Shelter from the storm no longer

As Sindh’s coastal mangroves are denuded, Karachi is becoming increasingly vulnerable to natural disaster, says Abdullah Khoso
Over the last 60 years, Pakistan’s coastal mangrove ecosystem has been slowly but surely destroyed. From its source high in the Himalayas to its mouth at Kotri Barrage, the Indus has been robbed of its water – diverted for agricultural and development purposes, results of a poor national policy that has little regard for environmental protection – and the mangroves of Sindh’s coastal belt have paid the price.

In recent weeks, huge swaths of mangrove forest in the vicinity of Ibrahim Hyderi and Rehri Goath villages, outside Karachi, have been chopped down. “Each day I see big donkey carts loaded with wood pass through the streets unchecked by the forest guard,” says Ustad Mohammad Yousid, a member of the local fishing community there.

Ninety-seven per cent of all mangrove trees in Pakistan grow within 600,000 hectares of the Indus Delta, which begins at Sir Creek in Badin, northwest of Karachi. With no consensual policy on water supply between the provinces, however, water diversions upriver have swirled out of control; and according to International Union for the Conservation of Nature estimates, 27 million acre feet of water is needed if the mangrove forest of the Indus delta, the sixth largest in the world, is to survive. The mangroves are literally dying of thirst. Yet, it is not too late to save them.

Since the late 1950s, it has been the responsibility of the Sindh Forest Department to safeguard the mangroves – yet, it is unclear whether the department is doing its job, and signs point negative. But the department is not entirely at fault. Lacking control of much of the delta and coastal areas, and suffering from a dearth of resources, there is little the department can do without a marked increase in forest guards and the support of new legislation to grant them complete authority over the mangrove forests of the Sindh coast.

This is where the problem begins. At present, large portions of coastal land, home to thick mangrove forests, fall under the jurisdiction of three powerful agencies – the Defense Housing Authority (DHA), the Karachi Port Trust (KPT) and the Land Revenue Department (LRD). Unfortunately for Pakistan, these agencies have made development a priority, to the detriment of the mangroves, and to the environment. And why, one might ask, should anyone outside the odd arborist care? The answer is easy. Without the buffer zone provided by the mangroves, Karachiites and those in surrounding communities are left naked to such natural disasters as tsunamis and cyclones. If we need a precedent, we need only look to New Orleans, in the United States. Hurricane Katrina’s devastating gusts and rains, which destroyed much of the city in 2006, the aftermath of which is still visible today, was due in part to the deforestation of mangroves in the Mississippi Delta.

As our agencies dig Karachi deeper into potential disaster, moreover, the land mafia is in full swing, filling in the sea with solid waste, and then leveling and surrounding it with walls. Take, for instance, the Pakistan Oil Refinery and Korangi Fish Harbour at Ibrahim Hyderi. The City District Government Karachi (CDGK) is performing its role as earth filler, and every day dozens of CDGK trucks haul in the city's solid waste, dumping it into the sea, not only at Ibrahim Hydri but at Juma Goth, Jatt Goth, Chashma Goth and Rehri -- all part of a deliberate effort to fill in and occupy these areas.

This has caused difficulties for, and stoked the concerns of, local communities. Human residences are creeping ever closer to the mangrove clusters, and at some locales, this has lead to thoughtless deforestation for commercial purposes; at others, mangroves are already within boundary walls and are dying for lack of water – which is kept out by those same walls. And it does not stop at increased threats to the environment and to Karachi’s infrastructure. The waste unloaded by CDGK trucks have caused eye diseases, skin conditions, allergies and other health problems among the local populations. The fishermen of the area have suffered in particular; for, with thousands of tonnes of solid and urban waste and industrial chemicals being dumped into the Arabian Sea via rivers and streams every day, fish stocks have plummeted.

When I, together with two other activists from the Pakistan Fisherfolk Forum (PFF), went to investigate the allegations of deforestation at Ibrahim Hyderi in July, we found some 20 axmen at work amidst a mob of mosquitoes. They had been cutting trees for months, they said, adding that they usually began in the morning and continued chopping wood all day, leaving either in the evening or early the next morning for market to sell the lumber. Per cart, they told us, they earn about Rs 1,000-1,500. According to Abdullah Mallah of Rehari Goth village, mangrove deforestation has turned to commercial purposes only recently. Ten years ago, fishermen cut mangroves for fuel and fodder purposes; but now, due to rising unemployment among other factors, others, too, have begun to cut trees, selling them off for profit. Much of the transports of lumber occurs under the cover of darkness, taken to local factories, which process dry wood into fuel for large scale chicken-feed manufacturers and use the wet wood in boat construction.

Although forest guards from the Sindh Forest Department are responsible for stopping such behaviour, residents of Ibrahim Hyderi almost unanimously report that the guard for their area, Ghulam “Gulo” Muhammad, accepts bribes to turn a blind eye to unauthorised cutting. For every cart Gulo lets pass by, he becomes Rs 100 richer. Yet, even if Gulo was as honest as the next man, there would be problems. For one, it is near impossible for one guard to adequately monitor 250,000 acres of mangroves. Deforestation is difficult to detect, moreover, as the felling of mangrove is done from within the groves, rather than on the periphery.

We met with Gulo in a café in Ibrahim Hyderi, who then accompanied us back to PFF’s office. He told us he had “retired” from the Forestry Department some 10 years ago – the guard now in charge is Maqbool Baloch – but remained on the department’s payroll. Unfortunately, at the first sign of critical questioning, Gulo ceased being cooperative and left the premises

Environmental protection agencies are doing absolutely nothing to halt this rape of our natural resources. Without the action of environmentalists to raise awareness for the plight of our mangroves, there may soon be very few of them left. Source The Friday Times.