Tag: break

It is nearing rush hour along the Wall Street of Pakistan, better known as II Chundrigar Road. The traffic is a mix of pedestrians, cycles, motorcycles, rickety rickshaws, shiny cars, an odd donkey cart and a few buses, all trying to snake their way past each other.

Tapping her feet on the walkway outside the Burns Garden, Saiqa Aslam waits patiently. “It should be here any minute now,” says the 25-year-old.

After several minutes of honking and abrupt braking, a bright pink bus pulls up next to her extended arm. It has breathing space, empty seats and it is only for women — a rather unfamiliar sight in Karachi.

Aslam rushes to the door, which slides open to welcome her, the cool air from the AC drowning out the chaos of II Chundrigar Road. She grabs the green-coloured window seat at the back, glancing over onto the road, where a throng of men are trying to get onto a red bus — part of the People’s Bus Service.

Both the red and pink buses are part of the Sindh government’s recently launched Peoples Intra District Bus Service project, comprising of 240 buses that will transport passengers across Karachi.

“It is the first time I am travelling completely alone … it feels so freeing,” says Aslam, who is currently training to be a chef. She travels daily from Model Colony to II Chundrigar Road to attend training sessions at the Pearl Continental hotel. Previously, her father would accompany her on the commute to and from the hotel using the People’s Bus Service, which was launched a few weeks prior to the pink bus.

“The red bus was good, but a bus occupied only by women gives me a sense of safety,” says Aslam.

Safety is one factor that has stopped many like Aslam from chasing their dreams in the past. The idea of traveling in packed buses, struggling for space in the limited enclosure designated for women and having to bear snide comments from ogling men seems to have put off thousands of young women from seeking employment outside the sanctuary of their homes. In fact, women hardly make up 20 per cent of the workforce in Pakistan, despite making up half of the country’s population.

“Finding a place to sit inside the six-seat women’s compartment in the minibus was seldom possible,” says Zulekha Abdul Majeed, 60, a domestic worker. She is referring to the colourful buses that have been Karachi’s primary mode of public transport for aeons past. “Even if I did find space, the seat covers were often torn and through those spaces, the men tried to reach through to touch,” she adds.

The lack of mobility not only hindered women’s economic activities but also limited their social lives. “If I had the choice, I would never use the minibus. I don’t let my daughter get a job for the same reason. We get by on my salary — we don’t need anymore,” says Majeed.

These mobility woes finally saw some redressal on February 1, when the Sindh government launched the ‘People’s Pink Bus Service for Women’.

The inauguration ceremony at Frere Hall was attended by the who’s who among women in the government, entertainment, and corporate sectors. All hailed the project as a groundbreaking move towards making Karachi accessible for women.

Chronicles of the pink bus across Pakistan

In 2004, Karachi got its first female-only bus initiative, comprising two buses that plied on different routes across the city. The project was closed down shortly after its inauguration.

Dr Noman Ahmed, Dean of Architecture and Urban Planning at NED University, recalls that “the female-only bus initiative in 2004 failed because of two reasons primarily: low frequency and missed timeline.” He went on to explain that the buses were not available at peak hours — the time they are intended for. The women were often left waiting for long hours, which created a disconnect and eventually led to the closure of the operations.

In 2012, a local bus company in Lahore launched a female-only bus service. A public-private partnership venture comprising three buses, this scheme too shut down after a short run of two years. “The venture was not commercially viable, hence when the government pulled back funding, the company halted its operations,” explains Lahore-based journalist, Shiraz Hasnat.

Similarly, the Sakura Women-Only Bus Service was launched in Abbottabad and Mardan in 2019 by the KP government. The project was funded by the Japanese government and facilitated by the United Nations Office for Project Services (UNOPS) and UN Women Pakistan. It only lasted a year.

“The main reason behind the failure of this project was contract violations,” says Sadaf Kamil, who was serving as communications officer at UNOPS at the time. “Operators did not run the buses on certified routes … they boarded male passengers and ran over their limit of daily mileage,” she adds.

The contracts were cancelled and despite several attempts to revive the project, the provincial government was unable to attract operators.

Eventually, the buses were handed over to the provincial higher education department, which in turn distributed them among various colleges and universities. The buses are now being used to fulfil the transportation needs of female students.

Thus, Pakistan has seen its fair share of failures when it comes to the provision of gender-based segregation in transport. However, not all is lost.

In October 2022, the government of Gilgit-Baltistan (GB) launched a women-only public transport scheme in 10 districts. The project is funded by the government and passengers travel free of cost.

“The facility has helped address the woes of women’s mobility in the region … the buses are filled to the brim each day,” Mohyuddin Ahmed Wani, GB’s Chief Secretary, told Dawn.com.

Wani explained that the buses run on a fixed route and operate only at peak hours, which has helped them limit the cost incurred to Rs20 million yearly. “This project has helped people reduce their [women’s] financial burden. We aim to run it free of cost for as long as we can.”

So is this the only way to make women-only buses a success? Keep them free or heavily subsidised?

Dr Ahmed advises against it. “It is just the same mistake repeated time and again,” he says. “The buses have been procured by the government and they’re running it on a subsidised cost. This is not a sustainable operational model … in the long term.”

Karachi’s pink bus

According to a 2015 study by the Urban Resource Centre in Karachi, women had to spend at least 10 per cent of their salary on transportation, which became a strain on their individual budgets.

“It’s much more affordable than the minibus,” says Kiran Javed, who works as a domestic help. “I used to pay Rs100 for each trip from Malir to II Chundrigar and back. Now, I pay Rs100 for both trips cumulatively,” she says, as she settles down on a seat at the front of the bus. “The subsidised cost has reduced my travelling costs by 50pc … these buses are a blessing,” she adds, the relief evident in her smile.

The subsidised fares — Rs50 for a complete trip — have been a blessing for many of the women who use public transport in the city. However, the subsidy may be short lived as, according to Transport Secretary Abdul Haleem Sheikh, the government may have to increase the fares soon in view of the rising fuel prices.

For his part, Channa believes the project is sustainable, even if the subsidies must be removed. The provincial government has signed a 10-year contract with the operators, in which they have to generate enough revenue to sustain the bus’ operations, he tells Dawn.com.

“This can only be done if the operators maintain the quality, comfort and keep it cost-effective, because the women always have the alternative to choose a private mode of transport that will drop them off at their doorstep.”

Seclusion in public spaces

Incomplete solution

According to a 2020 study, titled ‘Mobility from Lens of Gender’, by NGO Shehri-Citizens for a Better Environment, 58.3pc of blue-collar working women fear the long walk to the bus stop.

Aboard the pink buses, women also share horror stories of their encounters. “I was waiting for the bus yesterday, when two men came and stood behind me. I could feel their gaze on me,” says Faiza Ahmed. The bank employee said that she opted to use the red bus because waiting for the next pink one to arrive was not an option.

Travelling at night is another concern, with 40pc of women saying they avoid travelling after sunset, according to a 2015 study by the Asian Development Bank.

For engineering consultant, Ashar Lodhi, the pink bus is nothing more than a publicity project. “Women’s mobility with respect to sustainability should be more important than political mileage,” he says.

Meanwhile, the SMTA is “working on making bus stops,” says MD Channa. “The current route, however, passes through cantonment areas on which we can’t build without permission. We have asked the authorities and are waiting for approvals,” he adds.

How soon that happens remains to be seen. For now, the pink bus is being hailed by Karachi’s women as a welcome initiative. Only time will tell if continues its journey or becomes yet another relic among Pakistan’s archives of failed attempts at improving mobility for its women.