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I AM A HAZARA

pak-marine

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I AM A HAZARA


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Close to 1,000 Hazaras have been killed in targeted attacks and shootings in the capital of Pakistan’s largest province. The indifference towards the atrocities has forced this shrinking community to take escape routes and gamble between life at the promised land and death at the ocean.


I am the gravestone and the photograph

Every Friday, after the Juma prayer, people start filing into this small place at the foothills. Nobody in the community seems to miss this ritual. Other than the small mounds topped by two or three stones, a corridor stands out prominently. It is dotted with portraits of young students, ambitious bankers, committed teachers and promising lawyers on each side. Each image is full of life. A humming recitation spreads around and the sound of sobbing women can be heard clearly with the setting sun, which eventually dissolves into dusk. Welcome to the Hazara Graveyard. :cry:



Persian signboards, calligraphers and engravers are lined up along the road that leads to this necropolis. A small street turns from the corner of a marriage hall and heads up towards the hill. A few houses up, a narrow by-lane funnels to reveal an array of flags and standards that mark the skyline – a sight that beholds every observer. This cemetery surpasses any possible manifestation of tragedy. As the target killings picked up, the Hazara community decided to dedicate a part of the graveyard separately for this purpose. Before the land could be procured, this ‘section’ was already filled to capacity. Before Hazaras buried the victims of one tragedy, the news of another would reach them.

The graveyard has now expanded to three portions. After the first part, another was procured and soon it was overloaded too. Given the continued frequency of killings, the third portion is likely to run out of space at any time. All the tombstones are uniformly designed: a photo of the deceased, his date of birth, the date and place of the incident and a verse from the Quran. Each grave is a story, and a unique one. Some were killed while going to work, while others lost their lives on the highways. One Hazara was killed commuting to his business and others on their way back from university. At one corner, five graves are built in a line. These belong to five cousins who had ventured out for a friendly cricket match and were fired upon at close range.


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The perpetrators of this violence have made life miserable for these Hazaras by impeding all escape routes. Caged between Alamadar Road and the neighbouring Koh-i-Murdar, the choices for expansion are very limited. For the hills are not as lethal as men with differing ideologies, the Hazaras have opted to settle towards the foothills and trust Koh-i-Murdar more than the fellow beings. Those who cross Alamdar Road are believed to have breached the limits of safety and are constantly waited for – dead or alive.

Mothers avoid sending children to school and professors now sit at home to plan their life in Australia or Punjab. Businesses have been heavily dented and Hazaras are not seen in Quetta – a city which was once their identity. After every blast or incident of targeted violence, those outside the community hastily draw a line. When a Balochistan University bus was attacked, the non-Hazara parents decided to pull out their children from the transportation used by Hazara students. Moving with the Hazaras has become synonymous with inviting death.

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I am forever missed, forever loved

Zia never wanted to go to Australia. Perhaps, no Hazara ever desires to step out of these winding lanes. The small houses here buzz with care and promise the unimaginable warmth of love. Intertwined lives in inter-woven streets are known for influencing decisions and reversing stances. But then one day, a flashing ambulance halted in front of their house, a blood-stained body was taken out and it changed everything. The city where Zia grew up had turned into a port city in a far-off land – strange and hostile.

Zia had always seen his uncle dress impeccably but that day, his body was soaked in blood and riddled with bullets, his torn shirt spoke of the helplessness of a broad daylight murder. The corpse caught Zia off-guard and he changed his mind. The young heart fluttered as the bird they cage in every Hazara lawn. A jirga, similar to Qora el tai, where they decided the fate and faith of Hazara centuries ago in the vale of Bamiyan was replicated in Zia’s house. He silently left these 800,000 Hazaras who awaited death and joined those 60,000 who awaited Australian immigration. While many were privy to what may happen to Zia, no one could imagine the plight of his family.

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There are two routes that lead to Australia, the legitimate route and the “frequent route”. Those who take the legitimate route have enough time and resources to wait, but the others – who choose frequent route – are normally running short of both. The frequent route starts with a Karachi- Bangkok flight. From Bangkok, they reach Kuala Lumpur via land and then board a ship for Indonesia. After a few days’ stay at Indonesia, the agents who have smuggled them thus far hand them over to the hostile waters, at the time of their choice – mostly in the dark of the night. If the immigrants are fortunate enough, they reach Christmas Island (a transit camp which serves as port of entry into Australia) and if they run out of luck, the carnivores of the Pacific feast on pacifist Hazaras.



contd : post 2
 
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I am the diligent optimist

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After some scenic turns in the locality of Khushk Talaab (translating to dry pond in the local dialect), we reached Ibrahim’s house, guided by the kids at street-end.

In the veranda, a water tank occupied much of space alongside a homemade oven (tandoor) and a bicycle with a tilted stand. The simple yet elegant house, similar to those in Santa Fe (New Mexico), posed a question. Who would abandon such a still, laid-back lifestyle for long working hours at some metropolitan food chain in the ‘lucky country’ Down Under? The kids chased each other from one room to another. Their father was killed in Kuchlak few months ago. The question could never be asked.

Ibrahim was an employee of the police force – an organisation that promises power. One day, he reviewed his recent employments and realised that his placements were constantly shrinking and he was being restricted to areas which are comparatively safe. It dawned upon him that the city had failed to accommodate him. The vastest province of the country had no space for a few individuals who differed in ideology and features. Migration to Australia surfaced as a handy option. The decision to leave was the only difficult part. Finances came ready, in the form of his wife’s jewellery and loans from acquaintances. Within days, his passport was stamped with a visa for Thailand.


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Ibrahim looked at other passengers who were Iranians, Afghans and his fellow Hazara; all they had asked for was a little space and their countrymen had out-rightly refused it. Bangkok was the high point of their journey. The Iranian families were thrilled by their new-found independence and the Afghans were excited to see life beyond killings and ruins. Malaysia was the downside and by Indonesia, they had started regretting their decision.




From Indonesia, there are two routes leading to Christmas Island. One route features whirlpools but takes 30 hours to reach the island, subject to survival. The other route is a safer option and takes anywhere between a week to 10 days. A night prior to their departure, everyone calls home and informs about their journey the next day. They hang up the phone promising to call from Australia but the phones in Quetta are held in hands a little longer. In the dark of the night, they are bundled up in trucks and start for the beach, traversing the long dark miles cross-country and in the jungle. The worn out boats appear too fragile to tread even the calm waters and are stuffed to thrice their capacity but the immigrants, illegal by now, cannot resist.

Ibrahim was sea-sick when the boat hit the whirlpool and the captain escaped. The unfortunate passengers battled for almost an age.

For those who survive the wrath of ocean, misery awaits at detention centres. The damp rooms with eternal stink are more like dungeons. The long period of confinement ends with a few returning to their homes, while fewer make it to more a permanent place.

After months of suffering at the detention centre, Ibrahim managed to call back home. His brother had also decided to try his luck in Australia. The debate ensued for long hours but Ibrahim ran out of arguments supporting his survival in Quetta. His brother left the following week and is missing to date.

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Refugees at an Indonesian detention centre. – File photo by Reuters

Many residents of Hazara housing society sailed from Indonesia for Australia but never reached the promised land. News about the shipwreck was followed by a complete silence – echo-perfect. Back in Quetta, half of the family members believe that their loved ones are dead and half of them await miracles. Away from their houses, these family members might accept the mathematical improbability of survival, but in their homes they live with the vacant places at dinner, for somebody who has no possibility of coming back.

Ibrahim was lucky enough to see his kids again. He tried hard to find his brother but nothing worked. Nobody was bothered about this Hazara in Pakistan and no one cared in Indonesia. The true manifestation of Muslim brotherhood dawned upon Ibrahim.

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There are yet others who have never been to Australia but are living transitory lives. They are the children who have no academic routine to follow. The schools are either closed or no one is willing to teach. These kids, uniquely intelligent and congenitally artistic, spend the day either sitting in front of their houses (because the mothers are too scared to lose sight) or playing video games on the computers which the expats have sent back for Skype. The intrinsic desire of these kids to leave a footprint on time compels them to give Australia a chance, even at the cost of their life. Their sittings reinforce this ambition and the plans are made secretly. Once the secret is out and reaches their families it sparks a debate, but a bomb-blast or few killings settle the whole issue in their favour for good.


You and I


Quetta, of the early 1980s, was a different place – where Hazaras were one of many colours. The “Jihad Bonanza” not only deprived the country of an independent thinking stream but also shaped external and internal behaviours. In a subtle manner, compromise replaced competition and Quetta changed. Now disagreement meant disappearance and arguments ended in gun shots. The society had exhausted her patience for differences in thoughts and actions. The man of faith, a Fort Bragg graduate who prided himself in Islamicising the country, had in fact traded religion for worthless political gains. What then constituted the silent majority has now shrunk into a sane minority. His Frankenstein of commercial mercenaries (jihadis) bleed the country and the end is not in sight.

Sardar Nisar was the first to be attacked in Quetta and while he survived the assault, his guard and driver lost their lives. Most recently, the death count has touched the 1,000 mark. Safety has yet to return to the haunted city and peace remains a dream. The killers come with a confidence that defies the existence of law for killing Hazaras and the state, religion and society encourage this ‘noble genocide’ through their silence.

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Hazaras are distributed into eight branches; four Sunni and four Shia clans. But the gunslingers are too busy to inquire after their target’s sect. For them, being Hazara equates being a Shia and this crime merits death. An economist cited their financial strength and dominance of local markets as reasons for this genocide. Some politicians have named the invisible “foreign hand” and the others associate Baloch separatists with these killings. Regardless of the reasons, almost everyone in the Hazara community insisted that they had informed the local administration about the suspects and the likelihood of attacks, but no measure was taken. The routine departmental slackness had cost them their lives and the fragile sense of security. The killers came with typical ease, did their job and left. Local administration, they point, is at best incompetent or at worst, in connivance


The Hazaras are very composed but the undertone suggests that the other Pakistanis are more interested in watching T20 cricket, and the executive-versus-judiciary stand-off rather than feeling for them, their compatriots.

A painting at a politician’s drawing room said it all. The artist had painted an arm in the Iranian flag and the background in the Saudi flag. The red inscription on the painting, read “Shia is a heretic and should be killed.” At the bottom left, the footnote said “My countrymen’s perception about me.” It seemed from the disillusionment that the artist would have been in his late forties, but the answer came as a surprise: The painting was by “a teenager who had lost a close relative



I am the artist


The blood of Hazara christens Balochistan in ways other than violence. Like many others, a house in the community has been carved in the hill. When the sun starts packing up, Hazara kids gather here. Absolved from the expanding graveyard, they climb these stairs to sketch their hearts out. From an angle, these kids are like those sleepers who escaped the wrath of their fellow men on difference of faith and took it to a cave. They will reappear when light enters not only hearts and minds, but also illuminates souls.

The room remains without heating and lighting arrangements in the harsh weathers, but the students have no grievances. If it rains, they sit inside and talk about the philosophies of life. Sketch club is a Lyceum, where an Aristotle teaches his students how to live – and art – it comes by default.

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Moosavi Saheb is the soul of this sketch club. He is a teacher, organiser, administrator and a bit of Mr Chips too. Starting his journey from the Arts Council, he had taught in private institutes for a few years and now runs this facility. In his share of violence, his son and daughter both received critical injuries in a bomb blast on their university bus. Nobody talks about this at the sketch club although everyone who comes here has a story.


The graduates of sketch club regularly secure scholarships at the prestigious National College of Arts in Lahore and this fills Moosavi Saheb with pride. Paintings from Sketch Club were recently showcased in Australia for 40 days and won over many foreign art critics.

I am the flickering light

Why would someone kill a Hazara? The question elicited different responses from social scientists, politicians, religious leaders and economists. Apart from the analytical reasons, there are others too: The organised graveyards, well-managed colonies, self-sufficient introvert people, and children who take art seriously and life lightly are among the distinguishing factors of these people. Hazaras, probably, are too refined for us to mourn their deaths, feel their loss and protest their killings. Their existence is the sole ray of light that challenges the darkness, which we have come to we love.

We have also conveniently chosen to look the other way because we are not Hazaras and our kids will never be killed because of their facial features, dialects and faith. The perception prevails that this persecution is for Hazaras only – but the areas of Sola-acre, Nasirabad, Syedabad and Nauabad remind us that these were once safe places too.

Legend has it that the title Hazara is derived from their grouping into battalions of 1,000 men which fought Genghiz Khan. Now, with the killing of close to one thousand Hazaras, this title has been redefined.


Detailed anaylises and report on

I am Hazara | DAWN.COM

there is a chart i cannot copy it here but those who wish to know more , they have pretty much summarized hazara genocide since 2001.

I am Hazara | DAWN.COM
 
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Everyone in Pakistan gets riled up against Israel and there are speeches and rallies in support of the Palestinians. Without doubt Israel is carrying out a dirty war against the Palestinian but sectarian war against the Hazara community is equally abhorrent and should be universally condemned.

We as a nation have become hardened towards our own fellow citizens and there are so few voices on the plight of the Hazara community. Even if we consider all Shia's kafir, no one can deny that Hazara are human beings, where is the compassion of Pakistanis towards humanity?
 
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Everyone in Pakistan gets riled up against Israel and there are speeches and rallies in support of the Palestinians. Without doubt Israel is carrying out a dirty war against the Palestinian but sectarian war against the Hazara community is equally abhorrent and should be universally condemned.

We as a nation have become hardened towards our own fellow citizens and there are so few voices on the plight of the Hazara community. Even if we consider all Shia's kafir, no one can deny that Hazara are human beings, where is the compassion of Pakistanis towards humanity?

Since PA is bashing the Good Taliban so its OK for them to slaughter a tiny minority in return , The majority only worries when they are attacked or damaged otherwise they do not give a monkey .. i just hope hazarans pick up arms and slaughter those who are murdering them or they get a safe passage to get out of this place and some god damn country gives them assylum.
 
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Looking forward to the days when American Pound waziristan areas and General sahibs pets are taken Out in masses.
 
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Since PA is bashing the Good Taliban so its OK for them to slaughter a tiny minority in return , The majority only worries when they are attacked or damaged otherwise they do not give a monkey .. i just hope hazarans pick up arms and slaughter those who are murdering them or they get a safe passage to get out of this place and some god damn country gives them assylum.

Iran ?????
 
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I m a Pakistani.

I ask my govt. why people are being killed everywhere and we dont see the examples made out of these terrorists. I ask why my govt is such a coward, even complicit in crimes against its own people.

I ask my govt. why a country like Pakistan, which was one nation, is being identified by its provinces, sects and ethnic identities?

I ask my govt. when injustices against our population will be addressed and their solutions devised?

I ask my people then why cant they bring about a change in the country by electing honest and visionary leaders for the country. Our people must be ruthless when it comes to choosing their representatives. This is the only way out for Pakistan to stand up to the challenges.
 
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airmarshal@ bro do you think our govt has something other then corruption ???
they are part of the enemy plan. they are playing their part which they were given.
Niaz@ sir no one has the right to call any one kafir. Only ALLAH will decide who is wrong and who is right. plus in pakistan every one muslim christean hindu all others are responsibility of the govt. no one has the right to kill any one. if any one kills other he will be responsible for this killing.
it is a murder. so being it hazara or christean or hindu or muslim no one has the right to kill.
 
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Everyone in Pakistan gets riled up against Israel and there are speeches and rallies in support of the Palestinians. Without doubt Israel is carrying out a dirty war against the Palestinian but sectarian war against the Hazara community is equally abhorrent and should be universally condemned.

We as a nation have become hardened towards our own fellow citizens and there are so few voices on the plight of the Hazara community. Even if we consider all Shia's kafir, no one can deny that Hazara are human beings, where is the compassion of Pakistanis towards humanity?

Pakistanis are conditioned to worry about everyone except themselves, and this conditioning has been steadily and intentionally reinforced so that they stop realizing just how bad it is for them domestically.

It is not just the Hazara issue:

Pakistanis get upset at lack of civic amenities in Gaza, but forget the 18 hour a day loadshedding in their own homes.

Pakistanis get angry at Israel for trampling upon Palestinians, but forget their own rights denied to them by their government.

Pakistanis get incensed at USA for drone attacks, but forget the failures of their own military and police in enforcing law and order.

Pakistanis get livid at racism shown to a minority halfway across the world, and forget what they do to each other every day.

How can this be? It is because they have been taught to be so bizarrely ignorant, to their own detriment.
 
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Pakistanis get livid at racism shown to a minority halfway across the world, and forget what they do to each other every day.

Honestly, discrimination in our Pakistani society is everywhere. I came to realize this when I came to Canada.

I realized I was discriminated everywhere. Class discrimination in our society is very strong. Then there is discrimination on what language you speak, which province you come from.

Even the skin color, the sect you are from is discrimination held against you. I believe all my fellow Pakistanis have experienced this in everyday life.

Honestly the most hilarious and stupid discrimination was how one speaks English! This perpetual inferiority complex exists in middle and upper middle classes. Some of them just speak English with their kids. What idiots they are!!
 
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We as a nation have become hardened towards our own fellow citizens and there are so few voices on the plight of the Hazara community. Even if we consider all Shia's kafir, no one can deny that Hazara are human beings, where is the compassion of Pakistanis towards humanity?


Who has given us Sunnis a right to label Shias as "kafirs".

Feeling ashamed of being Sunni. Still i hope most Sunnis in Pakistan stand with their Shia or Ismaili or for that matters Hazara brothers.

I know Hazara people they are one of the most hard core patriotic peoples in Pakistan(most of them even serve in Pak Army) & are education loving & very friendly, so sad fat polititions are sitting idle instead of providing security to these people.
 
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Honestly, discrimination in our Pakistani society is everywhere. I came to realize this when I came to Canada.

I realized I was discriminated everywhere. Class discrimination in our society is very strong. Then there is discrimination on what language you speak, which province you come from.

Even the skin color, the sect you are from is discrimination held against you. I believe all my fellow Pakistanis have experienced this in everyday life.

Honestly the most hilarious and stupid discrimination was how one speaks English! This perpetual inferiority complex exists in middle and upper middle classes. Some of them just speak English with their kids. What idiots they are!!

Yeah ur rite the same is here in UAE.
i am a solid pakistani but ashamed when discussions on Islam, cast, language, society, province, city or (if) village, where did u come from into pakistan, were you from pakistan when pakistan was being formed or you migrated from india, these discussions lead to hard talks amongst ourselves and it's hard to believe when your own country man SLAMS you in PUBLIC because of you being either a PUNJABI,SINDHI,BALOCHI,PAKHTUN OR A KASHMIRI. I HATE it when such incidents occur.
may the sky be falling on them they are just not going to stop this sort of PATHETIC disussion.
I realize the fact that the whole world is standing against us and avoid such discussions which divide people rather than getting them together... by considering my self a more responsible Pakistani :pakistan:
 
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Honestly, discrimination in our Pakistani society is everywhere. I came to realize this when I came to Canada.

I realized I was discriminated everywhere. Class discrimination in our society is very strong. Then there is discrimination on what language you speak, which province you come from.

Even the skin color, the sect you are from is discrimination held against you. I believe all my fellow Pakistanis have experienced this in everyday life.

Honestly the most hilarious and stupid discrimination was how one speaks English! This perpetual inferiority complex exists in middle and upper middle classes. Some of them just speak English with their kids. What idiots they are!!

there is no Pakistani nationalistic cohesion in the society so people are becoming spiltered and get self satisfaction by fighting over petty issues.
 
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