Friday, September 25, 2009

A home away from home (Afghan Refugees in Pakistan)

Published the Review Dawn (February 24, 2005)


                              There is a maxim, ‘dry bread at home is better than roasted meat abroad’. It seems the Afghan refugees living in Karachi aren’t sure of getting even dry bread back home. Afghanistan, the playground of the great game of the past, is ravaged by the present day great game to such an extent that it is virtually impossible to lead a normal life there.
                             Some Afghan families tried to return to their homeland during the Taliban regime and later when Hamid Karzai assumed the reins of government. Almost all the families who went back were unanimous in their conclusion that Afghanistan was a very inhospitable place with very difficult living conditions. Therefore, they migrated back to Pakistan.
                            The Afghans are very traditional people. They would rather die than give up their values. Finding the prospects of returning to their homeland grim they have tried to transform Sohrab Goth into a mini Afghanistan.
                      A visitor to Karachi would find Al-Asif Plaza at Sohrab Goth, a replica of an Afghan town. Their markets, dresses, greetings, festivals and houses are all reflective of the Afghan culture. All the ethnic groups of Afghanistan; Pakhtoon, Uzbek, Hazara and Tajik can be found in the camp.
                       The Afghans have retained their traditional shalwar kameez which is similar to the Pakistani one with a difference in cutting and stitching. A typical waistcoat would differentiate them from local Pakhtoons.
                      The joint family system is prevalent among them, but the limitation of space in flats has forced larger families to live in two or three contiguous flats.
                   The festivals of Eid and weddings truly highlight their culture. One interesting activity of Eid is the duel of boiled eggs. The game is called tukhamjangi. In this game, one player very delicately rams an egg onto the egg held in the hand of his opponent. The person whose eggshell cracks first is the loser.
                  Afghan weddings are very colourful. A typical sound made by the combination of a tambourine and clap tells from a distance that a marriage is in full swing.
                   The business area of the camp resembles that of any typical Afghan village bazaar. All that the inhabitants of a town require is sold here. The restaurants serve an Afghan menu and are designed in such a way that there is an elevated platform called a tharah (in their language), along all the walls of the restaurant. Rugs are spread on the platform and centre dishes are placed on them. In rare cases some restaurants have dining tables, as well.
               The dishes most popular with customers are Afghan rice, seekh kabab, boti kabab, and Afghan green tea. The ingredients in the rice are beef and carrots and no spices are present in it. The boti kabab is different from the local ones in terms of the fat content. Here lamb meat is sandwiched between lamb fat and then grilled.
              The first item given to the customers is Afghan naan. The naan is very small in diametre but is very thick. The next item served is rice. After a brief break the customers are given Afghan green tea. The tea is served with nokal, specially made sweets, and are called lachidana in Urdu. It is prepared by coating almond with sugar.
                  The Afghans living in the camp are in all sorts of businesses in the city, but the most popular are transport, cloth and the restaurant business. They are not only contributing to the economy of the city but are a source of foreign exchange for the country as well. Most Afghan families have one or more members living in the US, Europe and the Middle East who send their earnings to their families in Pakistan.
               The older generation continues to cling to its traditions, though it has reconciled itself to the local values as well. The young ones are more flexible. They have adapted themselves to the local culture and environment. They speak fluent Urdu albeit accented, and play and watch cricket with the same enthusiasm as any Pakistani would. They also ascribe to the local food and dresses.
                 The second generation seems to have followed the wisdom concealed in the age-old maxim: ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’. Enterprising and hard-working by nature, the Afghan migrants have added to the rainbow of cultures that exist in Karachi, itself a mini-Pakistan.



            ‘We love Karachi and its people’



                         Mini Afghanistan abounds in stories: stories of personal valour and sufferings, of warlords, Taliban, President Hamid Karzai, of opium, Amrica and her weaponry, and of streams, rivers and orchards. Here every Afghan has a story to tell. Among the stories this is the personal tale of hardy and resolute Haji Muhammad Rasool, the owner of an Afghan restaurant in Al-Asif Plaza, that deserves special mention.
                        Rasool belongs to the Kunduz province of Afghanistan. He migrated to Pakistan in 1985 when he was 19. He got married in his native village when he was 18. “A man has to earn his living, especially when he has a family,” said Rasool. Finding no prospects of survival in his native country, he migrated to Pakistan leaving behind his newly-wedded wife with his parents. It took him 31 days to reach Pakistan. “I found Pakistan safe and the public friendly towards Afghan refugees, but getting a job was not easy.”
                   After seven months Rasool decided to bring his family to Pakistan. The ordeal of migration with a family, especially with a 40-day-old child, was filled with hardship. They had to hide in jungles and cross rivers using inflated tubes to avoid the Russians. “I thought I would lose my child,” exclaimed Rasool with wet eyes.
                   One can still see on his face the traces of the agony that he had endured at that time. “With swollen feet we reached the border of Pakistan.” He settled in Karachi and for 14 years he worked as a labourer in all sorts of businesses. “Many times my ego was badly injured.The treatment that I received as a labourer wounded my self-esteem,” he said.
                   Rasool decided to perform Umra and he promised to himself that he would never serve under someone else again. His prayers were heard and on his return to Pakistan he started a public call office with a partner. Later on he opened a tandoor selling Afghan naan and his business boomed in no time. Humble pride oozed out of his eyes while he told his story of establishing the restauraunt he runs now. He has been running it for the past five years with great success.
              During the 19 years here he has visited Afghanistan many times with the hope of settling there, but always returned to Pakistan finding Afghanistan very hostile. He has five daughters and four sons. All of them are studying in English medium schools and his first-born is a college student who speaks excellent Urdu and, surprisingly, Sindhi, as well.
                       Rasool has given up the dream of returning to his native village now. “This country has given me so much that it is my home now, my Afghanistan,” he says. With great pride he says that he pays all his taxes which most Pakistanis do not.
                “Home is where one can live with dignity and Karachi has given me that dignity. We love this city and its people. It’s the city of the poor. We are Pakistanis and would like to remain Pakistanis if allowed,” said Rasool said at the end.



The reason for not returning



                       Muhammad Qasim’s reason for staying on in Pakistan is economic. He migrated here 15 years ago. He said that he wanted to study in his native village but the Russians closed the school as they thought most schools served as a nursery for physical and spiritual training of future mujahadeens.
                       Students used to be branded as ashrar, meaning terrorist or rebel by the Russians. Students of secondary classes went into hiding. ‘Search and destroy’ operations followed by torture, were a usual thing. The tormented people started fleeing the area and some went to Iran and others to Pakistan.
                 “My parents sent me with a caravan heading towards Pakistan,” said Qasim. He travelled from town to town and ultimately reached Karachi where he received a degree from Binori Town madressa. After getting the degree he went back to Kabul with the aim of equipping his fellow countrymen with, in his words, zaiwar-e-taaleem meaning knowledge.
             “I found the Americans in Kabul distributing free television sets,” said Qasim. He applied for a school teacher’s job and was selected but he declined the job as he was not prepared to follow the school’s dress code which was wearing a suit.
              He sought other avenues for livelihood but failed as his beard was a hindrance. “What kind of democracy are the Americans trying to implant where one is not allowed to live a life of one’s own liking?” he questions. Qasim left Kabul for Karachi with a gloomy heart. He started his career as a manager in a small enterprise and is happy here. When asked whether he would go back to Afghanistan he replied , “For what? There is nothing left in Afghanistan except the Americans and opium.”

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