The price of bread for mine workers

Ask a mother what her heart endures when her son descends into a distant coal mine for work. She will not speak of the beauty of the Shangla mountains, nor of politics, nor of the government’s performance. She will simply say, “May Allah bring him back safe and sound.” Yet every mother’s prayer is not answered.
Last month’s accident in the Soranj area of Balochistan once again plunged Shangla into mourning. Thirty-two men from the same village lost their lives in a coal mine. Homes filled with grief, protests erupted, political representatives faced questions, voices rose against unsafe and illegal mines, and the government announced financial aid and grants. After a few days, life will appear to return to normal, headlines will shift, and this tragedy may be buried beneath the next piece of news. But in those thirty-two homes, life may never return to normal.
Every year, coal mines claim the lives of workers. An accident occurs, bodies are recovered, protests break out, demands for compensation and blood money (diyat) arise, debate rages for a few days, and then silence returns. Each new year repeats the story of the last. This time, therefore, we must frame the question differently. The question is not merely why these workers died in the coal mine. The deeper question is why so many people from Shangla are forced to work in coal mines in the first place. The answer lies in poverty, unemployment, and limited opportunity.
A young man who has not completed his education, acquired no marketable skill, found no work in his own area, and lacks the capital to start even a small business still faces constant household expenses. When someone offers him a place in the mines of Balochistan, Cherat, Darra Adam Khel, or Punjab with the promise of a certain sum, he goes—despite knowing the dangers. And there the real tragedy begins.
These men do not enter the mines merely to extract coal; they go to secure bread for their families. The money that reaches home pays children’s school fees, buys household groceries, funds a sister’s wedding, covers parents’ medication, and sometimes meets the installment of a loan. This is why simply closing the mines is not a complete solution. If every unsafe mine were shut tomorrow and no alternative employment existed for these families of Shangla, the same question would return: what will these people do now? To fight poverty, a ban alone is not enough; an alternative must also be provided.
The thirty-two individuals who died in the Soranj accident must not be reduced to a statistic. Their deaths leave us with a critical question. If we only offer condolences, pay compensation, and then wait for the next accident, nothing will change. Instead of counting bodies after every tragedy, we must count the reasons behind them. Instead of merely handing out death grants each time, we must create sustainable opportunities.

Azhar “Azad” Mughal
Teacher, Writer, Translator and Poet