THE crowds jamming the roads in Swat and Naran Valley over Eid in July 2021 filled some people with dread and rage. I was one of those people, stranded at Zero Point in Chilas, KP, for days. I spent hours on the road, navigating traffic jams in Naran the Wednesday after Eid. I see people flocking in tens of thousands to Pakistan’s northern areas. I see hope.

Human beings have an innate love for beauty, and for nature. Across Pakistan, families with very modest means still manage to build a kabootar-ghar — a pigeon coop — on the roof of their homes. On holidays and in good weather, Karachiites flock to the beach and Lahoris to Bagh-i-Jinnah and the ancient gardens of the city. We could be satisfied by the hill stations of Murree and the beautiful mountain cities of Abbottabad, Mansehra and Balakot but something pulls us over to the wilderness of Babusar Pass, where you can witness unspoiled, untouched valleys as far as the eye can see.

In July this year, I spent two of my 18 hours on the road sitting in my car at a single-lane bridge in Battakundi, cursing the traffic. As the knot of cars untangled, we passed a coaster full of holidaymakers. A young girl leaned out of the window, her chin propped on her arms, the dupatta on her head pushed back by the breeze, an utterly blissful expression on her face, her eyes transfixed on the mountains around her. I was once that girl, riding a coaster up to the tallest peaks in the world for the first time. I would not take that feeling away for the world. But we need to act now to make sure she and others like her can return to this place for generations to come.

The havoc wreaked in the northern areas, specifically in Naran and Kaghan valleys, is not by holidaymakers. It is criminal negligence by the state, and rampant greed by the tourism and forestry departments. The difference in building permits and structures is obvious — in lower Naran and Kaghan, single- and double-story guest houses recede into the mountains. In upper Naran and Battakundi, five- and six-story monstrosities scar the landscape. The valley should not and cannot accommodate these many overnight visitors. There is enough in the valley for day trips, with limited overnight stays. These can be adequately managed by the Pakistan Tourism Development Corporation’s own guest houses, as well as a limited number of licensed others.

Much can be done to improve the quality of tourism.

We seem to think that if people can’t eat at fast-food restaurants, or buy bags of chips and soda, or experience the comforts of the city in the wilderness, that people will not visit the northern areas. The wilderness and unspoiled beauty is the point — you can visit the most stunning place on earth without expecting a bag of Lays and a Coke at the end of it. We treat our shrines and temples and mosques with holiness and reverence. Nature deserves the same. In Kaghan, where tourists are not surrounded by a dozen ‘Moon Restaurants’, I saw a family picnicking by the side of the road carrying their meal in steel tiffin boxes. Most families in Pakistan still store their leftovers in old plastic cartons of ice-cream, and use every plastic ‘shopper’ at least three times before it ends up in the trash. We don’t need to be taught how to reuse and recycle, we just need to make sure we don’t forget it.

There are several things the government can do to improve the quality and sustainability of tourism in the Naran Valley. The simplest: the sale of fast-moving consumer goods needs to be banned in the area. People are welcome to bring their own snacks and meals, but must be asked to take trash back. Next, hotels and restaurants need stricter regulation, with environmental inspectors monitoring their waste disposal practices and serving notices on places that don’t comply. Finally, we need a low-emission public transportation system in the valley that is highly subsidised and low-cost, while charging higher usage fees on private vehicles that go through the valley. Imagine a parking lot at either end of the valley where people can park their cars, and then board an electric tram or shuttle from one end of the valley to the other.

We should not be afraid of teaching our friends and family — and ourselves — how to appreciate nature in different ways. The pleasure of a long walk, or a short hike. Reading by the side of the river, teaching your children the names of plants and animals. Sharing home-cooked parathas and tea on a dastarkhwan on the grass. Something inside us draws us to the vastness and tranquillity of nature. Relentless consumption of the kind we are currently seeing in Naran takes us away from natural beauty, not towards it. Another way is possible. There is hope.

The writer is assistant professor in Political Science and Environmental Studies at the College of Wooster, Ohio.

Published in Dawn, August 13th, 2021