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A life spent waiting - and searching rows of unclaimed bodies

Farhat Javed
BBC Urdu
Reporting fromBalochistan
BBC/Farhat Javed A young woman with her face covered looks at the camera, while sitting on a grey floor cushion BBC/Farhat Javed
Saira Baloch is among thousands of women in Balochistan seeking answers about men they say were forcibly disappeared by Pakistan's security forces

Saira Baloch was 15 when she stepped into a morgue for the first time.

All she heard in the dimly-lit room were sobs, whispered prayers and shuffling feet. The first body she saw was a man who appeared to have been tortured.

His eyes were missing, his teeth had been pulled out and there were burn marks on his chest.

"I couldn't look at the other bodies. I walked out," she recalled.

But she was relieved. It wasn't her brother - a police officer who had been missing for nearly a year since he was arrested in 2018 in a counter-terrorism operation in Balochistan, one of Pakistan's most restive regions.

Inside the morgue, others continued their desperate search, scanning rows of unclaimed corpses. Saira would soon adopt this grim routine, revisiting one morgue after another. They were all the same: tube lights flickering, the air thick with the stench of decay and antiseptic.

On every visit, she hoped she would not find what she was looking for - seven years on, she still hasn't.

BBC/Nayyar Abbas A woman with a red head covering and a mask holds up a photo of a missing relative - she is sitting in a row of women, also holding photos.  BBC/Nayyar Abbas
Protests full of worried and grieving women are a familair sight in the province's capital, Quetta

Activists say thousands of ethnic Baloch people have been disappeared by Pakistan's security forces in the last two decades - allegedly detained without due legal process, or abducted, tortured and killed in operations against a decades-old separatist insurgency.

The Pakistan government denies the allegations, insisting that many of the missing have ed separatist groups or fled the country.

Some return after years, traumatised and broken - but many never come back. Others are found in unmarked graves that have appeared across Balochistan, their bodies so disfigured they cannot be identified.

And then there are the women across generations whose lives are being defined by waiting.

Young and old, they take part in protests, their faces lined with grief, holding up fading photographs of men no longer in their lives. When the BBC met them at their homes, they offered us black tea - Sulemani chai - in chipped cups as they spoke in voices worn down by sorrow.

Many of them insist their fathers, brothers and sons are innocent and have been targeted for speaking out against state policies or were taken as a form of collective punishment.

BBC/Farhat Javed Saira looks at her phone while leaning on a cushion. BBC/Farhat Javed
Saira says every knock on her front door still gives her hope

Saira is one of them.

She says she started going to protests after asking the police and pleading with politicians yielded no answers about her brother's whereabouts.

Muhammad Asif Baloch was arrested in August 2018 along with 10 others in Nushki, a city along the border with Afghanistan. His family found out when they saw him on TV the next day, looking scared and dishevelled.

Authorities said the men were "terrorists fleeing to Afghanistan". Muhammad's family said he was having a picnic with friends.

Saira says Muhammad was her "best friend", funny and always cheerful - "My mother worries that she's forgetting his smile."

The day he went missing, Saira had aced a school exam and was excited to tell her brother, her "biggest er". Muhammad had encouraged her to attend universty in Quetta, the provincial capital.

"I didn't know back then that the first time I'd go to Quetta, it would be for a protest demanding his release," Saira says.

Three of the men who were detained along with her brother were released in 2021, but they have not spoken about what happened.

Muhammad never came home.

Lonely road into barren lands

The journey into Balochistan, in Pakistan's south-west, feels like you are stepping into another world.

It is vast - covering about 44% of the country, the largest of Pakistan's provinces - and the land is rich with gas, coal, copper and gold. It stretches along the Arabian Sea, across the water from places like Dubai, which has risen from the sands into glittering, monied skyscrapers.

But Balochistan remains stuck in time. Access to many parts is restricted for security reasons and foreign journalists are often denied access.

It's also difficult to travel around. The roads are long and lonely, cutting through barren hills and desert. As the infrastructure thins out the further you travel, roads are replaced by dirt tracks created by the few vehicles that .

Electricity is sporadic, water even scarcer. Schools and hospitals are dismal.

In the markets, men sit outside mud shops waiting for customers who rarely come. Boys, who elsewhere in Pakistan may dream of a career, only talk of escape: fleeing to Karachi, to the Gulf, to anywhere that offers a way out of this slow suffocation.

BBC/Nayyar Abbas An aerial view of Quetta with mountains seen in the distanceBBC/Nayyar Abbas
Rich in natural resources but long neglected, Balochistan is Pakistan's poorest province
Getty Images A road running between brown, barren hills in Balochistan as the landscapestretches endlessly on either side Getty Images
The roads turn to dirt tracks as you venture deeper into the province

Balochistan became a part of Pakistan in 1948, in the upheaval that followed the partition of British India - and in spite of opposition from some influential tribal leaders, who sought an independent state.

Some of the resistance turned militant and, over the years, it has been stoked by accusations that Pakistan has exploited the resource-rich region without investing in its development.

Militant groups like the Balochistan Liberation Army (BLA), designated a terrorist group by Pakistan and other nations, have intensified their attacks: bombings, assassinations and ambushes against security forces have become more frequent.

Earlier this month, the BLA hijacked a train in Bolan , seizing hundreds of engers. They demanded the release of missing people in Balochistan in return for freeing hostages.

The siege lasted over 30 hours. According to authorities, 33 BLA militants, 21 civilian hostages and four military personnel were killed. But conflicting figures suggest many engers remain uned for.

The disappearances in the province are widely believed to be part of Islamabad's strategy to crush the insurgency - but also to suppress dissent, weaken nationalist sentiment and for an independent Balochistan.

Many of the missing are suspected or sympathisers of Baloch nationalist groups that demand more autonomy or independence. But a significant number are ordinary people with no known political affiliations.

BBC/Farhat Javed Photographs of missing men are displayed at protests - they appeard to be of all ages, in photos lines up n the ground, and posters hanging at the back.BBC/Farhat Javed
The missing men: there is no clear estimate of how many have disappeared in such cricumstances

Balochistan's Chief Minister Sarfaraz Bugti told the BBC that enforced disappearances are an issue but dismissed the idea that they were happening on a large scale as "systematic propaganda".

"Every child in Balochistan has been made to hear 'missing persons, missing persons'. But who will determine who disappeared whom?

"Self-disappearances exist too. How can I prove if someone was taken by intelligence agencies, police, FC, or anyone else or me or you"BBC/Nayyar Abbas A woman in headscarf, Mahrang Baloch, looks at the camera as she cries " class="sc-d1200759-0 dvfjxj"/>BBC/Nayyar Abbas

Mahrang Baloch, who leads a protest movement in Balochistan, says her father was disappeared and killed

After her father's death, Mahrang says, her family's world "collapsed".

And then in 2017, her brother was picked up by security forces, according to the family, and detained for nearly three months.

"It was terrifying. I made my mother believe that what happened to my father wouldn't happen to my brother. But it did," Mahrang says. "I was scared of looking at my phone, because it might be news of my brother's body being found somewhere."

She says her mother and she found strength in each other: "Our tiny house was our safest place, where we would sometimes sit and cry for hours. But outside, we were two strong women who couldn't be crushed."

It was then that Mahrang decided to fight against enforced disappearances and extrajudicial killings. Today, the 32-year-old leads the protest movement despite death threats, legal cases and travel bans.

"We want the right to live on our own land without persecution. We want our resources, our rights. We want this rule of fear and violence to end."

BBC/Farhat Javed Mahrang kneels at her father's grave in a black shawlBBC/Farhat Javed
Mahrang at her father's grave

Mahrang warns that enforced disappearances fuel more resistance, rather than silence it.

"They think dumping bodies will end this. But how can anyone forget losing their loved one this way? No human can endure this."

She demands institutional reforms, ensuring that no mother has to send her child away in fear. "We don't want our children growing up in protest camps. Is that too much to ask":[]}