April 23, 2025
KARACHI – Karachi’s water crisis won’t be solved with billion-rupee mega-projects but through people-centred reforms that give informal settlements legal recognition and reliable services they can count on.
At the crack of dawn, around 6am, Amina is already in line with two buckets. She’ll wait nearly an hour for water — if it comes. If not, she’ll walk 15 minutes to a neighbour who sells it by the jerrycan. She does this every day before making breakfast for her family.
During the day, when her five-year-old needs to use the toilet, she’ll walk him to the end of the lane where a few families share a makeshift bathroom. It has no door, no water, and no drainage. In her neighbourhood, like many of Karachi’s informal settlements, clean water and safe sanitation access is a daily struggle.
Amina’s story isn’t unique. It reflects the everyday reality of millions of people in Karachi’s katchi abadis (informal settlements) that house nearly half the city’s population. These communities are often lumped together, treated as a single, uniform category in policy discussions, as if every katchi abadi faces the same conditions and challenges. But in truth, they vary widely in how much access they have to water, sanitation, and hygiene (WASH) services.
Our recent study of five informal settlements across Karachi reveals just how stark these differences can be. If Karachi is serious about addressing its water and sanitation crisis, the solution does not lie in billion-rupee mega-projects. Real change must begin in the city’s most underserved communities, where even modest investments can dramatically improve daily life for millions. 
A tale of two settlements
Consider the contrast between Manzoor Colony and Ilyas Goth.
Manzoor Colony, a settlement regularised in the early 1990s with support from the Orangi Pilot Project, has basic but functioning infrastructure. Nearly every household has piped water, flush toilets, and overhead storage tanks. As a result, residents report fewer waterborne illnesses compared to other settlements.
Ilyas Goth, by contrast, is a small settlement located next to an open sewer adjacent to the Lyari Expressway near the Teen Hatti Flyover. No household has piped water or a private toilet. Residents collect water from neighbours or a nearby dhaba, using only around 13 litres per person per day. This is not just below international benchmarks; it is lower than usage in other water-scarce areas of Karachi and falls beneath the World Health Organisation’s (WHO) emergency minimum of 15 litres per person per day used in disaster zones. Sanitation access is equally dire. Only one public toilet exists in the entire community, reserved for women and costing Rs20 per use. Unsurprisingly, three out of four households in Ilyas Goth reported a waterborne illness in the past two months.
Does legal recognition help? It depends
A key difference between these two settlements is their status in the eyes of the state. Manzoor Colony is regularised, whereas Ilyas Goth is not. But our study suggests that legal recognition, also known as regularisation, is neither a pre-requisite nor a guarantee of better WASH outcomes.
Take Sherpao Basti, for example. Though unregularised, this settlement is located near the affluent KDA Scheme 1 and fares better than many regularised neighbourhoods. Two-thirds of households have piped water, and nearly all have on-premises flush toilets. In fact, water availability is high enough that residents from neighbouring settlements often come here to collect water.
Compare that with Quaid-i-Azam Colony, a recently regularised settlement that still struggles. Only one-third of households have piped water, and the rest rely on costly private borewells. Despite its legal status, this community has yet to see the benefits that regularisation is assumed to bring.
The missing link — institutional fragmentation
Why does regularisation not always improve service access? The answer lies in how Karachi’s institutions have evolved.
As one Karachi Metropolitan Corporation (KMC) official explained: “Before 1996, water and sewage services in Karachi were managed as part of the KMC. Since KMC was often involved in the land acquisition process for regularisation, this allowed water and sanitation to be considered within that process. But in 1996, KWSC [Karachi Water and Sewerage Corporation] became a separate utility, and it’s no longer involved in regularisation.”
In earlier decades, even though the Sindh Katchi Abadis Act did not formally require the water utility to provide services during regularisation, the city government’s integrated structure meant that WASH needs were still addressed. But today, with KWSC operating separately, that connection has broken down. Newly regularised settlements are left in a limbo, recognised by the land department but ignored by the service provider.
These institutional shifts make it clear that regularisation, without clear mandates for service provision, is not enough. Karachi needs to amend its processes to ensure that the utility and relevant government bodies are jointly responsible for delivering basic services to regularised settlements.
More than pipes and toilets
While regularisation and basic infrastructure are often seen as milestones of progress, even in settlements where these boxes are checked, residents continue to face unsafe conditions. Having taps and toilets does not always mean people have safe water or hygienic sanitation. In four of the five settlements we studied, most households technically used improved water sources and sanitation facilities. The infrastructure was there: piped connections, on-premises toilets, and in some cases, water storage systems.
But dig a little deeper, and a different story emerges. Intermittent water supply and poor-quality internal plumbing often result in cross-contamination between sewage and drinking water lines. Household-level water treatment is rare. Combined, this means that even with infrastructure in place, the water reaching people’s homes may be unsafe to drink. The result is a continued burden of disease, especially among children and the elderly, and rising health expenditures that low-income households can ill afford.
Targeted interventions, not mega projects
Understanding why some settlements fare better than others is key to designing smarter, more equitable policies. Yet the default policy response remains the same. Policymakers continue to favour large-scale infrastructure projects, such as new pipelines and desalination plants.
Our findings suggests a better path forward. Improved governance, targeted investments, and community-centred solutions can yield far more sustainable outcomes. For instance, building gender-inclusive, community-managed sanitation facilities could improve both public health and dignity. Promoting low-cost household water treatment, through filters or chlorination, can significantly reduce disease burden. Supporting modest upgrades to internal plumbing networks can eliminate sources of contamination. These are not massive interventions, but they address the root causes of inequality more effectively than projects that bypass the city’s most vulnerable residents.
To achieve lasting change, Karachi must adopt a more comprehensive approach to regularisation. Legal recognition must go hand in hand with actual service delivery. This means mandating that public utilities provide WASH services after a settlement is regularised. It also requires dedicated funding for improving internal infrastructure and support for civil society organisations that bridge the gap between residents and the state.
Not all of Karachi’s informal settlements are the same. Some are holding on. Others are struggling to survive. But all are asking for more than just a dot on the map or a connection to the main line. They need services that are safe, reliable, and affordable. If Karachi is to become a more equitable and resilient city, policymakers must move beyond infrastructure and performative legislation, and commit to meaningful, people-centred reform.
This article is the first of a four-part series on Karachi’s water issues.
The author is an assistant professor of Urban & Environmental Policy (UEP) and Environmental Studies (ENVS) at Tufts University. He was previously an assistant professor at Habib University.