IT’S an old topic. Only some fresh evidence adds to the urgency of the situation. There was a news item in the papers saying a few thousand donkey hides were discovered in a Karachi locality. But there was more than an element of relief for the proud Karachiites in the story. It quoted a local police officer as saying that while the hides had been discovered ‘here’ the meat of the donkeys they once belonged to had been consumed in Lahore. Just like that. Categorical. No investigation was required. Matter closed.

The response was not a surprise, rooted firmly as it was in the Lahoris’ somewhat recent but fast-growing reputation as eaters of donkey meat. Those who vetted the story in the newsroom were alive enough to the reality to put in those necessary paragraphs about what cruelties the beast of the burden has of late been allegedly subjected to in Lahore. There were the very nauseating usual references to how raids over the last couple of years or so had yielded thousands of kilograms of donkey meat sold most probably as beef.

These revelations have given the zinda dilan a permanent source of discussion. And whenever it looks as if the topic is fading out in the wake of other day-to-day concerns there is a news report somewhere, like this latest one from Karachi, which forced the discussion on the meat which we eat to return to conversations with its usual sighs and grimaces.

There were the usual references to how raids had yielded thousands of kilograms of donkey meat sold most probably as beef.

With all these disturbing stories doing the rounds for so long, little has emerged to suggest that the residents of Lahore are in a mood to demand a bigger say in the provision of what they eat. The people are content with silent condemnation and the rights groups that we have perhaps think that the matter is not important enough to warrant an intervention from them. The political parties appear to think similarly, bar a half-hearted attempt at passing a resolution by an opposition member in the Punjab Assembly.

In the circumstances, the activism is restricted to government officials. It is said that they want to be Shahbaz Sharif when they grow up. This city has watched with much excitement and some admiration the onslaught by one Ayesha Mumtaz who according to many of the aggrieved was out to grab the livelihood of Lahore’s restaurant owners. Following her removal from the scene after she provided some of the most devastating images in the Punjab capital’s history, another government officer Noorul Amin Mengal was found chasing all kind of adulterators with full might in his new role as the food authority head.

The most salient and unexpected aspect to Mengal’s campaign were the advertisements in newspapers that named brands his authority found fault with. These included some very famous names which had turned out to be unfit for consumption or simply fake. This was a very revealing moment even though so many of us thought that the ad campaign by default betrayed the government’s own failures.

The campaign was proof that the official machinery tasked with the job had so far been unable to check the production and sale of food items unfit for human consumption. At the same time, the highly publicised drive was questioned since it tended to sensationalise the issue, something governments often accuse others of doing to score quick points. The angriest critics of the government dismissed the charge spearheaded by Mengal with much fanfare as an attempt at eclipsing other problems that were officially not handled for want of will or for lacking in sensational value.

Be that as it may, the loud campaign by the government against bad food items failed to draw any kind of response asking for reform by the typically laid-back Lahore population hiding conveniently behind a cosy exterior of bridges, roads and modern bus networks.

This attitude allows the inhabitants of this proud and privileged city to ignore so many unwanted incidents in their midst. It seems to be by and large blissfully unaware of the negative happenings and trends associated with it not only by those who the Lahoris say are jealous of them but by this wonderful town’s well-wishers as well. It is incredible how a city with the kind of exposure Lahore has had could shrug off instances of a makeshift shabby facility in one of its well-known localities offering kidney transplantation to foreigners.

It is sad that some of those who must be leading the city’s thrust towards a truly civilised modern metropolis — doctors, government officials, even journalists — choose to hide behind convenient explanations when an FIA raid lifts the veil on an illegal kidney facility we all had a feeling existed somewhere close to us.

Doctors and others often give the justification that a kidney sold is not one but two lives saved. If this theory sounds strong enough to those who forward it, let them lobby with the lawmakers openly instead of acting as silent conspirators.

Let the protest not be limited to sighs and an occasional grimace and once in a while a short-lived vow to stay away from a certain hospital or a particular offering on the dinner menu. And there was little evidence that Lahore was in any way likely anytime soon to throw up a group of people who have the know-how of guiding and pressurising the government to ensure a truly clean city. This leaves us totally dependent on government machinery.

More than 4,000 donkey hides? It must have taken some sustained activity for the exporters to collect that great a number. Surely, somewhere someone must have noticed some suspicious work undertaken by what increasingly appears to be a large organised group behind the collection of donkey hides and their export allegedly to China. Let’s not treat it as a concession to a friend who is to soon carry us into a new world via CPEC.

The writer is Dawn’s resident editor in Lahore.

Published in Dawn, May 5th, 2017