Several houses throng the hills and the valley between these hills comprises a graveyard scattered on a vast land. After walking the long path between the graves, I discovered a building located just on the border of the graveyard. A heap of garbage lay outside the building where stray goats were feeding on discarded vegetables and underage scavengers carrying gunny bags were searching for tins, cans, bottles and other items that they could sell to scrap dealers. The writing on the outer wall of the building, darkened by the smoke of the burning garbage, reads, “Umer Farooq Government Primary School.”
Someone has stolen the main gate of the school and the vast ground inside the building, which was once used for assembly, is hidden underneath weeds and scraps dumped by construction workers. The staffroom where teachers once used to sit during recess time has now become a toilet as drifting children have started defecating there. Inside the two main halls wild pigeons have made their nests, and in the corner of one hall there is a pile of broken benches. The only thing inside the hall that confirms that this room used to be a classroom is a cemented blackboard on one of the walls, with letters of the Urdu alphabet sprawled across it.
According to the locals, this used to be a functional government primary school until four years ago, but frequent incidents of ethnic violence forced the school to be closed. They said 255 children were enrolled in the school and the government had appointed four teachers to teach them. But the teachers were Urdu-speaking who had to pass through the notorious Kati Pahari every morning.
Haji Usman, an elderly resident of the area, said, “The school is located in Umer Farooq Colony, adjacent to Qasba Colony, which is a Pashtun-dominated area; whereas all four teachers were Urdu-speaking and they had to pass through Kati Pahari every day.” Usman said, “The teachers are unable to come to school for some time when there is ethnic violence in the area, but four years ago, after a wave of violence in the area continued for over 20 days, the teachers stopping coming to the area altogether and then the school had to be closed.”
Ethnic violence, target killings and armed clashes between different ethnicities across the city have not only disrupted routine life and businesses, but also hurt the level of education. The official data of the Sindh Education Department reveals that around 80 schools have closed in the areas worst-affected by ethnic violence in the past four years.
While traversing the area, I saw slogans written in support of Bhaloo Bhai – a Pashtun rickshaw driver who was once beaten up by Urdu-speakers, so he quit driving rickshaw and picked up a gun. Under these circumstances, how could an Urdu-speaking teacher step foot in the area.
Four years ago, 14-year-old Rashid Khan was in grade five, but since the Umer Farooq School closed, he quit education as his father was unable to afford educating him at a private school. The teenager is working as a scavenger ever since. He gathers different items from the garbage and then sells them to scrap dealers.
“Urdu-speaking teachers are wonderful and the Pashtuns are good students, but some political parties have divided the city into zones and majority of the teachers in Karachi are Urdu-speakers. Ever since ethnic violence has struck the city, these teachers are unable to teach in Pashtun-dominated areas, due to which the education level in these areas is suffering,” said Abdul Waheed Khan who runs a chain of private schools in the area. “Since the government schools have closed, several private schools have opened, but the underprivileged people can’t afford to send their children to these schools,” he added.
Good Story Well Done.
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