Textbook Conversations

Shuttling between Kabul, Islamabad, Rawalpindi, Attock, Karachi, Abu Dhabi and Manchester over a period of four days is pretty hectic. Several flights, taxi rides, meetings, dinners and family formalities later, I take the opportunity to reflect on conversations that I've had with people. Briefly I want to consider Pakistan - damaged by internal strife, poor international press and yet still trying to build an image for itself.

I'm always willing to learn in order to understand more, but that does not mean I passively accept everything that is said. I had an interesting dinner in Islamabad, where the host accepted that Pakistan had a poor public image but his view was that Pakistan survived despite aggressive policies by greater enemies because of Allah's protection and that the neighbours - India and Afghanistan could not be trusted. I heard a similar view in Karachi - that India was ready to 'attack' Pakistan. Rather than contemplate the failings within, the commonality was one of finger-pointing and feeling sorry that Pakistan had failed to live up to its founder's ideals. In short the view was that the country was misrepresented and misunderstood and that the leaders were little more than stooges for the UK and the US. 

I have a family connection to Pakistan, but I have always been a little ambivalent about what the country stands for - and whilst I always want it to be better for the common people, I don't claim to be automatically forgiving. As much as I try to understand the passions of the country, I see significant failures and widespread alienation. What emerged from the conversations I had with people is how commonly held values (myths?) about Pakistan are not questioned or challenged. These opinions form what may be considered the "textbook" view within Pakistan.  There are voices from beyond that ask legitimate questions, but these seem to be filtered out of the media within because they criticise the basis on which the country stands. I think that this fundamentally comes down to an education system that has operated much like the state's propaganda machine where critical thinking is not encouraged.

Most people in Pakistan think of survival, so I can forgive some of the apathetic acceptance of the way things are, but if an educational culture of critical thinking were to exist, then there could be serious questions asked about the status quo. A kind of enlightenment, no less.

Malla Kalyan

Karachi Konnection - خوش آمدید

I am in Karachi.

My Grandfathers – both of them – left their villages to make new lives with their families in Karachi. It's a story as much tied in with the Partition of India as it is with a common migration destination for many Pashtoon menfolk seeking work in the then-capital of a newly formed country. My maternal Grandfather spent time in Bombay, eventually settling in Karachi where he was a career coolie, my paternal Grandfather spent his time in the commercial navy in Calcutta and later Karachi.

I generally look back a generation or two – my better times in Pakistan as a child arriving for the first time were in the rural (mostly mountainous north) - Hazara and Swat where my immediate ancestory lies. I would later return to Swat as an adult to the very house where my maternal Grandfather was born and raised - the beauty of the valley is entrenched in my mind forever. I don't know if we will get an opportunity to travel this summer, but without doubt, it is this stronger sense of Pashto language and Pashtoon identity that defines me, and not the human soup identity that is increasingly prevalent in Karachi.

My father has often romanticised about the village, Malla Kalyan in Attock where his forefathers had their holding, but in truth, over the years, he has tended to go back less and less. He has invested more time in Karachi and tends to introduce himself as a Karachiite, firming up what I call our Karachi Konnection.

Slumdog Hundredaire

Karachi is the Sindh equivalent of Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay of course and under the British was administered under an arrangement called the Bombay Presidency. Like Bombay/Mumbai, it is a city that has drawn in many layers of migrants – and is now a multiple layered society where communities jostle alongside one another, and occasionally break in rioting, turf wars and looting. Karachi is very complex – it remains a city that simmers with tension – on the ride home, I could almost sense it en route to my father's place in Shireen Jinnah Colony (named after the founder of Pakistan's sister). My wife pointed out the places in Clifton where she and our children were trapped during rioting that broke out a couple of years ago following the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. There is something about the city that the residents here just accept as normal – from my eyes looking in from afar, there are obvious wrongs. The erratic electricity supply is one, but the thing that strikes is the slum-living conditions of many of the people here. Whilst very used to my middle-class trappings, it's humbling – I also have family in the more run down parts of town – and I have to be mindful. On the first night in town, I find myself sleeping on the floor in a corner of a room with no windows. This, dear readers, technically speaking, is home.

Khush Amdeed خوش آمدید