TAFTAN: Taftan, which is 600 kilometres from the provincial capital Quetta, is situated in Balochistan’s Chaghi district. The Pak-Iran border trade gate, Zero Point, is Pakistan’s single official and legal land border crossing into Iran. This is where Mohammad Qasim, the elder brother of taxi driver Mohammad Azam, who was killed with the Afghan Taliban leader Mullah Akhtar Mansour in a drone strike in May, has been struggling to make ends meet.

Following the killing of his brother, Qasim has to work every day to earn a livelihood for his family; Azam had been the lone breadwinner. One of the other drivers in Taftan says that they did not know that the man looking for a ride was the Afghan Taliban leader. “We asked him to hire a seat in bus, but he refused,” he says. “Instead, he [the stranger] said he would hire a car.”

Azam, like the other drivers, got his work through a local transport company owned by Habib Sasoli. When Mansour asked for a car, Sasoli telephoned Azam. The latter had to accept the job and left for Quetta that very day.

The drone strike occurred in the Ahmad Wal area of Nushki district. Qasim says: “How could my brother have known that he [his passenger] was the chief of the Afghan Taliban? He was carrying out his duty as usual, and Mansour had a passport and a national identity card. My brother picked him up at the passport gate used by people coming from Iran. He did not pick him up in a street or a deserted area. It is the responsibility of the government to identify or to stop someone; they crossed 16 checkpoints, where he [the passenger] was asked only for his passport.”

US officials dubbed Azam as a “second male combatant” but the local administration of Chaghi and residents of Taftan do not concur. They say he did not have any links with militant groups. The family of the driver have registered a criminal case against US officials seeking murder charges in Ahmad Wal.

Azam’s family has been living in Killi Haji Essa Khan, only 1km from Taftan town, for over three decades. He started driving for a living some eight years ago, and his own car was stolen three years ago. “When that happened, I gave him my car to continue work as a taxi driver because I could not do that because of my deteriorating health,” says Qasim. “Following his death, heaven alone knows how I support the family.”

The slain driver left four children, an aged mother, and a lame brother called Yar Mohammad. Azam’s children, except for the eldest, nine-year-old Fatima, still do not know about their father’s death. They say that earlier he would take only two or three days to return home after a trip; but this time, he has taken months. “He didn’t even return on either of the Eids,” they muse.

“They ask us day and night about Azam,” says Qasim, his eyes filled with tears. “We have to lie to them — he has gone for Haj, or on some preaching activities, so it will take time for his return. On both the Eids, we ourselves were in a pitiable condition. But it worsened when his children said: ‘All the children’s fathers have returned, where is ours? Why does he not come? How many days or months will it take?’ We do not have any answers.”

Fatima, the eldest, remembers what she and her siblings asked him to bring them from Quetta, when he left home. “I told Aba to bring clothes,” she says. “My younger brother Ali Haider (7) asked him to bring a school bag, as he had newly started going to school with me. As for Zayad (6) and Faiza (5), they asked for candies.”

“Whenever a vehicle stops near our home, Azam’s children think that their father has come and rush out,” says Qasim. “They’re waiting for him. They do still go to school, though, except for Faiza, because it was his desire to see them educated. So, despite all the financial trouble after his killing, I have made all possible efforts when it comes to their education.”

However, he fears for the future: “Despite my deteriorating health, after Azam I run three families,” he says. As for the government, Qasim says that provincial Home Minister Sarfraz Bugti “personally assured me that he would assist us financially. But five months later, nothing has surfaced.” Left with no choices, Qasim appeals to the government of Pakistan to provide justice, as well as free schooling and monetary support for Azam’s children.

Published in Dawn, October 7th, 2016