Karachi — a battle zone

KARACHI: One would think German panzers were about to roll into Paris, or perhaps Russian artillery shells were crashing on the Fuhrer bunker, and the Third Reich was about to end — if only you were there on Monday evening on University Road as it climbs onto the Nipa flyover.

Tragedy — any tragedy — should help us look inwards and turn sorrow into strength. There was nothing of this quality in evidence that evening.

This reporter sensed signs of abnormality first around 8.30pm when he noticed more ambulances than one usually come across on a given day in Karachi. The ambulances raced both ways, and it did not lend credibility to what a pedestrian was heard saying — a Jamaat leader had been shot dead. So many ambulances would then not be needed.

The sheer number of the ambulances — and not only from Edhi — suggested there was some major tragedy, a bomb blast, a fire or something. The ambulances not only had their sirens on, their drivers were shouting and pleading for right of way.

There were indescribable scenes of panic and chaos bordering on anarchy. With one track of the road closed, traffic attempted to flow both ways on the left track roughly opposite the Urdu College. Suddenly, even the left track was closed, as two gas stations and a fast-food restaurant went up in flames at the Nipa crossroads.

Now on the left half of the bridge, already choking with two-way traffic, buses attempted to make U-turns while motorists froze as they heard pedestrians shout, “Don’t go that way! They are burning cars”!

There were all sorts of people in all sorts of vehicles — Suzuki vans carrying soft-drinks and chickens; huge trucks taking sugar and wheat to Kabul or beyond; affluent families, children eating ice-cream, going to weddings; village folk returning to Gadap or some sleepy village on the outskirts; inter-city buses, whose very size makes you scary, honking and flashing headlights; and, of course, the ubiquitous minibuses, whose movements can only be described as sabre rattling.

Vehicles now made a U-turn on the left track of the bridge and swung into the service lane that crosses the now abandoned KCR tracks and meets up with Rashid Minhas Road. This turned out to be a disaster, for this lane led exactly to the restaurant that was then smouldering. Six people were roasted, we came to know 12 hours later — ages ranging between 24 and 26. Like the innocents murdered in imambargah, they fell victim to “religious” violence.

With both the bridge and the service lane closed, there was a mud rush for the lanes and bylanes to the left. Now this part of University Road too started closing. There was no pressure on the shopkeepers and restaurateurs, but they were doing so on their own — scared of the unknown. They began switching off lights and pulling down shutters. Some eateries switched off their front lights and pulled their shutters half way down but served their customers inside.

Pushcarts and kiosks that constitute the second-hand book market now started winding up business. In any case, who cares about books — except perhaps as combustible material?

Darkness now descended on an area that otherwise sparkles with light and life well beyond 1am. It is a food street in its own right. Working women and girls in ones and twos headed home. Their parents and families must have expected them home much earlier.

This reporter then thought he should have some food and waved to a rickshaw driving on the service lane and going towards Hasan Square. “I will give you ten rupees. Drop me at any restaurant”. He replied, “I will drop you free” — a normal human being in a sea of abnormality.

The postprandial experience was the same. I asked another rickshaw driver heading towards where my car was, “Would you drop me at the bridge? I will give you 15 rupees”. He replied in identical tones, “I will drop you free.” Both were rickshaw drivers whom we normally associate with everything that is impolite and crude. Such men keep our hopes alive. All is not lost.

By 10.30pm, most vehicles had found their way out somehow. This correspondent then drove on the service lane in the hope that all was clear. But a policeman on Rashid Minhas Road blocked the turn to the left.

“Go that way!” he said while pointing to the now virtually deserted University Road. But near Time Square, a bus was burning, and boys — one hooded — blocked the road. “Turn back!” he said with a surprising degree of politeness, as another hit the car with a stick.

A way was then found through a road that skirts round Aeroclub — once a landing strip now a wedding “lawn” — and one reached Abul Hasan Ispahani Road that gave the appearance of an area under curfew.

Relief unlikely for Hyderabad

The supply of safe drinking water to the residents of Hyderabad remains a burning issue even after the establishment of the Water and Sanitation Agency (WASA) as far back as 1977. Hardly a day goes by without residents coming out on the streets or blocking rail lines, demanding water. Countless protests have been staged in the city and zila council — the highest body of the district — by elected members for uninterrupted supply of pure drinking water but the authorities remain unmoved.

Regardless of contamination upstream of the Indus, residents of areas like Hussainabad, Latifabad, Paretabad and Phulelli keep protesting against the supply of polluted water as mass bathing of buffaloes in the canals or downstream Kotri goes on unchecked from where WASA supplies water to Latifabad and other areas. Around 40 per cent of the population of Hyderabad gets water that is neither treated nor filtered. WASA provides around 50.6 MGD filtered water while 10.6 MGD water is untreated.

The WASA filter plant has no provision for chemical treatment of water which is only treated to the extent of settling turbidity and mixing of alum as well as chlorination. The other water suppliers do not even have these arrangements which are being made following last year’s water crisis that hit the city, claiming the lives of 42 people.

Two 8MGD filter plants have been proposed for Paretabad and Hala Naka water works while another filtration unit is in the pipeline for Latifabad-4 water works. Besides, water supply lines get mixed at places with sewerage lines, leading to contamination in various areas at the tailend as the system has outlived its utility — a fact that has been admitted by the authorities time and again.

A recent bacteriological examination (culture) of water supplied to residents suggested the presence of the germ E.Coli which indicates “faecal contamination”. A pathologist of the Civil Hospital says this type of water is mixed with human/animal waste which is due to the mixing of sewerage lines with the water supply network. Samples for the test were obtained from the Mukhi Bag area Talab No-3 and Latifabad Unit No-12 on April 30 before the Manchhar Lake’s polluted water was released in the Indus.

On the other hand, WASA’s operational infrastructure is replete with bottlenecks, with inordinate delays in payment of salary to employees, stoppage of subsidy of Rs15 million per annum, liabilities of Rs261.865 million as well as water and sewerage dues of Rs762.389 million outstanding against federal, provincial and district government departments until last year. Even consumers do not pay water bills regularly on the ground that they either got contaminated water or water was not provided for several days, while the civic body blames Hesco for power breakdowns of long durations. But people are not concerned with this argument as they only want an uninterrupted supply of clear water, which is why they often resort to violence.

WASA plans to somehow segregate the supply of water at least for drinking and cooking purposes by privatizing it in the near future. “In this connection we have approached a private company that would set up a pilot project at Pacca Qilla to be introduced at 15 places in the city, later to popularize the system,” says HAD Director-General Tahir Ahmed, adding that this is necessary at least for those areas which do not get filtered water. “If the concept is accepted by people after water quality meets WHO standards, it would then be privatized with the cooperation of the private sector but people will have to pay at least for the maintenance cost of the project that would be decided afterwards. We would only be a regulatory body for these plants which have multiple functions for controlling bad odour, turbidity and salt concentration.” He called for privatizing recovery from consumers because WASA did not have the capacity to do so and the same was the case with government departments.

At present, the HDA is entrusted with the execution of three major projects – the Rs500-million governor’s package, Rs120-million water supply improvement approved by the Sindh governor last year and the Rs10.5-billion Hyderabad Development Package (HDP), given by President Gen Pervez Musharraf in 2003.

So far only Rs100 million have been released as the second instalment of the governor’s package for sewerage/water schemes while Rs70 million are being utilized out of Rs120 million for desilting of lagoons to be completed by December. The HDP is a long-term project to be completed in a span of five years, out of which Rs6.5 billion have been earmarked for water supply/sewerage systems’ replacement. Given the slow pace of work on these projects coupled with red-tapism in release of funds, people are justified in thinking that they will have to continue to cope with the existing situation for at least a couple of years more.

Rambling in Koocha-i-Saqafat

IT LOOKED like a scene from the Arabian Nights — a bustling bazaar suddenly appearing on M.R. Kayani Road, a colourful crowd of men, women and children, the air, despite the heat, soothing and filled with the sound of music.

This was the Koocha-i-Saqafat on Sunday. Visitors moved around admiring an array of handicrafts and browsing at bookstalls with the simple but enticing slogan of ‘Aao kitabein parhen’ (let us read books).

The books section was indeed the most attractive part of the Koocha-i-Saqafat for many people. It contained both English and Urdu books, the latter mostly from private owners who appeared to have emptied their personal libraries, perhaps finding nobody else in the family to look after their collections.

Kulliyat-i-Nazir Akbarabadi and some of the earliest editions of the poetry collections of Josh Malihabadi caught the visitors’ attention. There were also the thick annual numbers of the monthly Afkar and seep and many other journals.

Equally attractive were stalls set up by artists who had brought their paintings, pen sketches and calligraphic art pieces to the bazaar and were selling them at affordable prices. Some artists had set themselves up with ease, paint and brush were drawing sketches on the spot.

The idea behind the holding of Koocha-i-Saqafat was to encourage indigenous talent and provide an easily accessible venue for the culturally minded. Many craftsmen, artists and artisans living in obscurity now have a chance to come forward in public to be encouraged and admired.

Sindh has since long been a centre of heritage — handicrafts, ceramics, textiles, paintings, rich in the colours of the region’s folk tradition. Embroidery, ornaments, glass ware and wood and pottery pieces are a special feature of Sindh.

Flower pots in different shapes also caught the eye at the Koocha-i-Saqafat. There were also copper and brass lamps, framed mirrors with fine cutwork and utensils with Muradabadi inlay. A huge ‘pandaan’ as if from the treasures of a former princely state graced one corner, reminiscent of a fading culture.

There was a whole section of garments, all done and managed by hardworking women, innovative in their choice of designs and colours. Co-operatives for home-based working women presented their own garments which also reflected their commercial ingenuity.

One hopes that the artists, artisans and craftsmen who have found an outlet at the Koocha-i-Saqafat will spread the word and attract others to join in. The Koocha’s written rule is that no machine-made articles will be brought or sold. The organizers who thought of this excellent plan to encourage our artists and artisans are planning to expand the Koocha and turn it into a Shehr-i-Saqafat. With the Pakistan Arts Council on one side and the Academy for Performing Arts on the other and the museum closely, it promises to create a new dimension to Karachi life, long fractured by senseless violence and political feuding.

In one corner of the Koocha, a group of girls sat with henna, decorating the palms of women visitors. A few steps away was a stall of spicy eatables and some traditional fare that is no longer easily available such as millet (bajra) roti and ‘saag’.

As the evening darkened, the book corner began to attract a larger crowd. Books and comics for children were placed separately, although there was nothing special about then. If publishers could be persuaded to cooperate with the organizers, both the Koocha and book-lovers will gain.