Migrants work for better days in Rawalpindi

From labourers to roadside vendors, Rawalpindi has become a city of migrants. What makes hundreds of thousands of people come here from other parts of the country is to earn livelihood.

The traffic signal turns red. Cars screech to a halt. The salesmen get into action. Fifty-five year old Ali Haider from Bahawalpur hurries between cars in order to to sell car-window cleaning cloth pieces. When asked why he left his city, he has a set answer, “because I have to feed my family.”

Nusrat Hussain along with her wife Fatima and five kids has been in the city for almost a year now and returning home back home in Karachi is not an option for him.

Thirteen-year old Turab Naqvi admits that he misses his family and friends but Arif Zaidi who is four years older is quick to say, “Here is a better opportunity.”

The duo lives in a three-bedroom house with other migrant youth from their hometown. Their working days are interminably long and their nights are not restful. The young men are grateful, nevertheless. “The landlord is from our village. He brought us here and gave us this opportunity,” says Janu, whose real name is Murad Ali.

The city has been a hub for workers from cities of southern Punjab, Sindh, KPK, Skardu, Gilgit etc. for decades now. The rush of migrant labour is here to meet a real demand: rapid and widespread construction activity to expand the city's infrastructure.

Construction workers, especially those from far away areas, are usually sent back once their contracts expire. But almost every migrant dreams of a permanent residence here.

Most residents of city slums are migrants. They work in construction, loading and unloading activities, security, garments, tiny industries and fabrication. They also work in the brick-kilns. Many of them work much like bonded labour and are paid lump sums at the end of their contract. Needless to say, most accidents among them go unreported. “Outsiders are willing to work harder for less,” says a brick-kiln owner.

As a matter-of-fact, people like Batool and Asad are much further away from home. They're among five related Shuja Abad families, who have lived in makeshift tents along one of the city's prominent road for over five years now. “We left Bahawalnagar to improve our living. After working in Karachi for a while, we decided to come to Rawalpindi,” says Asad. “We make enough to eat. At the moment we are much better financially to send our kids to school,” says Batool.

In their minds, Bahawalnagar is now almost a fairy-tale place. “We aren't going back, there's nothing for us there,” say both Batool and Asad.