News Desk
DERA BUGTI, Balochistan — The gas fields of Sui, Loti, and Pir Koh have powered Pakistan for more than seventy years. They lit homes in Lahore, fueled factories in Karachi, and became symbols of national progress. But for the families who live above these wells, the wealth beneath their soil has translated into deprivation. Children study under trees, mothers give birth without medical care, and the human toll of resource wealth is written in suffering.
Education was supposed to be the cornerstone of development in Balochistan. Successive governments promised schools funded by gas royalties. Yet in Dera Bugti, most classrooms remain unfinished or abandoned. Children walk miles to reach makeshift schools, often without books, desks, or teachers.
“We hear of budgets in the millions,” said a teacher in Pir Koh. “But our children still study under trees.”
The absence of education has left literacy rates among the lowest in Pakistan. Generations grow up without the skills needed to escape poverty, tethering the district to a cycle of deprivation.
The health crisis is equally stark. Maternal mortality in Balochistan is among the highest in the country. Clinics are scarce, and hospitals are understaffed. Women give birth at home, without medical care, risking their lives and those of their children.
“We gave Pakistan its energy,” said a mother in Sui, “but we cannot even give birth safely in our own homes.”
Doctors report that preventable deaths are common, fueled by the absence of clean water, sanitation, and medical facilities. The irony is bitter: billions in gas revenues flow outward, while mothers die for lack of basic care.
Economists call it the “resource curse” — when wealth extracted from the ground enriches outsiders but impoverishes locals. In Dera Bugti, the curse is written in broken promises. Contracts are signed, budgets allocated, but projects remain unfinished. Development funds vanish into corruption, leaving families with nothing.
The result is a district where billions have been spent but little has been built. “Every election brings new promises,” said a tribal elder in Loti. “But the only thing that arrives is another pipeline.”
The neglect has fuelled resentment and insurgency. Militants target pipelines and installations, seeing them as symbols of exploitation. Each attack prompts the state to tighten security, often militarizing the district, but rarely addressing the underlying deprivation.
For residents, the presence of armed guards around gas facilities is a daily reminder that the wealth beneath their soil is protected for outsiders, not for them. “We guard the pipelines,” said a young man in Sui, “but our own homes remain in darkness.”
In national debates, Balochistan’s plight is rarely discussed. The province is seen as a resource hub, not a community. Its minerals are symbols of national pride, but its poverty is treated as a local inconvenience.
For the families who still cook over wood fires and drink from dirty wells, the irony is cruel. Their land fuels the nation, but their children study under trees and their mothers die without care.
In Balochistan, the wealth beneath the soil has brought prosperity to the nation, but suffering to its people.
