After thanking the lovely principal of H.I.G. Public School for the warm welcome and delightful tour of the place, we head over to the nearby Thaddo Dam. The breeze is cool and pleasant but the sun is way too bright. It hasn’t rained much so the land is parched and the dam empty.
The town of Gadap supplies around 60 to 70 per cent of the vegetables in Karachi so one can imagine how important it is for this place to have an adequate water supply all year round.
There has been a good amount of rain two years ago that nearly filled the entire Thaddo dam. The dam, built over 17,110 acres, holds water up to 35 feet and, during that rain in August 2010, it was only two feet away from spilling over! Residents were then advised by engineers that they can use the reserved water on crops for another year and a half.
Sadly, the dam hasn’t collected that much water since 2010.
Before the construction of Thaddo Dam by Chinese engineers, there was only one well and a tube well for irrigation in Gadap but now the area uses 33,000 wells and tube wells that supply water to 33,700 acres.
Six years ago, City Naib Nazim Nasreen said, as mentioned in this article, that one million plants will be planted on 100 acres of land around Thaddo Dam while a chair lift will also be installed here for visitor’s recreation. She also mentioned that boating and other recreations will be provided in Thaddo Dam lake.
While Thaddo dam is a popular place amongst students to hang out for a picnic, there hasn’t been any development to provide recreation for the visitors. I do not see the chair lift or the boats.
Photographing this flower and then failing to identify it reminds me of my college days. My botany class required us to go out on the fields, where I’d enthusiastically collect all the flora I could lay my eyes on. Once back in the lab however, I’d have a tough time identifying more than half of the specimen so I would throw them out promptly.
I’m sharing this to tell you that this is bad practice. If you are studying botany, work hard and do not be like me. Besides, you have Google to make research easier now.
“A mud igloo!” we squeal in delight, causing our host to double over with laughter. This thing is basically an oven of sorts, where wood is turned into coal. We see several of these around town, which means this is still commonly used by the town people.
There are several farm houses in Gadap, most of them owned privately. The owners grow—despite water being scarce and irrigation system non-existent—various fruits and vegetables.
Some of these farm houses offer Karachiites a relaxing time away from the city by renting out cottages during the weekends.
That is a picture of a gate to the entrance of a deep but empty well. It fills up with water when it rains heavily, otherwise you’ll find birds building their nests in there because it’s cooler at the bottom of the well.
I’m no strangers to clay vessels: I grew up watching my grandfather drink water stored in a big clay jar, my in-laws in Hyderabad still store some water in clay jars, I collect a few pots myself (which I still haven’t used), and I serve Masood tea in a clay cup every morning.
And yet, seeing those pretty clay pots lined up excites me. We run towards it, have a glass of cool water, and then unanimously agree that it tastes much better than refrigerated water.
We stay around for an hour or so, take pictures, munch on very sour tamarind fruits, and just walk around and admire all the fruit-bearing trees. Too bad the chikoo and oranges were still unripe.
Speaking of chikoo, I have a story to tell you. A cousin of Masood from Mumbai, a charming young girl, comes to visit us in Hyderabad a few summers ago. “Go get some of those sapotas from the fridge, will you?” my mother-in-law asks her.
She nods promptly, hops off to the where the fridge is, opens the door, peers in for the longest time, returns empty handed and, with a very serious expression on her face, asks “What is a sapota?”
We have always made fun about how the Hyderabadis call the fruit sapota. I mean, chikoo is such a cute little name, as opposed to sapota that sounds quite violent.
Turns out the fruit’s scientific name is Manilkara zapota.
And finally, on our way home, we see this truck transporting huge blocks of yellow limestone outside Gadap. We’re told that although there are several authorized operators, there are an alarming number of illegal ones too that are causing harm to the town’s natural resources.
This post concludes my Karachi series for this year. Shahzad Gabol, thank you once again for showing us your town and being such a nice and patient host to us. Sanaf, my newly-wed sister, and Sonia, our youngest, who are now both residing in Karachi, we miss you loads.
