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Tomb of the Unknown Worker and Our Collective Responsibility    
By M. Majid Ali,  CPA, PMP Columbus, NJ

There should be a “Tomb of the Unknown Worker” to honor the silent contributors in our society.  They are so removed from the established social order that they exist off the grid unmindful of present-day happenings, TV or internet.  They give more than they take and yet they are here. This is their story and if the following rendition seems inclined in a certain direction, then let it be so for it rectifies a historical imbalance.

           

The monsoon rain is coming down hard over I.I.  Chundrigar Road but it does not seem to bother 71-year-old Gul Khan and his nine-year-old grandson Toran who are already helping a customer in his open air cobbler shop on the sidewalk. A car approaches and a pair of shoes is dangled from the back window by the prospective client who describes his predicament and receives a price. A negotiation follows which cuts the price in half much to the detriment of Gul Khan who nods his acceptance without looking up and immediately begins to work on the shoes in the downpour. The car speeds away through the puddles spattering rainwater on the bystanders.          

             

Three kilometers away there is a lot of stop and go traffic in front of the Marriott Hotel. Eleven-year-old Ameena runs on to the street with alarming frequency with a rag in hand to clean cars as they stop and are sometimes still moving.  Most drivers disdainfully brush her away, but she is determined. By the afternoon she is able to hand a few rupees to her mother waiting behind the pavement holding her two younger siblings. The family can finally have their first meal of the day.           

            

Close to lunch time the lines are long outside the tandoor ovens of Burns Road. Zubair Khan has been crouched nonstop over the scorching flames for three hours churning out naans with unfailing accuracy and speed. The heat is intolerable and while Zubair had completed his Matric a few years ago from Peshawar, his father’s untimely demise forced him to change course and find work to support the family. He struggles with the heat as the load shedding has shut down the overhead fan.         

            

Near the wild shrubs and picnic spots adjacent to the Clifton area is Aslam who herds his five goats in the afternoons. The mercury is boiling and everything and everyone is parched. Aslam discovers a piece of naan jutting out in the sand apparently left behind by picnic goers. He offers it to one of his goats who immediately begins nibbling one end of it. Watching the goat eat and unable to contain his own hunger Aslam breaks off the far end of the naan that is still jutting out of the goat’s mouth. He then puts it in his mouth but is unable to chew as it has become too hard in the sun. Nearby picnic goers watch and then look away.           

          

Fifty-eight-year-old Abdul a railway porter handles baggage at the Karachi Railway Station. As he left his house in the morning his wife pleaded with him to be extra vigilant as on the previous day he stacked more bags on his aging back than he could handle and was almost knocked over onto the train tracks. Abdul is on daily wages and needs to work every day to survive.  Three years ago, a doctor at a free Red Crescent medical camp advised him to get some tests done for suspected cancer but he has not had the resources for a follow-up.      

         

North of the city near the Jamali Goth neighborhood of Super Highway a man helps haul away part of the 12,000 tons of Karachi's daily solid waste. He does so on the back of his donkey whom he has named "Saathi" and together they have been doing daily runs around Al Asif Square. With the scorching asphalt below him, the toxic waste on his back and the blazing sun overhead “Saathi” has worked 365 days a year for as long as he can remember. It has badly infected his eyes and skin and caused lameness. Every day he gazes in despair at the Edhi Animal Hostel near the Super Highway Toll Plaza where he has heard he can get medical attention and even some rest but hopelessness returns when the owner does not stop at the Animal Hostel.      

      

The gentle people at Edhi, Saylani, TCF, Shaukat Khanum and countless others work tirelessly and with missionary zeal to reverse the imbalances in our society. Many face extraordinary challenges and inexorable choices as they evacuate survivors from domestic battle zones, stand up to armed gangs, retrieve decomposing bodies from garbage dumps and deal with dangerous medical contaminations. That their heroism approaches “Birkenhead” proportions as they feverishly mount daily campaigns to salvage a sinking enterprise is not lost on the observer.     

    

History of course recalls the "Birkenhead" as the British troop ship that hit a rock and sank off the waters of South Africa in 1851. The chronicles narrate that of the 630 people on board there were 170 women and children. After the shipwreck the three remaining lifeboats could only carry the women and children with the rest facing certain death. And yet after assessing the situation the Commander’s order of the day was “Women and Children First.” As the lifeboats sailed away with the most vulnerable passengers the soldiers were ordered to gather on deck in drill order where they calmly performed their last maneuvers with tranquil faces patiently awaiting their fate. No panic entailed. The survivors reported seeing files of uniformed soldiers standing at attention on deck with composed discipline as if they were at their daily drill. Orders were carried out without hesitation. The captain stood by his men and went down with the ship.         

         

But the extraordinary work being done by Edhi, Saylani, TCF, Shaukat Khanum and other organizations is not enough. The dictates of a purpose-driven life extends that civic responsibility to each one of us; expatriates included.   We must support organizations that sustain healthcare and food services  so people can be well. We must support organizations that provide education  so people can fend for themselves. We must support investment channels like the Roshan Digital Accounts. Over 400,000 Pakistanis in 175 countries have done so. And offshore Pakistani businesses and professionals should connect with their domestic counterparts. Continuous, relentless engagement should be the norm.        

          

The voiceless partners in our society are valuable contributors but they are at risk. We must accord them recognition, respect and assistance. And it is quite possible that even with our collective efforts we will fail. But history will record our efforts and perhaps like the inspiring story of the “Birkenhead” the annals will energize future generations to rise and defeat failure.          

        

Three years later there is a new dawn in Karachi. The triumph of society’s collective efforts has awakened divine providence and launched a new chapter. Gul Khan has since passed away, but his grandson Toran no longer works at the cobbler shop. He found a sponsor who helped him pursue his grandfather’s dying benediction to join the Edhi primary school near the old Subzi Mandi area. Likewise Ameena, has enrolled full time in TCF’s “Cowasjee Campus” in Kharadar where the unprivileged are only charged what they can afford though her evenings are still spent racing on to the streets under the nervous gaze of her mother.     

    

Aslam now gets a healthy meal every day at the Saylani Dastarkhawan near Teen Talwar before returning home which enables him to save a bit extra for his family and look after his goats.  Abdul is now a registered Railways employee and eagerly looks forward to his turn at the Shaukat Khanum Hospital in Karachi where he has heard he may be able to get free cancer care. Zubair Khan has left Burns Road and enrolled in Saylani’s computer school in Bahadurabad while working part time as a receptionist at an IT company. And finally,  after a lifetime of back-breaking labor the donkey “Saathi” was retired by his owner in favor of a used Suzuki. He was admitted to the “Edhi Animal Hostel” near Super Highway where  much to his uncontrollable joy he was reunited with his long lost mother who was rescued a few years ago by a good Samaritan. H e can finally rest and receive care.  

     

And so the collective efforts of a purpose-driven society continue in the face of extreme challenges. To this day “Birkenhead Drill” personifies “Women and Children First.” It is the unofficial customary call followed on all vessels that are in distress. The drill calls on us to remain calm and stay the course even when failure seems imminent and protect the most fragile ones so they can have a chance at life.   

      

Fifteen years onwards, little Ameena has graduated from The TCF school and become a schoolteacher herself. It is Dec 25 th and she has been asked to lead fellow teachers and children on a school trip to the Mazar e Quaid in Karachi. As they walk the grounds the children discover a newly built marble edifice behind the “Archives” section and hover around it. It is covered with leaves from the overnight rain. Ameena and the other teachers do not remember this structure from their last visit.   

Curiously Ameena steps forward and begins to remove the leaves covering the inscription on the marble. A chill goes up her spine as the first line appears to dedicate the structure as “TOMB OF THE UNKNOWN WORKER.”  A few verses from Allama Iqbal follow. A sudden  reverence descends on the children and the teachers as they step back and lower their gaze. But Ameena keeps removing the leaves. When she gets to the bottom of the plaque she is overcome. The last line reads “I SHALL RISE AGAIN.” Fifty feet away Mr Jinnah smiles from his grave.   

 ( The author is a banker in the greater New York City area and a former resident of Karachi)