By Naween A. Mangi

Copyright dawn

FOR generations, the village has been romanticised as a haven of peace — a place of simple lives, strong communities and neighbourly bonds. But the reality unfolding in many rural areas today tells a different story, one marked by disputes, fear and violence.

In the past two weeks alone, two incidents from a village where I work have left me deeply unsettled.

In the first, men from one community launched a brutal attack on five brothers, beating them with spades, axes and clubs over a plot of land one of them was merely working on as a labourer. The land itself belongs to a man outside both communities, yet the attackers claimed ancestral rights and descended on the worker with violence. When the victim’s brothers heard about the assault, they rushed to the scene and were similarly mauled. The injured men — landless farmers — were rushed to the hospital with fractures and head injuries, one in critical condition.

Their families now face another battle: obtaining medical reports and filing a police case without paying bribes they can’t afford to the medical superintendent and the station house officer.

The second incident involved a young schoolteacher, the daughter of a widow. Distant relatives threatened to kill her in the name of karo kari unless she broke off her engagement and agreed to marry an older, already married man with children. As a result, her fiancé and his family withdrew from the marriage.

Most acts of village violence trace back to a few recurring causes.

Desperate and shaken, the young woman confided in her school principal and a social worker, hoping for protection and support. She was advised to file a police report, which she did.

Neither case has been resolved. The fear of further violence hangs heavy in the air.

When the farmers lay bleeding into the earth in broad daylight, scores of men loitering at tea shops a few metres down the road, turned away, unwilling to intervene. The young teacher, too, found herself alone.

Most acts of village violence trace back to a few recurring causes. For women, acts of violence including murder through karo kari, are frequently used as threats for attempts at extortion, land grabbing or coercion of any kind. In a recent case, a man broke into a house and set fire to a pile of clothes belonging to a woman in order to send her a threatening message.

Then, villagers often claim public land closest to their homes by filling and levelling it, gradually expanding their boundaries. Minor quarrels over property lines escalate into bitter, armed confrontations that can split entire neighbourhoods. The side with the political muscle and access to weapons always wins.

Public lanes — used by people, livestock and tractors — are the arteries of rural life. Yet families frequently extend toilets, staircases or walls into these narrow passages. When access is blocked, tempers flare, and fights erupt between families living side by side.

Addiction to drugs and alcohol, coupled with gambling, adds another layer of conflict. Addicts steal to feed their habits, while gamblers borrow from loan sharks, often losing more than they can repay. When debts spiral, violence follows — sometimes ending in suicides that devastate entire families.

Pigeon rearing and betting have become another catalyst for conflict. Young men invest heavily in prized birds, organising contests with high stakes. When a pigeon goes missing, boys storm neighbours’ homes in search of it, breaking cultural norms and sparking bitter feuds. A recent case involved one brother killing another over a dispute involving a pigeon.

The spirit of tolerance has frayed markedly. Where different sects once celebrated each other’s festivals with camaraderie, mo-cking, ugly sloganeering and hostility now replace neighbourly warmth. Fights, arson, and revenge attacks — including setting fire to crops and haystacks — have become common forms of enmity.

Then, age-old conflict resolution methods through the intervention of community elders have also vanished. Previously, elders from each side would aim to resolve issues and both parties would respect their decisions. Now, the side with the heftier political backing and greater access to arms wins. And elders are left with no role to play.

Village violence today stems from overlapping causes — land disputes, economic stress, addiction, changing traditions and growing intolerance. Each incident chips away at the sense of safety and solidarity that once defined rural life.

Confronting this rising tide will require more than law enforcement. It will take rebuilding trust, protecting public spaces, and reviving the cultural bonds that once made the village not just a place to live, but also a community worth belonging to.

The writer is a rural development specialist and social entrepreneur.

naween.a.mangi@gmail.com

Published in Dawn, September 16th, 2025