Empty promises and a treacherous pass

Yes, it is that time of year again - when all those who live in the district of Chitral are filled with trepidation and resentment. Will they be able to reach Peshawar in December? When will the Lowari Pass be blocked by snow? Will the tunnel be opened? If so, how many days and which ones? For how many hours will the tunnel be open on the chosen days, if it opens at all?

I have long since forgotten how many times I crossed that pass during the last thirty-five years. Once I was trapped near the top for five hours, blocked by numerous vehicles which had chanced the snow and ice on the first day that the pass had reopened.

Everyone had welcomed Musharraf’s initiative to recommence work on the tunnel, which had been started many years before - and then abandoned. Little did they think that in 2015 this situation would persist.

For the last four years, my adopted family in Birir have come with me to Peshawar, to avoid the worst of the winter weather. I had decided to go ahead of them in order to prepare the house and to confirm the date of an ear operation for one of the children.

I retired to bed on Tuesday, hoping that the following day would be sufficiently sunny for crossing the Lowari Pass. I woke up the following morning to find it snowing in Birir. I did not even bother to leave the house, knowing full well that if there were snow in the valley, the pass would be completely blocked. I called my driver in Peshawar, Janus, who was scheduled to meet me and my Birir driver, in Dir. He had already reached Chakdarra. When I called him again the following day, he said that not only was the pass closed but many vehicles were also stuck there. This was later confirmed by my Birir driver. I called a friend and asked her to check on the tunnel, which my Special Branch friend was also doing - he had confirmed to us that the pass was indeed closed.

In KPK, I quickly learnt that when something was "no problem", one should expect an almighty problem

My friend had called an MNA for Chitral, who reported that everything was fine - “no problem”. When I first arrived in KPK thirty-five years ago, I quickly learned that if someone said that something was “no problem”, one ought to be circumspect and expect an almighty problem! As the newspapers have revealed, many people had to be rescued by the police and army.

Then word came that the next day I would be allowed through the tunnel.

I set off with my driver. In Drosh, I contacted Janus who had reached Timargara. The day was sunny. This time I would make it. Unfortunately, this positive approach does not always work! At Mir Khana, the army turned us back. We were just one of a number of vehicles in the same situation.  Frustrated, I returned home.

I called Janus. He had reached Dir. I told him to stay the night and hopefully I would see him the following day.

It was a day of mixed messages, followed the next morning by more mixed messages. The Pass was open. I was urged by some in Chitral to take the chance. No way. My driver shook his head. We did not have snow chains, and besides, even if it really were open, it would be very dangerous. Again, I called Janus and told him to go back to Peshawar. The costs are time, money, anxiety and frustration. This is the story for Chitralis every winter.

Then came the news that if I left immediately, I could go through the tunnel. I was not about to move. More rumours. If I went to Chitral I could obtain, as a foreigner, an NOC to go through the tunnel. I bristled. I have a POC card and regard myself as a Pakistani. My family are Kalash. Now I wondered if that was the reason why some policemen - other than my security team - had told me that the AC and DPO wanted me to go to Chitral. Why would I go to Chitral, braving that awful Birir road twice in one day, when I wanted to go in the opposite direction to Peshawar?

We entered the tunnel - a modern-day Hades

It was all very well if someone wanted to do me a personal favour, helping me and my family. But to carry an official paper because I was a ‘foreigner’ was anathema to me.

Finally some more policemen called, asking for my ID number. Last Friday, I left home in Birir and headed for the tunnel. There was no problem at Mir Khana and there were a number of vehicles going through. The pass was ‘open’.

A mile or so from the tunnel, a number of vehicles had stopped and were putting on snow chains. They were going over the pass. I did not envy them and wondered if the overloaded ones would make it. The next stretch looked dicey as it was all in shadow.

My driver shook his head. “I go on foot and check, OK?”

I nodded. I suspected that ice covered the road in front of us.

He came back, said nothing and drove forward. We found ourselves behind the small truck dishing out cinders to melt the ice, so we slid along carefully behind them.

We reached the tunnel. The police chief in charge shook his head. Then before I got ready to battle, he recognised me and looking perplexed, told us to wait ten minutes.

Then we were allowed to move forward. We entered the tunnel – a modern-day Hades. It was dark. There were no lights. Water and slush were maybe two feet deep. We sent up sheets of spray and the jeep rocked from side to side, hurting my shoulder and back. The drive through, punctuated by heavy machinery and workers in small bands, seemed endless. At last we saw day light.

It has been declared that the tunnel will be fully operational and all work will be completed by next year.

If I were a gambler, I would not place any bets…

Maureen Lines is based in northern Pakistan