In the Wake of Migration
Most research about migration is presented from the
perspective of migrants - their aspirations, and the challenges they face to
gain acceptance in the host country. Little attention is given to how the home
country copes with their absence.
A society is a complex weave of its people, each having a
part, however small, in completing the tapestry of a nation, much like the
biological term, mutualism, that binds species together. Removing an element results in what is called widowing,
jeopardizing the survival of a species without the interdependence it thrives
on.
The majority of migrants are young, skilled, ambitious,
self-confident and with a vision for a better future – all qualities a country
needs of its people in order to move ahead. Some leave to never look back,
investing in their new identities. Others remain connected to their home
country, contributing financially, sharing expertise or just connected by
nostalgia. Nevertheless, removing themselves from their home country has an
impact affecting the whole cultural structure from the family to the
state.
Pakistan has been and continues to be altered by migration.
Settled over millennia by people from as far away as China and Greece, the real
exodus of populations occurred during the 1947 Partition. 12-15 million
migrated to and from Pakistan, leaving in their wake, uprooted neighbourhoods,
split families, a denial of shared cultures that became increasingly polarized.
Partition migration also created opportunities for new
cultural identities, a good example being Pakistani cinema. The two dozen film
studios of Lahore mostly owned by non-Muslims became deserted as under-production
films, along with equipment, were taken by the owners who migrated to Bombay. In
Lahore, clerks became managers, technicians took to cinematography. The young
director Shaukat Hussain Rizvi, almost singlehandedly set up Pakistan’s first
film studio, shooting films with a single camera. Similar stories in business,
agriculture, industry, education and town planning enabled the emergence of a
distinct Pakistani culture, that grew and flourished for a few decades. Until,
that is, the next trickle of exodus in the 70s that has, in the last few years,
become a raging torrent.
‘Dubai Chalo’ ( lets go to Dubai) began in the 70s, draining
the country of skilled labourers and technicians, followed by the financial
elite. More subtle forms of migration stem from a sense of rejection. Classical
music maestro, Baray Ghulam Ali returned to India as did Quratul Ain Haider,
supposedly after criticism of her novel Aag Ka Darya. Naheed Siddiqui, who
promoted Pakistan as an exponent of Khatak dance, left Pakistan after her
television show Payal was banned by the Zia ul Haq regime. Sohail Rana’s music
programme for children, Kalyon ki Mala, along with other music programmes, was
discontinued. The rich cultural expressions that defined Pakistan were deprived
of a public platform, and soon faded from the collective memory.
Many intellectuals and artists unwilling to live in Zia ul
Haq’s Pakistan and the subsequent uncertainty and insecurity, and droves of
young people heading to universities, encouraged by their parents to not
return, emptied the country of its most dynamic citizens.
Pakistan today is focused on economic survival, having
forgotten the need for cultural survival. Cultural survival is not just music
and dance, but also the role of community and family structures. As young
people settle abroad, their elderly parents are left to fend for themselves,
and are deprived of their traditional role in nurturing their grandchildren.
Economic migration within the country, leaves village women to bring up
children without their father, and take on the responsibility of managing their
homes alone.
‘Homing’ refers to the return of migrants to their home
country. It is said two out of every five migrants return home, bringing with
them new values and skills, but rarely finding the infrastructure to absorb their
potential contributions. Many hold onto an imagined homeland through memories,
stories, and social media conversations, which are challenged by the changed
ground realities the ‘left behind’ have become accustomed to. While many heroic
Pakistanis have established schools and hospitals, created world class
footballs, performed open heart surgeries, invented solar mobile networks, and
non-explosive fertilizers, in the main, society has accommodated itself to
mediocrity.
The South African statesman Thabo Mbeki said he longed for
the day when African mathematicians, physicists, doctors, engineers, computer
specialists and economists would return and find solutions to Africa’s
problems. Many Pakistanis would echo that sentiment, but unless Pakistan
invests in world class institutions, we cannot expect a Dr Naweed Syed to
invent the brain-chip connection, or a Dr Ayub Khan to invent the Ommaya
Reservoir in Pakistan.
Durriya Kazi
Karachi
March 9,
2025
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