Balochistan Diary: Army schools: too little, a bit too late
By Saeed Minhas
QUETTA: Do I have a future? Because I cannot afford another Rs 9,000 to appear for a Higher Education Commission exam that would make me eligible to pursue a graduation course at one of the national universities. We are seven brothers and sisters, my father is the only breadwinner of the house who makes only Rs 6,000 a month doing labour jobs in Kohlu. I have finished intermediate and am now staying in Quetta with a relative for a few days.
In case I fail to manage funds within a few weeks, I would have no choice but to go back to my family, find some manual job that will fetch me up to Rs 3,000 a month to help keep my family afloat for the rest of my life. Or I might grab an offer from a gang that pays much more than a labour job does and end up joining many of my friends who are already working for them and making good money. Since my future is not in my hands, it seems I would have to leave it in the hands of circumstances and see when and where we will meet the next time – in university corridors or with the militias.
This was expressed by Ashfaq, an 18-year-old, who was briefing foreign reporters in fluent English at one of the army facilities in Quetta Cantonment, where the Pakistan Army is running the Chamalang-Balochistan Education Programme (CBEP) to provide boarding, lodging to about 140 students and free education to 600 male students from various districts of Balochistan. Another 500 boys and 30 girls have been selected by the army from 19 out of 30 districts in Balochistan, mainly from Kohlu and Loralai, and have been sent to various army-run schools across the country.
To run this programme, the army is collecting funds from the Chamalang Coal Mines Project where every metric tonne extracted is bringing not only shares to the local tribes of Lunis and Marris, but also sizeable taxes to the provincial and federal governments, besides Rs 470 per metric tonne to the CBEP. The programme’s current cost is about Rs 73.38 million per year. More details on the Chamalang project will feature in the next column.
Ashfaq’s 13-year-old brother, clad in an Army Public School crisp uniform with a striped tie, studying at the facility, was also brought to the media. The young boy was a student of grade 5. “The reason for him still being in grade 5 is that my father could not afford to send him to school and he was wasting his life by roaming around in the Kohlu terrains or helping my father, but I had to vigorously convince my family to send him to this army facility for education,” Ashfaq explained when his frozen and dazed younger brother failed to speak up. All that the young boy could muster up was “no matter what, everything here is great, but I still miss my home, parents and family”.
A gathering of elders, guardians and parents of the children studying at this facility was arranged by the army for the visiting foreign media. Many of them were ready to talk to the reporters, while others refrained, saying “if spotted by the separatists, we might not only endanger ourselves, but our entire families, because we belong to the areas where the government’s writ is totally absent”.
A teacher, whose five students have been chosen for this army facility from Khuzdar – the second largest city with over 500,000 inhabitants – said, “Only nine kids have been taken from an area where more than 2,400 children are enrolled in two different government schools.” Pointing at the media delegates, he said, “They are here to make stories out of us, but the fact is that we have already become a story.”
Mentioning Mastung, Khuzdar, Kalat, Panjgore, Kharan, Turbat and even Gwadar, the concerned teacher, who was hiding from lurching cameramen around him, said in all these areas and in 80 percent of Balochistan, books, such as those regarding Pakistan Studies, have been banned and the Pakistani flag cannot be hoisted at a school or any other building, even singing the national anthem is prohibited.
“By picking a few children from these areas and educating them in restive and huge vicinities of the Quetta Cantonment, the Pakistan Army has at least set the ball rolling,” he said, adding, “Though many of us consider this effort too little and a bit too late.”
Surrounding him were parents of two children studying at this army facility, and one of them, when asked for authenticity of the teacher’s claims, acknowledged it by saying, “If our pictures are run on TV channels or photographs in newspapers, we will have to face the music after reaching Khuzdar, but still we are of the idea that taking only five or six children from these areas is not enough. Either the Pakistan Army should take charge of all the children out there or the provincial and federal governments should do something to at least ensure provision of education to the children in all parts of Balochistan.”
Meanwhile, another group of parents with concerned eyes and wary faces, expressed an assortment of feelings and untold hardships they have and are going through while living in various parts of the province. They were all thankful to the Pakistan Army for taking up the noble cause of imparting education to the children of those “untouchables” who live in a minerals-and-natural-resources-rich province that covers more than 43 percent of the country’s land and holds only six percent of the country’s population. They said it’s just a contrived impression that the area is showing economic growth at the rate of over three percent annually. More on this will feature in our next column.
Many of the people, who had gathered to talk to the foreign media, especially those coming from the troubled areas of the province where insurgents and separatists are playing with their lives, sought anonymity for obvious reasons. Upon assurance, they narrated harrowing tales of political corruption, foreign involvement and increasing influence of a few armed gangs of youngsters whose control was multiplying at an alarming rate.
When around 30 children were brought to the reporters, they not only answered queries on how comfortably they were being fed, taught and kept in these facilities, but also raised slogans of “Pakistan Zindabad” and sang the national anthem. An encouraging show for the media to assume that nothing is wrong within the barracks of the armed forces, as long as funds keep pouring in.
