Pakistan’s Balochistan province is a hotbed for violent attacks driven by local Baloch separatists and Taliban-linked Sunni extremists. Our Observers in the provincial capital of Quetta describe daily life in a town once known for craftsmanship and colourful bazaars, but that is now more popular with terrorists than tourists.
Pakistan’s Balochistan province is a sparsely-populated, hostile place prone to deadly sectarian and separatist attacks. In the capital, Quetta, almost forty people died in a suicide blast during a policeman’s funeral last Thursday, August 8. The following day, ten people were killed when gunmen stormed a mosque while Eïd prayers were in full-swing. It is not yet clear who is responsible for the attacks.
The southwestern province is home to two bitter conflicts: the Baloch Liberation Army’s (BLA) separatist struggle, and Sunni extremist attacks on the minority Hazara Shia community.
Sunni extremists from Afghanistan settled in neighbouring Balochistan province after the fall of the Taliban in 2001. Numerous groups wreak havoc on the Hazara population but the most prominent is the al-Qaeda and Taliban-linked Lashkar-e-Jhangvi (LeJ). It is infamous for attacking buses of Hazara pilgrims, mosques and markets. The Pakistan Human Rights Commission estimates over two thousand Hazara have perished since 2001 and fifty thousand have fled Quetta, leaving the remaining half a million squashed into the only two areas they feel relatively safe enough to live in: Hazara Town and Alamdar Road.
Struggling for an independent Baloch nation, the BLA regularly aim deadly attacks at the security forces. Non-terrorist Balochs claim security officers and corrupt officials retaliate by kidnapping Balochs for ransom, under the pretext they are suspected nationalist terrorists.
A no-go place for many, including foreign journalists without an escort, information about daily life in Quetta is rarely leaked.
“I would do anything to have Quetta back how it was…we used to welcome tourists from around the world”
Zarak Khan is a banker who lives in Quetta. A Pashtun and Sunni, his family has lived there for 700 years.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re Pashtun, Bolachi or Haraza, no one is safe here. Everyone in Quetta is stressed and depressed: you don’t see people smiling in the streets, groups of people laughing or watching football matchs. You used to, but not anymore. Now people go to funerals all the time. I would do anything to have Quetta back how it was. It used to be a calm, peaceful city, and we used to welcome tourists from around the world.
The security forces are everywhere, but seeing vehicles with ammunition driving around everywhere gives an element of fear. The blast last week that killed the police officers depressed everyone in the city. The next day was Eïd, and for the first time in my life I didn’t go to the mosque: my father told me I couldn’t because it was too dangerous.My only hope is with the security forces: the army and the police. I don’t think the elected officials can help us. The security forces have sacrificed themselves for us. We saw that last week.
Everyone in this city has experienced an attack. In 2007, a roadside bomb went off near me and my cousins. It scared them so much they left Quetta afterwards. Two years ago a rocket, launched from the mountains by separatists, landed outside my house. In January, I was right by the snooker club when it was attacked by suicide bombers. 120 people died that day [Editor’s note: the LeJ claimed responsibility for the attack at the snooker club on Alamdar Road, a Hazara-dominated neighbourhood].
Our lives start and end at home. The biggest part of our social lives is our journey to and from work. Most people avoid leaving the house. So you can imagine how bad things are for us. In the last six months, even schools are no longer safe. So every parent with a child at school is scared.
Eventually I will have to move out. I’ve been thinking about it seriously for the last six months. It’s not easy when your life and all your assets are in one city. But we can’t stay here.
“If the police can’t protect themselves, how can they protect us?”
Basit Ali is a photographer and Hazara Shia Muslim who lives in the Alamdar Road area in Quetta.
Life here for us, the Hazara Shia community, is like being birds trapped in a cage. The only areas which are safe for us to go are the Alamdar Road area, where I live and work, and the Hazara Town. We used to consider Toghi Road as safe, but after so many of our people were killed, we can’t live there any longer. We don’t go shopping out of our safe areas, we can’t attend universities. We’re socially paralysed.
The Sunnis used to live here with us, but they’ve all moved out now because they’re scared they will be targeted and bombed by the extremists because we’re here.
Sunni terrorists have dens right in the city where they hide immediately after they attack the Hazara. Our streets have been drenched in blood for a decade now. The last two attacks -- on the mosque and the police funeral -- show how the city has been handed over to the terrorists. If the police can’t protect themselves, how can they protect us?
The Hazara graveyard is getting bigger all the time, because there are so many deaths from suicide blasts and attacks.
“The police stop and search us all the time. We’re not all terrorists!”
Abdul is a Balochi teacher who lives in Quetta.
These days the Balochs are insecure. Thousands of Baloch people have been taken away and then killed by the authorities, who suspect them of being nationalist terrorists. The police took my cousin away and killed him. They suspected he was from the BLA, but he wasn’t. His body was left on the outskirts of Quetta, and we had to go in the car and collect it. The family members of missing people, many of which are dead, protest to demand their loved ones are found. Almost every Baloch has a member of their family who has fallen victim to this atrocity.
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