A very grim future

Cyclone Phet was given minute-to-minute coverage by all the television channels, radio stations and online media in Pakistan. The approaching threat was considered so serious that even city dwellers were awaiting the climax with nail-biting anticipation, glued to the TV with generators roaring in the safety of their homes. Instead, the katchi abadis in the suburbs of Karachi were badly hit and thousands in various parts of Sindh bore the brunt. Contrast that with the recent devastating floods which, according to the UN, have affected around three million people and taken over 1,650 lives. The armed forces tardily enter flood and rain-stricken areas where 36 helicopters and limited machinery and resources are operating while international help rushes in after the country realises it cannot deal with and was not prepared for the scale of devastation.

Monsoons are a regular feature in the subcontinent at this time of the year. Why, then, were we caught with our pants down? Did our local media feel that the story building up to the monsoon rains and the possibility of flash floods in under-developed areas, that an average urban Pakistani cannot spell or find on the map, was not newsworthy? Why did the meteorological society and the Ministry of Environment conclude that sending out clear and loud warnings for areas under threat was not necessary? Why was there no mention of the expected swelling of rivers and canals? As the list of unanswered criticisms increases and the stifled response of the media continues in glaringly disproportion to the seriousness of the situation, sympathisers are left confused. What does this say about the morality of the media that conducts extensive investigations into fake degrees and burning effigies of David Cameron but cannot awaken the nation or the government into acting swiftly and aptly in troubling times?

As early as the end of June, pre-monsoon rains for India and Pakistan were being discussed in local weather reports as providing “relief to heat stricken-areas” while as a small afterthought the Pakistan Met office's conflicting predictions of “above average” rain and elsewhere “normal monsoon” were circulating in the media. Predictions as early as July 26 suggested that heavy rain would occur in parts of Punjab and Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa and that this would be result in flash floods. In retrospect, with such clear and precise predictions what excuses do we have to give to the millions of devastated families? A week on, and large parts of these areas lay badly affected with widespread death, unhygienic conditions, destroyed property and, worst of all, inaccessibility. Why weren’t necessary precautions, evacuations, dykes, preventative measures, contingency plans such as availability of boats, medical and rescue teams organised before the worst calamity in decades unfolded? According to the Met office, average rainfall in Pakistan between July-September amounts to 137.5 mm, while reports have now revealed that 192 mm of rain fell on a single day at Tarbela. Such devastation brings a host of catastrophic consequences, water-borne diseases, soaring prices of agricultural goods and a strain on already burdened health and civic facilities and worst of all the displacement of hundreds, maybe thousands, of refugees who will migrate to other villages and cities. The urban centres are already quite saturated in terms of employment and housing and with inflation running high, the future of all those displaced by the flood of 2010 is very grim given that Pakistan does not have a good track record of rehabilitating victims of natural disasters.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 5^th, 2010.