I am travelling with a team of IRC aid workers who are helping to clear 12 miles (20km) of dirt track south of Kahlan, a village that has been cut off from the outside world since flood waters submerged all roads in the area.

As we set off from Mingora, Swat's largest city, the signs of devastation are everywhere. Concrete bridges have toppled into the fast-flowing and swollen Swat River while buildings that were inundated when the river crested have been reduced to piles of cracked concrete and twisted metal bars. The simple mud hut dwellings that are home to most people in this region have simply disappeared, swept away by the ferocious flood waters.

On the way out of Mingora, we pass Green Square, an intersection choked with donkey carts and pedestrians. The Taliban staged public executions in the square, recalls one of my Pakistani colleagues. Decapitated bodies were put on display as a warning to others.

Swat remains a dangerous place; few Westerners travel here and tensions remain high. Soldiers at heavily guarded checkpoints stop vehicles along the way. Men, children and women are searched for weapons and explosives.

After a bone-jarring two hour drive the main road abruptly ends, the asphalt swallowed by a muddy torrent of water. From here, my colleagues and I must walk.

Sitting in the grass under a peach tree I strike up a conversation with Amjad Ali, 20, who has trekked three hours from his hometown of Madyan to pick up clothing donated by the local community.

"I lost my house and my business," he says, half-shouting to make his voice heard over the whirr of low-flying Pakistani and US military helicopters crisscrossing the valley in their quest to deliver aid. "Everything was taken by the river. I don't know what to do now."

Like so many in Swat, this is the second disaster to strike Ali in little over a year. He had already been forced to turn over his fish farming business to the Taliban when they arrived in the area in 2008.

"We had trout ponds," Ali says. "The Taliban said that if we didn't give them our fish they would kill us. Eventually, they murdered two of my relatives. We decided to flee in May 2009."

Ali and his family ended up in a hot and overcrowded camp near the city of Mardan, 125 miles (200km) south. When military operations against the Taliban ended, Ali and his family returned home.

"Our village was completely destroyed," Ali recalls. "Houses had collapsed, shops had been looted."

Shortly afterward, the IRC arrived to help the people of Madyan. Aid workers repaired war-damaged water systems and distributed blankets, cooking ware and other relief supplies. Over the last year the IRC has offered similar assistance to over 200 villages in Swat and elsewhere. Slowly, life returned to normal. Then the floods came.

"Twenty-one members of my family are homeless," Ali says, shaking his head. "I cannot stop thinking about all the trouble we have had recently. Sometimes I think it's a bad dream."

This story first appeared in the Huffington Post.

The attack on the team was an attack on the entire humanitarian community and indeed on the men, women and children of Afghanistan whom they selflessly served. Those of us working to assist that nation's people are especially pained by the enormity of the loss.

Our heartfelt sympathy goes to the families and loved ones of those who died.

The International Rescue Committee is preparing to bring badly-needed help to victims of the devastating monsoon floods that have killed an estimated 400 people and are believed to have displaced nearly half a million in Pakistan.

The IRC's Pakistan Country Director Tammy Hasselfeldt said that while the monsoons have severely impacted people across the country, the province of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa - formerly known as North-West Frontier Province - has been especially devastated by the rains.

IRC teams on the ground are moving around in four-wheel-drive trucks on what is left of the main roads and by foot to access villages, trying to take stock of the situation.

"They report that the area is in terrible shape with collapsed buildings and dams," Hasselfeldt said. "Mud-brick homes, some with their occupants still clinging to the roof, have been washed away by the torrents."

Roads and bridges to Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa's capital Peshawar are knocked out. Jalozai, the largest camp for Pakistanis displaced by the conflict between the government and Taliban militants, has been inaccessible to vehicles since last Tuesday. Several rivers have burst their banks, washing away entire villages. In Pakistan's northwestern Swat district, the Swat river broke its banks and the IRC has only been able to access villages near the district capital, Mingora. The northern areas of Swat, where pockets of conflict still exist, are completely cut off and only accessible by helicopter.

"Our response will focus on making clean water accessible and providing shelter to people who have lost their homes," Hasselfeldt said. "This is the second week of the monsoon season and it is likely that we will see similarly devastating rains several more times over the course of the next four weeks. With this in mind, we are planning our response to be as mobile and responsive as possible."

Pakistani officials say the floods are the worst the region has experienced in more than 80 years. So far, an estimated 400,000 people are reported to be displaced, according to the UN Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA).

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The IRC has worked in Pakistan for three decades and is supporting Afghan refugees and tens of thousands of Pakistanis uprooted by fighting between the government and militants in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa province and in the adjoining tribal areas. Find out more here.

Amie Kandeh is the coordinator of an International Rescue Committee programme in Sierra Leone that informs communities about the consequences of forced female genital mutilation and runs three health centres where survivors of rape and other forms of sexual assault can get free help. She is based in Freetown.

Female Genital Mutilation, often referred to as 'FGM', used to be an accepted ritual for women in many parts of sub-Saharan Africa, particularly here in Sierra Leone. It's widely known now that the procedure can adversely impact the health of women and girls, increasing the risk of tetanus, urinary tract infections, complications during pregnancy and childbirth, painful sexual intercourse, and HIV. But that doesn't mean the tradition has ended. It is widely practiced in my country based on cultural, not religious, reasons.

I lead a team of social workers who, among other things, meet with women in local communities, government authorities and tribal elders to educate them about the health risks of FGM and advocate for a woman's right to choose. I know it's important, because I didn't have a choice. Nor was I old enough to make one when I was forced to undergo the procedure.

When I was 16 years old, my mother abruptly announced that my younger sister and I would be initiated into the 'Bondo Society', a group of women who've undergone traditional rites of passage in my culture. "Bondo Society!" we thought. "Us being initiated?!" We knew little about the process except that after the ceremony we would be regarded as women and would have the chance to be included in adult women's conversations.

We were all smiles as we said our goodbyes to begin our journey to the 'Bondo Bush', a secret location. After two hours of walking through the woods with Mum, we arrived at a big thatched hut in the middle of some very big trees.

By the hut, I noticed twelve other girls who were covered in white clay, with beads crossed between their breasts, and traditional cloths tied around their waists. None of them looked happy. I thought, "This is supposed to be an exciting moment for us, so why are our fellow initiates looking so sad?" After the greetings with the elders, Mum handed my sister and me over to the official initiator, called a 'Sowei'.

Immediately, the Sowei ordered for us to be stripped of our clothes. When it got dark, we were ushered into the hut and ordered to go to sleep because of "the long day ahead of us". We lay on the mats that were spread on the floor, without saying a word. I lay there, wondering about what was meant by the "long day".

We were woken in the morning by music and ordered to line up at the door of the hut. We were ushered into the courtyard, which was now packed with women drumming and clapping. Other women were carrying tree branches in their hands, which they waved as we walked past them into an area where the Sowei sat dressed in all white, including white clay rubbed on her face.

As we stood in line and approached the Sowei, each initiate was blindfolded and lowered to the ground. I was really confused and scared. As I struggled to take off my blindfold, someone held each of my hands down, and someone else sat on my chest. My mouth was gagged, and my legs were being pulled apart. All I could feel was pain between my legs. Excruciating pain. It took a while to set in, but I finally realised that I was being cut. To relieve myself from the pain, I pressed my teeth hard into the strange fingers that were in my mouth. Minutes later, the cutting stopped, and I felt a burning sensation between my legs.

I lay on the floor, blindfold removed, watching the action between my legs with people trying to control the bleeding by constantly pouring disinfectant on the cut. I felt betrayed! I wondered why I wasn't told about what this process of womanhood involved, and then given the choice of whether I wanted to belong or not.

Two weeks after we returned home, my sister and I gathered the courage to ask our mother why she had not told us about the process involved in the initiation. Mum explained, "My hands were tied, girls. I had to initiate you two so you can find husbands to marry and be accepted by other women in the community."

I did grow up and get married. I guess that was a positive outcome for Mum and Papa. But it hasn't been positive for me. When giving birth to my son, the complications I suffered were associated with the mutilation.

The IRC is against all practices that condone or perpetuate violence against women and girls, and I've seen our work here change attitudes toward female initiation rituals. For instance, last year a women's action group set up by IRC social workers in the village of Kailahun was able to prevent the mutilation of six girls ranging from two months to 12 years old. Afterward, one of the village chiefs suggested creating a law that would prevent girls under age 18 from being initiated into the Bondo Society.

Thanks to the efforts of my IRC colleagues, many women here in Sierra Leone now shun the practice of FGM for their children. Yet, there are still mutilations going on today, albeit underground. Much work remains to be done to ensure no more young girls are forced to endure this painful and damaging 'rite of passage' as I was.

"Every week, IRC case workers are tracing missing relatives and reuniting families and every week they meet more parents desperately searching for their children," says Jennifer Morgan, who runs the International Rescue Committee's family tracing program in Haiti. "It's simply too early to assume that a separated child is an orphan."

More than 50,000 Haitian children were reportedly living in orphanages prior to the earthquake and many had been placed there by destitute parents for an assurance of food, shelter and education. No one knows how many children were orphaned or separated on 12 January. What's clear is that many families were not with their children at the time of the earthquake. People scattered everywhere, fleeing to the countryside or finding shelter in hundreds of makeshift settlements dotting the worst affected areas. Countless numbers of neighbours and well intentioned strangers took in children that they found alone and scared on the street.

By the end of June, aid groups had collectively registered 2,280 separated children and reunited more than 390 with relatives. The IRC, which is assigned to the hard-hit neighbourhoods of Delmas and Centreville in Port au Prince, currently has a caseload of 638 separated children. Of those, the IRC's team of 18 case workers has been able to trace and reunite 40 families.

"Seeing a grieving mother embrace a child that she thought was dead is indescribable," says Morgan. "That's what motivates us to keep searching for missing relatives and to ensure that separated children are safe and cared for in familiar surroundings in the meantime. Family unity is their right and it's in their best interest."

After the earthquake, the Haitian government placed a temporary moratorium on new international adoptions, allowing only those already in the pipeline - a move that the IRC strongly supported. The aim was to protect vulnerable children from exploitation and trafficking - a serious concern considering the large number of unregistered and unregulated orphanages in Haiti and the deluge of adoption requests in the wake of the disaster.

"There was little oversight of adoptions brokered by orphanages before the earthquake," says Rebecca Chandler, IRC emergency child protection coordinator. "We've heard many reports of children with living parents being taken out of the country without proper consent. In some cases, parents were persuaded to give up their children with false promises that the adoptions were temporary or that they would still have contact with their child."

The IRC supports a recent pledge by the Haitian government to reform its adoption policies and ratify the Hague convention on inter-country adoption. It comes amid increasing pressure from adoption advocates to expedite the adoption process.

Haiti would first need to introduce a number of safeguards in order for its adoption policies to conform to international standards. These include ensuring that birth parents are fully aware that they are relinquishing claims over and contact with their child, says Chandler. There also must be legal documentation of parental consent administered by a government authority.

Meanwhile, the IRC and other child protection agencies have started working with the Haitian government to further develop a viable foster care and national adoption system, as well as other short and long-term options for children who have lost their families or cannot be cared for by relatives.

"International adoption can be a wonderful thing for a child and may be the best option for some Haitian children," says Chandler. "But under the circumstances, it should only be considered if all other options have been exhausted."

More about the IRC's work in Haiti

The IRC launched programmes in Haiti in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. In addition to reunifying separated families, IRC teams in Haiti are focusing on restoring livelihoods, delivering mobile medical services, providing learning and recreational programmes for children, building latrines, washing stations and shower facilities, clearing waste and promoting health and hygiene, protecting women, responding to the needs of rape survivors, and ensuring women have access to critical supplies and helping relocate vulnerable people ahead of the storm season, including those living in flood zones and other exposed areas. More >

Media Contacts

Aisha Bain (Port au Prince)
+509 3486 0718, aisha.bain(at)theIRC.org

Melissa Winkler (New York)
+1 646 734 0305, melissa.winkler(at)theIRC.org

Sam Duerden (London)
+44 (0)20 7692 0408, sam.duerden(at)IRCuk.org