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PRIME MINISTER Nawaz Sharif has always had a well-known soft spot for the Murree hills adjacent to Islamabad. During approximately the mid-1990s, in one of its first couple of stints in power, the PML-N government decided to develop a new tourist spot in addition to the decades-old Murree Mall, the traditional destination of holidaymakers.
The area chosen was the one around the Patriata peak, till then comprising well-forested sleepy little villages on the whole fortunate, in my opinion, to be some distance from the beaten track as far as tourist traffic was concerned.
In the months and years after the decision was taken, the area’s local population watched in bemused fascination as officialdom weighed in. There was excitement as access was improved, from what had earlier been a rutted, barely two-lane track to a fairly well-paved road with barriers and properly constructed embankments.
At the bazaar at the bottom of the Patriata peak, a large chunk of land was cut out for a car park to service several hundred vehicles, and paved over with concrete to the extent that the scar on the hillside was visible to the naked eye from up to a couple of kilometres away from the right direction.
Over the slopes of Patriata itself, a chairlift was constructed. This led to a vertigo-inducing cable car ride that took travellers across a whole valley and upwards to their final destination, the peak itself. Here, a swathe of land was cleared of trees to build an arena for outdoor music performances and other entertainment, kiosks for shops and eateries, all involving, of course, large amounts of poured concrete and tuff-tiles. The few rough dirt trails that had traversed the top of the peak were expanded to a substantial crisscrossing network — paved, naturally.
There are important lessons to learn from the ruin of Patriata.
Initially, the project met with some success. The locals were happy because of the increased economic activity, though sadly enough this led to lots of men abandoning their traditional subsistence farming lifestyle and instead opening hole-in-the-wall shops to sell packets of crisps and soda. The tourists were happy because another destination had been made available — and one which was, to boot, unspoiled. There were even a couple of concerts at the open-air arena, fairly well attended.
The downside, of course, was that Patriata soon lost its pristine character, the lush vegetation being replaced along the tracks by that hardy perennial growth that comes in the wake of day-trippers: the crisp and/or biscuit packet. The forest fought back, as it will, but on the whole many local people had reason to regret that their area had been singled out for the attentions of officialdom, which can often be of dubious benefit.
While the area went to seed, though — especially during the long years spent by the PML-N leadership in the wilderness — the endless stream of people visiting the New Murree ‘resort’ during the holiday seasons continued unabated. On hot summer weekends, or when the snows fall, the queue of vehicles snaking along the mountain to get to Patriata can stretch several kilometres long, the bazaar a mess of vehicles of all hue honking at each other, each containing men shouting directions at cross-purposes.
This last Eid, when the country effectively saw a shutdown lasting the best part of a week, the area was inundated again. There were reports of people being stuck in traffic jams lasting several hours, and an area designed to accommodate some 600 vehicles reportedly had to withstand the pressure of more than double the figure. Holidaymakers came in their thousands, by some estimates, the hills crawling with people seeking respite from the heat of the plains.
Once the fury had subsided, what remained was a sorry but hardly unexpected spectacle: trash strewn over every visible surface area, the mountain streams — the place is a major catchment area for Islamabad’s water supply — choked with raw sewage and garbage.
As someone who remembers what the area used to be like, what exists here now is nothing less than heartbreaking. But if one wants to argue for the case of the unstoppable march of development, then there are important lessons to learn from the ruin of Patriata — lessons that hold true for other popular tourist destinations as well.
If you build it, they will come, the adage goes. But they won’t stop coming simply because the authorities have lost interest in keeping the pace of infrastructure commensurate with what is required. As a consequence of both, the general lack of access to and investment in outdoor recreation spots, and the country’s ballooning population, people will take whatever little dribs and drabs become available to them.
The sustained creation of more choices, infrastructure planning that reconciles with the long-term, and the education of the population, could perhaps save some of Pakistan’s declining bank of natural resources. But is anyone in the corridors of power listening?
The writer is a member of staff.
Published in Dawn, July 18th, 2016
