The Afghan carpet-making community of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa has been known to be conservative and not open to strangers. But in this closed up community are some of the best hidden secrets of a rare skill that is fast disappearing in Pakistan – a true mastery of the art of hand weaving carpets.

The story today, of the exotic Afghan carpet weavers, is one that has rendered them ordinary, mired in bureaucratic problems and hostility by the locals.

The ancient art of carpet weaving

The ingredients that have seen this time-tested art develop are not many – a rectangular wooden frame, thin fingers, fine wool and the expertise of a flat-nosed Turkmen or Uzbek. These elements are all that has come together to give us this rare gift of handmade Afghan carpets.

The art was first introduced by the Iranian in 500 B.C. and over time, developed by the Turks, refined by the Kashmiris and popularised by the Afghans. This skill made it to Pakistan after the Russian invasion of Afghanistan when a large number of Afghans migrated to Pakistan. However, it got lost amidst the negative symbols of Kalashnikov culture and drugs that are associated with the Afghan wars today and thought to have crossed the border towards Pakistan in the early 80s.

But along with the Kalashnikovs and the drugs, Afghan carpet artisans also quietly crossed the border and over time settled in and around Peshawar while some made Haripur and Mansehra their abode. Soon a small carpet industry came into existence and international buyers got attracted to this unique centre of art tucked away among the Pathans.

A little known fact is that during the peak of the carpet industry, Peshawar used to export over 90 per cent of the finest Afghan pure handmade carpets to the world earned Rs1 billion annually in the form of tax revenue to the national exchequer.

An even lesser known reality is the technical nature of the art of carpet weaving. Artisans who weave the carpets use a unique code language called ‘Talim’ devised by early Kashmiris for the pattern of knotting handmade carpet, but the knowledge of this language too is rare and only one among ten weavers have adequately mastered it to decode the knot patterns.

The process is also long and arduous and it takes even skilled artisans around a month to make a metre-long chobi rang, which can earn 190 US dollars in the international market.

But it is its difficulty that makes the Afghan carpet weaving skill an exclusive and unique one. Not only do they take pride in it but they are also very protective of it. “We don’t want to transfer it to other communities, it is our traditional skill, and we only transfer this rare art to our children,” explained Shitab Ali, adding, “It takes a lifetime to acquire this skill and if we transfer this art to other communities, what will we do?”

An unappreciated industry

Carpet weavers do not know gender. Everyone, male or female, is trained in it. Zarmin Bibi is a skilled artisan who inherited the art of carpet weaving from her father many years ago.

“I was 14 when my father taught me this art and it took me six years to learn Talim. Now, I along with my three daughters and two sons entertain orders from exporters. But business has slowed down recently – for the first time in my life, I have become poor – and today only my sons are working while my daughters sit idle all day because there isn’t enough work,” she explained remorsefully.

The carpet industry hit a crisis a few years ago when residents of Afghan colony, where 1,000 handlooms were at work, raised objections to the environmental hazards of carpet making. Local residents complained that drainage from handlooms and washing carpets contained chemicals that have adverse affects on their health.

This hostility pushed away many carpet weavers, while the police did not make it any easier. They would be frequently harassed by the police. Police extorted money from them on different pretexts and the local government imposed heavy taxes on handlooms which made lives of the artisans miserable. Militancy and worsening law and order situation added fuel to the fire by scaring away foreign buyers from Peshawar.

And even though the government has occasionally shown interest in supporting the industry, nothing has changed on the ground. During Gen Musharraf’s government, the then governor of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa approved the construction of a carpet city outside Peshawar and a large piece of land over 1,000 kanals was acquired at Nisata near district Charsadda for the purpose.

But then as the fate would have it, flash floods in 2010 inundated the site for carpet city, and overwhelmed, the KP government withdrew the scheme despite consent of the stakeholders.

A few months ago members of the All Pakistan Commercial Exporters Association (APCEA) approached the high officials and selected a piece of land of 500 kanals near Peshawar for purchasing the site of Carpet Nagar (the land of carpets). World Bank, USAID and some other international donor agencies are also interested in the lucrative project but this latest effort too seems to have lost momentum because of official snags.

Other countries beckon

“Two months ago, my cousin was kidnapped from Afghan colony, and it took a payment of half a million rupees to secure his life. We feel insecure and working in such bad conditions is not possible for us,” lamented Mirdad Jan.

While the government made promises and failed to set up a separate area for the Afghan artisans, the artisans started closing their handlooms. Countries like Iran, India, Turkey and Afghanistan took advantage of the situation and lured them to better prospects and facilities. Now only 300 handlooms are working in Peshawar.

Zarwali and his three brothers were all experts in carpet packing but have now been rendered jobless for the last one year. “We lost our jobs because the carpet industry declined. We used to rely on this industry and make as much as Rs20,000 every month, but now our families are starving,” he complained.

The decision of the artisans to leave for greener pastures is no mystery then. Pashmina, a 40-year old Turk carpet-artisan put it simply, “Here, heavy taxes, police attitude and insecurity sometimes make leaving the only realistic option for us.”

Pashmina’s father and elder brother left for Turkey a year ago and now she is trying to persuade her husband to move to Iran, which is offering a permanent citizenship in addition to other perks. And the sad reality is that even the 300 left over handlooms might not be around for much longer.

While the government dilly dallies in its plans of offering a proper space for these rare artists, Pakistan suffers another sort of brain drain, one of a unique culture and heritage.