A mother and son, Najeba and Zaheed, from the village of Bago Daro, await a boat sent to rescue them in Sind, Pakistan.
"A month after floods devastated the country, small boats still rescue those strong, and lucky, enough to have survived the waters"
A month into the unfolding disaster the Guardian's Gethin Chamberlaine tells the heartbreaking stories of many Pakistani families:
At first it looks like just another tiny island of ruined and abandoned buildings, poking out of the vast, unnatural inland sea that stretches away into the distance on all sides.
But as the boat edges closer, gliding over the tops of bushes and brushing over raised banks that were once roads, it is clear that this one is different. There are people here, pouring out of their rough shelters, streaming down to the water's edge, shielding their eyes from the sun, squinting to get a better glimpse of salvation.
It is clear, too, that there are far too many to fit on the two small boats that have been sent to rescue them. They will hold 20 people each, but there are maybe 100 or more standing among the graves in the burial ground – the only piece of land high enough in the village of Bago Daro to remain above the floodwaters of the Indus.
People push and shove to get to the boats, wading through the water, men lifting children onto the wooden benches, women with babies clambering over the sides. A few men elbow their way through the mass of bodies and hold their ground: those women and children not strong enough to compete are left behind.
It is all over in minutes, the boatmen pulling on the cords to start the outboard motors, the boats pushing backwards and away. Those not strong or lucky enough to grab a place stand and watch in despair. In the water, a little boy stands bewildered. He does not cry, or wave, or show any emotion. He just stands there, staring blankly, receding into the distance. And then he is gone, obscured by the top of a tree, and the boats are once again out on the open water, heading for the city of Shahdadkot and what amounts, in the flood-ravaged province of Sind, to safety.
Most of the villagers have never been on a boat before. They sit quietly for a while, then start to talk.
It was five days ago that the water arrived, five days that they have been trapped by the rising waters. They had been asleep in their houses, says Nawabi Khatoon, when they realised. They had heard no warnings, she says, cradling the youngest of her four children, one-year-old Zenat. No-one told them their homes, miles from the river, were in the slightest danger.
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