Tribesmen and army personnel in Miran Shah | Abdul Majeed Goraya, White Star
Afridi tribesmen gather on a May morning at a hujra in Khyber Agency’s Bara town. The mood of the gathering is celebratory as the participants pat each other’s back on successfully resisting an attempt by the Peshawar Development Authority (PDA) to acquire a chunk of local land just south of Peshawar’s Hayatabad area.
Sitting at the centre of the assembly is 48-year-old former federal minister Hameed Ullah Jan Afridi. As he lights a slim cigarette, one of his fellow tribesmen explains: an investor from Swabi approached the locals to buy about 1,200 acres of land to develop it into a university and a housing scheme; although it was a private initiative, the tribesmen were certain that the PDA was behind the offer since it had been planning to extend Hayatabad into the tribal lands for quite some time.
Spurred on by Hameed Ullah, who has been a member of the Senate and National Assembly in the recent past, the locals refused to sell the land even when Khyber Agency’s political agent (PA), the highest civilian officer in the agency, pressured them to agree to it. When their heated exchanges with the investor threatened to escalate into violence, the authorities stepped back.
“It was as if they were trying to absorb us,” comes a booming voice from one side. It belongs to Sabir Alam, a middle-aged man of huge build, with a walking stick in one hand and prayer beads in the other. “They wanted to buy us off with plots in this residential scheme of theirs,” he says. “But when all this land is ours, why would we give it away to settle for a plot?”
For the last 20 years, Alam has been running a small shop on the Peshawar side of the boundary that separates Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province from Khyber Agency. He claims that officials in the settled areas – a term that distinguishes the province from the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (Fata) – discriminate against him. “Just because I am from the tribal areas, I have been picked up on several occasions over false charges,” he says, turning his prayer beads faster. “The people of Khyber Agency are not even allowed to enter Peshawar during Muharram,” adds another tribesman at the gathering.
The complaints being made echo a bigger question: does Fata have a future as an autonomous region?
In November 2015, the federal government set up a six-member committee to find an answer to the question. Headed by then adviser to the prime minister on foreign affairs Sartaj Aziz and consisting of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa governor, federal minister for law, federal minister for states and frontier regions (Safron), federal secretary for Safron and the national security adviser, the committee held meetings with a large number of people across Fata and submitted its findings in August 2016. It recommended without any ambiguity that the tribal areas be merged with Khyber Pakhtunkhwa.
Alam strongly disapproves the idea of a merger and sees it as a threat to tribal culture. “Discarding a way of life we have maintained for centuries is the same as burning the blanket to kill the louse.”
The semi-autonomous Fata was created as a buffer zone between Afghanistan and British India in the 1890s. Today, the areas consist of seven agencies – Bajaur, Mohmand, Khyber, Kurram, Orakzai, North Waziristan and South Waziristan – and six frontier regions that separate the agencies from the settled districts of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. The tribal areas are home to more than five million residents, as per the latest census data, and, growing at an annual rate of 2.41 per cent, this population remains overwhelmingly rural at 97.17 per cent. According to the 1998 census, more than 55 per cent of it consisted of people under the age of 19.
Only 675 doctors (one for every 7,409 people), 1,605 hospital beds (one for every 3,116 people) and 32 healthcare facilities (one for every 156,302 people) existed in Fata in 2013. There were about 3,700 schools and 33 colleges in Fata till 2013 and the literacy rate, according to a 2007 report, hovered around 21.4 per cent. It was dismally low for women — at 7.5 per cent. In some areas, such as Frontier Region Tank, only 0.5 per cent of women could read and write. The dropout rate at primary schools, which have fewer than 3,000 teachers, was recorded to be as high as 62 per cent.
This is in spite of the fact that Fata receives billions of rupees every year from the federal government. In the 2017-18 budget alone, 26.9 billion rupees were allocated for the region.
Fata’s economy is mostly limited to agriculture, drugs, weaponry, and legal and illegal trade with Afghanistan — especially through Khyber Agency. Marble, limestone, soapstone and copper are known to be abundantly available in different tribal agencies, but their mining remains way below the potential. Communications and transport infrastructure is as good as non-existent; Fata has no railways, no airports and the roads are insufficient and dilapidated. Many areas have limited access to natural gas and grid electricity so a large number of people have installed solar panels. Since 2016, internet services have also been suspended in Fata due to security reasons.
Hameed Ullah claims that all this will change for the worse if Fata is to merge with Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. The tribespeople will have even less national standing than they do now if they become part of the province, he says.
Habib Gul, a grey-eyed, middle-aged Afridi present at the gathering with Hameed Ullah, carries his argument forward, saying Khyber Pakhtunkhwa is a poor province that looks to international donors and the federal government to meet its own needs. “If it cannot manage itself, how will it manage us?” he asks. “There are districts in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa that are worse off than some tribal agencies.”
Others at the hujra have similar concerns. Revenue, police and judiciary in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa “are outdated and obviously not working”, says Haji Bazar Gul Afridi, president of a local political organisation called Khyber Union. “Why would we want to switch from a flawed system to a worse one? Why should a patwari (revenue clerk) demarcate our lands when we already know who they belong to?”