For now the beach at Seaview is empty | Mohammad Ali, White Star

For now the beach at Seaview is empty. Most people who do show up from time to time either sit far away from the water, near the concrete footpath, or inside their cars, watching the waves crash onto the sandy shore. At every mile, a policeman promptly stops anyone trying to go towards the water. When asked about the security measures taken at the beach, policemen refuse to talk, fearing their answers “might be quoted out of context”.

The promptness with which security was beefed up was the direct result of a recent slew of deaths by drowning. On July 31, one after the other, 23 bodies were recovered from the sea; by August 3, the total number of casualties rose to 39. The deaths heralded shock and despair but, as is now the unfortunate norm, the media soon found itself distracted by more recent news.

"Basically, the oceanography has changed. Earlier, cyclones in the North Arabian Sea used to occur with a gap of three to four years. Now it is an annual occurrence."

Blame was largely attributed to a lack of preparedness on the part of concerned authorities —such as a dearth of lifeguards. However, Mairaj Khan, station officer at the Hawkesbay Emergency Response Centre (ERC), finds this accusation ‘quite unfair’. The ERC controls the 17-kilometre stretch of sea that begins at Hawkesbay and covers Sandspit, French Beach, Cape Monze, Paradise Point, Neelam Point, Sunehra Point and Mubarak Village — mostly rocky beaches, says Khan, whose jagged terrain remains submerged during high tide. According to him, the ERC, which falls under the ambit of the Karachi Metropolitan Corporation, has watchtowers after periodic stretches and a lifeguard at every mile; boards have been cropped up at more dangerous spots, urging people to exercise caution. Some of these are dismantled by visitors or holes are poked in the boards, rendering the text unreadable, he says.

Zubair Khan, a police officer in training, was recently assigned to Seaview | Mohammad Ali, White Star

Khan maintains that the ERC is not ill-equipped. “We don’t get a toll tax or an entertainment tax, nor do we have a huge budget like the Cantonment Board Clifton or the Defence Housing Authority (DHA). But we do have just enough to take care of the people who visit our beaches. And thankfully, apart from one or two cases there haven’t been many casualties.”

Indeed, the majority of recent casualties occurred at Seaview, where crowds thronged to enjoy their Eid holidays. According to Commissioner Karachi Shoaib Ahmed Siddiqui, the commission constituted by the government to probe the tragedy found that most people drowned after a 15-foot wave hit the coast, followed by another. “Some families the commission spoke to said that they tried to stop their loved ones from going too deep into the sea. But they just didn’t listen.”

People watch rescue efforts from the edge of Clifton Beach — where no one was later allowed to go near the water | Mohammad Ali, White Star

In the wake of the tragedy, measures are being taken to improve the beaches, especially Seaview, says Siddiqui. “We are installing watchtowers, hiring divers, putting up signs, marking the spots in the sea where there’s a high tide and so on.” As for why these measures hadn’t been instituted before: “Public safety has never been a priority. So it took us a while to make people around us understand the importance of saving lives.”

According to ERC’s Khan, the imposition of Section 144, prohibiting large public gatherings, will help deter casualties in the immediate future. But Tahir Qureshi, a senior advisor to the coastal ecosystem programme at the International Union for Conservation of Nature Pakistan, argues that loss of life can’t be controlled in this manner. “The sea doesn’t understand these sections; what it wants is for us to understand it. Basically, the oceanography has changed. Earlier, cyclones in the North Arabian Sea used to occur with a gap of three to four years. Now it is an annual occurrence."

An unofficial lifeguard until recently, Mohammad has been manning these waters for many years | Mohammad Ali, White Star

“A lifeguard on duty can only do so much; he can only prevent you from drowning. However, the fact remains, that ours is a thankless job. But who will ask the bigger questions? For instance, has rigorous research been undertaken before beginning projects worth billions near the coast?”

Qureshi laments the lack of coordination between organisations working for the environment: “You can’t deal with incidents in isolation. If a development project is underway, it is the [relevant department’s] duty to share this information with the fisheries department, [for instance] whether the site they are working on has shallow water or deep water and the implications this may have.”

As for why these measures hadn’t been instituted before: “Public safety has never been a priority. So it took us a while to make people around us understand the importance of saving lives.”

“Most of the responsibility of the death toll was placed on the high tides, the monsoon season and the lack of lifeguards to look after the people at the beach,” says Muhammad Ali Shah, president of the Pakistan Fisher Folk Forum, “But these three factors can’t be examined in isolation. There is the larger issue of consistent development taking place above and around the sea.” Until the mid-eighties, the sea could be seen from where there is Marina Club today stretching all the way to the shrine of Misri Shah, he says. This is no longer the case today.

A lifeguard patrols the forbidden waters of Clifton Beach | Mohammad Ali, White Star

Shah says that this persistent effort to alter the natural environment in the name of development has elicited a ‘reaction’ from the water: as a result of constant dredging activity, the sea no longer has space to settle. “The only thing these developers can’t do is to shrink the size of the sea — it’ll remain the same,” he warns, “and will push back with full force each time someone tries to contain it.”

According to Shah, the administrative control of the sea rests with the provincial government — “ideally and in theory”. Of Pakistan’s 1,050 kilometre-long coastline, 350 kilometres fall under Sindh. From zero nautical miles to 12 nautical miles, it is under the control of the provincial government, after which, up until 200 nautical miles, it is under the aegis of the federal government. “But over the years, most of the sea has been divided into various parts, with most of the coastline owned by the Pakistan Army, Pakistan Navy and the DHA.”

The deaths heralded shock and despair but, as is now the unfortunate norm, the media soon found itself distracted by more recent news.

Much of this information is common knowledge, adds Shah, but “what is a lesser known fact is that most of these places are taken up by different names by the federal government, which is being ignored because money is involved.” Officials from DHA refused to respond to these allegations or comment on ongoing developments around the sea, stating that they were not authorised to speak to the media.

Development and construction near the sea, Harbour Front can be seen in the distance | Mohammed Ali, White Star

Commissioner Siddiqui admits that dredging is a concern. “It has happened in the past. And I won’t deny the fact that it has an effect on the sea. My only request in this matter was for the concerned departments to give prior notice that they are about to dredge a particular corner.” Communication between various departments is also being discussed at the moment, he says.

Shah, a veteran campaigner for the rights of local fishing communities, says that the sea is better understood by the fishermen. “I have heard it a lot from the mahigirs that if they were provided jobs as lifeguards, during off-season for fishing, they would have better chances to save lives due to their experience,” he asserts.

This was originally published in the Herald's September 2014 issue. To read more, subscribe to Herald's print edition.