‘Stop isolating us’: Lyari

I was at the Lyari General Hospital on the morning of August 3 with a friend who had organised a toy drive for the more neglected hospitals in Karachi. The first thing I was confronted with, as soon as people learnt I worked for a newspaper, was “the media misrepresents Lyari. Stop isolating us”.

On the night of August 6, a remote-controlled explosive went off outside a football stadium in Lyari, killing 11 and injuring nearly 30 — a majority of the victims were between the ages of six and 16. After the news sunk in, my thoughts went to the accusation I had faced earlier and I mourned not just for those dead but also for the living, as they will possibly sink further into a quarantine we have imposed on them.

I am no expert on the gang wars in Lyari. In my limited understanding, the conflict has ruined more lives than it has claimed, displaced many families and has revealed the police to be in a relationship of convenience — of fear and familiarity with those they are meant to arrest.

But I know for a fact the morning we went to Lyari General Hospital, the roads were clear. Children were playing on the streets. Shops were open. Hospital staff was steadily pouring in from different parts of Karachi. All signs of continuous living were present. Those living in Karachi are well familiar with how life goes on despite attacks, blasts and gunshots — perhaps not in contiguous motion but with stops and starts. So, I understand why the residents of Lyari Town are resentful of our assumptions.

They accept the fact that the danger of warfare exists in that part of the city, but not to the paralysing extent that people living outside the town assume it to be. The picture we paint actually paralyses their prospects more as no one wants to venture forth to help. The fear felt by outsiders is still real, even if it is not built on reality, but on a perception pieced together by those looking in from outside.

That fear creates hesitation in those who want to lend a hand. Not the cyclically failing apparatus of the government but hundreds of non-profits which can help with jobs, education, clean water, and hygiene. Some organisations are trying, but it is not nearly enough.

Baloch, Kutchi, Sindhi, Pashtun, Mohajir and Bihari, I was told by residents, all live in Lyari. An overpopulated ethnic melting pot is what Karachi is — Lyari is no different.

Neither are the people.

Published in The Express Tribune, August 12^th, 2013.