The people of Miskeen and Musharraf colonies in Islamabad’s G-8/4 area waste nothing. Not even a charpoy frame.
“I must show it to you, we have a solar panel installed on the roof,” says young Abdul Basit.
True to his promise, there is an old worn out charpoy on one of the rooftops in Basit’s house. There are panels fitted into its structure where the woven netting should have been. This solar panel is able to power around seven bulbs and three fans in Basit’s house.
While the middle class is yet to cosy up to the idea of solar power, what happened in these informal settlements that caused them to adopt a green source of energy?
Why the need to generate electricity?
Because these informal settlements are among the over 40 slum areas that the Capital Development Authority (CDA) is set to raze to the ground. Depending on who is holding the reigns to Pakistan’s democracy, the Miskeen colony and Musharraf colony in G-8/4 has gone from being illegal to legal and back.
Nestled between several different government apartments, this area is largely inhabited by Pakhtun and Punjabi families. Residents of the area have had their fair share of ups and downs, and yet, those who live here feel that the prominently Christian area has given them all that they need in life.
Till recently, Basit’s area had electricity, water and gas connections, some legal and others illegal. But they lost all basic utilities soon after the PML-N government settled in.
What happens when you lose basic utilities? In the case of the katchi abadis in the capital, people take matters into their own hands.
“Over a year ago, when the power was first cut by the government, a man introduced the idea to others there,” says Abdul Basit, a young man from the area. Slowly but surely, the Miskeen and Musharraf colonies began being lit by solar panels, each house boasting their own setup.
But who gave them the panels?
“No one gave them to us. They are not funded by any person or NGO. People in the area had to find them and assemble them on their own. We get them at the wholesale market,” he says.
We proceed to another room in the house. “This is a solar charge controller,” says Basit while pointing at a black box hanging on the wall. “The controller is connected to batteries that power everything in the house. And this is how I
charge my phone with it!”
What happens when these systems break down? “We figure things out ourselves. We didn’t know what we were doing when we first got them and lost money trying to repair our systems. Our panels were even stolen once … toying with them has taught us what we need to know to fix them,” says Basit.
“It is good that that this firaun (pharaoh) disconnected our power,” says Basit’s father. “These solar panels are better than the city’s electric supply.”
And he isn’t wrong. With the solar panels the people of the area never have to worry about the lights going out. They don’t have to pay heed to any power loadshedding schedules and, ironically, enjoy uninterrupted power at all times.
Earlier this month, the CDA introduced its plans to demolish more than 40 slums areas from Islamabad, with an Islamabad High Court (IHC) bench directing the Authority to start the razing process from Sector I-11, an area which is
almost entirely made of mud and bricks. This area is built better than most other katchi abadis, with its concrete
constructions a sharp contrast to the ones in I/11 settlements.
Take Riaz’s house, for example. Riaz is the son of Sardaro Bibi, an elder of the area, and works in masonry — something that is obvious in the way his house is structured. Of the many homes in the area, his is perhaps the only one that has a stone pathway and strong walls. His work fetches him a good amount of money and he is able to provide for his wife and two sons many things that most in the area cannot afford.
“Solar power is good for us. I spent Rs70,000 after saving money for a long while and now it supports our TV, fans,
lights, everything — the only thing it can’t do is run the washing machine, and for that, I have bought a generator,” he explains.
Riaz’s setup is the most expensive in the area. The solar panels fitted on his roof are larger than anything else I’ve seen in the area. Downstairs, he shows us his TV and music system while his two young sons follow. His eight-year-old turns on the TV and says, “This is Charlie.” As an afterthought, the boy clarifies which Charlie: “Chaplin.”
While the elder son has long since quit education and has started helping his father with masonry work, Riaz is bent on ensuring his younger son stays in school. “They refuse to admit my elder son because of his age, I wanted him to study and get educated. But I do want to ensure that the younger one stays in, no matter what,” he says.
The solar panels are only part of the story, people of these informal settlements were also able to resolve their own water issues without anyone’s help.
“We have a lot of water pumps here and they are shared between families. Nine or 10 families will share one. There are more than 500 homes here so we can’t have separate pumps for everyone,” explains Sardaro Bibi.
The area has such religious and ethnic diversity that I was forced to wonder, are there any altercations? Sardaro Bibi shakes her head, “Why would we fight? We don’t have much else except each other. What is the point in fighting over water or anything else?” she asks.
It is that sense of community that helps the people there more than anything else. When authorities show up with demolition equipment to tear things down, everyone stands up against them in unison.
Then there are shared worries: a common allegation levelled at slum dwellers is that all manners of thievery, terrorism and evil manifest from the slum areas alone. In reality, most women work as maids while the men take up different jobs.
Some are labourers, others are fruit sellers, guards, drivers, masons, janitors, etc. Many work in nearby government apartments and offices.
“Two of my sons work at newspapers, they’re trained in printing work. They are also journalists,” boasts Basit’s father.
There is an attempt to distance their community from crime, since they are the first victims of crime in the area.
“Some time ago, three solar panels were stolen from the colony in one night,” recalls Basit. “We had to scrimp and save before we could buy this again. It can cost a minimum of Rs25,000, which is a large amount.”
The slums that the CDA is planning to demolish are scattered all over the capital. Some rest on the outskirts of the city while others are nestled in the heart of heavily populated centres. What all of them have in common is that they are built on prime land which can be sold for good money to the highest bidder.
For instance, the Miskeen colony and Mushrraf colony area alone sits in the G-8 sector next to a well-maintained markaz. A house here can cost around Rs2.5 crore by some estimates. The I/11 area, that is much further away from the city centre, hosts two bedroom flats that can cost anything from Rs2,400,000 to Rs3,500,000.
Notices to vacate the land were issued last year to the residents of these informal settlements, but nothing came of these warnings. This time it is different, as the CDA is now under court orders to demolish the katchi abadis. What will become of the nearly 100,000 people living in these areas has not been touched upon.
“After the CDA submitted its plan to the courts on June 28, some of its members visited some slum areas in the capital, but no proper notification has been issued to all the 42 slums,” explains Ammar Rashid of the All Pakistan Alliance for Katchi Abadis, the only organisation that is currently working with the people in the slum areas.
Rashid believes that the CDA is acting in haste, with no regard for the people that dwell in these areas. “You can’t do something like this without reaching out to the people that live in these areas. There are hundreds and thousands of people involved. You need to speak to them and come up with long term solution … a proper plan,” he says. “They just want to take the easy way out instead of trying to resolve the problem.”
However, none of the people that live in these areas know where they will go if their homes are razed to the ground to make way for bigger better homes.
“This is where we have lived all our lives … we don’t have a second option. The only thing we can do is try to fight back,” Basit’s father said wistfully.
Riaz agrees. “Where would you go if they took your home away? How do I answer this question,” he asked irritably.
The only thing that is obvious is that the CDA may be gearing up to tear down communities that are extremely efficient and well maintained — with no credit to anyone except themselves.
The writer tweets @luavut
Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, August 2nd, 2015
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