CID blast follow-up: Angry, traumatised and still homeless
Residents of the area lament the lack of financial help.
KARACHI:
A stone's throw away from the gleaming gates of the Sindh Chief Minister House are the broken-down houses and piles of rubble in the Civil Lines Police Quarters, where scores of houses received extensive damage after the neighbouring Crime Investigation Department (CID) was attacked.
The bomb blast at the CID office, on November 11, 2010, was heard throughout Karachi. But in these houses, it resonates every day. Months later, residents tell a heartrending tale of post-traumatic stress, financial hardships and the complete lack of support from the government. They bristle with anger as they lament the lack of financial help, sob at their state and have goose bumps when they recollect the attack.
The government and the police have offered no money to the residents but some injured were given Rs4,000 to Rs5,000 each. Women say they are overburdened with the loans they took to pay for medical treatment - rebuilding their houses is still not an option for many.
"We don't care if they don't give us any other compensation. Could they not pay for the house repairs?" asks Sana*, who has lived in the quarters for five years. "I will never let my son join the police. This is no life to lead."
"You should have seen the food the political parties left here," Aisha, 30, says. "It was rotting leftovers from the flood relief camps and if the flood victims managed to survive the waters, they probably died after eating that food."
They kept 20 bags of cement here but they would not give it to us and one day, they took that way too, she adds. "Their 'camp' was a joke and their leader came to visit once but we were so angry at how we had been treated that she left and never returned."
Shabana sobs as she recalls the night of the attack. "I stood with my grandchildren in one corner of the house. There were gunshots and then we heard the grenade blasts. There was no light, we couldn't see a thing. We ran out of the house and saw what had happened. My granddaughter was buried under the rubble - she was blue when they removed her. We had no shoes or dupattas and the men weren't at home because they were on duty."
She has lived in the area for 40 years. Her late husband served in the police and now her sons do. But the government, she angrily says, has not given anything for her family's contributions. The residents say they will never vote for the ruling political parties again.
Police officers have struggled to rebuild their houses on their meagre salaries. Part of Shabana's house is a junkyard - with no roof and the furniture in bits on the floor. "For months, we lived in one room. My daughter-in-law's dowry has been destroyed - a TV worth Rs20,000 is not even worth Rs50 now. It was a miracle that God saved us that night."
Sara, who has seven children, lived in an apartment on the top floor. All that remains are a few walls draped with cloth, which serve as doors. "I dread the day it will rain. I do not think this building will survive. How many times will we escape death?"The apartments have been in this state since November, and the family sleeps virtually in the open in the biting cold nights. Many mothers complain their children have developed respiratory disorders. Sara's child has been taken to the hospital several times with breathing problems. Another suffered brain damage and does not want to return to her house.
Aisha's eyes fill with tears. "I have lived here since I was a baby. I grew up here and got married here. This is my home but I can't sleep all night."
Some women went into shock after the attack, thinking that they had died and were going to heaven, she adds. "When there is a loud noise, my son covers his ears. Our husbands serve the city; they stay out day and night protecting VVIPs and patrolling roads."
"Look at the state our houses are in," she says, as she points to the open spaces where rooms used to be. "Are we not human beings?"
*Names have been changed to protect privacy
Published in The Express Tribune, January 16th, 2011.
A stone's throw away from the gleaming gates of the Sindh Chief Minister House are the broken-down houses and piles of rubble in the Civil Lines Police Quarters, where scores of houses received extensive damage after the neighbouring Crime Investigation Department (CID) was attacked.
The bomb blast at the CID office, on November 11, 2010, was heard throughout Karachi. But in these houses, it resonates every day. Months later, residents tell a heartrending tale of post-traumatic stress, financial hardships and the complete lack of support from the government. They bristle with anger as they lament the lack of financial help, sob at their state and have goose bumps when they recollect the attack.
The government and the police have offered no money to the residents but some injured were given Rs4,000 to Rs5,000 each. Women say they are overburdened with the loans they took to pay for medical treatment - rebuilding their houses is still not an option for many.
"We don't care if they don't give us any other compensation. Could they not pay for the house repairs?" asks Sana*, who has lived in the quarters for five years. "I will never let my son join the police. This is no life to lead."
"You should have seen the food the political parties left here," Aisha, 30, says. "It was rotting leftovers from the flood relief camps and if the flood victims managed to survive the waters, they probably died after eating that food."
They kept 20 bags of cement here but they would not give it to us and one day, they took that way too, she adds. "Their 'camp' was a joke and their leader came to visit once but we were so angry at how we had been treated that she left and never returned."
Shabana sobs as she recalls the night of the attack. "I stood with my grandchildren in one corner of the house. There were gunshots and then we heard the grenade blasts. There was no light, we couldn't see a thing. We ran out of the house and saw what had happened. My granddaughter was buried under the rubble - she was blue when they removed her. We had no shoes or dupattas and the men weren't at home because they were on duty."
She has lived in the area for 40 years. Her late husband served in the police and now her sons do. But the government, she angrily says, has not given anything for her family's contributions. The residents say they will never vote for the ruling political parties again.
Police officers have struggled to rebuild their houses on their meagre salaries. Part of Shabana's house is a junkyard - with no roof and the furniture in bits on the floor. "For months, we lived in one room. My daughter-in-law's dowry has been destroyed - a TV worth Rs20,000 is not even worth Rs50 now. It was a miracle that God saved us that night."
Sara, who has seven children, lived in an apartment on the top floor. All that remains are a few walls draped with cloth, which serve as doors. "I dread the day it will rain. I do not think this building will survive. How many times will we escape death?"The apartments have been in this state since November, and the family sleeps virtually in the open in the biting cold nights. Many mothers complain their children have developed respiratory disorders. Sara's child has been taken to the hospital several times with breathing problems. Another suffered brain damage and does not want to return to her house.
Aisha's eyes fill with tears. "I have lived here since I was a baby. I grew up here and got married here. This is my home but I can't sleep all night."
Some women went into shock after the attack, thinking that they had died and were going to heaven, she adds. "When there is a loud noise, my son covers his ears. Our husbands serve the city; they stay out day and night protecting VVIPs and patrolling roads."
"Look at the state our houses are in," she says, as she points to the open spaces where rooms used to be. "Are we not human beings?"
*Names have been changed to protect privacy
Published in The Express Tribune, January 16th, 2011.