A4A in PAK

Phase 2 - Week 3 & Week 4 & Week 5 & Week 6

2008-04-16T05:36:00.000-07:00

23.03.08 – 19.04.08

Seems like I’m often writing about a journey but then I spend a significant amount of time on the road! On this occasion the return to Bagh took a little longer than usual. For reasons known only to the man behind the wheel we left the more familiar route and diverted along smaller roads nestled amongst spring-green crop pastures on the outer reaches of Islamabad. A very pleasant shortcut, I was thinking, right up until the moment we rounded a bend to be presented with an oversized, dirty-white signboard stating in bold red letters something along the lines of; THIS AREA HAS BEEN DESIGNATED AS RESTRICTED – NO FOREIGNERS ALLOWED! Now, seeing as this advice was clearly displayed in both English and Urdu, it was only as the man behind the wheel calmly motored onward that I began to question his powers of observation. Surely he saw it? Surely he appreciates that now might be a good time to turn back? Despite misgivings I deferred to what I imagined was a superior local knowledge of the route and said nothing. Perhaps I misread the sign, I considered, after all, why would we take this route if it were so obviously restricted? Not long after turning left at a sign stating ‘FOREIGNERS MUST NOT TURN LEFT’ and about the time we arrived at a placard repeating ‘NO FOREIGNERS’ and then ‘CHECKPOINT 200M’ doubt gave way to certainty, I raised both hands and, ‘WHOAH WHOAH, NO GORA, NO GORA (no foreigner, no foreigner or more precisely, no white foreigner, no white foreigner)!’ passed my lips with enough conviction to bring about a rapid halt. Which was just as well…I had the distinct impression that having passed three very visible signs warning against my presence in the area it would be difficult to explain myself further along the road without appearing inept or suspicious or both! Under the glare of a military man parked up adjacent I did my best to appear apologetic whilst my unobservant companion hastily three-pointered, nevertheless, as we retraced our route I couldn’t help but be a little curious as to what lay behind…

A mosque sits adjacent to the office/accommodation building that is Muslim Aid’s base in Bagh. Two storeys plus minaret above the road, this cracked and crumbling concrete and brick edifice - damaged by the earthquake - is nevertheless a commanding structure that extends a further few storeys deep into the terraced hillside. Except at times of prayer the building sits forlorn, apparently unoccupied; abandoned to playful flocks of birds that flitter in and out the broken windows. By all accounts the owner of this place of worship is a man of means and yet no repairs have been made. In the evening I often sit reading in the office dimly aware of the rapid drum-drum beat of a rainstorm playing on the corrugated metal roof. At times these impressive storms provide a percussive accompaniment to the muezzin’s call to prayer resounding from a loudspeaker fixed atop the minaret. To an impartial witness there is something haunting in the combination of doom-grey cloudscapes belching rain torrents and lightening flash and bang thunderclaps resounding in response to the cry of “Allahu Akbar; Allahu Akbar!”.

To view the sites where work is underway I travel daily the valley road climbing upward from Bagh to the village of Sudhan Gali. Of the many houses scattered along this route, three catch the eye for an unusual adornment to the otherwise ubiquitous corrugated sheet roofscape. Poised above the ridgeline of each of this triplet is a carved timber fighter plane, brightly painted and facing skyward, captured and frozen mid-takeoff. Passing these carrier-jet homes puts me to wondering at the motivation for the model. Do the householders - akin to a Kashmiri Saint Exupéry – spend landlocked days dreaming of taking to the air, a desire symbolised in the brightly coloured wooden figurines? Or is there a nationalistic leaning behind the overt display of model military hardware, perhaps a memory of Indo-Pak wars past when the scream of jets must have ruptured the peace of many a Kashmiri valley? Possibly the truth is far less complex. When I questioned a colleague about the reason for this peculiarity his economical reply was simply “for beauty”!

I’m no accomplished mountaineer but since I first set foot in Bagh and squinted up the valley toward the 10200ft peak looming in the distance I’ve had my eye on besting Ganga Choti! Local history remembers this mountain as a site of pilgrimage for Hindus prior to the 1947 partition (in Hindu mythology Ganga is a goddess who descended from the heavens to be caught by Shiva standing on Mountain Himalaya before a part of her fell to the earth and was led to the seas by Bhagirath forming the river Ganga - or Ganges- worshipped as a personified form of the goddess). We left base-camp Bagh on the weekend, a party of five in motley attire of jeans, shirts and shoes or shalwaar kameez and sandals more suited to the bazaar than the barren mountain top. With my backpack, first aid kit, bottled water and rainproof jacket I made a cursory attempt at preparedness but clearly such items were viewed by my compatriots as non-essentials best left at home! In the annals of mountaineering achievement without doubt this one day climb is but a very minor footnote - the first stage being a relatively easy if at times hairy jeep ride to within about two hours climb of the summit. Once underway however the terrain was sufficiently arduous to stop the least fit of us in his tracks part way up and by the time our depleted party of four reached the summit the burn in my legs and lungs was real enough. Here, light headed and satisfied the amateur mountaineer is rewarded with a three sixty panorama that extends to the ladakh mountain range marking the border between Jammu & Kashmir and Indian Administered Kashmir. We took celebratory photos in the snow then sat on the top knackered and happy eating oranges and taking in the view.

Dhajji Da is the name given locally to a form of timber frame construction indigenous to the mountain regions where the earthquake had its epicentre. The primary reason for selection of this method was in order to facilitate participation in the build process by the beneficiaries who supply timber and stone for construction. Dhajji, I am reliably informed, means patchwork quilt. A dhajji da house can be thought of as a patchwork of timber and stone and in terms of earthquake resistance it functions as follows:

Many small panels distribute the energy of an earthquake evenly across the wall.

This energy is further dissipated in the friction of timber bracing moving against stone infill to these panels.

In this manner the risk of large destructive cracks resulting in structural failure is reduced. Using locally available materials and labour, the aim has been to improve upon this existing construction practice, incorporating a more rigorous approach to building that will provide increased seismic resistance.

Phase 2 - Week 2

2008-03-22T06:59:00.000-07:00

16.03.08 – 22.03.08

'Don’t go anywhere alone. You will kill yourself!'

Throughout the time I have spent working in Pakistan security has been a prominent consideration and, with recent bomb attacks in Lahore and Islamabad, there have been renewed warnings from the US and UK embassies for foreign nationals in the country. Of course there are places where the risk is greater than others and so far – no tempting of fate intended – my experience of Azad Kashmir, where I returned this week, is of an environment less tense than that in Pakistan. 'We are tired of war' advised a Kashmiri colleague and I am told that the suicide bombers have never made this region their target. As their guest and a foreigner these same colleagues have my safety uppermost in their minds although, with the odd, slightly hysterical statement such as, 'Don’t go anywhere alone. You will kill yourself!', I could suggest a little more 'above the line' thinking on their part!

'Sam is married?'

By now I know it well. A look of curious expectation that accompanies the question followed by a quizzical, slightly suspicious air of disappointment when I answer in the negative. I thought I’d got this one explained last time around! Went through the whole concept of ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’ ('Here the concept of girlfriend doesn’t exist’ came the reply!) and how, no, its not a ‘problem’ in the UK to be in your late twenties and unmarried without so much as an exact date for the big day laid out two years hence to give your current situation some legitimacy! Still, maybe there’s a compliment hidden in the expectation that during the interim three months since I was last here I should have identified the right girl, convinced her of the idea, embarked on a whirlwind courtship and pulled together a ceremony all prior to arriving back on their doorstep!

'Snow problem!'

An interesting issue came to light this week concerning the construction of House Type C as drawn. Now my view is that it isn’t necessarily necessary to jump every time a labourer on site questions some aspect of the design, however, on this occasion the man had a point and he was vocally supported by all others present so why swim against the tide?! By this stage I’ve picked up enough Urdu to understand that his was a 'snow problem' and it related to three windows positioned on the rear wall of the house. You see, I had failed to appreciate when placing these openings that, in the higher villages, snow can fall to such an extent that it drifts in the space behind the slope at the rear (there’s usually one of these!) and the rear wall of the house to a depth which would put it above the window sill level. This is a problem because our windows have no glazing, consisting only of timber frame and insect mesh with internal shutters (this may seem unusual but is a common arrangement here where the poverty of many householders doesn’t lend itself to anything more!) so the snow and melt water cause water ingress into the house! Not to worry, a fair degree of flexibility is essential on this job and the remedy is to shift a couple of the windows to each side wall where the sun warms and melts the snow so reducing the problem. All considered a very useful reminder that when designing for a context that is somewhat unfamiliar only so much can be anticipated and/or known at the outset. Even with research and consultation with local knowledge there will be gaps that remain which can only be addressed as the project develops. Now its true that we are left with one window on the rear wall! Short of omitting the opening entirely and with it all natural light into the room the only answer here involves a raised sill level and a shovel!

Springtime in the Vale of Kashmir

Here goes…

…Vividly punctuating hillside shades of green are dainty-crooked trees pink with blossom. Mud plastered homes topped with glimmering metal sheet border yellow-green terraces of wheat that step in curvilinear fashion to the valley floor below. Flowers dust the fields all around, blooming almost as rapidly as the capricious weather turns, trembling gently with the morning breeze…

In 1916 a man named James Douie wrote eloquently of 'the poet who had found ideas for a new Paradiso in the Vale of Kashmir…’. It would surprise me if this landscape hadn’t provided fertile material for numerous dabbling Dante’s since Douie's time. With that in mind I will refrain from getting too lost in Paradiso description on this occasion but believe me she’s awful pretty!

I had planned to stay on in Kashmir through the weekend but was compelled to return to Islamabad by the arrival of Eid-e-Milād-un-Nabī, a holiday celebrating the birth of the prophet of Islam that saw my colleagues heading homeward and the site office devoid of staff. There are some advantages to a weekend in the city and, secure in the knowledge that a warm shower would soon be mine to enjoy, I joined three colleagues on the 4 ½ hour journey to the capital. I enjoy these bumpy 4WD rides. With the exception of a couple of occasions when regrettably the twisting routes have triumphed over my stomach - with messy results - these journeys are never uninteresting and especially after a few days in Islamabad provide an opportunity to engage with life outside the rather constrained environment of the city. A few sights catch my eye as we travel. A post-election trend to display in vehicle windows prominent photos of either a jowly Nawaz or strident Benazir as a means to proudly demonstrate allegiance to their respective political parties (whether this would catch on with our own Gordo and Dave I have my doubts!). Bold white lettering on blue signboards stating ‘Drive Slow We Love Our Children’ and the over-honest ‘Speed Thrills But Kills’ are undoubtedly more engaging than the less emotive slogans found on a UK roadside. Punjabi love songs play on old cassette tapes, the landscape is spectacular and we pause only to acknowledge a passing friend, have another round of tea and take care of the necessaries (!) or, less regularly, to pick up a newly oiled child’s bike, two wheelbarrows and what looked to me like a broken washing machine before dropping off all of the above at a seemingly random location several miles up the road!…I didn’t bother asking and no one felt it necessary to explain…

On balance this past week has been a positive one work wise. The standard of house construction is improving, the build cost has been reduced considerably by implementation of the smaller house types and with judicious cutting of superfluous finishes we can get this down further. There was some hard graft last year to put together plinths which, although using techniques indigenous to the region, were nevertheless somewhat more demanding to construct for the contractors involved. With this experience behind them and many of the big issues addressed I find myself in the pleasurable position of working closely with the engineer and contractors to refine and improve the workmanship and design to ensure that our beneficiaries receive houses that are strong, comfortable and adequate for their needs.

With time I have been able to better understand the local working methods and vernacular construction techniques. More and more I've come to realise that, with regard to the sophistication of the construction of these houses, there is a natural point beyond which it would be inappropriate to go. I have details drawn that show plastic sheeting as a means to protect the timber floor plate from water and eaves finished with aluminium sheet soffits and insect mesh but the simple truth is that, regardless of the validity of such ‘improvements’, there is a level of sophistication above which anything else is seen as unnecessary, overly expensive and wasteful in terms of material, labour and cash. This realisation has been an important one for me. Once I came to understand which items fell within the necessary and possible and which remained outside and improbable it became easier to give priority to improving the areas of work which mattered most. In this context the drawings are only a starting point; an attempt at an ideal solution at which to aim that must, by necessity, be compromised and adapted to the realities on site and the lessons learned as the project develops.

Phase 2 - Week 1

2008-03-14T04:53:00.000-07:00

09.03.08 – 15.03.08

It may be a universal truth that nothing happens too quickly if it involves a Ministry of Interior. Personally, I can only vouch for the boys a few sectors down the road who have been processing my application to travel to Kashmir since I arrived in Pakistan so I’ve been office based in Islamabad pending receipt of the Non-Objection Certificate (NOC) that means I’m good to go. In all fairness to the Section Officer concerned, a process I had anticipated taking at least a week has been wrapped up in a little under five days so I’ve an early rise tomorrow to make the journey up into the mountains and, after being cooped up behind a desk in the city, the chance to stretch my legs and get to grips with the progress on site is a welcome one.

Its been a few months since I departed and there have been some changes in the meantime. The first of these is the news that two members of the engineering team who I have worked with previously have since moved on from Muslim Aid. Despite initial concern on my part it seems that the impact these changes will have on the project is small with continuity maintained by some key staff that remain in place. For this I am grateful, as we covered a lot of ground last time I was in the country. Working closely with the team over several weeks allowed an understanding to emerge and the ensuing improvements in construction to be made and it would be a backward step to have to undertake this process once again. The second change to have taken place is related to recent events in NWFP, specifically an attack on an NGO office in Mansehra. Several non-governmental organisations in Pakistan, including Muslim Aid, have publicly condemned this action. Work continues but, as a precautionary measure, all insignia have been removed from vehicles to avoid drawing unnecessary attention when travelling in the region. Ideally, of course, there would be no need for an organisation working toward improved livelihoods for vulnerable people to maintain such a low presence but, for the time being, this is the reality of working in the area.

My return to Pakistan has brought with it a fair sense of deja-vu. TV footage of lawyers in full protest mode as the ‘Black Coat Revolution’ drives on takes me right back to arriving here in late September 2007. The images then were slightly more fist-flying violent, tear gas stained versions of the ones I’ve seen this week, but the issues and the personalities calling for change are largely the same. Well change, of a kind, has arrived and the complex world of Pakistani politics has entered a new phase, albeit with the usual suspects. I’ve yet to speak to anyone completely smitten with either Nawaz Sharif (leader of the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz or PML-N) or Asif Ali Zardarwi (Co-chairman of the Pakistan Peoples Party or PPP and widower of the late Benazir Bhutto) – fierce rivals now furiously forming a coalition and two men with rooms full of cupboards full of skeletons – however, for a people so dissatisfied with the ex-general and the current state of their country, these men are viewed as the better (that is to say only) option! The turmoil of recent months has, at least, resulted in an emboldened media and the Musharraf-suspended judiciary have been promised reinstatement in the coming weeks. If hope exists for a peaceful and stable Pakistan, it is perhaps to be found in a civil society that is increasingly finding its voice and expressing a profound discontent with the status quo.

Week 8 & Week 9 & Week 10

2007-12-04T08:47:00.000-08:00

Week 6 & Week 7

2007-11-11T05:44:00.000-08:00

Week six began in Islamabad with two neat black tape and clear plastic hand-bound A3 documents checked and rechecked and sitting on my desk ready to travel the short cross-sector journey to the offices of NESPAK. After an initial false start on Tuesday, by the following morning, as I sat in a battered 4x4 named Rocky twisting through dawn-orange, spaghetti-westernesque landscape en-route to Kashmir, the drawings were conveyed across town by a colleague and we successfully received approval three days later. That these latest designs were accepted without amendment was not unexpected - they are downsized versions of our first approved house type so there was good reason to believe we would have a positive response - nonetheless, it is a relief to have this package complete so that the focus can now be primarily on construction.

That Wednesday morning journey heralded my second visit to Kashmir, this time equipped with copies of the newly prepared drawings to distribute amongst the Muslim Aid site engineers based in Bagh. During my stay I was to learn that the Kashmiri’s have a song beginning, “My country, my country, just like paradise…” and leaving aside several decades of political turmoil and some quite severe poverty in places (not minor issues but humour me!), the undulating, forested landscape gives strength to this boast with every twist and turn of the road. I had intended, after a week or so, to travel onwards to the NWFP and Jared but the security situation in Swat resulted in an ERRA warning that foreign NGO workers should pull out of the area. This is certainly frustrating – I have not yet spent enough time with the team at Jared to ensure that work is progressing as it should – but we are implementing a long term development project not emergency relief work and can afford to wait until the situation improves.

First task upon arrival in a busy Bagh was to drive through the narrow, people-cluttered streets to the UN-HABITAT compound that occupies a pleasant, hillside location above the main town. UN-HABITAT have been working in the earthquake effected areas to provide training and resources to partner NGO's and to lobby government authorities to ensure that inspection of reconstruction and subsequent disbursement of funds to beneficiaries is undertaken with transparency and free from corruption. A sceptical observer might suggest, with regard to corruption, that they've set themselves a difficult task and i'd be inclined to agree! However, despite the complexities involved, the work of UN-HABITAT is resulting in steady improvement accross the board and as a reflection of this proactive spirit the local carpenters who are based at the compound had agreed to prepare some timber joint-samples as per our drawings...it was time to collect! Thankfully, these men didn’t let me down (of all people, you hope the UN won’t!) and the full-size samples constructed will prove invaluable as a means to communicate what is required to field staff and labourers by covering some areas that have been lost in translation through drawings and description alone.

The team at Bagh have begun a new cluster of 16 houses so we were up and down the mountain checking on sites and monitoring demarcation work which is completed quickly and simply using nylon thread, steel bars to mark the gridlines and lime powder to mark the trenches. Subsequent excavation is carried out by labourers, the majority of whom are Pataans, Pashto speakers from the NWFP or Afghanistan. Although the butt of many jokes that openly suggest they are “mental” and “dangerous”, these men are respected for their strength and toughness and they certainly prove these qualities during the long and arduous labour required to break through the hard, stone filled ground. On occasion the stones prove too big to remove with man power alone so we call in the blasters. This is a typically low-tech affair – they drill a hole, pour in the powder, fix a fuse, then we all scamper up the hill a hundred yards or so until it goes BOOM! Fair to say that health and safety is a loose concept among these men but they all had a full complement of fingers and thumbs so I guess their professional credentials are in order!

A recurring issue in the Bagh area is the problem of getting materials from the nearest road to the beneficiary’s plot. Sometimes this can be overcome by a nearby donkey or tractor-accessible track, but it might also mean trekking up to 2 miles along an extremely steep, uneven and rock strewn collection of interlocking trails traversing the hillside. From experience I know this to be exhausting work with only a pen and notepad weighing you down! For the widows and orphaned children who are some of the chosen beneficiaries, hauling a bag of cement or sand or a load of timber, in such conditions, is not physically possible. Under the terms of the agreement with Muslim Aid it is the beneficiary’s responsibility to provide this timber and, if necessary, arrange and pay for the carriage of materials. The reasoning here being the obligation to do so will help to engender a spirit of ownership and involvement with the build process which a straightforward gift of a paid-for house will not. That is the theory; unfortunately for precisely the reasons that result in their selection - namely severe poverty and vulnerability – several beneficiaries are, at present, unable to provide what is required. This is no fault of the beneficiaries or Muslim Aid who are working hard to resolve such issues and meet the needs of those selected by the local community to benefit from NGO assistance. For the time being the unavoidably imperfect solution is to focus on building now for those who have the available materials. Later, once these houses are complete, we will return to the cases where these problems have caused delay and assess what can be done.

The evening I returned to Islamabad emergency rule was in full swing but aside from an increase in razor wire and bored looking soldiers manning guns at road junctions, life in the capital has been unexpectedly quiet. That protest has been less than I might have anticipated since this drastic government action may be due to the arrest of those who would lead such a movement and the suppression of local independent media. Nonetheless, there is a strong sense that Islamabad’s currently serene face could turn angry with very little provocation. Politics is never less than interesting in Pakistan!

Although it would be a gross exaggeration to say that people here are living in fear; more and more it becomes apparent that anxiety and paranoia are felt by the general population as an undercurrent tugging at even the most mundane activities. Worry disrupts the rhythm of daily life and so, alongside the politicians and the generals and the mullahs and the fighters and the many perceived and real disruptive influences from abroad, subtly contributes to a sense of instability. In a modern, relatively prosperous city like Islamabad, if you walk into a bookshop and see your country branded by a prominent international magazine as the most dangerous country on earth it has an effect! Whilst in the bookshop you might wonder if today the market will fall victim to a bomber! Hopefully not, but perhaps its time to limit how often you come into town just in case!

Work gets held up too, as I discovered this week when a scheduled meeting was cancelled because the UN office where it was to be held evacuated all personnel due to security concerns. Travelling with a colleague on a seperate occasion, our taxi was cut up and hit by another car. The motorist-agressor (a picture of orange bearded fury!) was quick to remonstrate and threaten our driver with the police, heedless to the fact that it was his risky manoeuvre that caused the collision. Ultimately we didn’t stop and wait for the authorities - it was a minor contact, we were not at fault and local knowledge made it clear that the police would likely look for a contribution to the force benevolent fund! My colleague later confided to me that during this incident he became concerned thinking, if we stopped, there might be unexpected consequences for the foreigner in the back. At the time I had not considered this a possibility. Perhaps I should have; but then at what point does legitimate awareness of security end and that creeping, destabilising paranoia begin?

Week 5

2007-10-25T05:47:00.000-07:00

The government here has this week launched a new offensive against supporters of a pro-Taliban militant in the Swat valley (NWFP). Mingaora/Saidu Sharif, the administrative headquarters for this district, is around 80 miles or so to the NNW of Islamabad as the helicopter gunship flies. The spread of Taliban-esque groups throughout the North West Frontier Province is not encouraging. Rather than being contained by existing military actions near the Afghan border the violently enforced diktats of a few are helping to export their hardline take on life to more and more villages and towns in the province. If this spread continues - and most people I talk to seem resigned to this fact, at least in the short term - it may well make it difficult to travel through the area to view the worksites in Jared. There are lots of black-humoured jokes flying around concerning the Taliban onslaught but whereas back home this phenomenon is just a footnote on the nightly news here of course it is all too real and the general feeling is that the outcome of events such as those in Swat will directly influence the lives of many Pakistanis and even, some believe, engender a restructuring of the borders of this country. This process of 'evolution' as it was termed, may or may not come to pass, in the meantime however Islamabad is well within fiery rhetoric-spitting distance of the NWFP border and whilst its very easy to feel isolated in the city such close proximity is keenly felt.

Still, work continues and recently that has meant sitting down and putting digital pen to digital paper. Given the differing plot-sizes available to each beneficiary, it has become neccessary to develop two new, smaller house types within the structural framework governed by the requirements laid out by ERRA (Earthquake Reconstruction and Rehabilitation). As each house is an autonomous, pre-designed unit subsquently placed on a plot, these new options alongside the existing approved design provide some flexibility when it comes to choosing the right house type for each plot and the size of the family who are to live there. The completed drawings will now be submitted for approval to NESPAK, the technical advisory body that work on behalf of ERRA and the government of Pakistan. Financial matters, inevitably, have also become an issue - our existing house type has come in at a greater cost than that initially allowed for by Muslim Aid - so by providing houses that are smaller in height and area whilst at the same time co-ordinating the bulk-buying of materials such as sand, cement and CGI sheet we are hoping to see an overall reduction in expenditure.

Over the past few weeks I have had the chance to see some of the work that Muslim Aid undertake alongside construction projects of the type A4A are directly involved in. These occasions have included a Ramadan fast-breaking meal laid on for members of the local area, or at least some of their number - in true Pakistan style there were no women to be seen benefiting from this generosity! - and a post Eid present giving ceremony and trip to the park for orphaned children. There is currently very little in the way of social services provided for the people of Pakistan by the Government of Pakistan so in the meantime it is organisations such as Muslim Aid that are doing what they can to fill the gap.

Week 3 & Week 4

2007-10-11T23:09:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weeks have been relatively quiet. We returned to the capital as Ramadan came to a close and the country slowed pace in anticipation of the coming Eid holiday. After a time enjoying crisp mountain mornings and enough isolation to subdue the mind a little, the city heat and ever-present political fervour took a little while to adjust to. However, the capital’s crowds soon evaporated with the sighting of the Eid moon and subsequent mass exodus of city-dwellers. Islamabad being relatively young and entirely planned (see Week 1!) there is a limited indigenous population here so the large majority of Islamabadites (?) ship off to villages and towns across the country to be with their families during the holiday. As a result I now have a fairly clear idea of what it must be like to spend Christmas and New Year all on your lonesome! You feel sorry for me right?...but its not all bad….no arguments round the dinner table, no need to buy loads of gifts and given the restricted access to alcohol, no morning after!! A further positive to my mind is that, with Ramadan tucked away for the next 11 months, we are all back to eating three square meals a day! Without the strength of the Faithful, I can tell you eating breakfast at 4:30am day after day starts to grind a little! Calls ring out from the mosques post these pre-dawn meals extoling the virtue of prayer rather than sleep but at that time of morning I know where my priorities lie!

Perhaps the most noteworthy event of the past weeks has been a protracted set-to with the boys at the Interior Ministry. I was obliged to make their acquaintance in order to obtain a visa extension - a service which they were initially unwilling to perform - so we began a lengthy process of negotiation and, with fluent Urdu a clear advantage here, the bulk of this advocacy fell squarely in the lap of a colleague of mine from Muslim Aid. The patience and resolve he demonstrated in undertaking this tricky task are commendable. You see, the men of the ministry are a special sort! I have already mentioned the rigorous uniform of the legal fraternity, white shirt, black suit, black tie…well my source tells me the only colour tie to be seen wearing in the hallowed halls of the Ministry is blood(tie) red; a family bond being the primary criteria for admittance to a privileged existence of extended nap breaks and complete indifference to the problems of the visitor-come-a-calling. These men possess a certain power and, as my Chief Negotiator later commented, “they always say ‘what’s wrong?’ they never say ‘what’s right?’! Still, we were eventually successful (my role consisting of staying quiet, smiling politely and projecting a look of sufficient gratitude at the appropriate moment!) and on the Friday, between the hours of 11:00 am and 11:40am as stipulated, I entered the Immmigration office to collect my passport. In this arcane environment every piece of information is meticulously logged by hand into huge, clothbound ledgers as ancient stamping machines are employed to mark the many passports strewn in disarray around the office. Struggling to remember where he left your documentation, the immigration man’s movements are trained to be slow and methodical, calculated to cause maximum frustration to the patiently waiting applicant. Everyone has to play this game, impatience only leads to an instruction to return tomorrow – or yesterday – it’s hard to say for sure as the Urdu word is the same for both of these! But after the obligatory too-long wait I departed a happy man, passport with newly stamped visa in hand.

Running various errands around the city I’ve had the pleasure of taking the taxis here which are yellow like the ones in New York and buzz up and down grand, arrow-straight avenues too but there the similarity ends. The many tiny Suzukis that populate the city’s roads are largely dilapidated vehicles. I’ve seen hapless passengers stood by the roadside as the driver changes a tyre and the first time I took a cab myself I had to get out and push to get it started - with hindsight surely worth a discount! The price structure too, in my experience, is a little haphazard. Inevitably when I enquire how much a journey will cost the driver fixes me with a twinkle in his eye and asks me how much I wish to pay! Foregoing the obvious response to this loaded question I begin the haggling process and each time, when the deal has been done, the twinkle remains and I’m left with the impression that once again I’ve been fleeced! If I’m being picky here I would also suggest that a man who drives a city cab for a living should know the city where he works, more especially so when it’s laid out with the kind of vicious logic present in the street plan of Islamabad. Nevertheless on one occasion I found my chosen Suzuki slowing up in the midst of the 7th Avenue (just like New York see!) while the wiry, confused cabbie leant over his seat to ask me if we were going in the right direction! My destination was far from obscure, still, this problematic case of role reversal was only resolved because I’d taken the trouble to look at a map before I left the hotel and had the simple route (straight ahead buddy…now take a left!) firmly laid out in my head. When dealing with an Islamabad cab driver, I’ve come to learn, preparation is key!

Week 2

2007-10-08T03:28:00.000-07:00

Up before dawn to travel the seven hour road trip to Azad Jammu and Kashmir, I wasn’t quite prepared for the hair-raising rollercoaster ride this would turn out to be. Twisting through an impressive mountain landscape, the primary driving technique is to gun the accelerator when approaching a blind turn, at the blindest point pulling alongside whichever vehicle happens to get in your road and, horn-blaring-knuckles-white, roll the dice and overtake, praying to whatever you believe in that you don’t slam into an oncoming truck before freefalling a thousand feet or so to become another messy statistic. Like many situations here, after the initial “oh really, your actually going to do that?!” wide-eyed surprise, its best to adopt a fatalistic mindset – like getting on a plane; whatever happens next, its out of your hands – and with time this cavalier, no-seatbelt attitude to life starts to appeal, dangerous bit by dangerous bit.

The first stop on this journey is the town of Bagh lying to the north east of Islamabad, close to the 16km exclusion zone called the Line of Control that provides a buffer between Indian Kashmir and the part of this area administered by Pakistan. Long before arriving in the town it becomes clear that, along with the local driving skills, there is another peril awaiting the visitor to these forested valleys of the Lesser Himalaya. Landslides are commonplace and were responsible for much of the devastation after the earthquake struck. They killed thousands of people, burying homes and leaving no trace of the communities that once stood in their path. Construction of retaining walls, planting trees along suspect slopes and choosing appropriate sites for new houses are attempts to reduce the impact of the slides but there is little you can do when half a valley side ruptures as happened often with the quake.

One such rupture has had an unintended consequence that might yet prove beneficial to the surrounding villages and towns. In a valley in the Bagh district a slide blocked a water course which, over the preceding two years, has filled to create a lake of dulled blue water blur-reflecting the surrounding landscape. Pausing to take this in, we were told the Pakistani government is now intending to dam the valley to take advantage of this terrible natural phenomenon, generating electricity and providing infrastructure and investment in the area. With luck this will not come at too heavy a price for the people who live there.

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To drive the road from Balakot to Jared up the narrow Kaghan Valley in The North West Frontier Province is to journey through a landscape in perpetual collapse; a place beautiful and dangerous in equal measure. It wasn't always this bad, I’m told, but then the earthquake came and shattered steep valley slopes sending pink-brown shale and huge splinters of rock cascading onto villages and blocking the road for such a length of time that injured survivors were lost through lack of proper medical care or starved before relief supplies of food could arrive. Today the road, boulder strewn, narrow-twisting and treacherous at the best of times remains at the mercy of the frequent landslides, rock falls and the often heavy winter snows.

The villages in the valley spread from this artery to climb sporadically toward bare mountain ridges; houses nestled high amongst terraces cut into the rock for the cultivation of corn. A clear, fast flowing mountain river runs the length of the valley bottom, straddled at points by bridges of simple steel trusswork or smaller, cable suspended structures that bounce precariously when crossed. At this time of year the summer crowds that flock here are long departed and the place has the feel of shutting down for the long, cold and difficult months ahead. But the days are still warm and the nights not too cold and trekking from site to site to see the work already undertaken is very far from being an unpleasant experience.

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Traveling throughout Kashmir and the NWFP this last week, meeting staff from Muslim Aid and the local beneficiaries who are to receive houses, I am increasingly aware of the heavy toll paid when the earthquake struck. In towns and villages across the region entire school buildings collapsed, sometimes taking the lives of all pupils and teachers within as they began their morning lessons. Skilled tradesmen were lost too and, as a result, these communities have been left bereft of the means to educate their children or rebuild the infrastructure and houses that are so important to their ongoing survival. Twice I visited house sites to be introduced to the owner of the building and had to stoop to shake the hand of a boy in his early teens. Orphaned two years ago, now head of a family, these boys had become child-householders and been burdened with responsibilities far beyond their years.

In places like Jared It’s clear that life is hard and must have always been so. People seem to be getting on, day by day, as best they can. The influx of NGO’s since October 2005 has brought medical centres, new schools, water and sanitation projects and rebuilt peoples homes but this process must be ongoing and there is still much work to be done.

Week 1

2007-09-30T00:22:00.000-07:00

One week in Islamabad and its clear being based in Pakistan as a project manager for Architects for Aid is an experience quite unlike any professional activity I have previously undertaken. My primary role here is to manage the implementation of a seismic resistant house building programme in the regions of Azzad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK) and the North West Frontier Province (NWFP – the acronym is king in Pakistan!), part of a larger reconstruction effort following the October 2005 earthquake that caused widespread damage and loss of life in the region. I am working alongside our partner NGO in the country, Muslim Aid (MA) in order to ensure that the houses constructed conform to guidelines set out by The Earthquake Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Authority (ERRA) and National Engineering Services Pakistan (NESPAK). These guidelines outline simple construction techniques that once adopted and implemented successfully, will improve the ability of new housing to resist any future seismic activity.

I should add at this point the disclaimer that I am solely responsible for anything and everything that appears here, that this is a personal journal of my time in Pakistan and that the content which appears on these pages in no way represents the views of A4A as an organisation nor has it been edited by, or on behalf of, A4A at any time. It follows that any mistakes and/or inaccuracies are my own.

First a little background information about my current hometown. The city of Islamabad was built in the sixties after a masterplan drawn up by a firm of Greek Architects, Doxiadis Associates. Triangular in shape the city is based upon a grid system and divided into sectors. Now, to my mind, there was an excessive degree of rationality on display when it came to naming each of these sectors. As an example, I currently live in Sector F-10 (an important software industry sector apparently). On one side of Sector F-10 is Sector F-9; on the other side - and you’ll notice a pattern develop here - you find Sector F-11 and so on and so forth; half the alphabet entrapped within a grid of expansive, chaotic avenues that leave each sector feeling like a self contained island rather than part of a city whole. My hotel, The Hill Park – “With a wiew(sic) like heaven” - is located just off one of these avenues, tucked behind a petrol station, opposite a chair and a wall-propped mirror combo that provide the sole furnishings to a minimalist, open-air barber shop. The celebrated view is indeed not bad, giving onto a line of distant hills that border the city - just be sure to squint past the Shell signboard (see photo) and the man squatting to crap in the park across the road (for the reader’s benefit not shown in the photo)!

Intriguingly, the room service menu offers a dish identified as brain masala without feeling it necessary to specify where the brain comes from! Needless to say I’ve yet to pluck up the courage to attempt this particular delicacy…its early days yet and with an extensive menu to exhaust it’ll be a while before that little number raises it’s head, so to speak! Not only what, but when to eat is also an issue as we are some way into the holy month of Ramadan. For the large majority here (just over 96% of Pakistanis are Muslim) the month of Ramadan dictates the rhythm of daily life from before dawn, or Sahar, until sundown when the fast is broken with the Iftar meal. Out of perhaps a misplaced cultural sensitivity I initially found myself torn between eating as usual some days (only really possible in the privacy of my hotel room) or adopting my own, less exacting version of the fast - eating breakfast early and pushing through till the evening before breaking the fast with anything but brain! In my defence here I should say that’s it’s a long way from the MA office where I am working to a shop and with everyone else abstaining it didn’t seem polite to make a fuss. Fortunately my colleagues soon took pity and have kindly arranged, each day, a little takeaway to keep me going for the duration.

Islamabad itself has been on intermittent lockdown this last week with entry and exit from the city severely limited. These heavy handed measures are in response to a dicey political situation in which critics of General Pervez Musharraf challenged, in the Supreme Court, his authority to maintain dual office as president and army chief come the presidential elections on Oct 6th. The Judiciary eventually ruled in the General’s favour, much to the dismay and fury of the legal fraternity. These gentlemen are easily recognisable from their impeccable uniform of black suit, black shoes and black tie offset against a crisp, white shirt and they’ve taken to the streets in numbers to protest the decision, not entirely peacefully. It’s strange to watch these besuited, belligerent lawyer mobs wielding sticks and taking hits from riot police, fighting and bleeding and not once thinking to remove their ties! Unfortunately this political face-off has left me confined to the capital until further notice. Our only attempt at a site visit curtailed one hour out of town by a military roadblock that left us stranded behind dozens of gaudy, pimped-up haulage trucks. My colleagues from Muslim Aid quickly saw the futility of hanging around. We returned to the office for a day behind the laptop.

My evenings are usually quiet, I might read down in the hotel lobby or, for excitement, chase cockroaches around my hotel room (a classic case of winning the battle, losing the war!) I caught a commotion in the lobby the other night where a crowd of excited men had gathered by the television, jumping up and down and clapping sporadically. On occasion one or other of the group would punctuate these movements with a hopeful “INSHALLAH!” or the more universal, “YEAH!” as the Pakistan/India cricket match they were watching came to a dramatic climax. Now, I’ve only been here a short while and as a result my observations are more surface than depth but watching these men thrill to the match, whilst on a day to day basis inhabiting, (according to the always opinionated daily paper) “an increasingly beleaguered Pakistani civil society”, I found myself sharing their disappointment when India took the prize and ruefully imagining the party that must have come had it been a Pakistani success. No doubt a little post match celebration would have lifted the mood here and provided, for a while at least, a pleasant distraction from the turmoil of the upcoming presidential election and so many other serious issues facing this country.