Walk to where?

As part of a summer school focusing on forced migration and refugees, I had the opportunity to visit Belgrade. In the last few years, migration through Balkans has increased and so have the challenges and human rights abuses faced by vulnerable communities. Since I was going to be in Belgrade, I reached out to a faculty colleague of mine who is from the city. His situation is not very different from mine — he still has strong ties to the city and visits regularly, though he has lived in the US for decades. My friend was delighted that I was going to be in the city (albeit for just a few days) and gave me a whole list of things to and places to see, bookshops to visit. I had not told him anything about whether I would have a car or not, or whether I would be hailing cabs to go to different parts of the city. Yet, in all of his advice, there was an underlying assumption: I would be seeing the city on foot.

As I read his kind note and a “map” of things to do, I asked myself if someone had asked me a similar question about my hometown, Islamabad, would I be able to make the same assumption. Why is walking impossible in our cities? And before someone says that Islamabad, a much younger town, should not be compared to old historic cities like Belgrade, I would respond by saying that a modern town, that is supposedly a planned city, should be more amenable to walking. Should it not? And if we are to go down on the track of ancient and historic towns, would anyone advise their friend to see Lahore on foot? Earlier this year, when I was in Lahore and was walking around Urdu Bazaar, I was unsure whether the multi-coloured water on the street was rain water, sewage or run-off from the nearby fish market. Would anyone suggest their friend to see Multan on foot? What about Thatta?

Our imagination of walking is restricted to either a stroll in a park, an activity that senior government officers and their spouses indulge in, or something that is the vocation of those who cannot afford to get from one place to another on a vehicle. In some places (such as inner city Lahore) walking is possible but that remains highly choreographed along certain alleys and paths. I am talking about something else here. I am talking about being able to go from one part of the city to another on foot — and seeing the city and its history at one’s own pace. I am talking about going from a café to a bookstore without having to navigate the mounds of trash (or other waste!) or risk getting hit by a car or a bus. I am talking about getting to see the true colours of the city, meet its people and absorb its sights and sounds. I am talking about the opportunity to enjoy the city regardless of the depth of your pocket.

Much has been written lately about the physical and mental health benefits of walking. Exceptional writers like Robert McFarlane and others have cast a spell on their readers as they describe their mesmerising journeys on foot. In a country that has cities and neighbourhoods that date back centuries, the argument to why we should be able to walk through places that have shaped history should not be hard to make. Perhaps the question we should ask is: why do we remain uninterested in creating such spaces? Why can’t we imagine a different present and a different future that is accessible and inclusive? I believe that our inability to create public spaces — that are truly public — is not because of poverty of resources, but because of poverty of imagination.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 25^th, 2023.

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