The price of chocolate

Young people in Pakistan, especially less privileged children, get no attention, the writer observes.

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Children walk across a road amid dense fog on a cold winter morning in Lahore on February 2, 2025. PHOTO: AFP

February 19, 2025

ISLAMABAD – THE obsession of our politicians and others with the youth is undeniable. Since the country figured out the link between the rise in Imran Khan’s popularity and Pakistan’s youth bulge, every Boomer and Gen X-er in public life and politics (and those in between) is keen to find a spot on the pedestal that the young of this country are holding up. The youth is the new black, it seems, to use fashion lingo from a long time ago.

Bilawal Bhutto-Zardari makes it a point to mention his own age and that of the country’s majority in nearly every speech, with a nod to how this is one page in terms of the number of years lived, which will eventually trump the oldies who may be popular or are trying to be popular with young Pakistanis.

Maryam Nawaz, chief minister of Punjab, recently ended a whirlwind tour of her province’s higher learning institutes, which was celebrated with much pomp and show. It was a bit reminiscent of Kamala Harris’s election campaign in terms of its energy. And this weekend, the chief of army staff also addressed a large gathering of students, which was covered widely. His address came after a number of military officials, including the ISPR head, also visited different universities and colleges to address groups of students.

This interest in Pakistan’s young population is not without reason. The target is the young adult, who is relatively privileged, educated, and a voter. In other words, it is someone who fits the profile of the voter who had made the PTI a phenomenon of sorts. But outside of this possible voter, who has to be won over, the young in this country, especially less privileged children, get no attention. Not even that of the policymakers.

Just consider the story of the 12-year-old who died in Rawalpindi last week. She died of wounds inflicted on her by her employers. According to one story, the woman she worked for beat her with a rolling pin; by the time the child reached hospital, she had multiple fractures including one on her skull, which proved fatal. Her crime? She was held responsible by her employers for some missing chocolate in their home.

The couple who had employed her have eight children of their own and yet had no qualms about breaking the head of someone else’s offspring. It appears that they couldn’t even be bothered to take 12-year-old Iqra to hospital; some stories report that a woman who came to the house to teach the children the Quran took her to hospital. But it was already too late. She survived mere days before succumbing to her injuries. The couple has since been arrested but it remains to be seen how long they will spend behind bars.

The story has jolted no one. It has barely been mentioned outside news bulletins and newspaper pages with a few quotes from mid-level government officials who ‘have taken notice’. As I write this, I am not even sure what more attention for such a case would achieve. After all, in the past, when a similar story has been noticed, it leads to just a temporary media blitz, before it is forgotten.

Initially, there is noisy coverage, followed by outrage and anger. Then come the statements, visits and photo ops of government people and a quick court trial. Through all this, the focus is on harsh punishments for the culprit; little attention is paid to any mid- to long-term strategy which might help to prevent vulnerable children from ending up working in homes where they are in danger. But then, as a society we are least interested in complex policy issues; instead, we prefer instant solutions and fast food. Overnight fixes are the name of our game.

Hence, few of those who were outraged over the Tayyaba abuse case of 2016 would have any idea of what happened later in the story. Tayyaba was the child who proved to be luckier than 12-year-old Iqra. Her story made headlines when pictures came forward of her bruised and injured face. Despite the beatings and burns, she survived after weeks of treatment, and the culprits served their eventually reduced sentence.

Similarly, those who spent weeks discussing the Fatima case never bothered to find out what transpired later. Fatima was a nine-year-old who was allegedly killed in 2023 while working at the haveli of a landlord in Khairpur. The suspicious circumstances in which she was found and the CCTV footage that came to light hinted at abuse — domestic and sexual. The accused in Fatima’s case, till last reports, was still making his way through the judicial system.

But none of these cases has ever led to any pressure for reform or debate about what to do in a country where, according to an International Labour Organisation report from 2022, one in four households employs a child for domestic work. In the face of deepening poverty, there is little hope that these statistics can change; for all the attention the issue gets from policymakers, they don’t appear to think there is much to be done, except push for harsh sentences for those who get caught.

But is it simply because they have no answers or because there is no political gain? Some of those who rule us think that reaching out to university and college students will win them the next election or cleanse Pakistan of the PTI and Imran Khan. But it seems as if those who are so poor that they have to place their young daughters in the homes of others to be abused and killed have even less to offer.

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