Life Beyond Waste: Work and Infrastructure in Urban Pakistan

LIFE BEYOND WASTE

Work and Infrastructure in Urban Pakistan

WAQAS H. BUTT

STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

STANFORD, CALIFORNIA

Stanford University Press

Stanford, California

© 2023 by Waqas Hameed Butt. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press.

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free, archival-quality paper

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Butt, Waqas H. (Waqas Hameed), author.

Title: Life beyond waste : work and infrastructure in urban Pakistan / Waqas H. Butt.

Other titles: South Asia in motion.

Description: Stanford, California : Stanford University Press, 2023. | Series: South Asia in motion | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2022041080 (print) | LCCN 2022041081 (ebook) | ISBN 9781503634770 (cloth) | ISBN 9781503635722 (paperback) | ISBN 9781503635739 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Refuse collectors—Pakistan—Lahore. | Refuse and refuse Disposal—Social aspects—Pakistan—Lahore. | Caste—Pakistan—Lahore. | Lahore (Pakistan)—Social conditions.

Classification: LCC HD8039.R462 B88 2023 (print) | LCC HD8039.R462 (ebook) | DDC 363.72/8209549143—dc23/eng/20230224

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022041080

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022041081

Cover design by Daniel Benneworth-Gray

Photography courtesy of the author

Typeset by Newgen in Adobe Caslon Pro 10.75/15 pt

SOUTH ASIA IN MOTION

EDITOR

Thomas Blom Hansen

EDITORIAL BOARD

Sanjib Baruah

Anne Blackburn

Satish Deshpande

Faisal Devji

Christophe Jaffrelot

Naveeda Khan

Stacey Leigh Pigg

Mrinalini Sinha

Ravi Vasudevan

For my Nano, Saeeda Bagum

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

List of Illustrations

Preface

Introduction

1. An Order for Urban Life

2. The Appearance of Things

3. Surplus and Its Excess

4. The Unevenness of Intimacy

5. The Possibility of Reproduction

Coda

Notes

References

Index

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Even before its inception, this book has been shaped by the thought, insights, effort, concern, and care of any number of people. Over the course of several years, a handful of individuals, for whom I use pseudonyms in this book, have exhibited a generosity when sharing much about their lives and worlds, as well as that of many others. That generosity has molded my thinking and writing in important ways. Most obviously, I would not have been able to get a sense of how waste work and processes of urbanization have transformed the city of Lahore without their words, observations, and explanations. They made clear how life in Lahore—of individuals and communities—is inextricably linked to their own lives and that of their kin. Aside from such empirical observations, however, their generosity demanded I make certain decisions about what to include and not in my writing. In making those decisions, one confronts the ethical substance of intellectual work. My hope is that the words appearing across the pages of this book honor the generosity that these individuals have repeatedly shown me over the years.

There were also many others—workers, supervisors, attendance checkers, drivers, junkyard owners, intermediaries, and managers—who showed and explained to me the everyday workings of Pakistan’s waste infrastructures. They let me accompany them on numerous occasions, responded to my questions, and tried their best to clarify what seemed so obvious to them. Many others did not show any interest in my research, or, as was the case with Pashtun workers, did not speak to me due to surveillance and policing by the Pakistani state. Ethnography must recognize not only those who are active participants but also, those who are present even if they are unwilling or unable to participate, since their lives, too, are part of the worlds about which we write.

Several people in Lahore were instrumental to starting and completing the research that went into this book. After an outdoor lunch in FC College, where he listened to my initial frustrations conducting fieldwork, Imdad Hussain not only explained the intricacies of local government and its relationship to waste management but also put me in touch with an alumnus of FC College who was a manager at Lahore Waste Management Company. That alumnus, Sohail Anwar Malik, allowed me to spend time with a field staff of supervisors, drivers, and municipal workers. Later, Shazia Khan in Lahore arranged a meeting with informal workers when they were being prevented from collecting household waste. This initial meeting was an introduction as much to these workers as to the politics of waste in urban Pakistan. Those politics have not diminished in any way. All these initial connections made possible the bulk of my fieldwork and thus, the materials comprising this book.

Rafay Alam, at the time but also more recently, has always created time for conversations about Lahore—its history, politics, and landscapes. I would also like to thank Jatoi Sahb at the Solid Waste Management Department who gave me a broad historical overview of waste disposal and management in Lahore, as well as the office staffs at the SWM Department, the Lahore Waste Management Company, OzPak, and AlBayrak who explained the intricacies of these institutions. Conversations with representatives of the Jharu Kash Mazdoor Union also helped situate waste work within Pakistan’s labor politics. Conversations about research with Hassaan Sipra, Adila Batool, and Muhammad Nawaz Chaudhary increased the breadth of my knowledge about waste throughout Pakistan.

The staff at the archives in the Punjab Civil Secretariat, Punjab Government Library, National College of Arts, and National Institute of Historical and Cultural Research (Quaid-e-Azam University) were all forthcoming and helpful as I conducted archival research. In particular, Abbas Chughtai Sahb and Madam Shamim Jaffri created a space for me over several weeks in the Punjab government archives so I could patiently work through materials related to Lahore, sanitation and public health, architecture, and related topics from the colonial period. I would be remiss not to mention William Glover, who over email gave me initial leads about what archival resources to pursue. Also, Rabia Nadir shared with me a treasure trove of knowledge about history, migration, labor, and spatial dynamics in Lahore over several illuminating conversations at her home and office.

For nearly two decades now, I have returned to Lahore and always found support among friends and family there. I cannot begin to express my gratitude to Sher Ali Khan, Sarah Eleazar, and Zahid Ali for their friendship. Ammar Ali Jan, Tabitha Spence, Abdul Aijaz, Nida Kirmani, and Ali Usman Qasmi have supported this project in their own ways. Zehra Hashmi, Sardar Hussain, Anila Daulatzai, and Muntasir Sattar all helped me figure out how to do fieldwork over the course of many months. Though I have relied upon numerous family members in Lahore and across Pakistan, Imtiaz Mamu, Diddi Baji, and Taya Ammi have created homes for me over the years.

Numerous people in San Diego contributed to this research and writing. Joseph Hankins has been a cornerstone of steadfast support, always ready to have a conversation about any topic or concern popping into my head. Lilly Irani and the Feminist Labor Lab shaped the writing of this book in countless ways, while key interventions of this book would not have been possible without the guidance of Kalindi Vora at a formative moment. I have also found myself returning to courses and conversations with David Pedersen, Joel Robbins, and Steve Parish. Whether in the seminar rooms and hallways of SSB, nearby at Regents Pizza, or out somewhere in North Park, the friendships that grew during my years in San Diego were as much about intellectual companionship as they were about mutual support and care. Michael Berman, Amrita Kurian, Tadeusz Skotnicki, David Pinzur, Allen Tran, Raquel Pacheco, Corinna Most, and Andrew Somerville each in their own way provided the necessary companionship to overcome challenges and grow during my years in San Diego. Also, special thanks to Gary Lee, with whom I shared lengthy discussions over innumerable meals that kept us both nourished in multiple ways.

Various parts of the book have benefited from the contributions of colleagues at conferences, colloquiums, and workshops. Talat Ahmed, Kaveri Qureshi, Ayaz Qureshi, Barbara Harris-White, and Geeta Patel at the University of Edinburgh debated my materials with a rigor that pushed the work in unexpected ways. Radhika Govindrajan and several others at the University of Washington gave me an opportunity to present materials that were developed into the final chapter of the book. I want to thank Ifthikar Dadi for allowing me to share my work with a large and diverse audience at a colloquium at Cornell University. The engagement of Natasha Raheja at the colloquium, as well as at earlier moments when the manuscript was in an embryonic phase, has proven invaluable. I would also like to thank audiences at South Asian University, Lahore University of Management Sciences, and Binghamton University for valuable feedback on various chapters. Sharika Thiranagama, Kamran Asdar Ali, and Michelle Murphy took part in a vibrant book workshop organized by the Centre for Ethnography at UTSC that improved the quality of the manuscript, while furnishing me with the confidence to make clear the stakes of my work. I would also like to express my gratitude to others who have engaged with my work in different venues and at different moments: Nikhil Anand, Naveeda Khan, Surinder Jhodka, Jacob Doherty, Patrick O’Hare, Catherine Alexander, Ayyaz Malick, Amy Zhang, Mythri Jegathesan, Sarah Besky, Josh Reno, Ishita Dey, Nida Rehman, Kavita Philip, Maura Finkelstein, Sophia Stamatopoulou-Robbins, Eli Elinoff, Kasim Trimezy, and Ashveer Pal Singh.

Over the past few years, the colleagues and friends I have made in Toronto have been proven supportive. Shiho Satsuka, Zoe Wool, Firat Bozcali, and Cassandra Hartblay gave insightful comments on various parts of the book. In addition to their intellectual engagements, Katie Kilroy-Marac and Alejandro Paz have been reliable sources of support as I transitioned to life at the UofT. Ajay Rao at the Centre for South Asian Civilization gave me a space to present my work. Naisargi Dave, Francis Cody, and Sumayya Kassamali, in addition to being some of the most careful readers, have been friends who I can also rely upon as colleagues. Conversations with Bradley Dunseith and Alaa Mitwaly are always refreshing and allow me to remain open to the possibilities of academic work. Michael Lambek ensured my transition to Toronto went as smoothly as I could have hoped for, and his support for the book workshop allowed me to finalize a draft of the manuscript that could be submitted for review. The Doug-Ford-mandated friendship of Raheel Khursheed (and Sumayya) ensured we all remained nourished and supported during the COVID-19 lockdown. Despite my long-winded explanations, Pahull Bains did her best to provide support and advice as this project entered its last stages.

I would also like to thank Thomas Blom Hansen for advocating for this project and demonstrating a keen interest in having this book brought into the world. Despite taking up his position at Stanford University Press after I had just submitted my manuscript, Dylan Kyung-lim White has been an editorial beacon, being attentive and guiding the book smoothly at every stage of the process. Having such editorial guidance has allowed me to concentrate my own efforts on honing and finalizing the manuscript itself. Finally, I would like to thank the anonymous reviewers for their detailed, extensive, and thoughtful feedback.

Numerous friends, old and new, have heard about this work over way too many years. In particular, Dilveer Vahali, Mina Vahali, Jan Schotte, Anthony Ngo, Katherine Juhasz, Ondrej Juhasz, Chandani Patel, and Pradeep Ghosh have been sources of relaxation and joy. My family in New Jersey, New York, and Switzerland have kept me in grounded in ways I cannot express. I relish the opportunities to spend time with Tahir, Roz, Sisi, and now Zahid in their home, enjoying some of the best pizza in the tristate area. Watching movies and ordering takeout with Ahmad has always been a blast. The visits of Salman, Erica, Sofia, and Kira during winter holidays are equally rambunctious and lovely affairs. Despite not always appreciating the intricacies of my work, my parents Abdul and Riffat Butt have prioritized care over anything else, which has over the years given way to genuine curiosity and openness. This is unsurprising, as they always taught their children, not to mention many others, to pursue knowledge and be thoughtful about the world around them. I have tried to mirror that approach in the pages of this book: to pursue knowledge about the world that originates from a place of care.

ILLUSTRATIONS

MAPS

0.1. Map of Pakistan

0.2. Map of Lahore

FIGURES

0.1. Municipal handcart containing waste

0.2. Settlement of jhuggīān (huts) in Lahore where some waste workers reside

0.3. Quilts drying inside a jhuggī

1.1. Image from Sullivan’s Report

1.2. Image from Sullivan’s Report

1.3. Plans for working-class flats in Misri Shah area of Lahore

2.1. Waste materials being cleared under supervision

3.1. Shredded and washed plastics

3.2. Shredded plastic drying on roof

3.3. Plastics being accumulated to be sold to manufacturing units

3.4. Two different kinds of copper wiring

4.1. A neighborhood in Lahore where waste workers collect refuse

4.2. Piles of waste in a jhuggī

4.3. Strips of old cloth used to fasten the structure of a residential jhuggī

4.4. A junkyard owner sits with mostly sorted paper waste in front of him

PREFACE

In 1952, several thousand migrants from those areas of Punjab that became part of India, many of whom had been displaced by the violence of Partition and belonged to the Dalit, group known as Gagare, found themselves on what was then Lahore’s agrarian peripheries. A member of the Municipal Corporation of Lahore (MCL) at the time, Mehnga Lal Sapoochvi observed these displaced migrants had no source of livelihood, as the MCL had criminalized begging and robbed them of a possible means of supporting themselves. He then went on to note, despite a policy to have them employed within governmental departments, no possible arrangements have been made to assist them. That same year, in Punjab’s urban centers, sanitation and public health was noted to be deteriorating since conservancy staff and labor had been replaced by inexperienced hands, just as urban populations ballooned due to an influx of refugees and a fall in municipal revenues (Government of Punjab 1952, 45). When confronted by the deteriorating state of sanitation and public health in urban centers, on the one hand, and the arrival of several thousand Dalit migrants onto Lahore’s peripheries on the other, it was self-evident to members of the MCL what was to be done with such migrants: they were to be employed as sweepers.¹

Over the next several decades, low- or noncaste (Dalit) groups,² from the Punjab have migrated across Pakistan for a variety reasons—from the violence of Partition to changes in agrarian livelihoods to expanding urban economies—and consistently found themselves toiling away in the country’s waste infrastructures, whether employed as municipal sanitation workers or laboring under informalized work relations.³ During this time, Lahore’s geographic boundaries have expanded from its traditional center of the Inner City (Andarūn-i-Shehr) and pushed in a southeasterly direction, away from the River Ravi that now abuts its northern and western boundary (see Figure 1.3). As the city expanded in a southeasterly direction, residential and commercial development oriented toward a politically ascendant middle and upper class has taken place on its previously agrarian peripheries, just as the urban poor and working-class communities have been excluded and their settlements within this unevenly urbanizing landscape rendered precarious. Forms of life, ones that have arisen across Pakistan’s rapidly and unevenly urbanizing landscapes, have emerged enmeshed in a world of waste, one in which all kinds of trash, detritus, refuse, discards, and other material things have proliferated from commodities consumed and disposed of on a mass scale.

Today, Lahore’s population produces more waste that at any other point in its history.⁴ Dirt, ash, construction sand, unused cement, broken bricks, paper notebooks, household plastics, metal wiring, animal feces, glass bottles, rotting food, dried-out rotis, human hair—these are just some of the materials produced every day by the city’s estimated 11 million inhabitants. Each day, this collective detritus and refuse is collected, transported, and disposed of by either several thousand workers from the City District Government of Lahore (CDGL) or an equally large number of workers laboring under informalized work relations. Although municipal sanitation workers are almost entirely Christian and informal workers are predominantly Muslim, both classes of workers are assumed to come from low- or noncaste backgrounds. These workers, along with residents, shopkeepers, junkyard owners, intermediaries, suppliers, and countless others, perform an essential form of work in Lahore’s waste infrastructures: they take away waste materials from certain places in the urban landscape and transform them into something else that is then present elsewhere.⁵

It is undeniable that, despite Pakistani cities being often described as veritable wastelands, overwhelmed by their own collective detritus, an enormous amount of work and labor is marshalled on a daily basis to dispose of these materials, so that life in a city like Lahore can go on and be reproduced. Sanitation workers use municipal handcarts to gather waste materials, either by sweeping public spaces with a jhāṛu (handheld broom) or taking them away from private ones for an extra fee. When handcarts reach capacity, workers place a soiled sheet on the ground, tip it over so a portion of the waste falls, and then, usually with the help of another worker, pick up the sheet by its ends and hurl the materials into containers or directly into compactors. Many of these workers make sure to separate potentially valuable items (bachat) from the trash (kachrā or koṛā) to sell to junkyard owners. Simultaneously, informal workers, many of whom reside in jhuggīān̲ (clusters of huts) settlements on Lahore’s urbanizing peripheries, traverse its landscape to collect waste materials from a variety of spaces, both public and private. These workers similarly deposit useless trash onto the back of a donkey cart or refitted motorbike and use soiled sheets to make layers of waste materials. Then, once having made several layers this way, they go over to those same municipal containers or machinery, stand on top of their carts, pick one layer up at a time, and, with the help of another worker, dispose of the materials. Also receiving minimal service fees, informal workers separate from the trash those materials that can be sold forward, but, unlike most municipal workers, these materials are brought back to their households, where they are sorted, accumulated, and eventually sold to junkyard owners and/or intermediaries, who then supply these materials to manufacturing and industrial units where waste materials will be remade into commodities.

Regardless of who collects them, waste materials, having been deemed to no longer be of use or worth, are deposited into municipal containers and then transported through a combination of machinery and human labor to a series of dumping grounds and a landfill site on the city’s outskirts. Other materials enter the city’s waste infrastructures but are directed into other spaces, such as junkyards, warehouses, and industrial units, where they will be remade into commodities. Whether waste materials are disposed of or remade into commodities, much of the everyday work surrounding these materials takes them from one place and makes them present elsewhere, while also transforming those same materials into something else of use again.

The texture of urban life across Pakistan has been transformed by a series of related but distinct processes—from unevenly and rapidly urbanizing landscapes to interlinked spatial, economic, and infrastructural dynamics to entwined levels of proliferating consumption and waste generation. This particular form of work—waste work—reveals the intimate and unexpected connections—social, economic, spatial—between forms of lives and the worlds of waste in urban Pakistan as they have taken shape in recent decades. The account that unfolds across the proceeding pages, in which such connections are unpacked and examined, foregrounds the lives and labors of waste workers and their kin, which have been and continue to be central to the everyday life of Pakistani cities. It is only by being attentive to waste work as a social and political relationship that we can then discern not only how lives and worlds in urban Pakistan have come to be reworked and transformed over the course of several decades but also what possibilities for life have been made available to those whose effort and toil reproduces life—whether of individuals or collectives—in a city like Lahore.

INTRODUCTION

IN OCTOBER 2017, I spoke on the phone to Rameez, who is a sanitation worker employed by the municipality in Lahore. I asked him about the neighborhood and home where the family lives, while he casually told me about upcoming plans for his eldest son’s wedding. Before hanging up, we agreed to meet. A few days later, in the early afternoon, I saw him standing outside the railway ticketing booth that has been converted into a field office for the Solid Waste Management Department. Outside the office, a garbage compactor was parked, awaiting instructions, while a dozen or so sanitation workers were streaming out after having their attendance taken. Inside, the dāroghah (sanitary supervisor) and a couple of workers still lounged about after their shift had ended—I waved and gave them my salaam. After greeting them, I returned to Rameez, who was holding a carton of mangled wood pieces. Though his responsibilities as a municipal sanitation worker are predominantly focused on sweeping and collecting waste materials from public spaces, for which he is paid a wage, Rameez also takes away waste materials from households, for which he gets paid a minimal service fee and keeps some materials that he will deposit at a nearby junkyard and eventually cash in for money (Fig. 0.1). This time, Rameez explained, he was taking the wood pieces home where they would be used for cooking purposes when gas supplies drop.

FIGURE 0.1. Municipal handcart containing waste. Note, in front of image, netted bag hanging, where potentially valuable waste is temporarily stored. Source: Author.

We then sat in one of the many qingqi rickshaws that run dedicated routes between where Rameez lives and where he works. We passed by areas like Quaid-e-Azam Industrial Estate and Township before entering working-class settlements situated on Lahore’s southwestern periphery. For the past decade or so, Rameez, along with his immediate family, has resided in one such settlement named Bāgṛīān̲ (see Map 0.2). In the elapsing two years, the locality’s main road had been incrementally built up, with greater commercial activity, and it is now considerably more pakkā,¹ though still uncomfortably uneven from a spattering of potholes. We eventually reached the galī (alley) that leads to Rameez’s mohallā (neighborhood). In 2015 the alley was made of dirt and rocks. It, too, had been flattened and became somewhat more paved. Houses stand mostly one next to the other, though one or two empty plots of land are sandwiched between them, while agricultural fields growing animal fodder stand just beyond these houses. Though residents of Bāgṛīān̲ perform all kinds of work across Lahore, many municipal workers I came to know reside here and in another nearby area known as Green Town—where Rameez previously resided with his natal family after they migrated to Lahore from more agrarian areas of Punjab.

MAP 0.1. Map of Pakistan

It is not just the locality of Bāgṛīān̲ that has changed during this time; so has the home in which Rameez and his family reside. The front gate has been made more robust. The area just inside the gate, previously used as a kitchen, now has a rickshaw parked there. Beyond another entryway, a compact kitchen has been built, and the two rooms on the first floor have filled out with electronics and furniture. An upper portion, which was under construction at the time of my visit, has an open balcony, with a screen in the floor through which light filters to illuminate the seating area below. As the home has no windows, Rameez told me how the family relishes moments when the first floor gets bathed in sunlight. As Rameez pointed out other incremental changes, an earlier conversation we had in May 2014 flashes through my mind: we discussed household finances, for which Rameez uses the English word circuit, when he turned to me and said, Butt Sahb, in Punjabi, it is said, ‘A home should be one’s own, even if it’s a straw hut (ghar āpṇā hove, bhaven kakhān̲ dī kullī hove).’

MAP 0.2. Map of Lahore

Indeed, homes were constant matters of concern for waste workers and their kin. Residing in a jhuggīān̲ (huts) settlement located along Multan Road, just before Thokar Niaz Baig, Manzoor and his kin, for the past several decades, have been taking away and collecting waste materials from a couple hundred households in two different localities across Lahore. Though also receiving a service fee like Rameez, most of the