Sometimes life hits you like a boulder. Literally.
“My family was sound asleep when one night, the roar of boulders woke me up,” narrates 55-year-old Muhammad Ali, resident of a village named Guro Juglote, situated some 25 kilometres away from Gilgit city. Before he knew it, a boulder had smashed into the walls of his house. “My children, my wife and I survived, but the landslide wrecked our home, cultivable land, and killed my cattle.”
That night, misfortune struck not one house but six. Such was the intensity of the landslide that five houses were completely wrecked, the agricultural land of all six houses was lost, the water channels used to their farm land were destroyed as were any walkways to their houses.
Mafias felling forests and stealing wood have triggered a larger environmental catastrophe in Gilgit-Baltistan — landslides, flash floods, disturbed ecosystems, loss of lives and livelihoods. In a nutshell, the beauty of Pakistan’s most picturesque province is at stake
With nothing in hand and a way of life obliterated, Ali decided to migrate from the village to Gilgit town in order to protect his family.
“The cost of living in the city is very expensive,” says Ali. “I work with a contractor now, live in a rented home, and purchase milk and vegetables from the market. All these items were either grown or produced in our home.”
While Ali’s new realities have hit him hard, what he protests is that this tragedy is not of his making nor was it the fate that he foresaw for his children. Landslides in the area are a man-made phenomenon, brought about by excessive deforestation. And in Gilgit-Baltistan, there is a timber mafia operating that has been cutting down trees without any regard for the life that they are destroying.
Gilgit-Baltistan encompasses an area of 72,971 square kilometres. The mighty River Indus cuts through the province and is a major source of potable water and irrigation for the local populace. Its topography consists of mountains and water sinks, source lakes and riverines, the world’s largest glaciers, and indeed, forests. Forest cover in Gilgit-Baltistan is roughly estimated at four percent while about five percent of the land is covered in forest plantations. It is this wood that the mafia is after.
But in a twist of sorts, the timber mafia is dependent on status quo to prevail at policy level. Although the forests are in Gilgit-Baltistan, policy governing them comes from Islamabad. Some allege that the timber mafia enjoys influence in the government and the bureaucracy, which enables them to have policies skewed in their favour. Others point to this influence penetrating into the lower level, where local guards are often bribed to show illegal timber as legal.
This theory is backed by the sum of money changing hands. The timber mafia only pay around 25 rupees per cubic foot to the local forest owners. They sell the same timber onwards for anywhere between 2,000 and 3,000 per cubic foot.
In short: a whopping profit of 11,900 percent and stakes that go beyond money.
TIMBER (POLICY) FOR ALL
The Karakoram Highway when it was first constructed was hailed as a game-changer. Gilgit-Baltistan was largely landlocked and inhabitants of this region suffered on account of little access to or communication with the rest of the country. After the highway was opened to the public in 1979, the region was discovered by the world at large. And while the Karakoram Highway brought tourists and prosperity to the region, it also brought much trouble for the locals.