‘Mama, let’s leave quickly… I’m so scared’
Residents of Rabia Flower and Iqra City apartments left without a roof over their head on Sunday evening.
KARACHI:
When a bomb planted on a motorcycle went off in Abbas Town in November last year, deep fissures appeared on the walls of Shagufta’s apartment. It took over three months and Rs50,000 to repair the damages. Only a day after everything had been mended, another bomb went off. This time, the wall was blown right off.
“Look at our house! It’s a mess again,” she said, as rescue workers tore down a portion of a building that had been deemed unsafe. Her husband said, “I’m never coming back to this place. We value our lives more than our property and living in this neighbourhood has become risky.”
There were several others who had emptied their pockets to repair their homes after November’s blast, simply to lose them entirely three months later. While some said with steely resolve that they would build their lives again, others wondered how they would ever pick up the pieces and move on.
Ali, an owner of a hardware shop, had toiled for 10 years before he had enough to purchase a flat in Iqra City, the apartment complex outside which Sunday’s blast took place.
There is now a pile of rubble where his two-bedroom apartment once stood. “I’ve gone 10 years back now. I’ll have to start saving up to buy another house.”
The residents of Rabia Flower and Iqra City apartments who were left without a roof over their head on Sunday evening had spent a night at their relatives’ houses. The next day, they returned to forage through the wreckage in search of their belongings.
Naseem and her two daughters hastily stuffed clothes into plastic bags as shards of glass crunched below their feet.
One of her daughters tugged at her dupatta. “Mama let’s leave this place quickly. I’m scared.”
Inside the compound, Irfan, who was carrying a water cooler, began to fume.
“How long will we stay with our relatives? The government should rebuild our homes.”
Published in The Express Tribune, March 5th, 2013.
When a bomb planted on a motorcycle went off in Abbas Town in November last year, deep fissures appeared on the walls of Shagufta’s apartment. It took over three months and Rs50,000 to repair the damages. Only a day after everything had been mended, another bomb went off. This time, the wall was blown right off.
“Look at our house! It’s a mess again,” she said, as rescue workers tore down a portion of a building that had been deemed unsafe. Her husband said, “I’m never coming back to this place. We value our lives more than our property and living in this neighbourhood has become risky.”
There were several others who had emptied their pockets to repair their homes after November’s blast, simply to lose them entirely three months later. While some said with steely resolve that they would build their lives again, others wondered how they would ever pick up the pieces and move on.
Ali, an owner of a hardware shop, had toiled for 10 years before he had enough to purchase a flat in Iqra City, the apartment complex outside which Sunday’s blast took place.
There is now a pile of rubble where his two-bedroom apartment once stood. “I’ve gone 10 years back now. I’ll have to start saving up to buy another house.”
The residents of Rabia Flower and Iqra City apartments who were left without a roof over their head on Sunday evening had spent a night at their relatives’ houses. The next day, they returned to forage through the wreckage in search of their belongings.
Naseem and her two daughters hastily stuffed clothes into plastic bags as shards of glass crunched below their feet.
One of her daughters tugged at her dupatta. “Mama let’s leave this place quickly. I’m scared.”
Inside the compound, Irfan, who was carrying a water cooler, began to fume.
“How long will we stay with our relatives? The government should rebuild our homes.”
Published in The Express Tribune, March 5th, 2013.