As of right now, I am a citizen of Pakistan and the United States and a resident of the U.A.E. While this means that I have spent an absurd amount of time on airports and up in the air, it also means that I've been lucky enough to have friends and family - to have a home - in all three countries.
I am a hardcore Karachiite, there's no denying that. It's in the way I talk ("Abay yaar!"), the way I dress, the way I dance (or so I've been told). The fresh, clean air of Kansas doesn't suit me; my body is used to the special variety of Karachi pollution that is a combination of smoking motorcycle and rickshaw engines, musical mini-bus horns, and a peculiar fish smell from the Arabian Sea. I have an unhealthy obsession with the ocean and with greasy food from Burns Road and Boat Basin. I thrive on tense, stressful situations. Sadly, that is the truth.
America, my adopted home, has welcomed me with open arms. How does a Karachi girl end up in Kansas is a question I'm still grappling with. When I first arrived in this country on a snowy winter afternoon in 2008, I wasn't quite sure about why I was here (could've just been the jet lag) - I just knew I was really far away from home. I didn't know how to dress for the winters; I was working as a cashier but didn't understand the currency ("Do you have a nickel?" "Do I have a WHAT?"). And God forbid if I had to explain anything geography related to an American. For Americans, America is the whole world; after all, it's called the World Series but is played between American teams.
My globetrotting ways confuse the hell out of people and give rise to questions/remarks like:
"So you didn't go to high school here but you're NOT an international student? How does that work?"
"You're not from here? But your English is very good!"
"If you're not A-rab, then WHAT ARE YOU?"
"You're Moslem...so you speak Arabic?"
"WOW! You're from Pack-is-tan? THAT IS SO COOL! I wish I was from somewhere!"
Any attempt at answering these questions just confuses people more. Although sometimes, I confuse them on purpose. It's just more fun that way.
But five years and a blue passport later, in these three countries are people that I love and places with memories I cherish. At this point of time, I have gone to school and/or worked in all three. That means that all these countries have a role in what I am today, in what I am going to be. They have, in some major or minor way, shaped the person that I am. It also means that my English is neither entirely Pakistani nor American, it is somewhere in the middle (together with almost four different accents I can pull depending on who I'm talking to). I've also quit using words like loo and queue because no one would understand them. Jet lag recovery, working out a time to Skype with people in three different time zones: no big deal.
While Karachi is the resilience in me, Kansas life has taught me things like doing my own laundry and cooking my own food along with other essential life-skills like mowing the lawn and shoveling snow. I will stay up all night when Pakistan plays India in a cricket match but also bite all my nails off during an intense KU basketball game. And then Abu Dhabi is the happy medium between the two where I just soak it all in and realize how incredibly blessed I am to find love and support scattered all over the globe. Here's to my international life!
Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Monday, November 28, 2011
A Friend in Need ...
How bad can a relationship between two military allies get? Pakistan and the U.S. keep us guessing.
In the wake of a NATO attack killing 25 Pakistani soldiers this weekend, Pakistan has indefinitely shut NATO supply lines through the country and said it was re-evaluating its military, intelligence and diplomatic links with the U.S. It also gave the U.S. two weeks to pull out of a Pakistani air base that Washington has used in the past to launch covert drone strikes on Taliban militants. Pakistan is also threatening to pull out of next week's Bonn conference on Afghanistan, at which key stakeholders will attempt to draw up a plan for transition from a US-led NATO command to an Afghan security force by December 2014.With Pakistan's co-operation considered key to an orderly and peaceful transition, the Afghan authorities urged Islamabad to reconsider.
With plans of a pull out starting as early as next year, this may not be the first strategic mistake the US had made in this war, but it could yet prove the costliest. The short-term response is not as troubling as the long-term implications. The closure of NATO supply lines will make Barack Obama more dependent on Vladimir Putin's goodwill, and the northern supply route through which 60% of troops and military cargo to Afghanistan now travel. But, of itself, the closures will be a temporary problem. Of greater significance is the erosion of Pakistani public support for the US fight against the Taliban. Images of the funerals of the young martyrs filled television screens across Pakistan on Sunday and protests against the attack were held throughout the country. “Imagine how we would feel if it had been 24 American soldiers killed by Pakistani forces at this moment,” Senator Richard J. Durbin, Democrat from Illinois, said on Fox News Sunday.
Hilary Clinton and Pentagon big shots responded with the usual regrets and worthless determinations to investigate, without admitting responsibility - all while Pakistan's own death toll from the "war on terror" rises, it struggles under an excess of American demands that are contrary to its own national interest, and as uninformed, people-pleasing US-senators and Republican presidential candidates continue to pick on this infinitely more important country.
The thought that destabilized, poor Pakistan has no choice but to slavishly obey what the master says could be one of the biggest misconceptions of this century. If bullied for long enough, it could learn to firmly and politely tell the US that it must, from henceforth, conduct its war on terror by itself and that while Pakistan is willing to be a friend, it is unwilling to destabilise and destroy its own stability for the neocon cause. Then, Pakistan has other friends to turn to: alternative alliances with China or Russia could lead to a completely different ball game.
In the wake of a NATO attack killing 25 Pakistani soldiers this weekend, Pakistan has indefinitely shut NATO supply lines through the country and said it was re-evaluating its military, intelligence and diplomatic links with the U.S. It also gave the U.S. two weeks to pull out of a Pakistani air base that Washington has used in the past to launch covert drone strikes on Taliban militants. Pakistan is also threatening to pull out of next week's Bonn conference on Afghanistan, at which key stakeholders will attempt to draw up a plan for transition from a US-led NATO command to an Afghan security force by December 2014.With Pakistan's co-operation considered key to an orderly and peaceful transition, the Afghan authorities urged Islamabad to reconsider.
With plans of a pull out starting as early as next year, this may not be the first strategic mistake the US had made in this war, but it could yet prove the costliest. The short-term response is not as troubling as the long-term implications. The closure of NATO supply lines will make Barack Obama more dependent on Vladimir Putin's goodwill, and the northern supply route through which 60% of troops and military cargo to Afghanistan now travel. But, of itself, the closures will be a temporary problem. Of greater significance is the erosion of Pakistani public support for the US fight against the Taliban. Images of the funerals of the young martyrs filled television screens across Pakistan on Sunday and protests against the attack were held throughout the country. “Imagine how we would feel if it had been 24 American soldiers killed by Pakistani forces at this moment,” Senator Richard J. Durbin, Democrat from Illinois, said on Fox News Sunday.
Hilary Clinton and Pentagon big shots responded with the usual regrets and worthless determinations to investigate, without admitting responsibility - all while Pakistan's own death toll from the "war on terror" rises, it struggles under an excess of American demands that are contrary to its own national interest, and as uninformed, people-pleasing US-senators and Republican presidential candidates continue to pick on this infinitely more important country.
The thought that destabilized, poor Pakistan has no choice but to slavishly obey what the master says could be one of the biggest misconceptions of this century. If bullied for long enough, it could learn to firmly and politely tell the US that it must, from henceforth, conduct its war on terror by itself and that while Pakistan is willing to be a friend, it is unwilling to destabilise and destroy its own stability for the neocon cause. Then, Pakistan has other friends to turn to: alternative alliances with China or Russia could lead to a completely different ball game.
 |
| Pakistani soldiers carry coffins of their comrades killed in a NATO air strike during a funeral ceremony in Peshawar Photo: AFP PHOTO / A. MAJEED |
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Come and see the blood in the streets
Nothing but the usual. A suicide attack. Broken windows. Shards of glass on the floor. Read it. Move on.
But it's different this time. The pictures I see catch me off guard. I recognize this place - the place I associate with my childhood. A childhood so sheltered and so unmarred, I look at the pictures and think, "How could it be?" It's our lab, our library. It's the place I associate with laughter, memories, best friends, goofiness. OII Science, the makayee wala, Sir Sami and his pink shirts, Shammo and her attempts at insulting the students, everyone harassing Laali, stories of Mogadishu. But it's different this time. I feel the heat in my face. Warm tears roll down. I'm too far to feel this.
I've written enough about my city's resilience. That it will come out stronger. That it will carry through. Like every other time. I like to write optimistic pieces possibly because of my love for this city. When you love a place so much you can't hope for anything else except for the fact that it'll eventually bounce back because it's too much to think of the consequences that will occur if it doesn't. But do I feel the same now that I see pictures of my school with the broken windows and the shards of glass on the floor? It was different then. We could see the ocean from our classroom and make jokes about the tsunami because we thought we were invincible. The tsunami couldn't reach us. The lala at the gate would keep the bad guys out. And that was all the security that we needed. That was how I grew up, that was the Karachi I grew up in. And thus, when I hear anything negative now, I tune it all out with memories of my safe, happy childhood.
It's not the same now, they say. I rant about my city's spirit, the people's strength. Come and see the blood in the streets, they say. There are beautiful things about this city, yes. Love for Karachi is love regardless of whatever happens. You come home to Karachi simply because it is home. I’m beginning to wonder whether this is good enough anymore. Is it enough to be blindly attached to a place as you watch it burn? Do the people whose children are being murdered and homes are being looted on an almost daily basis, feel this love? Or do they simply feel anguish and misery? Would I have felt this love for my city had I been in school that day? Or would I have been scared to go every time? And just waited to get the fuck out of there?
My emotions can only take me so far. I say this as someone who has always believed that the city will bounce back in spite of everything. No, it won’t - I reluctantly realize it now. It won’t bounce back because it has been raped and mutilated far too many times now. Most of the city has been affected by the violence. The unaffected have convinced themselves it is part and parcel of life in Karachi. People go about their businesses the day after a blast not because of their ferocious pride in their city - they go because they don't have a choice. They are proud because they feel defensive about a part of the country whose problems are too often treated like they don’t belong to the rest of Pakistan. They are aggressive because if you attack and assault someone long enough, s/he eventually fights back. Or learns to live with it.
Pablo Neruda writes this about the Spanish Civil War and it sounds too much like home:
I'M EXPLAINING A FEW THINGS
(tr. Nathaniel Tarn)
You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.
I lived in a suburb,
a suburb of Madrid, with bells,
and clocks, and trees.
From there you could look out
over Castille's dry face:
a leather ocean.
My house was called
the house of flowers, because in every cranny
geraniums burst: it was
a good-looking house
with it's dogs and children.
Remember, Raul?
Eh, Rafel?
Federico, do you remember
from under the ground
my balconies on which
the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?
Brother, my brother!
Everything
loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises,
pile-ups of palpitating bread,
the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with it's statue
like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake:
oil flowed into spoons,
a deep baying
of feet and hands swelled in the streets,
metres, litres, the sharp
measure of life,
stacked-up fish,
the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which
the weather vane falters,
the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes,
wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea.
And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings-
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black frairs spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise,
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate!
Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives!
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain :
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers,
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!
But it's different this time. The pictures I see catch me off guard. I recognize this place - the place I associate with my childhood. A childhood so sheltered and so unmarred, I look at the pictures and think, "How could it be?" It's our lab, our library. It's the place I associate with laughter, memories, best friends, goofiness. OII Science, the makayee wala, Sir Sami and his pink shirts, Shammo and her attempts at insulting the students, everyone harassing Laali, stories of Mogadishu. But it's different this time. I feel the heat in my face. Warm tears roll down. I'm too far to feel this.
I've written enough about my city's resilience. That it will come out stronger. That it will carry through. Like every other time. I like to write optimistic pieces possibly because of my love for this city. When you love a place so much you can't hope for anything else except for the fact that it'll eventually bounce back because it's too much to think of the consequences that will occur if it doesn't. But do I feel the same now that I see pictures of my school with the broken windows and the shards of glass on the floor? It was different then. We could see the ocean from our classroom and make jokes about the tsunami because we thought we were invincible. The tsunami couldn't reach us. The lala at the gate would keep the bad guys out. And that was all the security that we needed. That was how I grew up, that was the Karachi I grew up in. And thus, when I hear anything negative now, I tune it all out with memories of my safe, happy childhood.
It's not the same now, they say. I rant about my city's spirit, the people's strength. Come and see the blood in the streets, they say. There are beautiful things about this city, yes. Love for Karachi is love regardless of whatever happens. You come home to Karachi simply because it is home. I’m beginning to wonder whether this is good enough anymore. Is it enough to be blindly attached to a place as you watch it burn? Do the people whose children are being murdered and homes are being looted on an almost daily basis, feel this love? Or do they simply feel anguish and misery? Would I have felt this love for my city had I been in school that day? Or would I have been scared to go every time? And just waited to get the fuck out of there?
My emotions can only take me so far. I say this as someone who has always believed that the city will bounce back in spite of everything. No, it won’t - I reluctantly realize it now. It won’t bounce back because it has been raped and mutilated far too many times now. Most of the city has been affected by the violence. The unaffected have convinced themselves it is part and parcel of life in Karachi. People go about their businesses the day after a blast not because of their ferocious pride in their city - they go because they don't have a choice. They are proud because they feel defensive about a part of the country whose problems are too often treated like they don’t belong to the rest of Pakistan. They are aggressive because if you attack and assault someone long enough, s/he eventually fights back. Or learns to live with it.
Pablo Neruda writes this about the Spanish Civil War and it sounds too much like home:
I'M EXPLAINING A FEW THINGS
(tr. Nathaniel Tarn)
You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.
I lived in a suburb,
a suburb of Madrid, with bells,
and clocks, and trees.
From there you could look out
over Castille's dry face:
a leather ocean.
My house was called
the house of flowers, because in every cranny
geraniums burst: it was
a good-looking house
with it's dogs and children.
Remember, Raul?
Eh, Rafel?
Federico, do you remember
from under the ground
my balconies on which
the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?
Brother, my brother!
Everything
loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises,
pile-ups of palpitating bread,
the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with it's statue
like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake:
oil flowed into spoons,
a deep baying
of feet and hands swelled in the streets,
metres, litres, the sharp
measure of life,
stacked-up fish,
the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which
the weather vane falters,
the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes,
wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea.
And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings-
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black frairs spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise,
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate!
Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives!
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain :
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers,
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!
 |
| Photo credit: Nefer Sehgal/Express Tribune |
Saturday, July 23, 2011
My Country, Surrounded by Myths
In my conversations with all the curious, ill-informed people I meet, the surprising part is all the myths that exist about Pakistan. There is a striking similarity to people's concerns for this strategically located, small in size, yet always making-the-headlines state in the subcontinent. Below is my attempt to debunk some of the most popular myths about my country that I encounter all the time.
All Pakistani women wear the hijab.
There is no one way to describe the dress of Pakistani women. Walk down the street and you can see everything from capri pants to niqabs, from sleeveless tops to abayas. There is no law dictating what women should wear. Pakistani women go to school, college, and university with men and compete in equal roles with the opposite sex at the workplace. They practice the religious and legal right to marry anyone they like - when they ask for the family's approval, it is out of love and respect for them, not an obligation. Even when they aren't the primary bread winner for the family, they often are the policy makers of the household. They are pilots in the Pakistani Air Force, judges in the High Court, lawyers, journalists, doctors, scientists, actors, musicians, writers, and sportswomen. Pakistan elected its first female Head of State in 1988 - a feat not many "developed" countries have accomplished even to date.
Pakistan is in the Middle East.
Because Pakistan is in the Middle East, everything that holds true of the Middle Eastern countries applies to Pakistan. First to clarify, Pakistan is not a part of the Middle East. It is a part of South Asia. Pakistanis are not Arabs, they are South Asians. Pakistanis don't speak Arabic, the national language of Pakistan is Urdu. Pakistanis vote in elections. Pakistan's very free media can bash the government if it wants to. Pakistan has mountains, forests, deserts, beaches. It snows in Pakistan, too.
U.S. aid is running Pakistan.
Seems like people think that America is feeding the poor of Pakistan. Even though the U.S. has given $1 billion per year to Pakistan since 2001, the aid is directed towards the military to fight the War on Terrorism and not civilians. Even then this supposed aid is outweighed by economic losses from terrorism and insurgency. Pakistan’s government estimates that these losses were more than $18 billion in 2010 alone. So Pakistan may as well be better off without America's aid. Pakistani officials also believe that Pakistan's bff, China, could match America's aid if asked. The U.S. is in no position to play around here. If Pakistan does not allow supply routes for U.S. and NATO forces to run through Pakistan, the U.S. would have to send supplies across Central Asia and make major concessions to Russia.
Pakistanis are deeply religious and, by default, supporters of the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.
Religious parties have never won more than a fraction of popular vote. Last year Pakistan witnessed the largest civil rights movement in the history of this region. It was spontaneous, secular and entirely peaceful. But since people weren’t raising anti-America slogans, nobody outside Pakistan took much notice. The masses do not favor the Taliban and do no want an Islamist revolution. And, no matter what people think, Pakistan's military has proved — by launching counteroffensives that cleared the Taliban from the Swat Valley and other areas — that it can defeat Islamist insurgency.
Pakistani nukes can fall into the hands of terrorists.
Pakistan's nuclear program is under a sophisticated command and control system, no more under threat than India or Israel’s nuclear assets are threatened by Hindu or Jewish extremists. If Pakistanis can make nuclear bombs, they can also protect them. If the world is so concerned about world peace, they better be cracking down on other countries with nuclear arms, too.
So, believe the rumors, if you will. But always know there are two sides of a story. And FOX provides only one side. That's right.
All Pakistani women wear the hijab.
There is no one way to describe the dress of Pakistani women. Walk down the street and you can see everything from capri pants to niqabs, from sleeveless tops to abayas. There is no law dictating what women should wear. Pakistani women go to school, college, and university with men and compete in equal roles with the opposite sex at the workplace. They practice the religious and legal right to marry anyone they like - when they ask for the family's approval, it is out of love and respect for them, not an obligation. Even when they aren't the primary bread winner for the family, they often are the policy makers of the household. They are pilots in the Pakistani Air Force, judges in the High Court, lawyers, journalists, doctors, scientists, actors, musicians, writers, and sportswomen. Pakistan elected its first female Head of State in 1988 - a feat not many "developed" countries have accomplished even to date.
Pakistan is in the Middle East.
Because Pakistan is in the Middle East, everything that holds true of the Middle Eastern countries applies to Pakistan. First to clarify, Pakistan is not a part of the Middle East. It is a part of South Asia. Pakistanis are not Arabs, they are South Asians. Pakistanis don't speak Arabic, the national language of Pakistan is Urdu. Pakistanis vote in elections. Pakistan's very free media can bash the government if it wants to. Pakistan has mountains, forests, deserts, beaches. It snows in Pakistan, too.
U.S. aid is running Pakistan.
Seems like people think that America is feeding the poor of Pakistan. Even though the U.S. has given $1 billion per year to Pakistan since 2001, the aid is directed towards the military to fight the War on Terrorism and not civilians. Even then this supposed aid is outweighed by economic losses from terrorism and insurgency. Pakistan’s government estimates that these losses were more than $18 billion in 2010 alone. So Pakistan may as well be better off without America's aid. Pakistani officials also believe that Pakistan's bff, China, could match America's aid if asked. The U.S. is in no position to play around here. If Pakistan does not allow supply routes for U.S. and NATO forces to run through Pakistan, the U.S. would have to send supplies across Central Asia and make major concessions to Russia.
Pakistanis are deeply religious and, by default, supporters of the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.
Religious parties have never won more than a fraction of popular vote. Last year Pakistan witnessed the largest civil rights movement in the history of this region. It was spontaneous, secular and entirely peaceful. But since people weren’t raising anti-America slogans, nobody outside Pakistan took much notice. The masses do not favor the Taliban and do no want an Islamist revolution. And, no matter what people think, Pakistan's military has proved — by launching counteroffensives that cleared the Taliban from the Swat Valley and other areas — that it can defeat Islamist insurgency.
Pakistani nukes can fall into the hands of terrorists.
Pakistan's nuclear program is under a sophisticated command and control system, no more under threat than India or Israel’s nuclear assets are threatened by Hindu or Jewish extremists. If Pakistanis can make nuclear bombs, they can also protect them. If the world is so concerned about world peace, they better be cracking down on other countries with nuclear arms, too.
So, believe the rumors, if you will. But always know there are two sides of a story. And FOX provides only one side. That's right.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Ignorance is bliss.
Don't get me wrong. America is awesome. And what better time to talk about its greatness than today. I am grateful to this country for all the opportunities it has given me. I'm grateful for the education, the friends, the love of my life. When someone called it the Land of Opportunities, they knew what they were talking about. It is here where I've had my fair share of firsts: first paycheck, first car, first snow, first basketball game, first monster truck show, first attempt at cooking. This country has a lot to offer and one thing abundant in this country: ignorance. I've had some really interesting encounters with some really ... let's just say curious ... people in almost 4 years here. I've had the randomest people come up to me and ask the randomest questions. Not helping this is the fact that my foreign-ness can be spotted from very far away, that I have an accent, that I live in a very white state and go to a very white school. Here are some of the most memorable conversations:
Sex and the City , there are skyscrapers everywhere, everyone rides in limos driven by chauffeurs, skinny bitches walk the town in five inch heels, and sleep around. Hollywood didn't prepare me for cows and haystacks, you know? So I am terribly disappointed. Till then, let's go and watch some fireworks. God Bless your Ignorance.
- Person: "So..Pakistanis are Arabs, right?"
Me: "No."
Person: "THEN WHAT ARE THEY?"
- Person: "You're Sikh right?"
[Me: Never thought I would be asked this. Thought the sign on my head said what faith I followed.]
- Person: "Well I don't know if you're a practicing Muslim."
[Me: Thought the thing on my head was pretty self-explanatory.]
- Person: "So do you have an arranged marriage?"
[Me: Yes, and I also have a child marriage, FGM, honor killing, *insert all other stereotypes*]
- Random lady at Statue of Liberty: "ARE YOU FROM EGYPT?"
- Person: "Can you marry anyone you like?"
[Me: "No my husband was chosen for me when I was born. He's waiting for me in Pakistan.]
- Person: "Have you ever been to Bag-dad?"
[Me: "You mean Baghdad?"]
Person: "Have you ever been anywhere in Eye-rack?"
[Me: "You mean Iraq?"]
Person: "Yeah I wouldn't wanna go to Bag-dad myself."
[Me: "You know they were doing just fine before you started bombing them."]
Person: "Have you ever met a Taliban?"
[Me: "They don't walk around saying they are Taliban, you know?"]
Person: "What about someone from Al-Qaeda?"
Me: *walks off*
- Person: "Pakistan is in India right?"
- Person: "Could you speak English before you came here?"
- Person: "Do you speak another language? What is it called?"
Me: "Urdu."
Person: "So do most people in the Middle East speak Urdu?"
- Person: "So do you wear this (points to own head) at home too?"
- Person: "So you are from Pakistan originally?"
Me: "Yes."
Person: "Yeah I visited India last year."
- Person: "Do they teach you how to wrap this?" *points to her head*
[Me: "THEY didn't have to. I was born with this attached to my head."]
- Random person on Mass. St. playing some instrument as I walk out of Signs of Life: "Assalam Alaikum! Shukran shukran for having coffee at a Christan place and doing good things and making this world a better place."
Me: *speechless*
Person: "Have you ever been to XYZ church?"
Me: "No."
Person: "My mom teaches ESL there to Middle Eastern immigrants. You should go."
[Me: Pretty sure I'm not Middle Eastern. Pretty sure my English is better than yours and I don't need those classes.]
- Person: "Wow! If you hadn't told me, I would've never guessed English wasn't your first language. You don't have an accent at all!"
[Me: Wow! You're not a big fat liar at all!]
- 3 months in the US of A and person asks: "Did you learn English in America?"
[Me: Yup! Because it is totally possible to be speaking a language in 3 months.]
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
After Osama
U.S. agents killed Osama bin Laden in Pakistan. The al-Qaeda leader was responsible for great suffering; I do not mourn his death. But I do not celebrate it, either. I am worried about my country's security now, more than ever. Dread lingers over me: Pakistan may have to pay the price for this.
Crowds justifiably celebrated bin Laden's death in downtown Manhattan, where a decade ago al-Qaida terrorists massacred nearly 3,000 Americans. The statistic that many people do not know is that since the subsequent US invasion of Afghanistan, terrorists have killed nearly five times that number of people in Pakistan. Five times. Before 2002, suicide bombing was a word unknown to Pakistanis. Now, suicide attacks by Taliban/al-Qaeda, have slaughtered over 34,000 Pakistani civilians, policemen and army personnel. The annual number of Pakistani fatalities from terrorism has surged from less than 200 in 2003 to more than 3,000 in 2009. Every day, Pakistanis are targets for bombs, bullets, cannons, and drones. Bin Laden declared war on Pakistan, too.
Despite all of that, CNN was having a field day yesterday (I didn't even bother watching FOX). Their target: Pakistan. The crux of every conversation was Pakistan's supposed support for al-Qaeda and the likes. All of this may make for great rhetoric but makes no sense when one asks why Pakistan would care about the group that has killed thousands of Pakistanis and destroyed all kinds of infrastructure and investment? We were the world's second fastest growing economy in 2005 (China was first). Now, our economy is in the dumps. Are we really going to bring this upon ourselves? And yes, Osama was found in Abbotabad, but who is to say he stayed in one location. For ten years? Please. We also know that this operation wouldn't have been possible without the support of Pakistani forces. We are not the perpetrator, we are the ally and the victim.
Pakistan is not a country that accommodates and hides mass murderers. Pakistanis just want to be left alone and go back to the time when their lives were plain regular: tranquil. If Osama bin Laden's death means that America can begin to withdraw its forces from Pakistan and Afghanistan and that we can somehow rediscover peace, then one day Pakistanis are going to celebrate, too. But till the continued al-Qaeda/Taliban operations all around the world, mass murder of innocent civilians in my country and elsewhere, the norm of racial profiling of American-Muslims, human right injustices in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay and all such heinous acts are not put to end, I do not have a reason to celebrate.
Crowds justifiably celebrated bin Laden's death in downtown Manhattan, where a decade ago al-Qaida terrorists massacred nearly 3,000 Americans. The statistic that many people do not know is that since the subsequent US invasion of Afghanistan, terrorists have killed nearly five times that number of people in Pakistan. Five times. Before 2002, suicide bombing was a word unknown to Pakistanis. Now, suicide attacks by Taliban/al-Qaeda, have slaughtered over 34,000 Pakistani civilians, policemen and army personnel. The annual number of Pakistani fatalities from terrorism has surged from less than 200 in 2003 to more than 3,000 in 2009. Every day, Pakistanis are targets for bombs, bullets, cannons, and drones. Bin Laden declared war on Pakistan, too.
Despite all of that, CNN was having a field day yesterday (I didn't even bother watching FOX). Their target: Pakistan. The crux of every conversation was Pakistan's supposed support for al-Qaeda and the likes. All of this may make for great rhetoric but makes no sense when one asks why Pakistan would care about the group that has killed thousands of Pakistanis and destroyed all kinds of infrastructure and investment? We were the world's second fastest growing economy in 2005 (China was first). Now, our economy is in the dumps. Are we really going to bring this upon ourselves? And yes, Osama was found in Abbotabad, but who is to say he stayed in one location. For ten years? Please. We also know that this operation wouldn't have been possible without the support of Pakistani forces. We are not the perpetrator, we are the ally and the victim.
Pakistan is not a country that accommodates and hides mass murderers. Pakistanis just want to be left alone and go back to the time when their lives were plain regular: tranquil. If Osama bin Laden's death means that America can begin to withdraw its forces from Pakistan and Afghanistan and that we can somehow rediscover peace, then one day Pakistanis are going to celebrate, too. But till the continued al-Qaeda/Taliban operations all around the world, mass murder of innocent civilians in my country and elsewhere, the norm of racial profiling of American-Muslims, human right injustices in Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay and all such heinous acts are not put to end, I do not have a reason to celebrate.
Friday, April 1, 2011
One School at a Time
I was having the longest and the crappiest day of my life when one man brought a smile to my face. This man was Greg Mortenson.
I had the honor of meeting this man whose fan I had become after reading his book, Three Cups of Tea. He received the Sitara-e-Pakistan ("Star of Pakistan"), Pakistan's highest civil award in 2009. He looks older now. He has started to lose some hair. There's somewhat of a tummy. He greeted me with an assalam alaikum and said khuda hafiz when I was leaving. He told me the book was ready to be published in Urdu and Pushto very soon. He said higher education was becoming more important in Pakistan. He asked me what I was studying (after he asked me if I was a teacher and I had to tell him I was actually a student!). He's soft spoken, funny, listens to you with utmost humility, and is passionate about what he does - everything I had imagined of him when I read the book.
Time and again I have bashed American and Pakistani governments for being insensitive and selfish. And here comes a man who shows me that there are still good people left in the world who would go out of their way to do something for others, in the most selfless manner. He is the American who is working day and night for a better tomorrow of children half the world across from home for him. He goes to places where few foreigners dare to go - places often considered to be the front lines of the War on Terror. And he works with the most basic ideas: let your children go out and play, sit with your elders and listen to their stories, educate the women (because "when you educate a boy, you educate an individual but when you educate a girl, you educate the community"), instead of bombing people, get to know them, understand them, build their trust. He says that hatred in the world comes from ignorance, that education needs to be America's top national and international priority - especially education for girls. "Ignorance is the enemy," he says.
Not only does Mortenson speak from the heart, he makes me look at my country in a way I had never seen it before. Parts of Pakistan I've never visited are heaven on earth, he says. I am in awe of the poor and illiterate men of Pakistan's most impoverished areas that are the champions of girls' education in their villages. When the men from Mullah Omar's village come to him, asking him to build a girls' school in their village, Mortenson finds them playing on the swings of a playground. I finally think of these bearded men in turbans as humans, people who never saw a childhood in a country ridden in war. Mortenson learns that everything is discussed over chai in Pakistan, that relationships are build over a steaming hot cup of this special tea, that family is crucial in my culture. In the words of Korphe's nurmadhar Haji Ali (who was also Mortenson's mentor),
Thus, Mortenson's lecture was enlightening, invigorating to say the least. The reality he presents is gruesome but he shares hope, nonetheless, that something can be done and is being done. Pakistanis and Americans have a lot to learn from him. He is a reminder of the power of one man's determination in the face of gigantic obstacles. This is one man's mission to promote peace - one school at a time. This man clearly deserves to be called a hero.
I had the honor of meeting this man whose fan I had become after reading his book, Three Cups of Tea. He received the Sitara-e-Pakistan ("Star of Pakistan"), Pakistan's highest civil award in 2009. He looks older now. He has started to lose some hair. There's somewhat of a tummy. He greeted me with an assalam alaikum and said khuda hafiz when I was leaving. He told me the book was ready to be published in Urdu and Pushto very soon. He said higher education was becoming more important in Pakistan. He asked me what I was studying (after he asked me if I was a teacher and I had to tell him I was actually a student!). He's soft spoken, funny, listens to you with utmost humility, and is passionate about what he does - everything I had imagined of him when I read the book.
Time and again I have bashed American and Pakistani governments for being insensitive and selfish. And here comes a man who shows me that there are still good people left in the world who would go out of their way to do something for others, in the most selfless manner. He is the American who is working day and night for a better tomorrow of children half the world across from home for him. He goes to places where few foreigners dare to go - places often considered to be the front lines of the War on Terror. And he works with the most basic ideas: let your children go out and play, sit with your elders and listen to their stories, educate the women (because "when you educate a boy, you educate an individual but when you educate a girl, you educate the community"), instead of bombing people, get to know them, understand them, build their trust. He says that hatred in the world comes from ignorance, that education needs to be America's top national and international priority - especially education for girls. "Ignorance is the enemy," he says.
Not only does Mortenson speak from the heart, he makes me look at my country in a way I had never seen it before. Parts of Pakistan I've never visited are heaven on earth, he says. I am in awe of the poor and illiterate men of Pakistan's most impoverished areas that are the champions of girls' education in their villages. When the men from Mullah Omar's village come to him, asking him to build a girls' school in their village, Mortenson finds them playing on the swings of a playground. I finally think of these bearded men in turbans as humans, people who never saw a childhood in a country ridden in war. Mortenson learns that everything is discussed over chai in Pakistan, that relationships are build over a steaming hot cup of this special tea, that family is crucial in my culture. In the words of Korphe's nurmadhar Haji Ali (who was also Mortenson's mentor),
"The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even die."
Thus, Mortenson's lecture was enlightening, invigorating to say the least. The reality he presents is gruesome but he shares hope, nonetheless, that something can be done and is being done. Pakistanis and Americans have a lot to learn from him. He is a reminder of the power of one man's determination in the face of gigantic obstacles. This is one man's mission to promote peace - one school at a time. This man clearly deserves to be called a hero.
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| Mortenson lectures at the Lied Center on KU Campus. Photo by Artem Bagiev. |
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| He signed my copy of Three Cups of Tea! |
Thursday, March 31, 2011
To the Men in Green - with Love.
I made the mistake of posting a couple of Facebook statuses about the match and people went into a tirade about the failures of the team. It felt like it wasn't 11 men playing a sport but our soldiers going into war with India. Give me a freakin' break, guys.
I've often mentioned on my blog how Pakistanis get all worked up when it comes to religion - well, there's one more thing that makes them that emotional - cricket. Cricket is religion in Pakistan. Cricket is also what brings all Pakistanis together. Support for a certain player has nothing to do with what part of the country he's from, but how well he plays his sport. I started waiting for 2011 years ago because that was the year we were going to host the World Cup.
So yes, 180 million hearts were broken when we were denied hosting rights, when two of our top bowlers were banned, when we lost the semi-final. Yes, it would have been easy to console ourselves had our team played like it was actually playing a big game, just the way it had performed all through the tournament. The heartache could've been a little more bearable had we seen our team strategize, field better, not given Umar Gul those overs, taken the powerplay earlier. But in retrospect, there's more reasons to celebrate than to be sad about. It's true I didn't watch the group matches because I wasn't expecting much from this team. But look where we got? We ended Australia's unbeaten run to reach the semis. The young team played some great cricket. Afridi became the highest wicket taker of the tournament. It was after a long time we saw Pakistan playing positive - there was no politics and the team was united under one captain. The stark reality is that lady luck was smiling upon Tendulkar that day and ignoring poor Gul. The stark reality also is that the match gave us many sleepless nights and got us excited and gave us something to look forward to. It is heartening to see that people are praising the team even after the loss. This shows that we are not that fickle after all. This shows our love for this game and our patriotism for this country. This shows we are one nation, after all.
Like I've said before, Afridi need not apologize. We love this team and we are so proud.
Green for life.
I've often mentioned on my blog how Pakistanis get all worked up when it comes to religion - well, there's one more thing that makes them that emotional - cricket. Cricket is religion in Pakistan. Cricket is also what brings all Pakistanis together. Support for a certain player has nothing to do with what part of the country he's from, but how well he plays his sport. I started waiting for 2011 years ago because that was the year we were going to host the World Cup.
So yes, 180 million hearts were broken when we were denied hosting rights, when two of our top bowlers were banned, when we lost the semi-final. Yes, it would have been easy to console ourselves had our team played like it was actually playing a big game, just the way it had performed all through the tournament. The heartache could've been a little more bearable had we seen our team strategize, field better, not given Umar Gul those overs, taken the powerplay earlier. But in retrospect, there's more reasons to celebrate than to be sad about. It's true I didn't watch the group matches because I wasn't expecting much from this team. But look where we got? We ended Australia's unbeaten run to reach the semis. The young team played some great cricket. Afridi became the highest wicket taker of the tournament. It was after a long time we saw Pakistan playing positive - there was no politics and the team was united under one captain. The stark reality is that lady luck was smiling upon Tendulkar that day and ignoring poor Gul. The stark reality also is that the match gave us many sleepless nights and got us excited and gave us something to look forward to. It is heartening to see that people are praising the team even after the loss. This shows that we are not that fickle after all. This shows our love for this game and our patriotism for this country. This shows we are one nation, after all.
Like I've said before, Afridi need not apologize. We love this team and we are so proud.
Green for life.
 |
| The Vitruvian Pathan by Komail Naqvi |
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Reasons to Celebrate
What better way to celebrate the Lahore Resolution of 1940 than our team reaching the semis of the Cricket World Cup. It was a great match and the team did us so proud. Other than that, the love of my life isn't giving me many reasons to celebrate these days. Pardon my pessimism but I can't really be happy when my country's civilians and soldiers die everyday fighting America's war at our northwestern border or when dozens are gunned down as political parties battle it out in my city.
The Pakistan I grew up in celebrated Pakistan Day with an impressive military parade at Constitution Avenue. And those of us who didn't live in the capital would wake up early morning to watch it on t.v. Thanks to the volatile law and order situation, we’ve been skipping the display of our military might for the past few years. Cricket meant walking to National Stadium in our green and white shalwar kameezes to watch our heroes in front of our eyes. And although it's great that the country can come together to celebrate the team's awesome performances on foreign soils, it's been years since Pakistan's cricket stadiums echoed with screams of "Jeetayga bhayee jeetayga, Pakistan jeetayga!" I grew up playing badminton on the streets with the boys, riding my bike in shorts. The scars on my knees are proof of the bruises that Karachi's roads gave me. Getting front seats to a Junoon concert was the biggest achievement. Sonu Nigam and Bryan Adams would perform to a sold-out crowd. Eight people would cram in one car to go have ice-cream in Bahadurabad. There was no moral brigade issuing fatwas every other day.
I wonder when, on March 23rd 1940, the Muslims of India proclaimed to the world their determination to make the Muslim Statehood the goal of their struggle, they had this Pakistan in mind. Needless to say, the present circumstances do not lessen my love for this amazing country. Where, when I visit after two years, the aunty on my street is going to cook me my favorite food and send it over. Where the neighborhood fruit vendor will say salam and ask about everyone. Where the press is free and vibrant - a very rare occurrence for an Islamic State. Where we can end Australia's unbeaten 34-match World Cup run.
I have no doubt the days of a packed National Stadium, concerts, and the parade on March 23rd will return. Happy Pakistan Day everyone!
The Pakistan I grew up in celebrated Pakistan Day with an impressive military parade at Constitution Avenue. And those of us who didn't live in the capital would wake up early morning to watch it on t.v. Thanks to the volatile law and order situation, we’ve been skipping the display of our military might for the past few years. Cricket meant walking to National Stadium in our green and white shalwar kameezes to watch our heroes in front of our eyes. And although it's great that the country can come together to celebrate the team's awesome performances on foreign soils, it's been years since Pakistan's cricket stadiums echoed with screams of "Jeetayga bhayee jeetayga, Pakistan jeetayga!" I grew up playing badminton on the streets with the boys, riding my bike in shorts. The scars on my knees are proof of the bruises that Karachi's roads gave me. Getting front seats to a Junoon concert was the biggest achievement. Sonu Nigam and Bryan Adams would perform to a sold-out crowd. Eight people would cram in one car to go have ice-cream in Bahadurabad. There was no moral brigade issuing fatwas every other day.
I wonder when, on March 23rd 1940, the Muslims of India proclaimed to the world their determination to make the Muslim Statehood the goal of their struggle, they had this Pakistan in mind. Needless to say, the present circumstances do not lessen my love for this amazing country. Where, when I visit after two years, the aunty on my street is going to cook me my favorite food and send it over. Where the neighborhood fruit vendor will say salam and ask about everyone. Where the press is free and vibrant - a very rare occurrence for an Islamic State. Where we can end Australia's unbeaten 34-match World Cup run.
I have no doubt the days of a packed National Stadium, concerts, and the parade on March 23rd will return. Happy Pakistan Day everyone!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Speak Up!
We protested. We wrote blogs. We wrote in the papers. We demonstrated in rallies on the streets. But our voices fell on deaf ears. I guess our measly third-world cries mean nothing.
Shumaila Kanwal knew what would happen better than us. The wife of the man shot and killed by C.I.A. contractor Raymond Davis committed suicide by eating rat poison, explaining before she died that she was driven to act by fears the American would be freed without trial. She was right. But what's all the uproar for? I mean Davis killed two Pakistanis. A missile attack by a C.I.A. drone killed at least 40 people in North Waziristan on Thursday. The C.I.A. has carried out more than a hundred drone strikes against militant groups in Pakistan’s tribal territories over the past year in which scores of my country's civilians have been killed - women and children and old people - and entire villages have been wiped out. Civilians are callously targeted without any regard for human life. These attacks are nothing but counterproductive in the battle against terrorism.
But all that does not mean we can just sit with our arms crossed and become a part of the circus. We will continue protesting. U.S. drones will have to stop bombing my country's civilians and its spies will not get away with shooting my country's people. Faiz Ahmed Faiz says,
Shumaila Kanwal knew what would happen better than us. The wife of the man shot and killed by C.I.A. contractor Raymond Davis committed suicide by eating rat poison, explaining before she died that she was driven to act by fears the American would be freed without trial. She was right. But what's all the uproar for? I mean Davis killed two Pakistanis. A missile attack by a C.I.A. drone killed at least 40 people in North Waziristan on Thursday. The C.I.A. has carried out more than a hundred drone strikes against militant groups in Pakistan’s tribal territories over the past year in which scores of my country's civilians have been killed - women and children and old people - and entire villages have been wiped out. Civilians are callously targeted without any regard for human life. These attacks are nothing but counterproductive in the battle against terrorism.
But all that does not mean we can just sit with our arms crossed and become a part of the circus. We will continue protesting. U.S. drones will have to stop bombing my country's civilians and its spies will not get away with shooting my country's people. Faiz Ahmed Faiz says,
"Speak up, while your lips are free
Speak up, your tongue is still yours
Speak, for your strong body is your own
Speak, your soul is still yours
Look at the blacksmith's shop
Hot flames make the iron red hot
Opening the locks
Every chain opens up and begins to break
Speak, for this brief time is long enough
Before your body and words die
Speak, for the truth still prevails
Speak up, say what you must."
Monday, March 7, 2011
Remember our Raymond Davis, Washington?
In a new twist of events, Raymond Davis has been revealed to be a part of a covert, C.I.A.-led team collecting intelligence and conducting surveillance on militant groups deep inside Pakistan. He has worked for years as a C.I.A. contractor, including time at Blackwater, now Xe, that is viewed by many Pakistanis as symbolizing a culture of American gun-slinging overseas.
Since the United States is not at war in Pakistan, the American military is largely restricted from operating in the country. So the C.I.A. has taken on an expanded role, operating armed drones that kill militants inside the country and running covert operations, sometimes without the knowledge of the Pakistanis.
Davis carried an American diplomatic passport and was listed as “administrative and technical staff,” a category that would grant him diplomatic immunity. But with Pakistan’s government trying to clamp down on the increasing flow of C.I.A. agents trying to gain entry into the country, more of these operatives have been granted “cover” as embassy employees and given diplomatic passports.
President Barack Obama has demanded the release of Raymond Davis, but the Pakistan government has insisted the matter will be decided by the courts.
In the absence of any deal, the Pakistan government reportedly sought a way out of the stand-off by offering to trade his release for that of Dr Aafiya Siddiqui, a US-trained neuro-scientist currently serving an 86 year sentence for the attempted murder of an American soldier in Afghanistan. Her supporters claim she was illegally detained by American intelligence agents in Pakistan and held in a number of secret jails in Afghanistan before the shooting incident. Her three children were taken into custody with her, when the youngest one was still an infant. Two of her children went missing for a longtime. Many believe 86 years in prison for attempted murder to be outrageous - especially with the lack of evidence in Siddiqui's case.
It's funny how the U.S. government is suddenly so pro-active in pressurizing the Pakistani administration to release an American who killed two Pakistanis in broad daylight. The scenario was totally opposite with a detained Pakistani a few months ago. Davis or Siddiqui, American or Pakistani. Justice needs to be served. Superpowers need to stop bending the rules for themselves. No one can be allowed to take law into their hands.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
The Blame Game
As my country goes through one of the toughest phases of its lifetime, we find ourselves tossing blame around at one another. We've got a variety to choose from - Zardari, the War on Terror, excessive red tapism, religious bigotry - your pick. But does anyone ever question how we actually got here?
Zardari didn't just walk up to the President House and declare himself King, we elected the Pakistan People's Party. We supported the wrong leaderships for the wrong reasons, or we acquiesced silently. We let Ayub Khan defeat Fatima Jinnah. We stood and watched as Bhutto gave away half of the country. We allowed Zia to come up with the Hudood Ordinance. We knew when Benazir and Nawaz stole billions of rupees worth of our tax money from under our noses and yet hailed them as heroes when they returned. We gave Arab oil money the opportunity to hoard Wahabi madrassahs because our own education system failed and the poor had no where else to go to.
We let down Mohammad Ali Jinnah. Big time.
Still, I'm not pessimistic - this is not the end. We've done it before, we can do it now too. We kicked the British out in 1947. We told India who's boss in 1965. We sent shock waves all over the world from Chagai in 1998. We came out on the streets with everything we had to help the earthquake victims in 2005. We are Iqbal's vision. We were the center of the oldest civilization in the world. We've made world records in squash and brought cricket and hockey world cups home. We have Nobel Laureates, world-class scientists, musicians, poets, painters, and writers. The competence of our armed forces is widely acclaimed and highly honored. We are the nation of Abdus Salam, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Guljee, Hakeem Saeed, Abdul Qadeer Khan, Aziz Bhatti, Noor Jahan, Sadequain, Rashid Minhas, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Javed Miandad, Parveen Shakir, Manto, Nazia Hasan, Abdul Sattar Edhi, Jahangir Khan, and a million others who make the country proud everyday in one way or another. We just need to look at ourselves, realize our mistakes, and take responsibility for what we've done.
It is all part of growing up. This is my country's coming of age. Our coming of age.
Zardari didn't just walk up to the President House and declare himself King, we elected the Pakistan People's Party. We supported the wrong leaderships for the wrong reasons, or we acquiesced silently. We let Ayub Khan defeat Fatima Jinnah. We stood and watched as Bhutto gave away half of the country. We allowed Zia to come up with the Hudood Ordinance. We knew when Benazir and Nawaz stole billions of rupees worth of our tax money from under our noses and yet hailed them as heroes when they returned. We gave Arab oil money the opportunity to hoard Wahabi madrassahs because our own education system failed and the poor had no where else to go to.
We let down Mohammad Ali Jinnah. Big time.
Still, I'm not pessimistic - this is not the end. We've done it before, we can do it now too. We kicked the British out in 1947. We told India who's boss in 1965. We sent shock waves all over the world from Chagai in 1998. We came out on the streets with everything we had to help the earthquake victims in 2005. We are Iqbal's vision. We were the center of the oldest civilization in the world. We've made world records in squash and brought cricket and hockey world cups home. We have Nobel Laureates, world-class scientists, musicians, poets, painters, and writers. The competence of our armed forces is widely acclaimed and highly honored. We are the nation of Abdus Salam, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Guljee, Hakeem Saeed, Abdul Qadeer Khan, Aziz Bhatti, Noor Jahan, Sadequain, Rashid Minhas, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Javed Miandad, Parveen Shakir, Manto, Nazia Hasan, Abdul Sattar Edhi, Jahangir Khan, and a million others who make the country proud everyday in one way or another. We just need to look at ourselves, realize our mistakes, and take responsibility for what we've done.
It is all part of growing up. This is my country's coming of age. Our coming of age.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Lets burn some tires now.
Religion drives Pakistanis. Pakistan was created because Muslims in British India needed their own country. A place they could call home. Since then, religion is what gets us off the couches and brings us on the streets. It is what makes us really really mad. And what do we do? Burn tires and block traffic and break traffic lights. When that cartoonist in Denmark made caricatures of Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, we did that. Now when the Governor of Punjab is gunned down by his security guard, we are doing the same.
Don't get me wrong; I was no fan of the man or his politics. But I do give him credit for being an advocate of the rights of minorities and women in Pakistan. On Dec. 24, he had twittered:
"My observation on minorities: A man/nation is judged by how they support those weaker than them not how they lean on those stronger."
Taseer's apparent killer cited his boss's stance against a controversial anti-blasphemy law in justifying his actions. As the embattled, pro-U.S. PPP sought in recent days to win back defecting allies that also include a small Islamic party, it had already said it would not support a proposal to change the blasphemy statutes. That left Taseer one of the few vocal champions of the move, which hard-line religious organizations had labeled a Western conspiracy.
For a nation who gets emotional over religion, Taseer's recent outspoken moves cost him his life. His death, to say the least, is ironic - for he spoke against the kind of people who took his life. For the people who are calling his killer a hero, murder is not the answer. Taking someone's life can never be justified. For the extremists who abuse blasphemy laws, the example to follow is the Prophet himself who practiced great tolerance and forgiveness. For the voices against corrupt politicians, the solution is to fix Pakistan's broken justice system, that lacks expertise, rewards vendettas, and encourages radicalism.
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