tribute
Revolutionary resolve Perween 
Rahman had a capacity to pick up on the potential of people, and believe in them until they had no choice but to believe in themselves
By Rabia Ezdi

It is a natural human instinct to celebrate those that leave us. But a tribute to Perween Rahman is like sharing some of the stuff that real legends are made of. Not the people of big awards and media coverage, but those that make change on the ground while shunning publicity; the true heroes of Pakistan.

I first met Perween eleven years ago. After being disillusioned by the role of mainstream architects in making the kind of change that was needed in our cities, I had decided to plunge into the NGO sector. The replication of the OPP (Orangi Pilot Project) model in Punjab had begun, adding to its recognition as a development alternative with much promise. I expected Perween to be the proverbial ‘NGO-type’: scary, aggressive, intimidating. She was none of these. With a warm smile, a chirpy voice, and a kind demeanour, she welcomed me to the OPP-RTI (Orangi Pilot Project-Research and Training Institute) and told me that I should spend the first two weeks just trying to understand the work of the organisation.

OPP was at the time and still is, running on the momentum of Dr Akhtar Hamid Khan’s teachings; simplicity, frugality, and the ideals of love and humanity. Two of the first of Dr Sahib’s axioms I was told I must remember were: “I made a mistake”, and “I have not understood”. Being used to an academic and professional world where flaunting one’s knowledge, talking more than listening, and proving one’s point often in heavy jargon, were characteristic of ‘strong’ professionals — this new ethos was most liberating, and one of the things that made me fall instantly for the OPP’s development philosophy.

Anyone interested in being a part of this most beautiful process of true, rooted change, could just sit back, listen, observe, and internalise when ready. There was no room for ego. Also, where mainstream development work is about ‘doing’ for the poor, this was about learning from the poor, and supporting their initiatives with whatever know-how is appropriate, from technical input, to maps and training. It was the self-help model, committed to bringing human dignity back into the formula of helping the poor help themselves.

It was this that I learnt most from Perween and those at OPP: working for ‘real’ development is, more than anything else, a spiritual discipline.

On the operational side of the organisation, there was the weekly Monday meeting. In appearance just a tedious reporting of the week’s progress by every OPP-RTI team member including Perween herself, in reality it is an exceptional tool for accountability, transparency, and inclusive decision-making. It was the platform for debate, disagreement, acknowledgement of failures, and a celebration of small and big successes.

In work ethic, Perween was a disciplinarian and this had trickled down to all members of the institution. Work was the temple, the worship; there was no compromise. While she was gentle, she was as firm and upright as the trunk of an oak tree. The OPP-RTI research objective was clear: advocacy for the poor. The methodology was simple — interview, mapping, writing, and dissemination.

And then there was Perween’s insistence on using the right words; “It is the terms we use that shape our biases towards the poor,” she would say. Perween was not opposed to the city’s ‘mafias’ any more than she was saddened by the government’s indifference in solving the problems of the poor. She had come to realise that the term ‘mafia’ is misleading; in a system that is not fair by its very nature, and where the majority has no choice but to fend for themselves, a ‘mafia’ was simply an opportunist’s response in a crisis.

The word ‘katchi abadi’ she would say, leads to an automatic anti-poor prejudice. It was merely ‘People’s Housing’, “They are people who have found no alternative and this reflects the failure of the government to       absorb them”. And ‘informal settlements’? Perween had concluded that there is no such thing; it was simply that which was ‘unofficial’ planning, unofficially supplied services, and unofficial systems, versus what was ‘officially’ done and recognised. And it was these ‘unofficial’ systems that existed often in collusion with the government, and supported the lives of 70 per cent of the city’s population, hence the need to recognise and understand them.

Perween was high on life. Along with countless people from community-based organisations in Sindh and Punjab, we travelled across the country several times a year, trying to understand and support poor people’s initiatives. Travel was not just business; while the tone was always jovial, it was above all an opportunity to make connections and give people hope. It is this people-building that was the real and lasting investment. Perween had a capacity to pick up on the potential of people, and believe in them until they had no choice but to believe in themselves. She would instil idealism, humane values, and a work ethic without overtly ‘preaching’. She was that rare combination of mentor and friend.

Perween was not the change itself, she was one of change’s most potent agents — the faith of change, the brain behind change. In her inside-out understanding of the city’s ways, and in the networks and relationships with government and communities that she had forged over the years, Perween had crystallised a movement of sorts, where the marginalised were shown ways in which they would really no longer be the city’s ‘Citizen X’. And it is always the true change-makers of the world that shake the hold of those who live only to maintain a ruthless status quo.

Many theories abound about who would want to so heinously rob this gentle soul of her life, this soul that couldn’t hurt an ant. The truth is simply that in the years since she first joined OPP, Perween had quietly grown and come to a point where she could move mountains. The OPP’s ground-breaking low-cost sanitation model, and the upgrading of housing in Orangi, were the primers. The Karachi master plan for the conversion of Karachi’s open nallahs into box culverts was achieved through an arduous process of lobbying with the KWSB. Research into the truth about Karachi’s water crisis, and unearthing water ‘thefts’ was geared by the OPP.

The 2006 floods in Karachi and their connection with the choking of Karachi’s storm-water nallahs due to encroachments by government and private interests alike, was investigated by the OPP. And now the Secure Housing Initiative, wherein it was discovered that pre-partition villages or Goths in Karachi’s peripheral areas, were being evicted by political interests in order to create new constituencies for political parties. Where the government’s figures recognised these goths to be 400 in number, through research the OPP-RTI discovered that there were more than 2000. The OPP-RTI had entered into a process of mapping these goths, and supporting goth dwellers to advocate for land title.

In 2010, these maps helped convince the government to issue land titles to over half of those communities. Now, by 2013, more land titles were on their way. “The maps did it. Maps help to build relationships,” she would say, “The maps tell us what to do, where to go, who to lobby. They help professionals to understand the reality and have the courage to accept it. They help government to understand the reality and accept it too, because they are no longer the only ones that have that information. The people have this information now, and the NGOs and media have it too.” Most of these maps of the goth settlements have now been accepted as official government maps. “It is the community youth who actually do the mapping. We only help train them, and then take a back seat, become invisible.”

Despite negativity and despair all around, with the youthful spirit of a sixteen-year-old, Perween never stopped being an incurable optimist.

In a presentation she made in Bangkok in February at a meeting of community-based organisations from Asia, Perween’s words are the only solace one finds in the midst of this painful turn of events: “Today Karachi is in flames, and one of the aspects of the violence in the city is the politics of land and who gets title to it. Getting land title for these goth settlers, who have lived there since long before partition in 1947, has been a very powerful step forward for the peace and the political balance of Karachi. We were just saying amongst ourselves that if we die today, we will die so happily, because we have done it.”

This was Perween Rahman. With the childlike vivacity of a fluttering bird, the resolve of a revolutionary, and the magnanimity of a sage, this gentle soul had helped to change the map of Karachi.

politics
Rulers and Pirs
What compelled Prime Minister Pervaiz Ashraf to visit Ajmer Sharif at a 
crucial time when his presence was most wanted in the country?
Alauddin Masood

It has become a tradition with most of the holders of top public slots in Pakistan to visit foreign lands to pay homage, in person, to saints buried there. For instance, on March 9, 2013, our Gujar Khan-born and Sangarh-bred prime minister went to India, on a private visit, to pay homage to Sufi saint Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti, whose shrine is located in Ajmer Sharif. The saint is popularly called Khwaja Gharib Nawaz and his 13th century mausoleum is 130 km from Jaipur, capital of the northern India desert state of Rajasthan.

Pakistan’s first woman prime minister, Benazir Bhutto, would also visit shrines or call on various Pirs for their blessings. She reportedly called on Pir Dhanka in Hazara, who patted her with his traditional stick to administer the blessings. The helmsman of one of the two mainstream political parties, it is said, sets his daily routine in consultation with a revered personality, who reportedly advised him, some time back, to remain away from the mountainous arid lands and the top man remained put near the coastal and sandy terrains throughout the period indicated by his peer. Former prime minister Junejo held Pir Pagara in high esteem. He would walk bare boot while going for audience with his mentor and would not turn his back towards the Pir while tracing his steps back.

Prime Minister Raja Pervaiz Ashraf and his entourage of 28 persons, mostly his relatives or servants, spent half an hour at Hazrat Moinuddin Chishti’s shrine, a popular place of pilgrimage by the Muslims from all over the South Asia Subcontinent. We hope that the expenses on this private visit would be borne by the prime minister himself and not by the state of Pakistan, which is already heavily indebted due to constant plundering and wastage of public money. He would do well to emulate the noble examples set by some of his predecessors of pre-1958 era, like Chaudhry Muhammad Ali, who had resigned as prime minister of his own free will and without any external pressure.

In Shahab Nama (pages 694-695),.Qudratullah Shahab writes: At one point, after stepping down it became imperative for Chaudhry Muhammad Ali to travel abroad for medical treatment. But, he lacked the required sources. President Iskander Mirza visited Chaudhry Muhammad Ali to convince him to accept treatment abroad on government expense. The ailing former prime minister thanked the president and said; “I have been receiving full compensation in return of whatever services I have been performing for Pakistan. I do not want to be a burden on the public exchequer.” On the president’s insistence, Chaudhry Muhammad Ali agreed to take a loan of Rs20,000, which he returned in a few installments later on.

However, we presume that there must be some compelling reason for the prime minister to leave the country for this pilgrimage at a crucial time when his presence was most wanted in the country. Perhaps, it was an exercise in ‘peace diplomacy!’ We can deduce this conclusion from the impressions that the prime minister recorded, in Urdu, in the visitors’ book kept at the shrine of Khawaja Gharib Nawaz. He wrote: “I wish for peace in the world and for peace and prosperity in Pakistan.”

The third most sacred temple of the Hindus is located at Raj Katas in Chakwal, but so far no holder of top public slot in India has ever visited that place. The only exception was Sindh-born Advani, who came over for pilgrimage to the place when he was no longer the deputy prime minister of his country. In other words, Advani visited Raj Katas purely as a private citizen. That remains the case with the Hindu politicians of our neighbouring country. India’s incumbent prime minister, Dr Manmohan Singh had a burning desire to visit his birthplace in Chakwal, but he did not like to come to Pakistan unless tangible results could be achieved during his visit. But, carefree Pakistani leaders are carried away by passions, and think little about results or outcome of their visits, whether public or private.

According to the teachings of Islam, one can offer Fateha for the departed souls from any corner of the globe and a visit in person to the shrines/graves of the deceased is not mandatory. In the past, the abodes of saints were centres of learning and the people would visit them, from far and wide, for acquiring knowledge about the teachings of Islam and/or to seek guidance from the scholarly/saintly figures about prudently managing worldly affairs. Abbaside Caliph Haroon-ur-Rashid paid a visit to an eminent Sufi saint of his time, Shaqiq Bulkhi, to seek guidance for better governance.

On arrival, Bulkhi entertained the emperor with a glass of water. Later, he enquired from the monarch that if he happened to be all alone in a far away desert where there was no trace of water within miles, and he felt acute thirst and believed that it could prove fatal, what would he do? The Caliph replied: He would give one-half of his empire for a glass of water. Later, the Sufi asked the emperor that if he could not urinate and on that count felt unbearable pain which could result in his death, what would he do in such a situation? Haroon-ur-Rashid said that he would give one-half of his state to anyone who could relieve him from the agony. Bulkhi said: This shows that the intrinsic or real worth of your entire kingdom was not more than a glass of water. Therefore, you should never feel proud on that count.

Bulkhi said: “Allah has given you (Haroon-ur-Rashid) the mantle of Hazrat Abu Bakar Siddique and He wants you to rule with justice. God has given you the power bastion which was once held by Hazrat Omar, and He wants you to distinguish between the right and the wrong. The Almighty has bequeathed to you Hazrat Osman’s lofty position and He wants you to be benevolent. The Creator has entrusted to you the top-most mantle, which was once held by Hazrat Ali, and He wants you to be the embodiment of knowledge, and to rule with justice.”

Continuing, Bulkhi said: “A ruler was like a spring of water and the state officials like channels sprouting from that spring. If the spring — the source of the water — becomes polluted how could there be pure and sweet water in the canals flowing out of it?”

According to a legend, Mughal emperor Shah Jehan, along with his sons, paid a call on a revered saint of his times, Mian Mir, to seek the saint’s advice about division of his vast empire among the four princes. During the meeting, the saint made four equal pieces of bread (Roti) and gave one piece each to the princes. But, the three princes — Dara Shakuh, Shuja and Murad — handed on their share of bread to Aurangzeb, who ate all the four pieces amidst taunts of his brothers. When Emperor Shah Jehan reminded the saint about the purpose of his visit, the saint replied that he had divided the empire equally among all the four princes, but the three of them handed over their share to Aurangzeb, who is destined to succeed the Delhi throne.

We wish our rulers to approach their Pirs with the request to bless them to rule with vision, sagacity and honesty and not merely bless them with continuing to occupying their coveted positions only.

Alauddin Masood is a freelance columnist based in Islamabad.

E-mail:alauddinmasood@gmail.com