Makeshift school gives second chance to Peshawar slum children

Ayesha, 10, used to beg but now, after school, she sells flowers on the roads of Peshawar. Photo taken on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)
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Updated 18 January 2020
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Makeshift school gives second chance to Peshawar slum children

  • 273 children are registered at Dosti’s eight mobile schools in Peshawar
  • The organization also offers business assistance to parents

PESHAWAR: “When I don’t want to go to the workshop, I sometimes go begging,” says 11-year-old Shahid, who works at a car repair shop in Peshawar. He must earn to support his parents and could not come to school. But everything changed last year when school came to him.




Ayesha leaves her home in a slum area of Peshawar to attend Dosti's mobile school class on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

“Life is hard for me, but this school has changed it. Now I am able to write my name in English and in Urdu!” the boy told Arab News.




Eleven-year-old Shahid supports his family by working at a car repair shop. Photo taken on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

The school is run by Dosti, a welfare organization funded in 1996 by Dr. Munir Ahmad, which last year launched a mobile school initiative to reach children like Shahid in the slum areas of Peshawar, who otherwise would be left without any access to education.




A mobile school van with teaching materials and teachers arrives for classes in the slum areas of Peshawar on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

Dosti teachers arrive in a van and on motorbikes, bringing teaching materials and equipment. Currently, 273 children are registered at Dosti’s eight makeshift schools and more than half of them attend classes regularly.

The initiative has received significant support from university students, and nearly 2,400 of them volunteer for the program as teachers. Local authorities have also signed an agreement with Dosti to expand its reach.




Peshawar University students volunteer to teach children at one of the eight mobile schools run in the city. Photo taken on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

To break the cycle of poverty and prevent its pupils from dropping out, the organization has also introduced a small business assistance program to the children’s parents.




Students are waiting for their class to start. Photo taken on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

“I love this school,” says 10-year-old Ayesha, who sells flowers on the city’s roads.

“I love animals and the school teacher has taught me their names and showed their pictures. When I came to this school one year ago, I didn’t even know how to hold a pencil, but now I can do wonders.”




A boy is learning to spell his name in English at Dosti mobile school class on Jan. 14, 2020. (AN photo by Saba Rehman)

 


Separated twice: An Afghan man’s life in Pakistan and the fear of losing home again

Updated 27 January 2026
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Separated twice: An Afghan man’s life in Pakistan and the fear of losing home again

  • Lost as a child in Peshawar, Mohammad Rahim Khan built a life in Pakistan but remains undocumented
  • Deportation drive of ‘illegal’ foreigners exposes legal gaps around adoption, marriage, refugee status

ISLAMABAD: Mohammad Rahim Khan was five years old when he last saw his mother.

It was at the Hajji Camp bus stop in Pakistan’s northwestern city of Peshawar, more than four decades ago. His mother, an Afghan refugee fleeing war, had brought him across the Tari Mangal border in Kurram district and into Pakistan. While waiting at the crowded terminal, Khan wandered to a nearby toy shop. When he returned, she was gone.

He searched for her for two days. She never came back.

A local shopkeeper, Ali Muhammad, took pity on the child and brought him home, promising to help find his family. The temporary shelter became permanent. Khan grew up in Pakistan, adopted informally into the household, and never returned to Afghanistan.

Now 45, he lives on the outskirts of Islamabad in a modest two-room house, working as a daily wage laborer. But a nationwide deportation drive launched by Pakistan in 2023 has placed his entire life under threat.

Since November 2023, authorities have deported nearly 2 million Afghan nationals, targeting those without legal documentation. Khan, who has remained undocumented throughout his adult life, fears he may soon be among them.

“I spoke to my lawyer that I am very worried,” Khan told Arab News. “I love Pakistan.”

A FAMILY WITHOUT PAPERS

Ali Muhammad later married Khan to his daughter, Gul Mina. Together, they have six children, four daughters and two sons. Yet despite decades in Pakistan, Khan’s Afghan nationality continues to shadow the family.

Khan never held an Afghan refugee card, Afghan Citizen Card (ACC), Proof of Registration (POR), or any other formal documentation. His family assumed for decades that his informal adoption, marriage to a Pakistani citizen, and long residence would provide sufficient legal standing. They only sought legal advice when the deportation drive began threatening separation.

Without a Pakistani national identity card, his children cannot obtain Form-B, the birth registration document required for school enrolment.

“They [children] are told to get a Form-B,” Gul Mina told Arab News. “Otherwise, they will not go to school.”

Three of their daughters were forced to leave school after eighth grade.

Healthcare has also been affected. When Khan’s 13-year-old son, Ehsanullah, fractured his arm, a public hospital refused to issue a registration card without identity documents.

“Then I went to a [private clinic] in Chak Shahzad and got my treatment there,” Khan said.

The family has petitioned the Islamabad High Court to block his deportation. Lawyers say the case highlights how thousands of long-term residents fall through legal cracks created by Pakistan’s citizenship, refugee and documentation framework.

LEGAL GREY ZONE

Pakistan does not legally recognize Western-style adoption. Instead, it uses a guardianship system under the 1890 Guardians and Wards Act, aligning with Islamic principles that preserve lineage, so adopted children don’t inherit or change their family name but receive care, education and welfare through court-appointed guardianship.

“Because we don’t have a legal pathway for adoption per se, the adopted child does not get citizenship of the adopting parents automatically,” said Advocate Umer Ijaz Gillani, a legal expert on citizenship.

Years earlier, Khan’s father-in-law had offered to register him as his biological son to obtain identity documents, but Khan refused, calling the move fraudulent. Because Khan later married his father-in-law’s daughter, both he and his wife cannot legally list the same person as their father on official records, leaving them without a lawful workaround.

Marriage offers no certainty either. Pakistan’s Citizenship Act of 1951 grants citizenship to foreign women married to Pakistani men, but is silent on foreign husbands married to Pakistani women.

While higher courts have, at times, ruled in favor of such men, implementation has been inconsistent. In October 2025, the Supreme Court struck down a high court order that had directed authorities to grant citizenship to an Afghan man married to a Pakistani woman.

Even the Pakistan Origin Card (POC), a long-term residency document, remains difficult to secure.

“We have experienced that in the case of especially Afghan men who marry Pakistani women, the government authorities are often reluctant to recognize this right,” Gillani said.

According to submissions made by government officials in court, authorities have received at least 117 applications for nationality from Afghan men married to Pakistani women following directives issued by the Peshawar High Court, reflecting a broader pattern rather than isolated cases.

‘NO RELAXATION’

Officials say the deportation policy allows no exceptions.

“No relaxation has been granted by the government, including for those who’ve married to Pakistani citizens,” said Asmatullah Shah, the chief commissionerate for Afghan refugees.

“If they want to live here, they should go back and apply for a visa and then they can come here with valid documentation.”

Legal experts note that deportation would send Khan to Afghanistan despite having no known relatives there, and that returning legally would require obtaining an Afghan passport and a Pakistani visa, costs far beyond the means of a daily wage laborer.

For Khan’s mother-in-law, Husn Pari, who raised him for decades as her own son, the prospect is devastating.

“When I am not able to meet [Khan] for one day, my day does not pass,” she said. “His own mother, how much pain must she be in?”

For Khan, the fear of deportation echoes the trauma of his childhood.

“Before I was separated from my first mother,” he said. “The second time I will be separated from my second mother. This is very difficult for me.”