PESHAWAR, Pakistan: The demolition of seven bunkers in the Boshera, Yarda and Dander areas in the Upper Kurram district of northwestern Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province on Saturday pushed the total number of partially and fully demolished bunkers across the volatile district to a significant 981, effectively turning it into a bunker-free zone.
“For all practical purposes, all the bunkers have been demolished, with a few remaining sandbag cover positions set to be eliminated shortly,” an official of the district administration tells WE News English, requesting anonymity.
An announcement, circulated by the district administration on social media states that 628 bunkers were demolished in Upper Kurram—mostly inhabited by Shia sect—and 353 in Lower Kurram—a Sunni-dominated area.
After the intense fighting in November last year, a 14-point agreement was signed in Kohat on January 1 this year, with 45 Shia and 38 Sunni representatives agreeing to the terms.
Clause 12 of the agreement states, “All bunker construction is banned, and existing bunkers must be demolished within a month under the supervision of a district committee. If any group violates the ceasefire, the government will treat them as terrorists and take full action against them while ensuring protection for civilians.”
Life inside the bunkers
In early March this year, Shaaer Ali was climbing a small hill, his breath growing heavier with each step.
Despite the biting cold—following a recent unseasonal snowfall—the 28-year-old student removed his jacket, tied it around his back, and pressed on.
Half an hour later, he reached his bunker in Balishkhel, a Shia-held post in the embattled Kurram district.
I don’t want to kill people from my own region just because they follow a different sect. But if I don’t shoot them, they’ll shoot us. I’ve buried many of my loved ones in the past months.” – Shaeer Ali.
Inside, three young men were already sitting. After catching his breath, he turned to one of his fellows and said, “You can go home now. I will take over until tomorrow evening.”
A few moments later, Ali peered out of the bunker, keeping an eagle eye on the surroundings before inspecting his weapons. Satisfied, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a brief message to his family: ‘I have reached the bunker.’
“I’ve been manning this post since mid-October [2024]. The educational institutes are closed [due to winter vacations], and there’s no way out of here, so I took on the responsibility of guarding the bunker.”
He gestured around the reinforced structure. “This is a medium-sized bunker, built from concrete and large stones. We have Kalashnikovs, 303 rifles, and an LMG [light machine gun].”
For special situations, he said, we have 30 mortar shells and a launcher. Apart from weapons, we keep a small gas cylinder, milk packets, dry tea leaves, and some food supplies, he added.
Then Ali picked up a pair of binoculars. We use them to monitor enemy positions—right across the mountain, where the Sunni bunkers are, he says, hastening to add that most bunkers have walkie-talkie devices for communication.
He did not hesitate to admit that he had fired at the opposing side more than once.
“Since October [2024], I’ve used the LMG multiple times to target enemy positions. It’s caused them financial damage, at the very least.”
He let out a heavy sigh, his expression growing sombre. “I don’t want to kill people from my own region just because they follow a different sect. But if I don’t shoot them, they’ll shoot us. I’ve buried many of my loved ones in the past months.”
A few bunkers away
As the sun began to set, about a kilometre away in a now-demolished Sunni-held bunker, 36-year-old Saqib Saeed had a similar story to tell.
He spent three years in Saudi Arabia and returned in 2021, hoping the sectarian conflict had ended.
But it had only gotten worse. “I’ve been performing duties here [in the bunker] since November 28,” he said.
The real culprit is the massive influx of weapons. In the 1980s and 1990s, arms flooded Kurram, and both Shias and Sunnis stocked up.” – Raees Khan, police officer.
Saqib’s bunker, built with bricks, concrete, and steel, dates back to 2007. It could accommodate 12 to 15 people, though only four or five usually stay at a time.
Saqib recalls that on November 30, when the fighting was at its worst, their friend Rafeeq Khan was shot by Shia fighters while trying to reach their bunker.
“We dragged him inside and treated him for eight hours before we could evacuate him to the village when the gunfire finally stopped.”
Every bunker was stocked with weapons, food, and basic medical supplies.
A region drenched in blood
For decades, sectarian violence has plagued Kurram, leaving thousands of tribespersons, including women and children, dead.
In just five clashes in 2024—March, May, August, October, and November—over 1,200 people lost their lives, according to a police officer Raees Khan, posted in Sadda, Lower Kurram.
“The real culprit is the massive influx of weapons. In the 1980s and 1990s, arms flooded Kurram, and both Shias and Sunnis stocked up,” he tells WE News English.
These bunkers became the deadliest part of the conflict. From here, both sides targeted convoys, homes, markets—anywhere they could.
Decades of entrenchment
According to another senior police officer, who declined to be named, these bunkers could house around 4,000 to 5,000 fighters engaged in attacks against each other.
In bunkers, Shias and Sunnis are sworn enemies. But when their bullets find their targets, they end up here, in the same hospital room, bleeding out side by side. Maybe death is the only thing that brings them together.” – Fakhr Alam, a medical technician.
He says that bunker construction began in the 1980s and peaked in 2007. These fortifications came in four types—open-roof temporary bunkers near roads; reinforced bunkers made of large stones and cement; sandbag-reinforced stone bunkers; and permanent bunkers, some used as temporary morgues for the dead as well.
He is of the firm belief that as long as bunkers exist, peace is impossible. Intelligence reports indicate that whenever clashes escalate, trained fighters from banned outfits like Fatimiyoun and Zainabiyoun reinforce Shia positions, while Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan and other extremist groups join the Sunni side with heavy weaponry, he says.
According to the district administration of Kurram, the highest number of bunkers—90 in total—were located in Shia-populated Mir Mai and Khaiwas, a Sunni stronghold.
In Balishkhel, Shia fighters controlled 35 bunkers, while Sunnis held 30 in Kharkali. Sherano had 10 Sunni bunkers with no Shia presence. Bagan housed 30 bunkers, whereas Alizai had 45.
Gidu had 46 bunkers, while the opposing side had 32. Khamsa and Badama had 30 and 20, respectively. Dandar contained 60, while Boshera had 79. Kaz had 18, facing 19 in Ghuz Ghari. Shingak housed 15 bunkers, Matasangar only four and Baghdada 10.
A generation born into war
Fakhr Alam, a medical technician at a government-run Sadda Hospital, shakes his head grimly and says that hate has now passed down to a third generation.
They realised that this war was not going to end—so they invested in more weapons and built new, reinforced bunkers, he says.
He explains that bunker duty is assigned within families, with each household sending at least one young man on rotation.
Looking up at the sky, he sighed and said, “In bunkers, Shias and Sunnis are sworn enemies.
But when their bullets find their targets, they end up here, in the same hospital room, bleeding out side by side. Maybe death is the only thing that brings them together.”
