November 5, 2001	Monday	haba’an 18, 1422

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LAHORE, Nov 4: Among the Afghans in Lahore, there is mixed reaction about the continuation of US air strikes against their homeland. Some are petrified, others prepared. And for the post-war generation, most of them born and bred in Lahore or other parts of the country, this is their native land and their concern is much higher for the security and solidarity of where they live now, than that of what they have left behind, what they call the land of their ancestors.

For the average Afghani living in Lahore, memories of a life in Afghanistan are few and faded. The younger among the lot in particular, have very little idea about their native land, most of them having never visited it. Living in small groups in various kutchi abadis and slums dotted around Lahore, the Afghani population makes its livelihood in a number of ways. From their presence in the cloth and Bara markets of Lahore, where they own and operate or work at a number of cloth and electric goods outlets, to their appearance as salespersons at your doorstep, vending merchandize of Chinese or Russian make, they are a rigorous lot. The poorest among them are seen loitering around as scavengers, selling corn, or working as shoeshine boys, a profession that owes its origin to the war days, and which is disappearing now. Some also run Afghani food outlets at different points in the city, specializing in delectables such as Afghani tikka and Afghani roti.

A large number of Afghans, who either crossed the border as refugees, or migrated to the country through other channels, live in low-lying localities of Lahore. Their living is usually deprived, and residing filthy, congested ‘homes’ seems to bother them little. For them, the feeling of being safe in their present refuge is more than what is required. The current situation, though, has given rise to the fear that more refugees may cross over to Pakistan and head for Lahore and other cities. “We are a community and believe in living in groups, so other refugees moving to Lahore will have to survive in our localities, however crowded, and share from our means of livelihood, however limited,” observes Muhammad Isa, who owns a restaurant in Ichhra. “We will try to assist our people coming to Lahore and help them start business or whatever they want to do. It is more dangerous up there close to the border, and Lahore is safer. To help them settle here is our responsibility.”

The influx of a hundred thousand and many more refugees, most people feel, would actually be felt, once they start dispersing to the metropolitans in search of a living, causing problems of multiple types, and leading to saturation of an already strained work market. With an increasing number of refugees stealing in through a porous border, and many more waiting for it to open, the number is expected to rise. And concern for their stranded brothers on the other side of the border runs high among the local Afghans. Most feel that it is their obligation to help those entering Pakistan, and are willing to travel up north to bring them safely to Lahore. “Life is miserable in the refugee camp,” says Isa. For how long can one survive and aid whose supply may not be consistent? Once here, our people have to learn to survive on their own, the way we are. The Americans abandoned us and stopped helping us once the Russian had fled, and we cannot let that happen again.” But, in an economy in a perpetual slump and rampant unemployment, finding work might pose many challenges. It may also lead to a rise in the incidence of crime and add to the burden on our already limited resources, a situation that many social scientists are anticipating. Even for all the aid that the country might receive the practical aspect of the manner in which the burden of refugees can affect our economy and society might be quite daunting.

Though Afghan men and children in Lahore work side by side to supplement family incomes and many are looking for work, few women are actually allowed to leave the home to seek work. Even in dire situations they are seldom permitted to work and the menfolk usually believe in fulfilling the responsibility of making a living themselves, despite of the fact that they realize that it is easier for women to find work than men, usually as domestic helpers. The women are mere nostalgic about their homeland and the situation arising from the present conditions. Safia Bibi, who lives in a dirty Afghan slum locality off Ravi Road, says she is brave enough to go back to her country to wage a war against anyone attacking it. While the men do not fear attack of any type, the women are also full of valour. Others still are ones enough to say if it wasn’t for the scare of the war, they wouldn’t be sitting in Pakistan.

The Afghani child population is little aware of why they are here, or the fact that they belong to another land. Their knowledge of the present dangers is also limited. As a sturdy 15-year boy with rosy cheeks delves into a heap of garbage, scavenging for some valuables, he scoffs at the idea of any lurking danger. For he has not known anything beyond war and its destruction even before. “What change will the war bring?” he asks. “Life back there has always been a struggle in the battlefield.”

Presenting a tensed, yet determined look, the city’s increasing Afghan population, that we might have forgotten since the aftermath of Afghanistan’s last war softened down on us, has once again started to make itself felt. On the home front, Lahorites are vociferous in expressing due consideration about the mode in which the increasing number of refugees might modify and influence life in Lahore, their memories going back to a similar situation, at the time when the former Soviet Union attacked Afghanistan. FARYAL SHAHZAD