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Born in the desert region of Thar, Salim Qaim Khani came to Karachi looking for a better life. He has made progress financially but emotionally the migration has taken its toll. Millions of villagers like Khani migrate to this port city in the hope that they will be able to have a better life. And each one of them has to pay a heavy price to turn their dreams into reality.

Karachi,  (Pakistan) -- With a population of 15 million, which is growing at a rate of 4.8 per cent each year, Karachi, is one of Asia's mega-cities. The population of Pakistan as a whole is growing at an annual rate of 2.8 per cent; Karachi's population is estimated to be increasing at almost double the rate - putting pressure on already thinly-stretched civic services. When it rains, as it did recently for the first time over the last year, the sewers overflow bringing up their insides on the streets. Swarms of flies and mosquitoes overwhelm the city, spreading various viruses and cholera with unprecedented intensity.

But despite these problems, for Pakistan's population of 145 million, this city by the sea is still a city of hope. Here eager migrants from villages can realise their dreams of a better future. But they have to pay a heavy price for it.

For instance, Salim Qaim Khani was born in the desert region of Thar, a day's drive from Karachi. In his 20s, Khani says it was the desire to earn more money to look after his mother and sister that prompted him to leave his village after high school and come to Karachi. "Our lives there were miserable," he recalls. "To go from my house to the school I had to walk four hours a day. We had a sweet water well, but most of the time it was dry because of drought," he adds. According to Khani, his parents were not surprised at his decision to migrate. "Migration out of Thar is normal. In that region, there is not enough to eat or drink. There are no schools, no hospitals so what is the point of staying on?" he asks.

When Khani reached Karachi, he found mixed Hindu, European, Muslim, Parsi and Goan communities enjoying the broad avenues, rich cultural facilities and business opportunities of this port city. As Arif Hasan, an urban architect and leading city historian, explains, the Karachi of today is a multi-ethnic mix, where nearly half the population is of Urdu-speaking migrants from India while the others are a mix of Punjabi, Pushto, Sindhi, Balochi and Hindko.

Experts also maintain that there is on-going migration to Karachi from neighbouring countries, including Bangladesh and Afghanistan.

A recent influx of Saraiki-speaking migrants from Southern Punjab, driven by poverty out of their villages have added to the mosaic of the population, as have one million migrants from Bangladesh and at least 200,000 Afghan refugees.

It is hard to believe that everyone can make a living in a city that has become synonymous with disastrous urban planning and houses some of the largest slum dwellings in the world. But although the pressures are intense on a job market that cannot grow fast enough to keep up with the population, it still made sense for someone like Khani to seek his fortune in Karachi.

Khani has worked his way up from a wage labourer to an office assistant. Some men from his family too have joined him in the city. He has also got his mother the medical treatment she needed and brought his sister over for schooling. But despite all of this, he says that when he goes to sleep it is the desert of Thar that he sees in his mind's eye.

"I wanted to give to my people the things that I used to see on television at a local hotel in my village, but I couldn't do it. I love my village. I spent my childhood playing in its desert. But now all I remember are hungry people, their ragged clothes and thirsty cattle. I often think that maybe I did not do the right thing by leaving. In some corner of my heart this feeling stays with me," says Khani.

The government of Pakistan has made an extra attempt to induce professionals to work in Thar by building a few hospitals and schools in the region. These, however, remain empty. All it takes is a chance for a better life in the city and some education and it is a given that the person will not return to the desert.

Thar, however, is not the only area in Pakistan from which people are migrating to Karachi. Nazimabad is a huge area in northern Karachi, famous for its lively community of Mohajirs (Urdu-speaking immigrants who came to Pakistan from India after the Partition of 1947). It was also the setting for the tumultuous politics of Karachi in the 1980s and 1990s when the Mohajir-based political party (MQM) took on the state apparatus in an effort to win more jobs and control of the city. Thousands died in the clashes with police and para-military forces.

But Khairan, a stout woman in her 40s, was still sent to the city by her husband. She left her village near the town of Bahawalpur in the Punjab because her husband wanted her to bring in money for the family. She landed up in at her sister's house in a slum dwelling in Nazimabad. Fifteen years later, she still lives here, but her family's little room now boasts a television, washing machine, tape recorder, juicer, VCR and a sewing machine.

"When I came to Karachi I did not think that I could live here alone. My husband did not come because he said he had to look after our land. Now I realise that this was just an excuse because our land is totally arid. My husband is lazy and does not want to work," she says.

In the early years as a new migrant, Khairan could not hold a full-time job since she had three young children to look after. She began with dish-washing and sweeping in the houses of the affluent and as her children - now seven in number - grew older, she worked longer hours and had her daughters trained as seamstresses.

Khairan's daughters work at home on the sewing machine and she is proud of her family's achievements. "Today we have the respect of our whole clan," she says. What she does not add, however, is that this respect has been achieved at the cost of her marriage. A few years ago, her husband took a second wife in the village. According to Khairan, she did not have the courage to rebel against him and still continues to send him one-third of her earnings long after her children refused to send their shares.

"But when he arranged the marriage of my 18-year-old daughter to a 60-year-old man I could not bear it. My children supported me, but my husband threatened to divorce me if I did not agree to the marriage. My sons said that he would never divorce me because he enjoyed receiving my money," says Khairan. She took a risk and stuck to her position and to her amazement, this time it was her husband who backed down and let Khairan have her way.

"I consider my migration to the city as the greatest accomplishment of my life. It has set an example for the women and children of my clan. Yes, it did result in my husband taking a second wife, which maybe would not have happened if we had remained together," she adds.

As more and more women are being sent from villages in the Punjab, particularly the economically backward Southern belt of the province, to earn for their families in Karachi, the beginnings of long-term repercussions can already be seen. For instance, Rubina, a mother of six, is currently refusing her husband's orders to come home to their village in the Punjab.

He originally sent her here, with a six-month-old baby in her arms to work off the debt he had incurred during their wedding. She has worked as a housemaid for 16 years in Karachi, supporting her family and fending off her husband with money. He is a village butcher and comes down to Karachi a few times a year to beat her and extract her earnings.

Never educated herself, she put all her children in school, but her husband refused to allow the girls to study beyond the primary level. "They have been working in houses since they were old enough. They are good girls, they can work well," she adds.

But her husband says that she should have no say over what happens to her daughters. "He also accuses me of being a prostitute. My sons agree with him because they too are bad. But what is the use of being a mother if I can have no say?" she asks. This time she has hidden her savings, and though he has already beaten her for showing reluctance to come home, she is still trying to find a way to stay on in the city.

Understandably, long stretches of time apart take a toll on relationships. While men have the option of taking second wives, women sometimes take action too. Rubina admits she has a lover in the city, which is one of the reasons why her husband wants her to return - because he suspects this. "When a woman lives alone, without her husband, she has to live somehow, right? He sent me here against my wishes, and now I do not want to go back," she says with defiance as she lights a cigarette.

While keeping the family divided has been a survival strategy mainly for women immigrants in Karachi, it is not the same for everyone. "I cannot put my pain into words," says Munawar Bakht, a graying man of slight build and neat demeanour. "Or explain how painful my working here is for my wife and children back home," he says.

Bakht grew up in Jhang, an agricultural district in the Punjab, and came to Karachi as a young boy. In those days, "all could fill their bellies" by finding work, but it is no longer that easy. Bakht enjoyed a good life in the city - he got a Master's degree and a job with an Urdu newspaper. But when he retired, he had to travel across the country in search of suitable work. "An educated man is always afraid of getting into anything illegal so he does not progress and make money. I know countless people from Jhang who cannot read or write, but are willing to do anything and have made their fortunes in Karachi," says Bakht. Bakht fell sick and went home to Jhang, where for a few years his family struggled on the edge of poverty.

Today he is back in Karachi, alone. He works as a transcriber in another paper, but can no longer afford to bring his family over again. "If the government would make policies to allow the small towns and cities to progress then people would not have to migrate," he says.

Karachi is full of stories of such women and men who have left their families to make a living. They have grown attached to this city; and its vibrancy and sense of opportunity seem to be enough to overcome the lack of amenities and the crowded living conditions that they have to endure. Even the political turmoil and army operations over the last few years have not driven migrants back to their villages. This is both a statement of how seriously the rural economy is declining, as well as a tribute to the drawing power of Pakistan's largest city.

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