Lyari Calling

by Sana Chaudhry

Close your eyes for a second. What is the first image your mind conjures when you hear the word Lyari? To say that the oldest town in Karachi has been plagued by a bad reputation would be an understatement. Gang wars and a downpour of bullets have become synonymous with the area.

Considered to be one of the most treacherous places in the city, the residents of Karachi tend to give Lyari a wide berth when crossing it during their weekly beach trips. Despite this, it is one of the most densely populated areas. But living in Lyari comes with its fair share of trouble; trouble that is constantly highlighted in the media. Even the mere sound of a pebble skittering across the road is a field day for journalists.

But what of the Lyari that has bred the likes of Hussain Shah, an Olympic boxer, Syed Sajjad Ali Shah, a former chief justice, and Waja Ghulam Muhammad Noor ud Din, an educationist? Why is it only known for being the hub of criminal activity?

Due to the mass amounts of literature that is published labelling Lyari as a war zone, we tend to forget that for some, it is simply home. Where every day they need to make a conscious effort to not stray from the path they have chosen. Or perhaps, we are fooling ourselves, thinking that if we ignore the problem long enough it will disappear.

The psychological effect on the youth of Lyari is one that is constantly present, like an axe hovering over their heads. Sitting across from three Lyari youngsters, what’s crystal clear is that in this case, ignorance is most certainly not bliss. Years of exposure to gang violence has left them hardened and stoic. Every day they carry with them the memories of their fallen comrades and use them as an example to steer clear of any such activities. “I said to myself that I wouldn’t be a picture in a newspaper with three bullets next to it; I couldn’t have that be my fate.”

Even the inside of their homes isn’t a safe place. They confide that the rangers sometimes raid entire buildings in order to suss out the criminals, which includes going through the belongings and possessions of a lot of innocent people. Whilst they silently agree that the actions are for the best, their eyes betray the feeling of one being violated against their will. “They are combating violation of the law, with violation of privacy; the irony of the situation is hard to miss.”

When questioned about the initiatives taken to keep the youth of Lyari off the streets, the young men scoff and laugh. It is their opinion that such activities are misguided events for people to merely pretend they care about the residents of Lyari. “For starters, none of these events are even in Lyari,” exclaims one youth. Events such as Lyari Film Festival, organized by I AM KARACHI, have previously been held at Arts Council. “One in five people in Lyari know how to operate a camera professionally; we do not lack talent, we lack proper facilities and platforms.”

However none of this keeps these boys from losing their optimism. The best defence, they say, is a good offense, a strategy these boys have learnt well as they clasp my hand as we bid farewell and insist I visit their part of the city. While there is still so much that needs to be done for a place like Lyari, the determination alone in their eyes gives me hope that a brighter future may not be that far ahead.

From Darkness to Light

by Hina Javed

In a neighborhood where gang wars are more common than school exams, women with extraordinary courage and willpower are rising above stereotypes and taking charge of their own destiny. Girls in Lyari believe that education is the only way to improve the circumstances in the violence and poverty stricken area. While some girls are supporting their families in the confines of their homes, others are leaving their comfort zones to face life head-on. In either case, their dedication is a reminder that these girls are driven to get educated without being a financial burden on their families.

Filling in the educational gap for the female residents in such a contentious area is a non- governmental organization, Women Is a Nation, founded by Mahira Ahmed Miyanji in October 2013. The organization has a network of 2500 girls, with the most recent team engaged in educating 70 girls in the afternoon. Miyanji has been awarded the title of “Lyari Youth Icon” and “Karachi Youth Icon”for her extolling efforts to empower women by educating them.

“The enrollment has, in fact, doubled within three years,” says Yasir Mohammed Haroon, administrator at WIN. “The underlying research conducted by WIN revealed an illiteracy rate of 95 per cent among the female youth in Lyari,” he added, hinting at the far-reaching progress of the initiative. According to Haroon, negative media coverage has almost smeared futuristic initiatives such as this one in recent years.

Referring to the disparity in social classes and age groups between the members, Murtaza Hussain, a 20-year-old assistant at WIN, explains that the purpose of this initiative is to eliminate the difference between the rich and poor, young and old. He strongly believes that education can bring rapid changes in Lyari and puts his faith in educated females who will nurture the society.

The organization not only looks after their educational needs, but also provides vocational training sessions to make every female a useful member of the society. “We train them in sports, photography, stitching and weaving, in addition to providing the basic level of learning,” says Hussain.

When asked as to why women were deprived of their voting rights in the 2015 by-elections, Hussain argued that women were reluctant to come out in the public because of the security situation; not because they are an oppressed gender. In his view, the larger problem is lack of awareness which also becomes the cause of illiteracy. He recalls an occasion when a woman in her mid-40s came to file a divorce cause at WIN because she did not know where to address the matter. “It is in times like these you come to realize that the root of the problem is ignorance rather than oppression,” he says. He further explains that if a woman is subject to domestic violence, she does not have to suffer at the hands of her husband and in-laws; she has to know her legal rights to take corrective measures. “This is where education comes in and plays a part in eliminating all the problems,” he says.

Although being a woman is a tough call in Pakistan, accusing patriarchy and security entirely is akin to burying your head in the sand. With education and awareness, the fight becomes a tad bit easier.

The Peace Rush

by Frayan Doctor

A quick Google search of the most dangerous neighborhoods of Karachi will list Lyari as one of the most violent and least developed areas. Those not belonging to it regard the oldest residential area of the city as a no-go zone, and it is justified to an extent.

It is synonymous with guns and gang warfare, narcotics and kidnappings. For the better part of two decades, generations of Lyari residents have grown up fearing the wrath of the two main groups vying for control of the area: the Uzair Baloch group and the Baba Ladla group.

Options have been limited for its youth during this period – either join a gang and be a part of the brotherhood for the rest of their lives, or steer clear to avoid trouble with them and law enforcement agencies. With just two alternatives, the physical, economic and psychological effects on the people of Lyari have been immense.

Daily gun battles, kidnappings, petty crime and murder have terrified residents, events that have been elatedly lapped up by the media houses of the city, who are equally responsible for fueling fear and disdain for the suburb and its people.

With the Karachi security operation by the police and Rangers to purge the city of criminal elements however, a great degree of peace has blanketed the restive neighborhood, albeit a tense calm. There is a feeling that the two gangs are biding their time to resume hostilities upon the culmination of the law enforcement crackdown.

But, there is a sense of urgency among the youth of Lyari to seize a rare opportunity of bringing lasting peace and prosperity to the place. Putting the scars of losing loved ones in gang warfare aside, young, educated residents like Yasir Mohammad Haroon and Murtaza Hussain have taken initiatives to steer generations of boys away from gangs through education, sports and social activities. Skeptical of their elected representatives to govern effectively for their constituents, Haroon and Hussain work with NGOs to impart the importance of education to families, increasing the enrollment of boys and girls in private and public schools. Whereas in the past, students have been forced to miss exams because of curfews and total shutdowns of Lyari by the Rangers, Haroon said now, students can go to their places of learning without the fear of being struck by a bullet or confined to their homes for days on end.

With a pinch of salt, Haroon praised the Rangers for bringing back a sense of normalcy into the lives of Lyari residents. For him, the law enforcement agency is the lesser of the two evils, justifying their actions because of the barbaric and brutal modus operandi of the gangs. Him, and countless other men of his age have lost friends to gangs, as members and victims.

These incidents have only strengthened Haroon’s resolve to change the fortunes of the new generation of Lyari residents. He volunteers at places like Youth Point, which encourages education and social activities, sports and positive outreach to others. There are educational institutions like Meer Ayub School, Government Girls Secondary School and Sualeh Mohammad Sarhady School that are doing a commendable job of grooming the youth for a positive and danger-free future.

If only the mainstream media would also gleefully report on the positive initiatives enacted by people like Haroon and the NGOs, there would be no place for gangs to operate with the impunity and fearlessness that they have for so long. Instead, Lyari could be transformed into a place of peace and prosperity and role model for other suburbs of Karachi that are plagued by violence.

Women of Karachi and women of Lyari—a segregation

by Kaukab Shairani

Buried under the ruins of Kolachi and suffering from the throes of segregation, Lyari has been almost become a “no man’s land” in the vast space of this region. One can argue that this might be due to the city’s spacious area, but a city in which every portion is a sub-culture of its own, Lyari has become a separate territory. With the passage of time, a lot of taboos have been slowly become attached with this place. Gang wars, bombings, pick pocketing and insecurity for life is some of them. But an all-time question is: which part of Karachi is free from this plague?

Sadly, no part of Karachi is free from the usual stress of getting mugged and many other areas of the city are also popular for outbreak of political upheaval. Yet what does come under the spotlight more than others is Lyari.

In a country where women rights have faced the brunt of implementation throughout, Lyari, too, is part of the list.

In Lyari, women are not only deprived of their basic rights to voting and education, but a fear of losing their lives encapsulates them. However, the fact that they stand alone in the wake of crises today reflects its disconnection from Karachi as a whole. It is treated as an outlier; an outcast.

While “big plans” are made by office bearers and lawmakers to “earn” more money, the women of Lyari escape their homes in an attempt to save their lives. “They do not let us live”, they say. As a hub for political upsurge, Lyari’s women have no other place they could call home, making them feel displaced due to sexism.

Discrimination between male and female and thereafter the process of attaining rights for each has hit a record low in Lyari. This has been manifested in the nonchalant behavior of the males of the area who blatantly refuse to even acknowledge the slightest of troubles that women face. Murtaza Hussain, a male resident of Lyari outright said that the state of women in Lyari is not as bad as the media portrays it.

For so many years, women rights are an issue that has attracted attention all over Pakistan. Also, activists and NGOs are seen working towards problems endured by women owing to the vulnerability of their gender. In Lyari, though, the problem is not just their rights, but also how females are defeated due to their silence. The women of this area, therefore, find no accommodation outside of the area either.

Despite the gaping hole between the main city of Karachi and Lyari, very few embrace the two to be leaves of the same root. The discord between may not disgruntle Karachi’s population, but surely scars Lyari.

Yes, Lyari is in Karachi

by Alice Peter

“Where is Lyari, exactly?”
“How do people live there?”
“What’s the security there like?”
“Is it in Karachi?”

There is no dearth of ignorance in Karachi. Apart from the many obvious intangible divides that exist in the form of gender, religion and ethnicity, there are some lines that are more visible than others.

The famous “clifton bridge ke iss paar ya uss paar” has been shaping the social identities of the people of Karachi for years. Therefore, it is almost unsurprising that the city’s oldest neighborhood is perceived as the hub of gang violence; with two puppet-masters pulling on the strings of hundreds they don’t care about. ‘Lyari is no country for old or young men,’ they say, without ever providing reasons for that statement; but the question that is never asked is what about those who already live there? And even though the area often cries for attention, turning a blind eye to it has somewhat become the only available answer.

The persistent episodes of savagery in Lyari have made the area an absolute favourite of news reporters and journalists. The print media, in its entirety, has covered the happenings in Lyari to the extent of cliché, but the inside perspective still has an air of peculiarity attached to it. Stories on Lyari center primarily on the lesser known yet glorified history of the locality and its people. Urdu progressive writers like Latif Baloch, Nadir Shah Adil and young journalists like Saeed Sarbazi, Aziz Sanghuar often come up in discussions; however, these are all stories of the past.

What is conveniently swept under the rug are personal accounts of residents and the everyday obstacles they face; be it in the requirement to show a NIC card for identification purposes when entering one’s hometown, or the unforeseen invasions of privacy. Everyone in Lyari is eyed with suspicion.

Yasir Mohammad Haroon, a resident of Lyari in his mid 20s, recalls all those times various challenges to reach his examination center presented themselves. “I was doing my intermediate in pre-engineering when the gang wars were at their peak,” says Haroon. His eyes reflect the anguish he must have undergone at the time. He further relates to the incident of his friend, Adnan, who faced great difficulty in obtaining his admit card, an essential form needed to appear for board examination, during that period.

However, according to Haroon, Lyari’s security situation has improved considerably in the last 6 months; referring to the Rangers as his hero, he expressed empathy towards their actions of raiding the homes of innocent people. “They don’t have an option,” says Haroon with a forced smile, as if trying to convince himself.

Not only has Haroon experienced more things than other boys his age, who reside elsewhere in the city, but he is also set on bringing about a change for the people of his area. Apart from currently working towards the provision of better education for women in Lyari, Haroon also works as a photojournalist and holds a deep passion for documentary filmmaking.

When trying to devise solutions for Lyari, organizations often concentrate their resources to introduce the youth of this area to recreational activities. “Let’s organize a concert for the people of Lyari – no, we should perhaps have a workshop for them,” are all statements overheard at such meetings. But is that what they really want? Better yet, has anyone even considered asking these people what they want from their fellow citizens?

Haroon answers these questions rather bluntly. “I attended an event at Arts Council catering to the youth of Lyari,” he says, as he eases back in his chair. “I left within an hour because there was no point to it,” he adds, smoothly mocking the organizers of the event. What Lyari needs are vocational trainings and reformed standards of education. For Haroon, the residents desperately need someone to teach them common civic sense. On the other hand, Kiran Foundation’s initiative to adopt Lyari’s DCTO Academy is something he admittedly appreciates.

Nonetheless, every evening, Haroon sits with his limited group of friends who have managed to steer clear of gang influence to discuss strategies of changing Lyari’s reputation from a no-go zone to a welcoming neighborhood. While he understands his hopes seem too far-fetched at this point, he still does not shy away from inviting people to Lyari and see for themselves what the fuss is all about; an offer I have wholeheartedly taken under consideration.

In lieu of my interaction with Haroon, and his peers, Murtaza and Adnan, I wrote a short poem highlighting my own previously held biases towards Lyari:

I was blinded first but now I see,
You and I, are leaves of the same tree
Get well soon, Lyari.

Of Peaceloving And Gunruning