Rich Pakistanis flock to country's first ski resort

ALAMGIR KHAN has a number of problems. The dozen local villagers who comprise his piste-flattening machine have not turned up for work, a power cut has stopped his only chairlift and an over-excited coach party who have driven a thousand miles just to see snow have, minutes previously, run down his slopes and left hundreds of deep footprints behind them.

As chief engineer at Pakistan's only ski resort Mr Khan is having a bad day. Perhaps that is not surprising. After all it is a miracle that Pakistan - one of the world's poorest countries - has a working ski resort at all.

Yet perched high on a ridge in the foothills of the Himalayas is Malam Jabba - two pistes, a 52-room hotel, a store room full of new ski gear and an approach road that, according to the local chief of police, you need armed guards to drive on.

Malam Jabba is certainly an odd place for a ski resort. From the swinging chairs of the lift you can see some of the wildest parts of Pakistan's North West Frontier province and the distant snow-capped peaks that mark the border with Afghanistan. It is a view you have plenty of time to inspect when the power goes off.

Only 70 years ago, the British fought some of their toughest campaigns to subdue the Pathan warrior tribes of the area and, in many ways, little has changed since. Until very recently, the hills that line the western horizon used to conceal most of Pakistan's illegal opium fields and heroin refining laboratories. Until 1969, the region was ruled by the magnificently- titled Wali of Swat, and much of it remains effectively outside the control of central government.

Gunfire still regularly rattles the valleys - though now it is more likely to be from a Kalashnikov than the long-barrelled muskets immortalised by Kipling and scores of Boys' Own stories.

Last year the government was forced to use artillery and tanks to destroy the pink swaths of opium poppy fields that littered the local hillsides. Five years ago the Pakistani army fought pitched battles against hardline Muslim extremists who had seized the local airport.

The insurgents' key demand - that Islamic law be imposed on the area - has recently been conceded by the government in the capital of Islamabad, a seven-hour drive away. Now, theoretically at least, if your skis are stolen while you relax with a glass of lemonade - Pakistan is a dry country - the thief's hands will be chopped off.

However, Bakhtiar Hussein, the resort manager, is a jolly and friendly man. Last week he was in an excellent mood. For the first time since the Prime Minister opened the resort last autumn, all the rooms at his hotel were full. So far Malam Jabba has been losing an estimated pounds 1,000 a month. Now Mr Hussein hopes it will start showing a profit.

"Winter has been tough. There have been times when we were worried and thought the government might close us down but now it looks like it is all going to be all right", he said.

The Austrian government came up with the idea of a ski resort more than 30 years ago. They have since provided around $1m (pounds 600,000) worth of aid, including a chairlift, skis and boots, technical help and two all- weather bulldozers.

However, several million pounds of Pakistani public funds was also needed to get Malam Jabba working. Many complained that a ski resort was the wrong way to boost the development of a country where 80 per cent of the population cannot read and more than half lack a clean water supply.

"At best it is misguided, at worst it's immoral," said one Islamabad-based development worker. "It's great for ex-pats or the very rich but is about as appropriate a way of helping the people of Pakistan as building them a school to train Sushi chefs."

Gernod Wiedner, first secretary of the Austrian Embassy in Islamabad, disagrees. "The development has provided a road and employment for local people. We think it is largely a success," he said.

At the resort there are mixed feelings. Many of the workers at Malam Jabba have not been paid for the last two months. One man, trained as a ski technician by an Austrian instructor, said he was unable to pay for medical treatment for his sick child.

"The doctor charges 200 rupees (pounds 2.75) for a visit. My child has a fever that has gone to her head but I can't afford even the doctor's visit let alone medicine," Hassan said.

"There is no electricity in my village and no gas, and wood is expensive so it is very cold now."

Hassan ruefully ran his hand down a newly-waxed ski and checked the sharpness of the edges. "We are poor people so we are not ungrateful. We are just thankful to have jobs," he added.

Suddenly the day's snow conditions seemed slightly less important.