citycalling
The forgotten city of books
Khori Garden has long been known for its vast treasure of used and new books, but being a part of the mad, bustling Karachi, it suffers the same problems as the rest of the city, which affect business and bring down sales.
By Amina Baig
Just walking off Bunder Road and into Khori Garden is a treat for all the senses. Super bright balloons and crazily crafted toys incite one to take a closer look. The seemingly seamless throng of bodies and sputtering rickshaws urges one to move faster, in pace with their flow. Popular songs, blaring horns and snatches of different dialects provide the soundtrack to the urgency with which everyone walks, buys and sells.

kinjhar chronicles
When water runs dry…
The act of lending Karachi a 1000 cusecs of water per day from the Kinjhar Lake is a helpful one, but not to the fishermen who will suffer as a result of the measures being taken to enhance water supply to Karachi. Kolachi weighs the pros and cons of this situation
By Adeel Pathan
Photos by
Mohammed Rehan
"We are not opposed to supplying water to our Karachiite brothers and sisters, but the pros and cons of raising a barrage at the Kinjhar Lake need to be studied so as to minimize any losses local fishermen might suffer," opines Naveed Kehar, who is associated with the Kinjhar Fishermen Welfare Society (KFWS).

The way we were
Of real tennis, hat tricks and Rafferty's rules
By Kaleem Omar
So you think you know your sporting terms, do you? Okay, maybe you do. But do you know the origin of those terms? Yes? Okay then, what's the origin of the term football? Contrary to what you may think, it has nothing to do with the fact that the ball is kicked with the foot. Football was given the name football because it was a game played "on foot" - to distinguish it from polo, played on horseback.

karachicharacter
The rickshaw diaries
By Sabeen Jamil
Making his way through massive traffic jams on a three-wheeler that reads pappu yaar tung na kar, arguing with his passengers over rickshaw fare, and reading the newspaper by the road over a plate of biryani or samosas at lunch everyday, 35 year old Asghar Khan still dreams of ajob in an airconditioned office, which will earn him a stable income.

 

citycalling
The forgotten city of books

Just walking off Bunder Road and into Khori Garden is a treat for all the senses. Super bright balloons and crazily crafted toys incite one to take a closer look. The seemingly seamless throng of bodies and sputtering rickshaws urges one to move faster, in pace with their flow. Popular songs, blaring horns and snatches of different dialects provide the soundtrack to the urgency with which everyone walks, buys and sells.

Walking into a street where mainly books are sold, one can breathe easier, but not much. The frenetic pace of the market outside seeps into this stretch of land flanked by mostly book and some hardware stores, and dotted with men peddling lipstick and perfumes on the sidewalks.

Once the eyes adjust to the incredible blur of thelas, books, and piles of indistinguishable objects, and the ears to the buzz of shopkeepers calling out to each other and talking amongst themselves, one realizes that actual buyers in the area are few and far between. This comes as a surprise as at one glance, this street seems a book enthusiast's dream come true.

"With the prices of everything else rising, people aren't able to save enough money to throw away on books," says Junaid, who has inherited his family's shops in Khori Garden. Batman and Superman smirk down from the shelves in his shop.

"I mainly sell locally produced colouring books," Junaid tells Kolachi, "but I also sell plastic, wholesale, to mehndi cone manufacturers and juice packers."

Junaid's plastic shop, with columns of gold and silver plastic sheets, is ensconced between his colouring bookstore and his uncle's bookshop. His uncle, Asif's shop proffers a more eclectic range of books. "We have had our shops here for over 30 years," says Asif.

Going through the books on the shelves in Asif's store, one found among management, IT and art history books, old childhood favorites by Roald Dahl and the once popular Nancy Drew series, in brilliant condition. With such an interesting selection of fiction, and some of the best reference books being sold at less than 50 per cent of the price at the more upscale shops, surely business must be booming!

Asif answers in the negative. "Business has been slow the last few years," he says, "there are a lot of problems that keep potential customers away, which we have no control over."

"The infrastructure is terrible. There are open manholes and overflowing gutters, and when it rains, our market gets terribly flooded, the place looks tatty, and that is one of the reasons people avoid coming here. Plus, when the market overflows with rain water, we are forced to shut down business for days."

Flood by rainwater is a common problem all over Karachi, though, and Asif seems to have grudges running deeper than that.

"The government pays us no attention," he says, adding that the new plazas being built over older buildings, some of them built pre-partition, are not as durable as the ones they are replacing. "They are using cheap material to build the new buildings." He points out.

His nephew Junaid cites other reasons for why their shops are not doing so well. He implies that their business tends to get caught up in a cycle of inflation, whence once inflation rises, limiting their buyer's purchasing power; it limits their purchasing power as well. "Maal (material) becomes too expensive for us to buy," he says. Amongst his most frequent customers are students looking for a cheap reference book. "We don't buy many fiction books," explains Junaid.

When the books are imported by the Memon Agency from their place of origin, usually Singapore, Dubai and the United States, retailers from all over Karachi are called to scrounge through the bounty and buy books in bulk. The Khori Garden shopkeepers prefer buying what they call  'knowledge books', and most of what little fiction they do pick up is sold off to paan waalas to wrap their merchandise in. Other books get picked up by the more expensive shops and resold at higher prices.

With more and more people in Karachi migrating southwards in the city, Khori Garden and its adjoining bazaars are becoming too distant for them to access easily, and add to that the battlefield that are the Karachi roads, most would prefer paying more if it means they can avoid getting stuck in gridlocks and not finding a parking spot.

Mohammad Salim Khan who has had his shop in Khori Garden for about 30 years loves his job. As far as he is concerned, for anyone who loves books, no price, including road rage, is too high to pay. His shop supplies books to local school libraries, as well as regular customers. He too feels that business has deteriorated over the years, and says that people avoid coming to the market because of a lack of parking space, caused by thela waalas encroaching almost every free inch of the area.

Wedged between shops displaying books with exotic titles like 'Mythology of the Americas' and more lighthearted joke books, are shops and stalls selling toiletries. Even some of the bookshop owners double as toiletry shop owners as they can make more money that way. These shops sport dodgy brands of shampoo such as 'Doxe', the bottle of which bears the design of a more popular and credible brand of shampoos and soaps with a similar name.

They also sell better-known brands and their soaps and toothpastes are sold for less than the market price. Waqas, who runs a toiletries shop claims that imported varieties of different products are sold wholesale to Khori Garden shop owners from where they are distributed all over Karachi. One wonders if the products being sold are expired or counterfeit. Waqas vehemently denies this, "If this was the case then Khori Garden would have been wiped out eons ago."

Everyone who is asked about Khori Garden, whether they have been there or not, do know that the place is a treasure trove of old and new books. What they would be really surprised to learn is that apart from books and stationery, the market also has several stalls selling chappals. "These chappals are made in home-based kaarkhanas," Ameer Mian tells Kolachi.

Ameer Mian migrated to Karachi in 1951, and his family established the shoe stall in Khori Garden a few years later. Ameer explains the origin of   Khori Garden's name, "there used to be a nice garden here, just beyond where you see all the shops," he says, "there were sculptures of Hindu deities in the garden, but some time after Partition, people broke those sculptures and built a small mosque in the garden."

Ameer recounts, a bit sadly, the fact that during the '70s, cabins were allowed to be constructed over most of the park, which basically cost the people of the area a shady place where they could rest and recuperate during and after a hard day's work.

The market in Khori Garden developed in as ad-hoc a manner as Karachi itself has. A mix of stalls and concrete structures have now replaced the cabins built over the garden, and a larger mosque has been built in place of the original one. The shops have been handed down from father to son, and everyone with a business in the market knows the others. Much like most of Karachi, most of the shopkeepers aren't Karachi natives, but had moved to the city decades ago with their families. The newer shopkeepers who have not inherited a shop or do not have the money to buy or rent one simply set up a thela somewhere in the market, congesting the area.

As Ameer Mian points out, the most obvious choice when looking for employment in Pakistan for any one would be Karachi, which is sometimes known as the city of immigrants. "The population is constantly increasing," he says, "and everyone is suffering because of it."

Despite being at the mercy of the elements and economic trends, the shop owners in Khori Garden would not consider moving their businesses into another area. Much like most Karachiites, they too will complain about the shortcomings of their city and how they affect their market, but love it regardless.

 

kinjhar chronicles
When water runs dry…

"We are not opposed to supplying water to our Karachiite brothers and sisters, but the pros and cons of raising a barrage at the Kinjhar Lake need to be studied so as to minimize any losses local fishermen might suffer," opines Naveed Kehar, who is associated with the Kinjhar Fishermen Welfare Society (KFWS).

Karachi, the provincial capital of Sindh, is getting about 1000 cusecs of fresh water for consumption from Kinjhar Lake but the amount is still not sufficient for Karachiites. Consequently, the authorities have decided to increase water supply without carrying out studies or consulting with local fishermen.

This approach towards development and growth has always been questioned and opposed and the Kinjhar Lake situation is no different. Managing water resources through technological intervention may yield positive results in the short-term but will impact the lives and livelihood of local fishermen in the long run.

Presently the Kinjhar Lake is an amalgamation of two lakes; Kinjhar and Sonheri, which flowed separately before 1958. The water in Kinjhar Lake used to be replenished by rain, different water channels and mountain streams but in 1958, a 15 mile long barrage was raised in these two lakes, to raise water storage capacity of the lake, and additional water from the Kotri Baghar Feeder was released into the extended lake.

1000 cusecs of water per day were released to Karachi, as well as five talukas of the Thatta district, but the fact that local fishermen and community were not consulted when storage capacity of the lake was raised to supply water to Karachi and elsewhere, points to negligence of fishermen's rights.

According to local fishermen, thousands were forced to migrate after the annexure of the Kinjhar and Sonheri Lakes, and when a link canal was built to release water from the Indus River into the lake, local fishermen were not consulted.

As a result of the link canal's construction, direct inflow of water in the Kinjhar Lake during the monsoons ceased and resulted in a decrease of flow of fish seeds during breeding season, hence reducing fish storage in the lake.

According to representatives of the KFWS, which has been working for the rights of fishermen since 1996, a survey conducted in 2005-06 showed that the fishermen population was reduced to over 10,000 with only 820 boats and bringing the annual fish production down to a mere 15650 metric tonnes.

Chairman KFWS, Mohammed Adam Gandro told Kolachi in Sonheri village that the fishermen of Kinjhar for the first time were forced to migrate to other areas, abandoning their ancestral land and occupation.

The authorities, however, it seems have not taken into consideration the huge impact the reduction of water and consequently, fish, in the Kinjhar Lake would have on the livelihood of fishermen. The Karachi Water and Sewerage Board (KWSB) and Irrigation Department of Sindh launched another project, christened the 'Raising of Kinjhar Lake Bund,' costing three billion rupees, a few months ago. The aim of this project is to enhance water supply to Karachi, where demand for water is rising and new islands being constructed on the coastal belt.

Hakim Ali, a local fisherman in his '60s, tells Kolachi that at one time fishing in the Kinjhar Lake was a stable source of income, but with the blockage of water, the situation has completely reversed.

"We caught fish in abundance back in the day," he says, "but now not only has that become problematic, we face new troubles every day."

These fishermen are living in extremely poor conditions in the villages on and by the bank of Kinjhar Lake, and complain that neither the district government, nor the elected representatives visit them or endeavour to support and improve their lifestyles.

Basic amenities like proper drinking water are unavailable to the fishermen living by Kinjhar Lake and their children are compelled to beg tourists visiting the lake due to lack of facilities including education. Apparently, promises made to the fishermen populating these villages of provision of free education to their children have not yet seen fruition.

Kehar tells Kolachi that the local fishermen have raised objections to the raising of the bund and have staged protests but to no avail.

The fishermen communities who will directly be affected by this extension include Gandra, Machi, Tohia, Kangani, Holani, Mirbahar, Mallah, Dargori, Khudai and Dhandheil, while other trade and land owners living in areas surrounding Kinjhar will also be affected because of the project.

In addition to the existing problems due to non-provision of facilities, a number of land grabbers have illegally occupied areas around the lake, made confident by their political and other affiliations, and are actually denying passage of fishermen communities through these areas.

Many fishermen while conversing with Kolachi were of the opinion that while they do not oppose the facilitation of water from the lake to Karachiites, they are concerned because of loss of their own livelihood. They are also waiting for announcement of compensation to them, as there is always the risk of their villages flooding once the project has been completed.

"We want the country and Karachi to progress, but we should also be taken on board when making decisions that will affect our lives," says Adam Gandro, adding that the government should avoid treating fishermen like second-class citizens by depriving them of their only mode of earning bread and butter.

It is now time that our policy makers take these distressed fishermen into confidence, and consult the people who hold large stakes in Kinjhar Lake before reducing the water for its supply to Karachi.

A study should immediately be conducted on every aspect of the situation, including environmental and human aspects to avoid any harm that might be caused to fishermen and their families. Should compensation be announced, it should actually go into the right hands for distribution among fishermen. The authorities as well as non-governmental organizations are also expected to play their role through provision of basic necessities of life to these under privileged fishermen and at least drinking water  should be supplied to them at war footing basis, and other steps be taken to decrease the resentment of fishermen who feel that nothing has been  done for them for over many decades.

 

The way we were
Of real tennis, hat tricks and Rafferty's rules

So you think you know your sporting terms, do you? Okay, maybe you do. But do you know the origin of those terms? Yes? Okay then, what's the origin of the term football? Contrary to what you may think, it has nothing to do with the fact that the ball is kicked with the foot. Football was given the name football because it was a game played "on foot" - to distinguish it from polo, played on horseback.

Polo is usually played four a side. In Hunza, however, where they play their own wild version of the game, teams can consist of anything up to 10 or 12 a side, depending on how many polo players a village has. Sometimes, every able-bodied male in a village joins in on the act, resulting in a game that looks more like a cavalry charge against an enemy tribe than the champgane-and-salmon-sandwiches game played at Cowdrey Park in England.

"Birdie", of course, is a golf term. According to a Dr Ralph Brasch, a Sydney broadcaster and the author of many books (including one titled "How Did Sports Begin?), the first birdie was a mere fluke, in a manner of speaking. It appeared, as it were, out of thin air; metaphorically, quite unexpectedly.

It all happened on a beautiful day in Atlantic City, USA. A local player named A.B. ("Ab") Smith enjoyed a good game of golf, but he also knew that there was room for improvement. Therefore, when on that morning he made a shot that enabled him to sink his ball into the hole with a score of "one under par", he was overjoyed.

Giving expression to his feelings, spontaneously he called out at the top of his voice, "That's a bird of a shot!" And the bird caught on. In the course of time, players learned fondly to refer to it as a "birdie". Or so the story goes, anyway.

Tennis, originally, was nothing like the game played today. Back in 16th-Century England, tennis was played in an enclosed court, usually one that was part of a monastery, with galleries that were actual stone-masonry structures also being used as part of the playing area. When the modern game was invented, it appropriated the name tennis for itself. The earlier game, which is still played in England and America at a few venues, was then renamed "real tennis".

I once told some real-tennis aficionados on Hayling Island (near Portsmouth, England) that their forebears should have stuck to their guns and continued to call their game tennis, since it was invented much before the other tennis. 

Scoring in tennis, so different from all other sports, has mystified many. Its units of "15" and "60" for game, in fact, stem from paume, an earlier game from which modern tennis evolved. In French, its name referred to "the palm of the hand" (paume) with which it was played prior to the introduction of the racquet.

According to Dr Brasch, the scoring in the sequence of 15, 30, 40 and the game, which tennis also adopted from paume, fundamentally is a legacy of ancient Babylonian culture of thousands of years ago, when no one had ever dreamt of a game like tennis. This introduced to the world the sexagesimal system, which has left its impact in diverse ways. Babylonians believed in the cosmic significance of the figure 60 (sexaginta later in Latin), which made man divide every hour into 60 minutes. Subdivided into quarters, it made 15 a popular unit generally.

It was for this reason, says Dr Brasch, that 14th-century France chose it as the basis of its monetary system. A coin was valued 60 sous. By means of an embossed cross, the coin could be divided into four quarters, each worth 15 sous. It so happened that at the very time the "game with the palm" had become a favourite pastime of the French. They played it for money, mostly for a 60 sous piece, which, prior to the game, they either handed for safe keeping to a spectator friend or placed it under the net.

No wonder, having the beckoning prize in mind, says Dr Brasch, they did not score in simple numbers - 1, 2, 3 and game - but in the 15 (sous) units for each quarter, totalling up to 60 (sous) for the game. According to him, it was a practical reason that eventually reduced the 45 score to a mere 40. In calling the figure (whether in French, English or, for that matter, in any tongue) forty was so much more euphonic and rolled more easily off the tongue than the ponderous forty-five. So now you know.

A "duck" in cricket, of course, is "no score" at all. But it is well camouflaged. It is really the left-over of the much more descriptive "duck's egg". A duck's egg looks like a zero, "nothing". Americans, however, seem to prefer geese, and in their game a no score thus appears as a "goose egg".

Not many Americans play cricket nowadays. The few that do are a beleaguered breed and don't really know much about the game. .

Then, there's the term "hat trick". Meaningless now, the expression goes back to the days of elegance in England, when a player who achieved this feat of taking three wickets with three successive balls was entitled to receive from his club a new top-hat!

Everybody knows what the word "coach" means in sporting terminology. But how many people know how the word came to be used in a sporting context? According to the good Dr Brasch again, the origin of this particular form of usage has to do with the fact that to get to a chosen destination as fast as possible, people used to take a coach in the old days, and that is exactly what students and sportsmen do as well. Only in their case, the goal is not a locality but a diploma or a medal. It explains and justifies the choice of the identical name for both the wheeled vehicle and the two-legged trainer.

It is not difficult to follow the road the coach took from its use in transportation via the academic field to the sports arena, says Dr Brasch. He says it all started at English universities, and Oxford stakes the claim to have been the first, in 1848. Private tutors who prepared undergraduates for their examinations had not always an easy task. To guide their charges called for skill, alertness and constant attention.

Was not indeed their "driving" them like driving a coach along bumpy roads, with frisky horses that needed much control? In no time, the new type of "coach" became university slang, and as such, entered the English vocabulary as a colloquialism.

The university boat races were a highlight in the academic year, just as they are to this day. Students spent much time and energy to prepare themselves for this event. It was almost a foregone conclusion that, eventually, the name of the coach which had become an accepted title of the tutor in the academic field should be adopted for the trainer of the crews manning the boats. This happened around 1885, according to Dr Brasch. It was, then, but a small step for the (name of the) coach to be employed in almost every field of athletic contest.

There are coaches and coaches, of course. Just as a great physicist may not necessarily be a great teacher of physics, so, too, a great sportsman may not necessarily be a great coach. Some great sportsmen, however, are able to make the transition from player to coach successfully.

Rafferty's rules is the Australian slang description for extremely rough play, in which no rules are observed at all. It is not certain what accounts for the odd "naming" and there is a choice of two explanations, says Dr Brasch.

A great proportion of the population in the early European settlement of the Australian (penal) colony was of Irish descent. The Irish were renowned for their wildness. They could fight like Kilkenny cats, without rules or restraint. Rafferty was an Irishman's name and thus Rafferty's rules was a reflection on his countrymen.

Others, exonerating the Irish, deny that there had ever been an actual person of that name in the phrase. They argue that originally this had referred to the unmanageable situation in a game as "refractory" or "raffatory", but not knowing the English word, Australians misunderstood it and imagined that the expression recalled a certain Mr Rafferty's unruliness. The question is: Which came first, Rafferty's rules or Murphy's Law?

 

karachicharacter
The rickshaw diaries

Making his way through massive traffic jams on a three-wheeler that reads pappu yaar tung na kar, arguing with his passengers over rickshaw fare, and reading the newspaper by the road over a plate of biryani or samosas at lunch everyday, 35 year old Asghar Khan still dreams of ajob in an airconditioned office, which will earn him a stable income.

Pakhtun by ethnicity and a born Karachiite, Asghar, the son of a police constable, despite aiming high has been driving a rickshaw for the last four years because, "my father never earned enough to support my college education."

Asghar, who has only done his Matric, talks sensibly and keeps himself abreast of every new development in the city and agrees that all rickshaws should be converted to CNG to make the city clean and pollution free.

Mostly satisfied with living in Karachi, Asghar feels that  traffic issues need to be solved, "flyovers might have reduced distances, but traffic jams still persist and once this problem is taken care of, the city will be the best place to live in."

 

Kolachi: Despite wanting to attain higher education, why did you quit studies halfway? 

Asghar: I wanted to be a businessman and had enrolled for the intermediate examination with Commerce as my major. But unfortunately, I didn't have an environment conducive to education at home. The environment at home contributes a great deal in a child's achievements in education and unless parents push a child, he rarely excels. Unfortunately, I never had that comfort. My parents neither financially nor morally backed me as far as my education was concerned. Therefore I ended up as a rickshaw driver as driving as a profession was in vogue in the town where I lived

Kolachi: Do you earn enough to make ends meet?

Asghar: No. Though I make a reasonable amount of money by the end of each day, living in Karachi is very expensive and even after earning 300-500 rupees daily I usually end up saving very little. I don't have a fixed income and make an average of 12000 rupees per month where after paying house-rent, medical expenses, utility bills and the installments of this rickshaw I don't end up saving much.

Kolachi: Do you run the meter?

Asghar: No, the meter system is a thing of the past and now only estimated rates are fixed. We ask for a minimum of 30 rupees for the shortest distance.

Kolachi: What kind of customers do you have and do they argue over fares?

Asghar: I have both men and 'ladies' as my customers, with the ratio of 'ladies' being higher. Women in residential areas like Gulshan-I-iqbal, Nazimabad etc. take rickshaws to get around on their shopping excursions, women in areas like Saddar opt for an auto to get to their workplaces. As is customary, women always argue over fares.

Kolachi: What kinds of problems do you face while driving?

Asghar: I don't face any problem as such except for when I encounter young boys on bikes. They have become a serious threat for drivers as they not only abuse us verbally but also often beat us over minor accidents. Young people in Karachi are becoming more and more violent by the day. They are learning this from English and Indian movies that are usually full of the violence that they practice on the roads.

Kolachi: How many children do you have and what plans do you have for their future?

Asghar: I have three sons and a daughter and I want all of them to be successful in whatever profession they choose to pursue. I have never thought about what they will become but I hope my daughter becomes a teacher. I am a staunch supporter of women's education and unlike my boys who are studying in a government school, free of cost, I have enrolled my daughter in a private school for the fee of 400 rupees per month. Though it is expensive, I think a woman's education is very necessary for the betterment of the entire family, therefore she should be educated well. A woman is more in need of education than a man because education makes her independent and mature enough to survive on her own which is the need of the time.

Kolachi: Contrary to the popular concept of a traditional Pathan who keeps women shut away behind closed doors, how  are you so supportive of women's education?

Asghar: Because our women are generally not educated enough and are busy with household work, they can't take care of children much. My wife is a very good person but she isn't educated at all and is always wrapped up with household chores. In these circumstances it is not possible to constantly keep and eye on children and train them well.

Kolachi: Like other Pathans do you keep weapons?

Asghar: No. I believe in abiding by the law of the country and feel it is our duty to respect them. As keeping illegal weapons is against the law in Pakistan, I don't have any. Another reason is that I am against violence and killing innocents over petty issues and this way of thinking is fast developing among other Pathans as well and unlike before, they are now not resorting to violence to settle matters any more.

Kolachi: Are you well adjusted in Karachi with your unique tribal norms?

Asghar: Yes, until I go out with my wife who wears our traditional burqa. I want my wife to go out, shop and have fun like others do, but when we go out, sometimes people stare at us because of the veil she wears, because it sets her apart from the rest of them. My family feels awkward and therefore hesitates to visit public spots. Other than this I am well adjusted in this city.

Kolachi: How do you compare living in Karachi to the rest of the cities in Pakistan?

Asghar: I have been to Dera Ismail Khan and Waziristan quite a few times but I don't feel comfortable living there. They are rocky, barren areas with no facilities at all. Compared to these cities I think Karachi is heaven on earth, where you have every thing. Developed roads, hospitals nearby, unlike Waziristan where it takes one to three hours to reach a hospital. Moreover, you have many options of making money here in contrast to the said cities where you have only two ways to make money, labour and farming.

Kolachi: Where do you see Karachi 10 years down the road?

Asghar: Obviously developed, with beautiful buildings, smooth roads and underpasses provided if the public too cooperates equally in keeping the city clean by not throwing garbage on the roads.

 

Asghar, who is content with life becomes sad when he realizes that his children, the students of an Urdu medium school are not as sharp or intelligent as those studying in English medium schools. "They never fire me with questions about new things, but are afraid of change," he says sadly. He still hopes that even with their background and education they will one day be successful in getting their due share from life. A ray of hope that helps people go through life, such is Karachi's Character. 

 

– Photos by: Zahid Rehman


 

 

 

 

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