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travel Those men in
their flying machines
'Dubai' of South Asia Of all the things about this famed town Gwadar, the most enriching experience is that of walking through its bustling centre-town port where all forces of coastal life come together in a mosaic By Rabia Ezdi Makran is an enchanting semi-desert strip running along
the southern coast of Pakistan and Iran between Sonmiani Bay near The Makran coast unfolds like a geological wonder: a majestic canvas of folded rock formations along an ever-changing narrative of mountain ranges. Dotted rhythmically along the rugged terrain one is met with elements of wonder and relief… untouched clay in the marshes of Hingol, golden sand dunes and a turquoise sea at Kund Malir, the calm waters of Ormara, the coastal town of Pasni, the commanding cliffs of Gwadar set against the pull of the deep-sea, and much more. Though one of the less ventured parts of the country, it has had a rich and tumultuous past. Historically, it was through this harsh landscape that Alexander struggled with his army during an exodus after the India Campaign, in 325 BCE. From the late 18th century until British colonial rule, the Makran coast was administered under the Sultan of Muscat. At Pakistan's independence, Makran was made a district
within the province of Balochistan, while Gwadar remained with Muscat. It was
only in 1958 that Gwadar was made a part of Pakistan. Being located on a
seismic fault line, in 1945 the Makran coast was hit by a severe earthquake
measuring 7.8 on the Richter scale coupled with a tsunami, destroying much of
settled coastal life. Until not long ago, only a dirt road linked Karachi
with the town of Gwadar. The construction of the Makran coastal highway (also
known as 'National Highway 10') was undertaken between 2001 and 2003; running
almost along the entire length of the coast, the highway originates in
Karachi and to date ends in Gwadar. The area has a sparse population -- concentrated along a range of small coastal ports and fishing villages, such as Jiwani, Pasni, Gwadar, and Ormara. At a distance of only 190 km from Karachi, spread over
600,000 acres begin the rich and ever-changing expanses of Pakistan's largest
Hingol National Park. Declared a reserved area in 1988, it houses numerous
species of flora and fauna, within topography that varies from arid
sub-tropical forest to arid montane. Also situated here is the ancient temple
of the Hindu goddess Naani at Hinglaj, one of Hinduism's most revered
religious sites even today, and three mud volcanoes. The park is also said to
be the habitat of the endangered Sindh leopard, the rare Indian fox, as well
as urial, sheep, chinkara gazelles and ibexes, while Hingol river and its
estuary are home to numerous species of fish, resident and migratory birds,
green turtles and marsh crocodiles. Kund Malir, a part of Hingol national park, literally arrives upon the traveller as a magical surprise: a desert beach with dunes likes those seen only in photos of the Sahara, with a turquoise sea in its backdrop. Moving on, one comes upon the old port and fishing town of Ormara which is intriguing in name and unique in ambience. Being there on a day when the sky was overcast, the calm waters of its sea amidst large expanses of open land and 'softer' low-lying hill formations certainly create a break from the harsh arid character of the jagged mountainous terrain. It is in Ormara that Alexander stayed for several days; his army general Ormoz died here and the town is said to have been named after him. Here, the naval base being a no-go area however comes as a
sudden rude awakening. Less than 200 km from Ormara, Pasni is a medium-sized
town, and the closest port to Astol -- the only island along the Makran coast
housing its own unique species of birds and wildlife such as the pelican, the
green sea turtle, and viper. Gwadar is at the western end of the Makran coast. Of all the things about this famed town, the most enriching experience is that of walking through its bustling centre-town port where all forces of coastal life come together in a mosaic. A public place of sorts… with brightly dressed youth coming together in a frenzy of football; children in carefree play; the coming and going of fishermen's boats, goods and people; and an 'a to z' lesson in the craft of boat-making where one is flooded with the smells of freshly cut wood, boat construction, painting, and finishing. Gwadar is clearly a town in transition. From once being a small 'inward' coastal port, to becoming almost artificially globalised. A deep-seaport located on a bay, the town has been eyed with both economic and political 'interests' in recent times due to its proximity to the Straits of Hormuz waterway which links the Gulf of Oman with the Persian gulf and is responsible for 40percent of the world's seaborne oil shipments. Although Pakistan identified Gwadar as a port in 1964, it
was not until 2002 when China began the Gwadar port project that development
began. Needless to say, China's interest in the port is geopolitical -- where
it seeks to develop an alternative route to the Persian gulf and a gateway to
Central Asia. American interest in Gwadar has grown both in opposition to
China's stronghold in the development of the port, and for reasons of
strategic gains similar to those of China. The interest of Pakistan on the
other hand peaked during the Musharraf era when the town was promoted as the
'Dubai' of South Asia, resulting in a boom in the real estate market and
largely the Pakistani urban and military elite investing in land here. How economically feasible the port will actually be is a fact disputed between officials promoting the port project and independent analysts who say that it is already a 'failed port'. While typically the spectators' experience of the overwhelming natural beauty of the Makran coast is 'rosy' to say the least, it would be incorrect to overlook the strong sense of anti-Punjab sentiment that one is met with at first encounter. The Pakistan government is developing Ormara as a major naval base and Gwadar as a new commercial port. The antagonism of the Baloch people in response to such 'developments' does not come as a surprise, who see these as yet more examples of Pakistan's military and Punjabi-dominated elite taking from Balochi wealth without the Baloch being consulted, involved in decision making, or benefiting from such projects. The symptoms are loud and clear: graffiti on the walls of Pasni's town centre reads 'Pakistani fauj ka kabristan Balochistan'. The locals and families of Baloch missing persons greeted Prime Minister Gilani in Gwadar with a shutter down strike. The lines along which Gwadar is currently being 'developed' is typical of the 'resort tourism' model which largely serves the already rich, largely at the exclusion of the local population. Although the Pearl Continent Gwadar is bringing both tourists and business into the city, it stands atop a cliff as a symbol of no less than a parasitic encroachment for the local populace. Acres of land surrounding the hotel is reserved for yet more hotels and gated housing communities for the rich. As such, this kind of so-called development serves as no less than acts of colonisation. Also, because the Makran coast has been relatively less ventured as a local tourist destination, its rich and valuable ecosystems remain well-preserved. This will be a fast changing fact with the blind influx of tourism and port-related activity in the absence of a conservation policy and value system to support it. An equitable vision of development will have to come with a set of new development values, which visualise and promote both locals and the conservation of the natural environment as integral elements of progress. It is only with such a vision, supported by processes that promote the rightful inclusion of the Baloch people both in decision making as well as in the sharing of wealth and resources, that the gap as it exists can be bridged, and the bitterness of the Baloch people may be replaced with the desire to remain a part of the country.
Those men in their flying machines The Cholistan Desert Rally is a great experience albeit exhausting By Zarminae Ansari For years, friends who are avid jeep and 4x4 rally racers
have been inviting me to see one of their events -- in particular the
legendary Cholistan Desert Rally. It was always one of those things that
seemed impossible and every year there were logistical issues. But then there
are times when one decides to overcome all obstacles and just do it. I discovered the rally to be unique: that most drivers know each other and have developed friendships and that the Category A race is often between two drivers-- Ronnie Patel of Karachi and Minister Nadir Magsi. At this 6th TDCP Cholistan Desert 4x4 Rally, I happened to be rooting for my hosts at the event: Ronnie from the Karachi Motorsports Club and the Khakwani brothers from the Multan-based Friends Motorsports Club (FMC). The only woman who is most likely to be at every rally across the country, managing her team, and the mid-point or stage-break, and sometimes even participating is Tushna, Ronnie Patel's wife. Even though she shies away from the limelight, Tushna is known by all the racers as "Bhabi". To see her dedication as she oversees the cars and equipment, and bullies the racers to sleep on time, especially her husband and his navigator Kunwar Nasir Tehseen (better known as Bhuttan) was rather refreshing at this almost completely male-dominated event. A powerhouse of efficiency, she's apparently also a good rally-car driver. At this particular event, the gender divide got a real jolt -- because like me Ronnie's brave 80-year-old mom decided to experience the Cholistan Rally mystique too. "Beta, I'm 80 years old," she said and, "who knows if I will come again. But I finally got to see my son race." She had put herself through the discomforts of camping in the desert with its extreme temperature (minus 4 degrees Celsius at night to extremely hot in the day). Minister Nadir Magsi won the first prize while Ronnie and Bhuttan came in second place. It was truly uplifting to see the camaraderie and
helpfulness throughout the four days I spent there. While the camp officially
belonged to the members of the FMC, much of the equipment, staff, food and
hospitality was provided by the hosts for their friends and their many
regular visitors to the camp. This included a water tank which provided water
for bathing and cooking, and sprinkling around the campground to reduce the
dust in the air and cool the area during the day. Imported state-of-the-art
shower tents, with hot water warmed by an ingenious hammam containing hot
coals, and toilet tents kept one clean and comfortable. A generator provided
electricity for much of the evening. This allowed one to recharge telephone
batteries, be able to see one's dinner and each other, sharing stories from
that day, and settle in to bed comfortably. Yet no one misused the
electricity-- in fact, there was no music system or needless electronic
equipment in this camp, although one occasionally heard the sounds of music
floating through the desert air from other camps. Also, I experienced the legendary Multani food and Multani hospitality. Four-course meals included finger-lickingly good batairs (quails) which I insisted the four cooks who had been brought along teach me to make. They obliged. Actually, all this hospitality brought to the fore some of the many issues that plague rallies in general and the Cholistan rally in particular. For many out-of-town participants such as the only father-son team -- of 60-year-old navigator TJ Siddiqui and his 25 year-old son Adnan Siddiqui- who had driven all the way from Islamabad, the journey was tedious. "They should allocate clearly marked spaces and have a reception area near the Fort to direct us to different camps and facilities, and give out maps. It took us an hour to find this camp," T.J. Siddiqui complains. "If you really want to experience the race," said Tushna Patel, "You need to go into the middle of the desert with me at dawn to set up the stage break. Most of the television stations and journalists, and most of the ladies who turn up to see their families race, see the beginning and end of the race. Once the cars leave, what are you going to do? It is only at the midpoint, at the stage break that you will truly experience what a rally is all about." And so I was up at 5 am, getting ready to venture into the desert and its blue skies for endless miles of sand and scrub. It was the best thing I did, although every muscle in my body ached when we eventually left around 2.00pm. After I finished photographing the setting up of the mechanical equipment and the refreshments at the stage break, I found myself part of the pit crew, with no choice in the matter. Well, it was a great experience, albeit an exhausting one. Covered upfrom head to toe, I was getting dehydrated and was amazed at Tushna's energy and dedication. During the 20 minute break, she not only oversaw the air filter changes and mechanical checks of the seven cars from the camp, but had me running around with her passing out water, oral rehydration salts, energy biscuits, fruit, (and even sunscreen at one point) to the driver and navigator of cars as they came in, including friends from other motor sports clubs. The atmosphere was completely charged, and the excitement was tangible: 20 minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. Between the midpoint check post and where the vehicles restart the race after a gap of exactly 20 minutes, there is a significant distance, with no efficient system of communication connecting the two. In a race where every second counts, shouting the time-out from one end to the other with the background noise of car engines revving, and other cars coming in, was simply ridiculous. In fact, one racer inadvertently mistook the signal and went off when there were 10 seconds left to restart. Coordination was lacking, and some participants grumbled that there were issues with the manning of the checkposts, where the officials could add seconds to the total time simply by walking slowly to the navigator to stamp his time card. This problem could easily and efficiently be overcome with the re-introduction of previously-used digital tags on cars. The architect in me could not help but notice the utter chaos and lack of organisation at the stage break. Many spectators had come especially to see the cars and meet the drivers at the stage break. And it was here that the lack of specific routes, viewing areas, etc really became apparent, as spectators would invariably wander on to the track. It was a miracle that there were no fatalities, and Owais Khakwani had a near miss with photographers and spectators coming directly in the line of traffic. Cars would come in and have no idea where their team's stage break was until people shouted and waved, and/or physically directed them to the area. Ronnie Patel's mechanic, Nadir, helped anyone who needed help, even if they weren't from the team or the camp. Refreshment, equipment, engine oil, and at one point even high octane fuel, was generously shared whenever needed -- with anyone who came and asked Bhabi. One got brief breathers when one car restarted the race and before the next one came in. I sat and mentally redesigned the area with properly allocated spots where each club could set up their stage break and be easily identified by the cars as they came in. It really would not take too many resources or money to simply set up a series of flags to mark the route cars should take from the check post to the restart point, and demarcate areas for team stage breaks. Gazebos or tents could be provided by the organisers -- even if at a cost, for those poor souls who come from far-flung regions with no team to offer them refreshments. |
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Karachi and
the Straits of Hormuz in the Persian Gulf. The word Makurran is said to have
originated in the Persian term 'mahi-khoran' or fish eaters.
