Karachi: Pakistan’s orphan without a guardian

On a trip to Karachi during the summer monsoon season 2019 the Federal Government made loud promises about cleaning up Karachi (and its drains) within one week. To add substance to the claims the Frontier Works Organization (FWO) and the Pakistan Rangers, both branches of the powerful military establishment, were handed the task. The Federal Minister for Ports and Shipping was appointed to handle the task and, as with the PML-Ns ‘law and order’ clean up initiated in 2013 – the Federal Government was prepared to go it alone if the efforts were not supported by the provincial and civic authorities.

Yet another public fund (remember the Dam Fund?) was created to solicit public donations to help pay for Karachi’s cleaning. One supposes charitable funds are required for this essential civic service because not enough taxes are collected by the authorities in Karachi? Not.

The Karachi Municipal Corporation (KMC) building. The KMC is one of the several governmental agencies responsible for Karachi's current state of civic neglect. (Photo: Wikipedia)

One year later – monsoon season 2020 - Karachites are reminded they live in Pakistan's largest orphan city. City roads are streams inundated with various blends of sewage and rain water – clean drinking water is an unrealistic dream not worth mentioning.

In other words, no substantial improvements have been made during the last twelve months. Additionally, there has been no accountability at any level neither for the civic lapses nor for the millions collected in donations by the 2019 Clean Karachi campaign.

As if on cue, accusations of blame regarding inaction and lack of preparedness are being hurled. These accusations are closely followed by tall claims about immediate action including by the Prime Minister himself, i.e. political grand standing.  

While the city (MQM), provincial (PPP) and federal (PTI) governments' fight for supremacy over the goose that lays golden (revenue) eggs, ordinary Karachites continue to suffer. Karachites don't care which political party, e.g. ANP, MQM, PML-N, PPP or PTI, fixes their city. People simply want the political leadership to stop bickering and take action.

Pakistan’s leadership must ask itself if Pakistan can progress while its economic heart and largest city is mired in civic despair.

A listless Karachi places a glass ceiling on Pakistan’s development while a vibrant Karachi acts as a catalyst for national growth.

Conclusion: Karachites wait patiently for monsoon 2021 when, in all likelihood, they will again wake to urban flooding. The flooding will automatically be followed initially by finger pointing and subsequently by dramatic promises from politicians (and ‘non-political’ military men) of renewed efforts to clean Karachi. Ironically, while Karachi waits for monsoon 2021 the city will return to its usual water shortages and the water mafia.  

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Imran is a Singapore based Tour Guide with a special interest in arts and history. Imran has lived and worked in several countries during his past career as an international banker. He enjoys traveling, especially by train, as a way to feed his curiosity about the world and nurture his interest in photography. He is available on Instagram (@imranahmedsg); twitter (@grandmoofti) and can be contacted at imran.ahmed.sg@gmail.com.

What am I doing in Tando Allahyar? That's in rural Sindh (Pakistan) in case you didn't know!

Almost one million people live in Tando Allahyar district located in Pakistan's Sindh province. One million is not a small number but the population is spread over many villages and towns across an expanse of almost 1,500 square kilometers. Yes, the district is about twice the size of Singapore and has less than twenty percent of the island republic's population.

Take Rashidabad, my 'hometown' since September. Rashidabad is less than 35 hectares in size – one third the size of Singapore's Gardens by the Bay. By my guesstimation Rashidabad has a resident population of maybe 2,000. However, the town's daytime population probably swells to at least twice its resident population due to visiting students, patients, employees, etc.

For most Singaporeans, the entire country of Pakistan is considered off limits, so what is a Singaporean-Karachite doing in 'ulu' Rashidabad?

Well, yes, I am a Pakistani by birth so no part of Pakistan is alien to me … technically. The reality is more complicated.

Pakistan is an interlinked mosaic of different cultures and linguistic regions. As a Karachite, my DNA is quite different even from urbanite compatriots from Lahore, Peshawar, Hyderabad or Islamabad. Often we speak a different language. Culture, including dress, gender roles, food and religious traditions vary widely.

A Karachite from the twenty million strong City of Lights doesn't see the world like a Sindhi speaking farmer from Quba village, Tando Allahyar district. The Quba resident grew up hearing tales of Watayo Faqir and his beautiful poetry. She is entirely indifferent to Shakespeare's (Sheikh who?) plays and sonnets taught to many Karachites in school.

Karachi, after all, is Pakistan's answer to New York city (no kidding). On the contrary, Tando Allahyar is primarily an agricultural area producing some of the country's finest mangoes. Though it is adjacent to one of Pakistan's oldest and finest agricutural universities.

But I digress. What am I doing in Rashidabad?

I am here to experience Pakistan beyond cities and locales familiar to me. I am here to live life to the fullest; an acknowledgement that leading a full life often requires escaping the hustle and bustle of cities like our own Singapore. It means no riding subway trains, no CNBC financial news or shopping malls. Instead one must stop and smell the roses and enjoy the world's simpler pleasures.

But mostly, I am in Rashidabad to interact with kids and teach them English in the process. I do that at the Sargodhian Spirit Trust Public School (SST), Rashidabad; a boys boarding school established in 2005.

Selfie time with SST students!

As for my time with SST students? I will spare you tales about teaching the next generation of leaders, etc. Instead, let's just say I will try to stop myself from tearing up when I leave Rashidabad next month! It's hard not to get attached to boys with boundless enthusiasm and energy – no matter how disruptive they may be inside the classroom!

In summary, Rashidabad is much more than a dot on the map. Rashidabad is about teaching and learning. Learning is the reason I am in Tando Allahyar. Who knew teaching is simply another word for learning?

Imran is an adventurer, blogger, consultant, guide, photographer, speaker, traveler and a banker in his previous life. At the time of writing, Imran is living in Rashidabad until December 2017 while a volunteer at the SST Public School. He is available on twitter (@grandmoofti); Instagram (@imranahmedsg) and can be contacted at imran.ahmed.sg@gmail.com.

Karachi as related through short stories

Like any large urban metropolitan area Karachi has a little of everything: wealth, diversity, excitement, danger, humanity, crime and a lot more. Nonetheless, Karachi has no comparison with other cities in Pakistan.

Karachi is more than a mini-Pakistan. It's population contains large numbers of Burmese, (Swahili speaking) Africans, Filipinos, Bangladeshis, Afghans and so many more. It has over one million Christians; a similar number of Hindus and smaller numbers of Sikhs.

Karachi is home for all of these communities. They are not foreign talent on work permits and employment passes.

Mai Kolachi was and is a mother for all Pakistanis. She welcomes one and all with open arms. Unlike Lahore, Peshawar or most other Pakistani cities, Karachi asks no questions.

Karachi embraces. Arrive on Monday and call Karachi home on Tuesday.

However, until a few years ago Karachi had fallen under the spell of an envious Evil Eye. It seemed there was no end to Karachi's problems. Riots, crime, terrorism, kidnapping and all types of evil became synonymous with the erstwhile City of Lights.

It is this period of darkness which is captured in “Karachi: Our Stories in Our Words” edited by Maniza Naqvi. The book is a collection of short stories by ordinary Karachites. The stories are intimate and take you deep within the pain of the city, as felt by its authors. Indeed, after reading some of the stories one is left wondering how Karachi survived and even grew by millions even during this strife torn period.

Karachi’s strength also shines through in these tales. Karachites never gave up on Mai Kolachi's city. Today, Karachi is not only out of intensive care but well on the road to regaining her past glory. Indeed, maybe even a stronger Karachi has emerged following the pain of recent years.

Imran is an adventurer, blogger, consultant, guide, photographer, speaker, traveler and a banker in his previous life. At the time of writing, Imran is living in Rashidabad until December 2017 while a volunteer at the SST Public School. He is available on twitter (@grandmoofti); Instagram (@imranahmedsg) and can be contacted at imran.ahmed.sg@gmail.com.

The spirit of sacrifice and the genesis of Rashidabad Model Village, Pakistan

New towns are not born. They are created. Though it is not often a new town's inception is draped in tragedy. Except in Rashidabad's case. Rashidabad is a small settlement in the Tando Allahyar district of Pakistan's southern Sindh province.

Rashidabad's history does not begin with the opening of a hotel or railway station. Instead, Rashidabad's story begins with a tragic death of an air force pilot.

It was in December 1997 that a Pakistan Air Force (PAF) pilot named Flight Lieutenant Rashid Ahmed Khan took off on a routine mission in his Mirage fighter jet.

A short while after take off his aircraft caught fire above a densely populated area. PAF ground authorities ordered the pilot to abandon the plane, bail out and save his life. Flight Lieutenant Rashid disobeyed these direct orders. Instead, he opted to save thousands of lives by maneuvering his aircraft to an unpopulated remote area. In the effort, he sacrificed his own life.

Rashid died in the Sindh desert of Tando Allahyar district between the cities of Hyderabad and Mirpurkhas.

Rashidabad has its own railway station on the Hyderabad - Khokrapar (via Mirpurkhas) branch line. The line sees a weekly train towards Zero Point and onwards to India as well as a couple of daily trains towards Hyderabad and Mirpurkhas. 

Following the death of their only son, Rashid's father – himself a retired PAF officer - galvanized a group of retired Air Force officers and in 1998 created the non-profit Rashid Memorial Welfare Organization (RMWO). The RMWO's objective is “[setting] up model villages throughout the country [Pakistan] by integrating all essential facilities in a well-knit mosaic so as to ensure a positive beneficial outflow to the needy rural folk – all under one roof. Our main thrust is on education, health and vocational training...” Rashidabad is the RMWO's initial pilot project.

The Hunar Foundation operates a vocational training institute in Rashidabad.

It has been twenty years since RMWO's establishment and Rashidabad is a thriving town. It provides not only employment opportunities to nearby local communities but also badly needed essential medical and educational services. Today, Rashidabad houses a hospital, schools, school for the deaf, school for the visually impaired and an eye hospital. More welfare organizations are establishing a presence and in the process of constructing their premises.

Rashidabad has a school for those with hearing disabilities as well as one for persons who are visually impaired. 

Death is an inevitable part of life. Everyone eventually faces death. Normally, one views death as a tragedy - an occasion to be mourned. It does not have to be so. Take Flight Lieutenant Rashid's case. His death allowed hope to enter the lives of thousands of Pakistanis.

This story is not about a tragic death but a happy beginning.

That's me posing for a selfie with students from the SST Public School, Rashidabad! 

Imran is an adventurer, blogger, consultant, guide, photographer, speaker, traveler and a banker in his previous life. At the time of writing, Imran is living in Rashidabad until December 2017 while a volunteer at the SST Public School. He is available on twitter (@grandmoofti); Instagram (@imranahmedsg) and can be contacted at imran.ahmed.sg@gmail.com.

Mohatta Palace Museum: a cultural oasis

Karachi may be Pakistan's largest city and commercial capital but it is a relatively new city. Karachi's newness was underscored at a recent map exhibition titled 'Drawing the Line' at the city's Mohatta Palace Museum.

The exhibition also highlights the continuing impact colonial 'lines' have on today's world. From border disputes to nationalist ethnic movements, 'artificial' frontiers created by colonial bureaucratic cartographers are the bane of many present day disputes. Pakistan, a 'new' nation built on the tenuous premise of a shared religion, itself suffers from many of these 'post-colonial nation building' obstacles.

As Pakistan grapples with varying – often competing - notions of what it means to be an 'Islamic Republic,' indigenous culture and history circumscribes the country's debate about national identity. Museums, as caretakers or even creators of culture, play an instrumental role in these formative discussions.

Karachi's Mohatta Palace Museum provides a welcome voice to the national cultural discussions.

The Mohatta Palace Museum entrance, displaying one of the magnficient gardens around the structure

The museum, owned by the Government of Sindh, is housed in a unique structure constructed in the 1920s as a residence for Shiv Rattan Mohatta, a Hindu businessman from Rajasthan. The architecture of Mohatta Palace contains strong influences from Rajput found in Jaipur, especially in the use of pink Jodhpur stone. Strong Mogul influences are also visible in the building's design.

The building was designed by Agha Ahmed Hussain, believed to be the first Muslim architect in India. Hussain had recently arrived in Karachi from Jaipur to take up the post of Chief Surveyor for the Karachi Municipal Corporation (KMC).

In 1947, Mohatta Palace was acquired by the newly independent state of Pakistan and became the official Ministry of Foreign Affairs building. It remained the Foreign ministry's office until Pakistan's new custom built capital of Islamabad was completed in 1966. Following a brief stay of three years (1964-1967) by Mohtarma Fatima Jinnah, the sister of Pakistan's founder Quaid-e-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the palace was abandoned and remained in disrepair until 1995.

Friendly peacocks freely roam the museum gardens and grounds. Here one is seen 'speaking' with your blogger!

In 1995 Mohatta Palace was purchased by the Government of Sindh and converted into a museum. Drawing the Line is simply one of the many exhibitions held at the museum during the last two decades.

The Mohatta Palace Museum is a must see for any person interested in Pakistan's culture and history.

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Imran is a business and management consultant. Through his work at Deodar Advisors and the Deodar Diagnostic, Imran improves profits of businesses operating in Singapore and the region. He can be reached at imran@deodaradvisors.com.

Karachi, history and Pakistan's mighty Indus River

In Pakistan the mighty Indus River historically nourishes life around the country. To Singaporeans, the river may not be important enough to include in the menu of the zoo's River Safari attractions but it was important enough to spawn the Indus Valley civilization during 3300 - 1300 BC. At its peak, the civilization may have cradled up to five million people - a phenomenal number for its day.

A tributary of the Indus River in Pakistan's norther Khyber Pukhtunkhwa province

However, unlike Singapore where the Singapore River is never far from view, the Indus River is not normally visible from Pakistan's largest city, Karachi. (But then Pakistan is not a kampong, city and nation-state rolled into one entity!)

Fortunately, the Indus River cannot be blamed for the historical aberration, i.e. development of a large metropolis built away from the river's banks.

Karachi is a new city. The city's present population of twenty-three million is a far cry from the Karachi's 500,000 residents in 1947, the year of Pakistan's creation. Sindhis and Baloch, the historical inhabitants of Sindh province of which Karachi is the capital, are now virtually a minority in the province. Surely, this has created tensions between the city's 'old' and the 'new' (sound familiar Singapore?). These stresses will be worked out naturally over time, as a national 'Pakistani' consciousness develops over the course of a few more generations.

But a region's history stays with its people irrespective of their rulers or the color of its passport. Since the 1500s, Pakistan's territories have seen the Mughals, the British and umpteen 'independent' dynasties rule different areas for varying periods of time. Unfortunately for Pakistanis, many parts of Pakistan have historically been 'frontier' regions with violent warfare between different parties almost a part of the cultural landscape. Khyber Pukhtunkhwa province, formerly known as the Northwest Frontier Province, and Balochistan are cases in point. Both zones were frequently contested between Delhi and the Afghan / Persian kingdoms respectively.

Some of the warring continues to this day. The ideological battle between militant, bearded Islam and ordinary Pakistanis has spilt much blood during the last decade. While Pakistan's Fashion Week takes place in one part of Karachi, the 'jahil' mullahs' self proclaimed 'enforcers of civilization' attack polio vaccination teams in other parts of the city and country!

The good news: forces of progress and moderation are in the ascendancy while the religious bigots are desperately seeking to hang on to the limited space made available to them through intimidation and threats. The bad news: the physical and ideological battle will continue for years to come. The soil around the Indus River will soak in much more innocent - and not so innocent - blood before the war ends.

The banks of the river Indus are hazy with clouds and dust

Added to it is the fire of war

Kindled by us, we burnt each other

Now that it has spread far and wide

We are too weary to put it out

Poem by Mir Bijar, a 16th century Balochi poet.

Translated from Balochi by Parveen Talpur. 'Footnotes: Selected Verses of Great Poets,' Parveen Talpur. Ferozsons, 2006.

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Imran is a business and management consultant. Through his work at Deodar Advisors and the Deodar Diagnostic, Imran improves profits of regional businesses. He can be reached at imran@deodaradvisors.com.