Mustafa Qadri

Today I did a preliminary trip to Hyderabad, the next biggest city in the province of Sindh after Karachi. The purpose of the visit was to speak to a representative from the local branch of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan. The major issue covered by the HRCP in Hyderabad is the abuse and enslavement of ‘haris’, the predominantly Hindu bonded labourers of this region. I met Waseem Mustafa, the HRCP’s accountant and one of its coordinators. He explained that ‘schedule caste’ Hindus here, also known as untouchables, often become trapped in horrible work conditions when they are unable to pay debts they owe to rich land owners.

This is a poor, rural community and there is no concept of microfinance or even banking facilities. With inflation constantly high, most of these peasants are forced to borrow money from landowners. Under pressure to pay these debts off, they begin working for the land owners. Many are literally shackled during or after work to prevent them from escaping. This is 21st century slavery. I was meant to meet Munoo Bheel, a charismatic and courageous leader of the Hyderbad free bonded labourers movement. But it was getting late and I’m leaving for Lahore shortly. I hope to meet him on my return to Sindh in a month’s time.

The journey to Hyderabad was itself an enjoyable if not always comfortable experience. The bus ride to Hyderbad took four hours. I don’t entirely know why because the ride back took just two. The highlights of the rides was getting an opportunity to see the Sindh countryside and people I wouldn’t ordinarily bump into. The bus stopped at many working poor areas of Karachi and most if not all the passengers were from these areas. At each bus stop men and boys would enter the bus flogging food or drinks. One lady even entered the bus to beg. She dropped a small plastic container of tissues and a card explaining why she needed money on my and everyone else’s lap while walking the length of the bus. At each stop the bus was rarely stationary, the driver instead preferring to maneuvre the bus into a better parking angle. Presumably he was a perfectionist when it came to parking.

I had a jovial conversation with one gentleman on the ride back. It was jovial but I didn’t really understand what he was saying. He recognised that I’m an Urdu speaker and cannot speak Sindhi so he obliged me with his Urdu. But his accent was such, and his speech so quick, that most of what he said didn’t make sense to me. By the end of the trip I think he realised I was bluffing responses to his comments or questions. We nevertheless parted on good terms.

The bus finally arrived back in Karachi but I had no idea where I was. Inside I was a little panicked, I was carrying around four thousand Australian dollars worth of cameras and things in my backpack. But outside I tried to give off a casual confidence. I walked with broad shoulders too. Or perhaps it was the big dick walk? Who knows. I eventually calmed down and enjoyed the feeling of being in a new part of the city. I also found Ali, one of three taxi drivers I regularly use because they’re reliable. I wisked off with him in the knowledge that my life, whatever else may have happened thus far, is really quite comfortable and privileged.