Violence and political assassinations are not the only reasons Pakistanis have had it with their government, writes Graham Usher in Rawalpindi On a rain-drenched road in Rawalpindi men, women and children stand patiently behind a truck. It's a few kilometers from the park where Pakistan opposition leader Benazir Bhutto was slain four weeks ago. And the street is covered in sodden party political paraphernalia proclaiming elections next month. But voting and Bhutto are the last things on these people's minds. Like much of the country they are queuing for bread. "A 20 kilo bag used to cost 250 Rupees; now it's 295," says Rashid Nabil, a sack of flour on his shoulder. "I have to buy one of these three times a month to feed the eight people in my family. I earn 4,000 Rupees a month. That's a lot of your income to be spending on bread". He shifts the load from one shoulder to the next. "Whatever [Pakistan leader Pervez] Musharraf has done, he's done for the army or for the rich, not for the poor. What's the point of building new roads when you can't feed the people?" Pakistan is in the midst of its worst bread famine in 40 years. The shortage has been exacerbated by massive power and gas outages. Coupled with the pall cast by Bhutto's assassination -- and what seems an endless toll of political violence (the latest being the murder of 12 people by a suicide bomber at a Shia mosque in Peshawar on 17 January) -- the mood among Pakistanis is as leaden as the winter sky. The government says these are passing clouds that blot out an enduring sun. Flustered spokespersons say the flour and power crises are seasonal hiccups compounded by the "politically inspired" disorder that followed Bhutto's death. The explanation would be risible were the situation not so grave. Most know why there is a bread shortage in Pakistan, including the poor. Smugglers and hoarders, capitalizing on record global wheat prices, have found it more profitable to send wheat and flour abroad than to meet domestic needs at home. This is why you will find Pakistani flour in Kabul and Delhi but not in Peshawar. Despite a bumper crop the government was compelled to import wheat, jacking up prices still more. "The political crisis (caused by Bhutto's assassination) aggravated the economic one -- it didn't cause it," says A R Kamal, an economist. The same mismanagement is responsible for the collapse in power, he says. "The government has continually paraded a seven percent growth rate in the economy. But this growth has been driven by banking and telecommunications. Industry, agriculture and the power sectors have been stagnant. So, despite growth, not one megawatt has been added to the country's power capacity. The government and World Bank waited for the private sector to build power plants. The private sector waited for the state to provide subsidies. And the government crowed about growth. But in manufacturing, agriculture, power -- the industries that matter to the poor -- there wasn't growth; there was neglect". Neglect is what Iqbal Town feels like. It's a barren, derelict wasteland beside the Rawalpind- Islamabad highway. Three years ago churches and other charities gave loans to the poor so they could leave their barrios in the cities and purchase land to build a home for their families. The government didn't spend a cent. There are no schools or gas supplies and the roads are mud. Water is stolen from pipes supplying richer neighborhoods. And sometimes power is cut for up to eight hours in a day. Javed Hansraj is a bank teller and, at night, a supplementary schoolteacher. He hopes he can transmit to his class of ten boys and girls enough learning for them to be able to up and leave places like Iqbal Town. Most nights he teaches his wards by candlelight. He's 35. He has never seen his country this bad. "This year the problems have piled up on one another. There are water shortages, power outages and now suicide bombings. You feel you dare not leave your home or go to crowded places like markets. The whole country is scared. And no one takes responsibility or seems to be in control. If they cannot protect Benazir Bhutto, how can they protect us? The government ought to be changed". Of Pakistan's 160 million citizens, 65 million live beneath a poverty line of $2 a day and another 65 million live barely above it. Most hale from rural villages but some, like Rashid Nidal and Javed Hansraj, eke out livings on the margins of cities. Historically the poor don't vote in Pakistan. But will the crises "piling up on one another" compel a change? Nidal shrugs his shoulders. "All the parties promise to reduce prices when in opposition, but when in government nothing happens. Elections don't mean anything to people like us. We will stay poor whoever's in power". But "people are angry," he admits, hauling his sack of flour down the wet road to his family. "May be they'll vote."
