On January 27, 2024 in Quetta, the leader of the Baloch Yakjehti Committee (BYC), Dr Mahrang Baloch, addressed a crowd of thousands, which comprised men and women, many of them young students. Having recently returned from a month-long sit-in outside Islamabad’s National Press Club, held to protest enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings in Balochistan, Mahrang said that this movement was the “voice of Baloch people, from Nokundi to Parom and Koh-i-Suleman to Makran.”

The recent terrorist attacks in Balochistan by the outlawed Baloch Liberation Army, which resulted in the tragic loss of the lives of almost 40 people, tend to take the media spotlight because of the sheer violence involved, but they also do a disservice to the efforts of movements such as the BYC, which have attempted to highlight the alienation of Balochistan’s educated youth in a peaceful and constitutional manner.

Gatherings such as the one in Quetta in January, accompanied by such a large number of attendees, have now become commonplace for the BYC. But what makes this movement unique and sets it apart from any other such group is that women — specifically Baloch women — are the face of this movement.

But how did the BYC come to become such a force? Who are the women spearheading this movement? And how is it that, in a conservative and still-largely patriarchal society, men are turning up in droves to hear these women speak?

A movement that began as a protest against enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings in Balochistan is now evolving into a strong political and social force for change. The women at the forefront of the Baloch Yakjehti Committee have amassed a large following of Baloch men and women, but who are they and how did they become so influential in a largely patriarchal and tribal society?

ROOTS OF DISCONTENT IN BALOCHISTAN

The long-enduring political vacuum in Balochistan has resulted in a rising atmosphere of fear, where both the state and Baloch nationalists have been at loggerheads with each other for decades. Many of the mainstream Baloch nationalists who are peacefully calling for change are of the opinion that their voices have long been ignored. Furthermore, due to the worsening security situation in the province, a number of private militias, locally known as death squads, have sprung up across the region.

Both the Balochistan National Party (BNP-M) and the National Party (NP) — which claim they are fighting for Baloch rights within the framework of the state — have been criticised by Baloch nationalists for not doing enough for the Baloch, despite holding positions in the government and being part of the National Assembly. Under these circumstances, desperate Baloch nationalists have been trying to voice their grievances from non-traditional platforms, in the hope that it will lead to long-term change.

In May 2020, three men, allegedly associated with a local death squad, stormed into a house in Danuk, Turbat, which resulted in the killing of four-year-old Bramsh Baloch’s mother. That incident gave birth to these ongoing protests and, in the words of BYC activist Sammi Deen Baloch, that is when the BYC came into being.

But it was the killing of Balaach Baloch in November 2023, supposedly in an ‘encounter’ in Turbat with the Counter Terrorism Department (CTD), that sparked a widespread movement in Kech district. The family of Balaach and civil society activists alleged that Balaach had been apprehended by the CTD the month before and had been presented before a local court, which had remanded him in police custody for 10 days. The protests against the alleged extrajudicial killing culminated in the Islamabad sit-in, led by Mahrang under the platform of BYC. This is when Mahrang and the BYC captured the attention of the nation.

After a big power show in Quetta, the BYC held a gathering in Gwadar under the banner of the ‘Baloch Raji Muchi’ [Baloch National Gathering] this July, in which hundreds of protestors from across Balochistan, and other Baloch-dominated areas in the country, joined in — despite the fact that the state had imposed restrictions upon the peaceful protestors in order to stop them from going to Gwadar. After that, the BYC held large gatherings in several places across Balochistan.

According to Mohammad Arif, an assistant professor of international relations at the University of Balochistan, “There are three factors fuelling the discontent felt by the people of Balochistan, which is why they protest. Firstly, Balochistan has been ignored by the centre from the very beginning. Secondly, there is rampant corruption in Balochistan, especially by the politicians and bureaucrats, which has hindered development and progress in the province. Thirdly, the region has become a playground for international politics in the wake of Chinese involvement in the region.”

Professor Arif says that people’s dissatisfaction, instead of being allayed, is further increasing by the day. He further adds, “Balochistan does not have much political participation at the centre, where our representation is just six percent. The government can only provide jobs to 10-15 percent of the population, while the rest have to be catered to by a private sector that simply does not exist in Balochistan as such.”

On the question of Baloch women becoming the face of political and social change in Balochistan’s tribal and patriarchal society, Professor Arif is of the opinion that this is the product of a social transformation.

“For instance,” he says, “Japan was a tribal society in 1870, too. But they arrived at the doorstep of social change far before us.” Change is indeed a slow process, and the rise of women in the hostile political atmosphere of Balochistan, particularly through the BYC platform, has not happened overnight.

THE RISE OF MAHRANG

Given that she was born into a political family in Balochistan, it is safe to say that politics has been running in Dr Mahrang Baloch’s blood from day one. But she was suddenly pushed into the limelight when she began to spearhead protests after her father, Ghaffar Longove, went missing in December 2009 from outside a hospital in Karachi.

At the time, she was still a student in primary school. The eldest of six siblings, Mahrang would burn her school books in front of the Quetta Press Club in an act of protest, demanding that her father be returned home. Tragically, as often happens in cases of missing Baloch persons, her father’s mutilated body was found in 2011.

While speaking in a combination of Balochi, Urdu and English, Mahrang tells me, “My father was my political teacher. I joined politics because of him, when I was in the fifth or sixth grade.”

Mahrang’s story, like those of many other Baloch households, is one of immense tragedy and trauma. Violence has marred the region without any respite since the fifth Balochistan insurgency began back in 2000. But the tragedy that has marked her life in this volatile province is one that is felt and understood by all those who have lived and grown up in Balochistan.

Perhaps this is why Mahrang has been drawing tens of thousands of Baloch men and women to her protests and gatherings — because they see in her a strength that is giving voice to their decades of grievances. Whether she wanted it or not, she has now become the face of the ‘Baloch Spring’.

“Our ultimate goal,” Mahrang reveals, is to raise a voice against the “human rights violations and economic suppression in Balochistan”. “Our organisation hopes to give a voice to the plethora of issues the Baloch are facing. We continue to try to shine a light on these topics, while also trying to mobilise the Baloch community. Issues pertaining to the climate, health, education and safeguarding our rights are just some of the problems that we need the state to address.”

Back in 2019, like other reporters and journalists, I was looking into the University of Balochistan (UoB) sexual harassment scandal. While working on that story, I saw a young female medical student speaking to protestors, most of whom were men, in front of the main gate of UoB on Sariab Road.

“Who is she?” I asked a professor friend of mine. “That is Dr Mahrang Baloch,” he responded. “The daughter of comrade Ghaffar Longove, a Baloch nationalist who was said to be close to the Baloch nationalist leader Nawab Khair Baksh Marri.”

Clearly, she left quite an impression, and she’s only gained a greater following since then. Reflecting on her journey, Mahrang says, “I have participated in jalsas [gatherings], protests, including the ones led by women in Balochistan. I came into the media spotlight after the abduction of my father, and then of my brother in 2017, and then during the video scandal case at the UoB. That was when I started engaging in politics properly for my people. Since then, I have been very active, because doing what I do and giving a platform to the concerns of my people was a conscious decision on my part.”

Since the UoB video scandal, Mahrang has been actively participating in political activities in Quetta, especially through the platform of the Voice for Baloch Missing Persons (VBMP), which was set up by Mama Qadeer Baloch. After becoming the leader of the BYC, she is now at the forefront of the movement calling for justice for the families of Baloch missing persons. There has been hardly any protest in Quetta in recent years, especially in front of the Quetta Press Club, that Mahrang has not attended.

After speaking to Mahrang’s teachers, friends and colleagues, it is clear that all of them think very highly of her. One of her teachers tells me that, despite her ability to draw huge crowds across Balochistan, there seems to be no hint of arrogance in her. He further adds she now seems more mature when delivering her speeches than she did in the past.

But not everyone is as pleased. Mahrang’s critics say that she has not been properly nurtured through the necessary political process and training required for one to establish themselves as a true leader. They argue that she resorts to emotional appeals because she does not have any clear answer when questioned about Balochistan’s complex political situation.

Others have even flippantly accused Mahrang and the BYC of being funded by ‘external forces’, allegedly in an attempt to counter the rising Chinese influence in Balochistan. Mahrang rebuts these claims, saying, “We totally reject these kinds of allegations,” adding that the BYC is a political and social movement that is working on human rights issues, and that the people of Balochistan support this movement.

“We are not anyone’s proxy,” she says firmly, “nor have we been anyone’s proxy. The Baloch people are our support. The state, from day one, uses such allegations of foreign funding to crack down on peaceful political movements. That is why we say that the state, instead of using violence, should wisely and politically deal with Balochistan’s issues. Violence only prolongs issues and leads to great loss.”

Mahrang, however, is just one of the many women that have come to form the spine of the BYC.

SAMMI, THE ASPIRING JOURNALIST

The eldest of three siblings, Sammi Deen Baloch was just a teenager when her father, Dr Deen Muhammad, was reported missing in 2009. Today, 15 years later, he is still missing. Since then, Sammi has spent most of her time at VBMP camps in Quetta and Karachi, desperately hoping that her struggle will lead to some lasting change.

Even at that young age, Sammi began to meet with journalists at press clubs, as well as at missing persons’ camps. Often, she would be accompanied by her younger sister, Mehlab Baloch.

Similar to Mahrang’s father, Sammi’s father and uncles also had a political background. And it was because of his political activism that Deen Muhammad was ‘disappeared’, Sammi claims. In her words, “I was born into a political environment that nurtured me and my other family members early on. But, unfortunately, more than that, the circumstances surrounding my father’s disappearance played a greater role in my political upbringing.”

After Mahrang, Sammi is regarded as the face of the BYC, and she has now gained admission to the Institute of Business Administration’s (IBA) Centre for Excellence in Journalism (CEJ) as part of their masters’ programme. I ask her why she decided to pursue the field of journalism.

“In 2013,” she responds, “I met a female journalist, Mahvish Ahmad [who wrote for Dawn and the Herald], in Karachi at a missing persons’ camp. She used to write extensively about Baloch missing persons. I was enamoured by her.

“In many ways, it had become a routine for me to meet and speak with journalists in Quetta and Karachi, to clamour for the release of my father, to meet other missing persons’ families and to hear stories of their loved ones. I decided in 2013 that I would become a journalist some day and write about the stories of Baloch missing persons, alongside my own personal story.” This year, Sammi was honoured with the prestigious Front Line Defenders Award 2024 in Dublin, Ireland.

Sammi lost her childhood in search of her father, and she reveals that what began as a young girl demanding her father be returned home has now turned into a struggle for the release of all the Baloch missing persons. She tells me, “I started collecting pictures of other Baloch missing persons a long time ago, and I continue to do so, because my struggle is now for all of them — not just for my own father.”

Following her father going missing, Sammi used to hear taunts from people, especially from women, about the fact that she used to travel out of the city so often, that she would interact with men, and that she was neglecting her studies. But things have now changed.

“What is a source of pride for me is that people’s perception — especially that of women — regarding my struggle has changed,” Sammi shares. “I am glad they are now united with us in our efforts, that they join the protests and raise a voice for their own people.”

Sammi says that she is proud that the BYC gatherings are so well-supported and attended by Baloch men. She remarks, “There are tens of thousands of men who attend the BYC jalsas. But, even before us, there were notable female activists here, such as Karima Baloch and Shakar Bibi Baloch.”

GULZADI, THE GIRL FROM THE BUS

Last year, a video of a teenage girl at a Baloch missing persons’ sit-in in Islamabad went viral on social media. The girl, Gulzadi Baloch, was being forcibly returned to Quetta in a bus by law enforcement authorities in Islamabad.

As women swarmed her bus window to try and film her pleas, Gulzadi defiantly, succinctly and persuasively asserted: “We want nothing from Pakistan, nothing at all. We just need our loved ones back who have been forcibly disappeared.”

The journalist and author Mohammed Hanif retweeted the video of Gulzadi with the following statement: “In protest, returning my Sitara-i-Imtiaz given to me by a state that continues to abduct and torture Baloch citizens. Journalists of my generation have seen Sammi Baloch and Mahrang Baloch grow up in protest camps. Ashamed to witness a new generation being denied basic dignity.”

Hailing from the town of Mach in Balochistan’s Bolan district, Gulzadi moved to Quetta after the abduction of her brother, Wadood Satakzai. While talking to me, without me even asking her, she reveals the circumstances that led to the disappearance of her brother.

“On August 12, 2021, my brother went missing in Mach,” she tells me. “After waiting for a few months, and despite many financial issues, I started protesting in Quetta for his release. During my struggle for his release, I encountered several Baloch families who also had their loved ones missing. I found that my story was echoed in their stories. That is why I protest from the platform of the BYC for the Baloch who are missing, even though my brother was released on February 8, 2022.”

According to her, Balochistan has been turned into a security zone, where the males are picked up without any reason whatsoever, which is why women and girls, such as her, have to come to the forefront and ask for justice.

During her school days back in Mach, Gulzadi used to take part in speech and debating competitions. She says that foundation is what gave her the confidence to speak in front of Baloch protestors and command an audience. But her struggle is not limited to the spoken word only.

“I also write poetry,” she says, “in the Brahui language. These writings of mine mostly revolve around poetry of resistance, missing persons, and are against the sardari [tribal] system.”

BEYOND THE MISSING PERSONS ISSUE

Mahrang, Sammi, and Gulzadi, like many other Baloch women, are of the opinion that they came out on to the streets in protest simply because they had no other choice. Since the men of their families had gone missing, the women had to take up the responsibility of fighting for their release.

Mahrang and Sammi acknowledge that the early conversations about politics that they were privy to in their households gave them the necessary acumen at an early age to be able to take a strong stand on political and social issues. Today, thousands of Baloch men and women now look upon the leaders of the BYC as representatives of their collective cause.

Having gone over Mahrang’s recent speeches, it is evident that she has been increasingly talking in expansive terms about ‘the people’. Even during her conversation with me, she keeps using the phrase “Baloch awaam [populace]”, while talking about myriad issues that they are confronted with. The way Mahrang sees it, the Baloch awaam backs the BYC because it has a clear objective.

“The Baloch awaam trusts the BYC because it has got a programme,” she tells me. “Based on that programme, the genuine issues the Baloch are facing are being highlighted.”

But Mahrang and the others know that their cause has to address the many issues in the region that extend beyond that of missing persons. According to Mahrang, “Besides the missing persons cases, the BYC also talks about how the Baloch are denied access to their own resources. We have also spoken against the Reko Diq deal, which has been approved against the will of the Baloch people, and other such projects, such as the Saindak project.”

There is no denying that the work these women have done, and continue to do, is inspiring many — perhaps even generations to come. While working on this story, I came across a relative who has named her second daughter Sammi, while another relative of mine has recently named her daughter Mahrang. Even though these individuals have nothing to do with politics, this gesture on their part is testament to the widespread appeal that the women of the BYC have managed to amass.

One day, while eating breakfast, I saw that my Baloch housemaid was watching Mahrang’s speeches on Facebook. “So,” I asked her, “is she your leader?” She responded, with her eyes still glued to the video: “If Mahrang is not our leader, then who is?”

The writer is a staff member based in Quetta

Published in Dawn, EOS, September 8th, 2024