Phase 2 - Week 3 & Week 4 & Week 5 & Week 6

23.03.08 – 19.04.08


Seems like I’m often writing about a journey but then I spend a significant amount of time on the road! On this occasion the return to Bagh took a little longer than usual. For reasons known only to the man behind the wheel we left the more familiar route and diverted along smaller roads nestled amongst spring-green crop pastures on the outer reaches of Islamabad. A very pleasant shortcut, I was thinking, right up until the moment we rounded a bend to be presented with an oversized, dirty-white signboard stating in bold red letters something along the lines of; THIS AREA HAS BEEN DESIGNATED AS RESTRICTED – NO FOREIGNERS ALLOWED! Now, seeing as this advice was clearly displayed in both English and Urdu, it was only as the man behind the wheel calmly motored onward that I began to question his powers of observation. Surely he saw it? Surely he appreciates that now might be a good time to turn back? Despite misgivings I deferred to what I imagined was a superior local knowledge of the route and said nothing. Perhaps I misread the sign, I considered, after all, why would we take this route if it were so obviously restricted? Not long after turning left at a sign stating ‘FOREIGNERS MUST NOT TURN LEFT’ and about the time we arrived at a placard repeating ‘NO FOREIGNERS’ and then ‘CHECKPOINT 200M’ doubt gave way to certainty, I raised both hands and, ‘WHOAH WHOAH, NO GORA, NO GORA (no foreigner, no foreigner or more precisely, no white foreigner, no white foreigner)!’ passed my lips with enough conviction to bring about a rapid halt. Which was just as well…I had the distinct impression that having passed three very visible signs warning against my presence in the area it would be difficult to explain myself further along the road without appearing inept or suspicious or both! Under the glare of a military man parked up adjacent I did my best to appear apologetic whilst my unobservant companion hastily three-pointered, nevertheless, as we retraced our route I couldn’t help but be a little curious as to what lay behind…

A mosque sits adjacent to the office/accommodation building that is Muslim Aid’s base in Bagh. Two storeys plus minaret above the road, this cracked and crumbling concrete and brick edifice - damaged by the earthquake - is nevertheless a commanding structure that extends a further few storeys deep into the terraced hillside. Except at times of prayer the building sits forlorn, apparently unoccupied; abandoned to playful flocks of birds that flitter in and out the broken windows. By all accounts the owner of this place of worship is a man of means and yet no repairs have been made. In the evening I often sit reading in the office dimly aware of the rapid drum-drum beat of a rainstorm playing on the corrugated metal roof. At times these impressive storms provide a percussive accompaniment to the muezzin’s call to prayer resounding from a loudspeaker fixed atop the minaret. To an impartial witness there is something haunting in the combination of doom-grey cloudscapes belching rain torrents and lightening flash and bang thunderclaps resounding in response to the cry of “Allahu Akbar; Allahu Akbar!”.



To view the sites where work is underway I travel daily the valley road climbing upward from Bagh to the village of Sudhan Gali. Of the many houses scattered along this route, three catch the eye for an unusual adornment to the otherwise ubiquitous corrugated sheet roofscape. Poised above the ridgeline of each of this triplet is a carved timber fighter plane, brightly painted and facing skyward, captured and frozen mid-takeoff. Passing these carrier-jet homes puts me to wondering at the motivation for the model. Do the householders - akin to a Kashmiri Saint Exupéry – spend landlocked days dreaming of taking to the air, a desire symbolised in the brightly coloured wooden figurines? Or is there a nationalistic leaning behind the overt display of model military hardware, perhaps a memory of Indo-Pak wars past when the scream of jets must have ruptured the peace of many a Kashmiri valley? Possibly the truth is far less complex. When I questioned a colleague about the reason for this peculiarity his economical reply was simply “for beauty”!

I’m no accomplished mountaineer but since I first set foot in Bagh and squinted up the valley toward the 10200ft peak looming in the distance I’ve had my eye on besting Ganga Choti! Local history remembers this mountain as a site of pilgrimage for Hindus prior to the 1947 partition (in Hindu mythology Ganga is a goddess who descended from the heavens to be caught by Shiva standing on Mountain Himalaya before a part of her fell to the earth and was led to the seas by Bhagirath forming the river Ganga - or Ganges- worshipped as a personified form of the goddess). We left base-camp Bagh on the weekend, a party of five in motley attire of jeans, shirts and shoes or shalwaar kameez and sandals more suited to the bazaar than the barren mountain top. With my backpack, first aid kit, bottled water and rainproof jacket I made a cursory attempt at preparedness but clearly such items were viewed by my compatriots as non-essentials best left at home! In the annals of mountaineering achievement without doubt this one day climb is but a very minor footnote - the first stage being a relatively easy if at times hairy jeep ride to within about two hours climb of the summit. Once underway however the terrain was sufficiently arduous to stop the least fit of us in his tracks part way up and by the time our depleted party of four reached the summit the burn in my legs and lungs was real enough. Here, light headed and satisfied the amateur mountaineer is rewarded with a three sixty panorama that extends to the ladakh mountain range marking the border between Jammu & Kashmir and Indian Administered Kashmir. We took celebratory photos in the snow then sat on the top knackered and happy eating oranges and taking in the view.

Dhajji Da is the name given locally to a form of timber frame construction indigenous to the mountain regions where the earthquake had its epicentre. The primary reason for selection of this method was in order to facilitate participation in the build process by the beneficiaries who supply timber and stone for construction. Dhajji, I am reliably informed, means patchwork quilt. A dhajji da house can be thought of as a patchwork of timber and stone and in terms of earthquake resistance it functions as follows:

Many small panels distribute the energy of an earthquake evenly across the wall.

This energy is further dissipated in the friction of timber bracing moving against stone infill to these panels.

In this manner the risk of large destructive cracks resulting in structural failure is reduced. Using locally available materials and labour, the aim has been to improve upon this existing construction practice, incorporating a more rigorous approach to building that will provide increased seismic resistance.

Phase 2 - Week 2

16.03.08 – 22.03.08

'Don’t go anywhere alone. You will kill yourself!'

Throughout the time I have spent working in Pakistan security has been a prominent consideration and, with recent bomb attacks in Lahore and Islamabad, there have been renewed warnings from the US and UK embassies for foreign nationals in the country. Of course there are places where the risk is greater than others and so far – no tempting of fate intended – my experience of Azad Kashmir, where I returned this week, is of an environment less tense than that in Pakistan. 'We are tired of war' advised a Kashmiri colleague and I am told that the suicide bombers have never made this region their target. As their guest and a foreigner these same colleagues have my safety uppermost in their minds although, with the odd, slightly hysterical statement such as, 'Don’t go anywhere alone. You will kill yourself!', I could suggest a little more 'above the line' thinking on their part!

'Sam is married?'

By now I know it well. A look of curious expectation that accompanies the question followed by a quizzical, slightly suspicious air of disappointment when I answer in the negative. I thought I’d got this one explained last time around! Went through the whole concept of ‘girlfriend’ and ‘boyfriend’ ('Here the concept of girlfriend doesn’t exist’ came the reply!) and how, no, its not a ‘problem’ in the UK to be in your late twenties and unmarried without so much as an exact date for the big day laid out two years hence to give your current situation some legitimacy! Still, maybe there’s a compliment hidden in the expectation that during the interim three months since I was last here I should have identified the right girl, convinced her of the idea, embarked on a whirlwind courtship and pulled together a ceremony all prior to arriving back on their doorstep!

'Snow problem!'

An interesting issue came to light this week concerning the construction of House Type C as drawn. Now my view is that it isn’t necessarily necessary to jump every time a labourer on site questions some aspect of the design, however, on this occasion the man had a point and he was vocally supported by all others present so why swim against the tide?! By this stage I’ve picked up enough Urdu to understand that his was a 'snow problem' and it related to three windows positioned on the rear wall of the house. You see, I had failed to appreciate when placing these openings that, in the higher villages, snow can fall to such an extent that it drifts in the space behind the slope at the rear (there’s usually one of these!) and the rear wall of the house to a depth which would put it above the window sill level. This is a problem because our windows have no glazing, consisting only of timber frame and insect mesh with internal shutters (this may seem unusual but is a common arrangement here where the poverty of many householders doesn’t lend itself to anything more!) so the snow and melt water cause water ingress into the house! Not to worry, a fair degree of flexibility is essential on this job and the remedy is to shift a couple of the windows to each side wall where the sun warms and melts the snow so reducing the problem. All considered a very useful reminder that when designing for a context that is somewhat unfamiliar only so much can be anticipated and/or known at the outset. Even with research and consultation with local knowledge there will be gaps that remain which can only be addressed as the project develops. Now its true that we are left with one window on the rear wall! Short of omitting the opening entirely and with it all natural light into the room the only answer here involves a raised sill level and a shovel!

Springtime in the Vale of Kashmir

Here goes…

…Vividly punctuating hillside shades of green are dainty-crooked trees pink with blossom. Mud plastered homes topped with glimmering metal sheet border yellow-green terraces of wheat that step in curvilinear fashion to the valley floor below. Flowers dust the fields all around, blooming almost as rapidly as the capricious weather turns, trembling gently with the morning breeze…

In 1916 a man named James Douie wrote eloquently of 'the poet who had found ideas for a new Paradiso in the Vale of Kashmir…’. It would surprise me if this landscape hadn’t provided fertile material for numerous dabbling Dante’s since Douie's time. With that in mind I will refrain from getting too lost in Paradiso description on this occasion but believe me she’s awful pretty!


I had planned to stay on in Kashmir through the weekend but was compelled to return to Islamabad by the arrival of Eid-e-Milād-un-Nabī, a holiday celebrating the birth of the prophet of Islam that saw my colleagues heading homeward and the site office devoid of staff. There are some advantages to a weekend in the city and, secure in the knowledge that a warm shower would soon be mine to enjoy, I joined three colleagues on the 4 ½ hour journey to the capital. I enjoy these bumpy 4WD rides. With the exception of a couple of occasions when regrettably the twisting routes have triumphed over my stomach - with messy results - these journeys are never uninteresting and especially after a few days in Islamabad provide an opportunity to engage with life outside the rather constrained environment of the city. A few sights catch my eye as we travel. A post-election trend to display in vehicle windows prominent photos of either a jowly Nawaz or strident Benazir as a means to proudly demonstrate allegiance to their respective political parties (whether this would catch on with our own Gordo and Dave I have my doubts!). Bold white lettering on blue signboards stating ‘Drive Slow We Love Our Children’ and the over-honest ‘Speed Thrills But Kills’ are undoubtedly more engaging than the less emotive slogans found on a UK roadside. Punjabi love songs play on old cassette tapes, the landscape is spectacular and we pause only to acknowledge a passing friend, have another round of tea and take care of the necessaries (!) or, less regularly, to pick up a newly oiled child’s bike, two wheelbarrows and what looked to me like a broken washing machine before dropping off all of the above at a seemingly random location several miles up the road!…I didn’t bother asking and no one felt it necessary to explain…

On balance this past week has been a positive one work wise. The standard of house construction is improving, the build cost has been reduced considerably by implementation of the smaller house types and with judicious cutting of superfluous finishes we can get this down further. There was some hard graft last year to put together plinths which, although using techniques indigenous to the region, were nevertheless somewhat more demanding to construct for the contractors involved. With this experience behind them and many of the big issues addressed I find myself in the pleasurable position of working closely with the engineer and contractors to refine and improve the workmanship and design to ensure that our beneficiaries receive houses that are strong, comfortable and adequate for their needs.



With time I have been able to better understand the local working methods and vernacular construction techniques. More and more I've come to realise that, with regard to the sophistication of the construction of these houses, there is a natural point beyond which it would be inappropriate to go. I have details drawn that show plastic sheeting as a means to protect the timber floor plate from water and eaves finished with aluminium sheet soffits and insect mesh but the simple truth is that, regardless of the validity of such ‘improvements’, there is a level of sophistication above which anything else is seen as unnecessary, overly expensive and wasteful in terms of material, labour and cash. This realisation has been an important one for me. Once I came to understand which items fell within the necessary and possible and which remained outside and improbable it became easier to give priority to improving the areas of work which mattered most. In this context the drawings are only a starting point; an attempt at an ideal solution at which to aim that must, by necessity, be compromised and adapted to the realities on site and the lessons learned as the project develops.

Phase 2 - Week 1

09.03.08 – 15.03.08

It may be a universal truth that nothing happens too quickly if it involves a Ministry of Interior. Personally, I can only vouch for the boys a few sectors down the road who have been processing my application to travel to Kashmir since I arrived in Pakistan so I’ve been office based in Islamabad pending receipt of the Non-Objection Certificate (NOC) that means I’m good to go. In all fairness to the Section Officer concerned, a process I had anticipated taking at least a week has been wrapped up in a little under five days so I’ve an early rise tomorrow to make the journey up into the mountains and, after being cooped up behind a desk in the city, the chance to stretch my legs and get to grips with the progress on site is a welcome one.

Its been a few months since I departed and there have been some changes in the meantime. The first of these is the news that two members of the engineering team who I have worked with previously have since moved on from Muslim Aid. Despite initial concern on my part it seems that the impact these changes will have on the project is small with continuity maintained by some key staff that remain in place. For this I am grateful, as we covered a lot of ground last time I was in the country. Working closely with the team over several weeks allowed an understanding to emerge and the ensuing improvements in construction to be made and it would be a backward step to have to undertake this process once again. The second change to have taken place is related to recent events in NWFP, specifically an attack on an NGO office in Mansehra. Several non-governmental organisations in Pakistan, including Muslim Aid, have publicly condemned this action. Work continues but, as a precautionary measure, all insignia have been removed from vehicles to avoid drawing unnecessary attention when travelling in the region. Ideally, of course, there would be no need for an organisation working toward improved livelihoods for vulnerable people to maintain such a low presence but, for the time being, this is the reality of working in the area.

My return to Pakistan has brought with it a fair sense of deja-vu. TV footage of lawyers in full protest mode as the ‘Black Coat Revolution’ drives on takes me right back to arriving here in late September 2007. The images then were slightly more fist-flying violent, tear gas stained versions of the ones I’ve seen this week, but the issues and the personalities calling for change are largely the same. Well change, of a kind, has arrived and the complex world of Pakistani politics has entered a new phase, albeit with the usual suspects. I’ve yet to speak to anyone completely smitten with either Nawaz Sharif (leader of the Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz or PML-N) or Asif Ali Zardarwi (Co-chairman of the Pakistan Peoples Party or PPP and widower of the late Benazir Bhutto) – fierce rivals now furiously forming a coalition and two men with rooms full of cupboards full of skeletons – however, for a people so dissatisfied with the ex-general and the current state of their country, these men are viewed as the better (that is to say only) option! The turmoil of recent months has, at least, resulted in an emboldened media and the Musharraf-suspended judiciary have been promised reinstatement in the coming weeks. If hope exists for a peaceful and stable Pakistan, it is perhaps to be found in a civil society that is increasingly finding its voice and expressing a profound discontent with the status quo.