Habib Khan, Quetta: Saindak has been the first Copper Gold project much before Reko Dik in the Chaghai district of Balochistan.
The correct pronunciation of Saindak in Balochi is Siah(en) Dagg (a black passage or way) and the Professor of Balochi language Prof. Yousuf Mengal told me that some say it is not “Dagg” but “Dik” as for Reko Dik, and meaning of Dik is “a hillock” or a small hill,. So, I also say that it had come from “Sayen dagg” I.e. “three ways”.
When employment for Saindak was initiated, I was already settled in Gillette in Hub, which was my 5th job since graduating, but the “keera” (worm) of changing jobs was still alive, and I was planning at least to apply for a job in Saindak. After all it was a prestigious project.
My friend and cousin Sher Ali who was an officer in the Bahrain Army used to come on vacation every year, and we used to have dinner to catch up with the year’s proceedings, and when he came in 1994 he told me that he was not going back as he had secured a job in Saindak. So I decided to go and visit Saindak and with Sher Ali’s help see the place before deciding to apply or not.
Now Saindak is almost 1500 km away from Hub but since Noshkay was on the way, so a trip to my village during vacations, then to Saindak and with a further potential trip to neighboring Zahidan in Iran seemed a reasonable plan.
After staying at my village Noshkay for a week and after obtaining a Irani rahdari (permit to cross border) from the deputy commissioner me and my cousin Mahmood Khan set off for Saindak enjoying the travel through Dalbandin, Yakmach, and Nokundi, to Taftan where another cousin Tahir Khan the Tehsildar of the area was waiting for us, served us a hefty dinner and gave us comfortable beds to rest after the tiresome 600km long journey.
Next morning we left early for Saindak and found Sher Ali in a jolly mood, and he first took us around to the quarries and then to the processing plant and then asked us to wait in the reception area for lunch.
In the reception area I met a gentleman named Karim Agha from our village; we happily hugged and he told me that he was employed as a dispatcher, and that his job was to record the mails that were sent out from Saindak.
“Oh wow”, I said, and “how many letters do you register in one day”, I asked.
He laughed and said, “no no Habib Jan, hardly a letter during a week.”
I impulsively said, “You sit and wait the whole week to register one letter?” And he triumphantly answered “at least I sit and wait here, there are others who are employed like me but are hardly seen at the site”.
Well, I thought this must be just at the lower level, the management must be highly organised and disciplined after all this is a prestigious project for the country.
Can I meet someone from the management? I asked Sher Ali after lunch.
“Yes sure”, he said. “I will take you to the managing director at an appropriate moment, in the meantime let’s see if I can arrange a meeting with the Chinese, English speaking manager.
We couldn’t meet that manager after all but as we were going towards the building, I noticed that a door opened from the production hall,and a Chinese man came out and stood just next to the exterior of the building.
What is he doing? Asked Sher Ali, Sheepishly Karim Agha said, “I think he is urinating”.
What? I almost yelled. “Don’t they have toilets?
Someone from the group said they do have but they often do this.
My frustration increased a little more but then I again consoled myself. “This issue may be only with this Chinese guy. I am sure the Pakistani management will be much more cultured and civilised,” I said to myself. After all this is a prestigious project for the country.
As we were having tea and chatting about the future of the project, I noticed in the distance a gentleman in white shalwar qameez sitting alone on a small hill, probably enjoying the scenery around the plant.
Ah! there he comes, said Sher Ali, noticing him too.
“Who is he”? I asked.
“The MD,” answered Sher Ali.
“Ah! great”, I said, “let’s go Sher Jan, you introduce me to him and then I need to talk to him for a while.
“No no,” said Sher Ali, “this is not an appropriate moment”.
“Why not” I said, “he is alone and free and the weather is magnificent, this seems to be the best moment.”
“Well”‘ Sher Ali laughed, and said, “You may try your luck, but my apologies, I can not accompany you.”
I thought that would be fine and started to move towards the place when I heard Sher Ali’s alarming voice. “He may be under the influence of some drugs at this time.”
“What drugs dammit??” I recoiled like a spring.
Charas, charas said Karim Agha, making his hands and body move in hare krishna hare rama style.
“Oh my goodness, the managing director is a charsi,” I said to myself. “Who has employed him?”, I asked.
Someone said, “probably an idiot did.”
This later proved to be true, as only an idiot can give away the precious mining project to the Chinese in contract with Balochistan and getting just 2% of the total revenue.
I immediately thanked Sher Ali for his time and hospitality, and left for Taftan.
“What about your meeting with the MD?” Sher Ali taunted while seeing us off.
I remembered a dialogue from an Urdu film, “Bhaar me gayi meeting, hame apni jan pyari hai”
(To hell with the meeting I must save my life first).
And that was the end of the prestigious project for me. Our subsequent plan of Zahidan proved equally disastrous, for totally different reasons though. Will write about it some other time.
