Pakistan Diary: Tharparkar: Hope Blossoming in the Desert

X: @vivekbhavsar

At five in the morning, she steps out of her mud house with a pot of water balanced on her head. The desert sun hasn’t begun to blaze yet, but there’s already a fierce hope gleaming in her eyes — to reach school. This is the story of young Zahra, Fatima, Sumaira, and thousands of other girls in Pakistan’s Tharparkar district who walk four to six kilometers every day just to attend school. Drought, poverty, and often opposition from within their own homes can’t deter their determination. In a land where nothing grows easily, the courage of these girls blooms with defiant brilliance.

Tharparkar is among the most underdeveloped districts in Pakistan. With annual rainfall barely crossing 100 mm and summer temperatures soaring past 45°C, education here is not seen as a necessity — it’s a distant dream. Especially for girls, education is often considered a luxury. And yet, over the last few years, things have slowly begun to change.

Local NGOs, particularly those focused on women’s empowerment, along with a few international aid organisations, have launched targeted campaigns to promote girls’ education. Initiatives like the Thar Education Alliance have begun to shift mindsets among parents. Small, community-run schools have started to appear in scattered hamlets, often staffed by local women.

Despite the lack of formal government infrastructure — with teacher shortages and minimal facilities — these local women, affectionately called “Teacher Didi” (teacher sister), have become the pillars of hope. Even if not highly educated themselves, their presence brings both familiarity and trust, encouraging families to send their daughters to school.

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In most Tharparkar villages, over 70% of girl students walk to school. Many do so barefoot across rocky terrain, covering distances up to six kilometers each way. On their path, they face searing heat, swirling dust storms, and even the occasional wandering camel or wild animal.

“I want to become a doctor so I can treat my mother’s illness,” says nine-year-old Zahra, her eyes shining with innocence and grit. Her father is a daily-wage laborer. Her mother, who never had the chance to go to school, tears up watching Zahra cradle her worn-out books.

Today, the female literacy rate in Tharparkar hovers around 29%. But in villages with active community engagement, school enrollment among girls has nearly doubled in the past five years. Studies show that in areas where girls are being educated, child marriages have significantly reduced, and awareness about health and nutrition has grown.

Educated girls are slowly beginning to find livelihoods — through tailoring, embroidery, and even as teachers in their own villages. These may be modest beginnings, but they’re drops of change nourishing an otherwise parched landscape.

The girls of Tharparkar don’t feature in headlines. Their homes have no internet, no digital access, and no political clout. But in their steady footsteps, dust-covered book covers, and unwavering gaze lies a quiet revolution. One that speaks louder than slogans.

Compared to revolutions written in slogans and speeches, this one — unfolding silently under the desert sky — feels far more powerful.