ON 14 February this year I visited a brick kiln just outside Lahore with officials from the International Labour Organization (ILO).

The timing was not lost on me. It was Valentine’s Day and the city was dressed accordingly. Lahore that morning was full of red. Shops displayed balloons and flowers, restaurants prepared for the evening rush, and young couples moved through markets carrying gifts. Less than an hour outside the city the colour changed. The red here came from clay and dust. Families were shaping bricks by hand under the open sky. Workers moved between piles of mud and rows of drying bricks. The air carried the smell of smoke from the kilns. Children worked alongside their parents, carrying loads heavier than they should ever need to. The contrast between Lahore and the brick kiln just further out was difficult to ignore: a reminder that in Pakistan it is possible to move from celebration to hardship in the span of a short drive.

The kiln we visited (Niazi Brick Kilns) was not what many people imagine when they think of brick kilns in Pakistan. It was organised. Workers had some protective equipment and there were visible efforts to improve safety and working conditions. The International Labour Organization’s engagement with kiln owners and workers had clearly made a difference. It showed that improvement is possible even in industries that have long been associated with exploitation and dangerous conditions. But the visit also left me with a lingering question. If one kiln can look like this because of international attention and oversight, what does the reality look like at the thousands of other kilns scattered across the country that operate far from scrutiny?

Pakistan produces millions of bricks every year through roughly twenty thousand kilns. Estimates........

© Pakistan Observer