Photo by Michael Huang
I just came back from a one-month research trip from Pakistan and was very fortunate to be able to travel across the entire country by road only. Before the trip, I was warned by some that it would be unsafe, if not insane, to travel the entire Pakistan alone let alone by road only. Regardless of these warnings, I insisted on going solo by road because first I am stubborn, and second, perhaps more importantly, I really wanted to see what CPEC (China-Pakistan Economic Corridor) has accomplished so far in terms of transport infrastructure (for details about individual projects, please visit: https://cpec.gov.pk/infrastructur).
During the trip, we drove through M-1 Motorway (Peshawar – Islamabad), M-2 (Islamabad – Lahore), M-3 (Lahore – Abdul Hakeem), M-4 (Pindi Bhattian – Multan), M-5 (Multan – Sukkur), M-9 (Hyderabad – Karachi), M-10 (Karachi Northern Pass), M-14 (Islamabad – Dera Ismail Khan), and M-16 (Swabi – Chakdara). Except for M-1 and M-2, the rest were quite empty while we were traveling. Even though we were traveling during Eid al-Adha which might have reduced some traffic, it is obvious that these billion-dollar “white elephants” have been underused (https://www.economist.com/asia/2017/01/19/pakistans-misguided-obsession-with-infrastructure).
With the benefit of hindsight, it is easy to criticize the extravagance of the Pakistani government, often under the auspices of the Chinese. The funds could have gone to education, health, or somewhere else, as critics may argue (https://www.economist.com/asia/2017/01/19/pakistans-misguided-obsession-with-infrastructure), let alone pointing out the fact that the infrastructural funds might have ended up in some individual pockets (https://www.dawn.com/news/1635084/rawalpindi-ring-road-scam-ace-arrests-former-commissioner-land-acquisition-collector).
Of course, people’s rights to access education and health should be guaranteed, and so should their right to access safe, orderly, and fast transport. Given the poor conditions of country paths and various national ways, I am not sure this right has been guaranteed. According to World Health Organization, the estimated road traffic death rate per 100,000 in Pakistan is around 13, definitely not an optimistic situation (https://www.who.int/data/gho/data/indicators/indicator-details/GHO/estimated-road-traffic-death-rate-(per-100-000-population)). I have traveled to both India and Pakistan and lived there for months, and I am still not sure how to navigate myself through the traffic as confidently and comfortably as a South Asian. And I am from China, which was still the most populous country on this planet a couple of months ago! My driver Sabir, a seasoned Punjabi driver who has driven across Pakistan from mountainous Gilgit to the desert in Baluchistan, also “begged” me to GPS the nearby motorways if there is any, even if it means we had to travel extra miles. Because on a motorway, he knew he could relax his hands and mind by making a video call to his wife or losing himself momentarily in a song from Kuch Kuch Hota Hain. To be honest, regardless of how much I appreciate and enjoy the “chaos” of South Asia, I did need a moment of orderliness, a little sense of direction and control, and a second when I could forget the sudden interruptions by army check posts or road protests, which hardly exist anywhere except on these empty motorways.
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