A week in the life of an Islooite A COLOURFUL Chinese proverb, which is actually a curse, probably sums up the mood in Islamabad these days: may you live in interesting times. The federal capital is a good barometer of public sentiment thanks to its strategic location and its domain as the nerve centre of national decision-making. It recoiled in a cataclysmic chain of events last year, but 2008 seems to have brought more tension and an acute sense of insecurity that is gnawing at the integrity of this directionless nation. There will be good time to give a fuller account with three more months to go before the sun sets on another testy year but picked at random, the last week or so offers a fine sample. US-led incursions up north and its aftermath dominated the cerebral hemisphere across Islamabad. From the corridors of power right down to the cotton candy-seller on the street and from talk shows hosts to students everyone appeared concerned about what it portends — with most wondering in mournful numbers what had they done to deserve this.The other day, I went to a photo studio in F-10 Markaz, where two men sat glued to a TV set, watching a debate over the US-led attacks slip into a ridiculous point scoring spat between two politicians. When asked what they thought of the whole shebang, one of them responded with surprising candour: “If we have to die in this war (on terror?), why should we just lay prostrate, destroy our self-esteem and let them kill us…shouldn’t we stand up and go down fighting, at least”, he said. A day later, Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani nixed any lofty ideals they might have had about “death before dishonour” by categorically, stating that Pakistan “cannot wage a war against the US.” In the real world, of course, ideals make for poor substitutes and other means have to be found for showing national character. Forging unity as a first line of defence, for instance. Again, almost every interaction that one had or which was reported from subdued Iftaris around the federal capital was peppered with the “shining” example of Iran. Inevitably, Ahmedinejad was the projected model of emulation. Some in the intelligentsia threw in Vietnam for a heady cocktail of national resolve as well. This has necessarily shifted the focus on leadership, which is drawing opinion from all shades of life but the recurring theme in Islamabad is abdication of responsibility. The absence of the President within the first week of his oath-taking to a reported private visit, for instance, alarmed a citizenry already reeling from insecurity. For the once sleepy capital, the war-on-terror has come to haunt in multifarious ways. The return to Islamabad from Kabul of Dr Afia Siddiqui’s 12-year-old earthquake-hit adopted son, Mohammed Ahmed, was the most poignant event of the year in purely, humanitarian terms. An agog media at the Benazir Bhutto International Airport and later at the F-7 residence of the boy’s aunt brought pictures of a bitter-sweet reunion. The harrowing story of Dr Afia has already fuelled deep resentment for the Americans, who first denied her whereabouts before suddenly, recouping her in the States via Afghanistan for a controversial trial. The images of the disheveled Pakistani woman, known as “Prisoner 650” after her alleged five-year secret detention at Bagram Airbase by the Americans and humiliating strip searches in the “Land of Liberty” has become a symbolic reference for debate around the capital in terms of how Pakistan has been treated in the war-on-terror. It is only compounded by the latest news surrounding Islamabad’s one-woman army, whose presence at protests for the missing persons continues to be their biggest hope yet: Amina Janjua. Her visa for the US was revoked by the authorities without citing any reason as she prepared to travel from Geneva to Washington to present the case of the missing persons before American audiences, both official and private. The US Embassy in Islamabad will probably again find itself with an unenviable task to satisfy Pakistanis, both in the media and human rights organisations, on what a prominent rights activist told me was “the dichotomy of allowing chosen victims of oppression like Mukhtar Mai and Dr Shazia Khalid to tell their tales of abuse but deny Ms Janjua the right to narrate the ordeal of losing their loved ones — no prizes for guessing at whose behest”. Only last night, a frenzied discussion at a popular joint in Margalla amongst what appeared to be a group of businessmen rounded up an unsettling week in the capital: like the proverbial last straw on the camel’s back, they were exploring avenues to leave what Imran Khan describes as the war of terror. They had clearly given up hope that Islamabad will see peace, opportunity and prosperity again. But, then isn’t every other person wondering the same? The writer is News Editor at Dawn News. He may be contacted at kaamyabi@gmail.com
A COLOURFUL Chinese proverb, which is actually a curse, probably sums up the mood in Islamabad these days: may you live in interesting times.
