SINCE morning people in the neighbourhood have been asking Fahad Iftikhar’s maternal uncle, Azam Mohammad Khan, when Iftikhar’s funeral prayers will take place. “They say it is an honour to attend the funeral of a shaheed,” he says, his shoulders hunched as he sits across us in Iftikhar’s home in Korangi number 4, Karachi. “There’s never been a funeral for a martyr in our colony.” The family has decided to bury him in Bagh-i-Korangi, a graveyard close by.

Among his family, three brothers, two sisters and his mother, there is a quiet acceptance of Iftikhar’s death. A sepoy with Pakistan Army and part of the UN peacekeeping mission in the Central African Republic (CAR), the 31-year-old was among the squadron of Unit 32, Punjab, and left for Bangui a month ago from Karachi. The family received a call from the Sialkot headquarters on Iftikhar’s SIM card, which he had left with his brother, two weeks ago, informing them that he had sustained a fatal head injury in an attack on the UN convoy. The attack was part of the fresh round of violence that recently rocked Bangui.

One hundred and forty-one peacekeepers from Pakistan have so far been killed serving in far-off conflict zones.

A UN official, who sought anonymity because he is not authorised to speak to the media, said the UN peacekeeping missions in Pakistan date back to the partition of the subcontinent. “Pakistan became a part of the mission in September 1947 and we faced a lot of criticism from the Afghanistan government for our involvement. But since then, our troops and policemen have served in various conflict-hit countries, such as Bosnia and Somalia. We cannot guarantee success or at times even security for our troops. What makes me glad is the number of young soldiers and policemen enthusiastically joining our mission, eventually bringing honour to our country,” the official said.

“Iftikhar’s was the first batch of 250 officers to have gone to Bangui,” says one of his batchmates, Mohammad Aizaz, a resident of Zamanabad, Landhi, who is now on his way to the CAR. “Along with some 500 colleagues, I am from the second batch that is now leaving. We are posted for two years in one area,” he said.

“Iftikhar was a close friend. We used to help each other a lot during the missions. The conditions are not so good where we serve mostly, and having a friend means a lot. I was the first one to know about his death.”

Iftikhar’s family waited for his body to arrive for over a week and buried him on Friday with a large number of mourners from their neighbourhood and beyond. Looking at the enthusiasm in evidence at the funeral, his younger brother, Shahrukh, 20, showed an interest in joining the forces as well.

Soon after the funeral, there is silence in their home apart from the noise in the veranda where children are playing. Iftikhar’s maternal uncle speaks about the conversation that happened before his nephew left for Bangui. “I had a discussion with him in this very room,” he says. “I told him Bangui would be difficult, but he reassured me that when he can survive postings in Wana and Kashmir, he’d survive Bangui as well.”

The home is inhabited by three of Iftikhar’s brothers, who pay the rent jointly, and one of the two sisters. Among the brothers, the eldest one was inducted in the police soon after his father’s death. “They waited for me to turn 18, which happened after a week, and I was given the job. That was back in 1996. Iftikhar on the other hand was forced by the family to serve in the army. His other choice was to work in a garment factory,” he says in a steady voice, holding his five-year-old daughter in his arms. But his swollen eyes tell a tale of their own.

“He was really happy to go this time around,” adds his mother, Iqbal Sultana. “I don’t know why, but he seemed quite content. He used to withdraw into himself on his return from earlier missions, but this time his body language was different.” She sits amidst her relatives who have come from Hyderabad, Thatta and Rawalpindi for the funeral.

“He didn’t tell me everything. I doubted that earlier but now I’m sure. One of his friends from the squad came to meet me and told me how horrendous the conditions were in some of these places. Before he left, he told me that we won’t have to pay the rent anymore as he promised to buy a house for me. I don’t need the house, I told him,” she says, crying quietly.

Iftikhar, who got married four months ago, worried about attaining financial stability, which he thought impossible with a salary of Rs16,000. On my visit, his wife was nowhere to be seen and when approached by a family member she refused to speak about her husband. “She’s our daughter now and will stay with us,” says the uncle, “We are realistic enough to realise we are facing financial problems, but I know we’ll make it through.”

Published in Dawn, October 24th, 2014