that they could create copies along with innovating their own designs.

The contrast between these young women and the ones at the brick kiln were evident in the community among the women, their smiling faces, and their pleasure at what they had created. The challenge is to recreate this opportunity for a broader group of young women, while working within the context of the social norms of the culture and the structures of their marginal place in society.

The project is now on hold. I pray that the marginalization of the brick kiln communities keeps them on the margins of the effects of COID19. And I think about the young women, so like my own daughters, wondering if there is not something more I should or could do.