Syaf Omar and Liyana Low are Mass Communication students from Singapore working in Pakistan for a short time period. The following is their take on Karachi’s rickshaws, bomb blasts and never-ending protests.
Sitting here in the corner of a café, sipping my frothy latte, it feels surreal how slightly more than a week ago, two sectarian blasts had rocked this city.
Karachi had been destabilised once again. The peace that had followed only 40 days since the last Ashura bombing had proved to be merely ephemeral. A rude awakening arrived again, this time in the form of bombs planted on motorcycles.
Coming from peaceful Singapore where nothing ever happens (I should be thankful, shouldn’t I?), this scene is totally new and perversely refreshing to me.
When the news broke, people in the newsroom rose to their feet. Phone calls to family were made, quickly followed by the task at hand. Controlled mayhem (a paradox by itself I must admit) is a phrase I would use to describe it.
The first blast had happened not too far away from the office and even nearer to where some of us were living. And then, less than two hours later, another blast was reported. By now, I was trying hard to conceal panic or fear. Too late, a colleague had spotted it.
“Wrong time to be in Pakistan yeah.”
“You guys should go home before it gets worse.”
Soon, we (me and another fellow Singaporean on internship here) made our way back home, wondering if there will be rickshaws -our mode of transport here – on the streets.
As we were walking out of the gate, the company driver offered to send us back home.
“Koi baat nehin, it’s okay, we’ll just find a rickshaw.”
He then pointed out to the street and we saw that it was empty. He then explained with animated gestures that two blasts had happened, his hand pointing beyond, as if to tell us where exactly they had occurred.
“Ji haan”, we nodded. Not sure how to say “we know” in Urdu so we let him continue.
The streets were deserted except for a few military vehicles. Roads had also been cordoned off. An ambulance drove past, its siren continues to ring eerily in our heads.
Back home after updating the situation to our family, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space.
It disturbed me how I felt strangely calm. In a country where blasts happen almost every other day, surely I must get used to this, I told myself.
I then lay down on the bed staring into the darkness. It was 3 a.m. and ambulances sirens could be heard, arousing an unsettling feeling in me.
Soon fatigue befell upon me and before long, I slipped out of consciousness, the sound of sirens slowly dimming away.
***
The next day, cries of outrage had ensued in the aftermath, as people marched down the streets, beating their hands against their chests. One after another, the caskets of the dead — labeled ‘martyrs’ by the media — were hoisted up on the shoulders of men.
I had watched this scene on the television screen, my eyes having been glued to it ever since I woke up from sleep. Suddenly, the Shia leader who was leading the prayers fainted, overwhelmed with grief.
Tired from the grim images I kept getting bombarded with, I got ready to leave, almost relieved that I had dinner plans with a friend to save me from the depressing state of mind that I was about to fall into.
Before leaving the house, I walked towards the room opposite mine where a Quranic recitation session for victims of the blasts was about to take place. The old lady who lives in the building had earlier in the morning come knocking on my door to invite me.
“Inshallah,” I had replied in my semi-groggy state.
I glanced into the room and saw that chairs had been lined against the walls, while a set of Quranic texts sat on the table in the middle of the room. It was only the old lady and another woman, quietly reciting verses from the Holy book.
I explained to her regrettably that I had already made dinner engagements. She nodded in understanding. Still I could trace a note of disappointment as she wished me farewell.
“Khuda hafiz,” she called out after me, blessing my journey.
I stepped out onto the streets, being greeted by the cloudy sky, almost as if mirroring the mood. A heavy sense of disorientation hung low in the air. Most shops were closed down, in adherence to the three days of mourning that had been declared by officials.
Still, people were out, determined to prove to the extremists (and perhaps to themselves) that their lives must carry on as per normal and the ghost town that I was half-expecting was non-existent.
Back from Friday prayers, men stood huddled together in groups along the pavement. I was almost sure that the blasts were occupying their midday chatter.
I made my way slowly to the café, the rhythm of my walk punctured by a perpetual habit of looking around for “suspicious behavior”. I couldn’t even look at the public buses without feeling fear as images of the blasts were brought back to my head.
But seeing the calm dispositions reflected by people along the streets, I soon adopted it as well.
***
Now, almost a week later, calm had again been restored. But, for how long?
Last Tuesday, people took to the streets near Sheraton Hotel in protest of the blasts.
Traffic was almost at a standstill. What was usually a 10-minute rickshaw ride from home to work turned into a two-hour nightmare.
How does staging protests in any way, alleviate the situation, I thought to myself? Besides bringing a huge amount of inconvenience to people, don’t they also provide the best scenario for extremists to attack again?
I have since realised that I cannot afford to be so liberal with my use of the word “peaceful” for it had taken a totally different meaning ever since I got here. Peace is temporal and fragile — that, I’ve come to understand.
Pakistan’s engagement in a never-ending battle with militants up north has spilled over into the cities, killing many and crippling the already-weak economy.
For however long, its citizens have been grappling to make sense of the things happening around them, but having failed to do so, they have resigned themselves to the situation.
Now, it has finally dawned upon me how dangerous being in this country can be. I am even starting to internalize paranoia so well like the people here.
I wonder if my six-month stint here in Pakistan will leave me terrorised.
Or even worse, desensitised.
Written by Syaf Omar
His name is Latif and he has a family of seven to support. He lives in Karachi’s North Nazimabad area. His eldest child is just twelve, and yet he looks like he could be someone’s grandfather. He smokes while waiting for rickshaw customers – his green spacious rickshaw is powered by CNG.
What struck me about Latif was his good heart.
You must understand why I am amazed by this man. I am a Singaporean Chinese, so when I walk along Karachi’s streets, I get “ching chong-ed.” Pakistani men never fail to go “ching chong ching chong” when they see me walk past, as if I am the catalyst that brings about their “ching chong” reflex.
So I’m into my second month in Karachi, and my impression of Pakistanis (actually, just the random men) – not so good. Then I met Latif, the nice rickshaw walla, who showed me that I was too quick to judge, and opened my eyes to the goodness in Karachi.
One evening, my friend and I hailed Latif’s rickshaw to get to work. And who would have thought that our usual 10-minute journey to work would stretch to two hours in Latif’s rickshaw? There were protesters along Dr Ziauddin Ahmed road, blocking our typical route which caused our driver to make a wide detour.
We ended up getting stuck in a bad traffic jam, like everyone else who had decided to take the detour. So in those two hours we spoke to Latif where he communicated using his limited English (somewhere he muttered “typical situation” in reference to the atrocious traffic jam) and we used our Urdu vocabulary which contained a grand total of ten words. It was like a chicken talking to a duck. A cluck and a quack, a cluck and a quack.
But in those two hours, something that Latif had said stayed with me. When we wanted to get off the rickshaw and walk to work to save time, he had said, “No, you foreigner in Pakistan, my responsibility. Walk, dangerous.”
I was touched, surprised and overwhelmed, that I had the good fortune to meet this man who was a white sheep in a sea of black.
And to top it all off, because we were stuck in the jam for so long, Latif’s fuel tank had begun to run low. He had then parked his rickshaw at the corner of a street and insisted that he walk with us to work.
And in between the gesturing, the awkward smiles and laughter, he invited us over to his house for a small celebration for his eldest 12-year-old daughter who had finished reading the Quran.
“I bring you there, and go home. No pay, my party,” he had insisted.
In the end, we agreed to go to the party (with a little apprehension). We paid him a little more than the original price that we had settled for, thanked him profusely and asked him to pick us up again for work the next day at the same time using whatever little Urdu we could conjure up, with a little compulsory referencing to our Urdu guidebook of course.
I realized that when you’ve had so many bad experiences in a foreign land, and suddenly, a random stranger does something out of the goodness of his heart for you, you’d feel all the more thankful, and most importantly, your badly bruised faith in humanity, gets restored.
Written by Liyana Low
The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.
Hi Liyana,
Uncle Low (as we call your daddy) and friends proudly just read a few very appreciative feedback. Kudos and all the best!
Pakistanis are very hospitable people. Of course, there are a few that will throw dirt on the rest, but majority will go to extra length so that their guests are comfortable.
An example: We always hear how Pakistanis hate Indians and yet in 2004 when Indians came for the Cricket series, the tales of hospitality from their hosts are endless.
Of course, with terrorists killing even their own ‘brothers’ in Religion and country so a guest wont have any mercy from them.
Nice article written by Ms. Liyana Low and Mr. Syaf Omar, as both are students of Mass Communication, this is why they tried to depict the most real picture of a social set-up. I wouldn’t like to discuss that whether they focused only on negative aspects of our society or they tried to observe the actual causes of our society. The thing is that people make a society and their social behavior let one to understand that what kind of this society is. Unfortunately majority of us do not behave in a civilized manner to others generally and to foreigners particularly, so it can be assumed that our social attitude is not satisfactory. There are so many reasons of it.
I have been through almost all the comments on this blog, and a bit surprised that people are stressing that “People like Latif can also be present in the society like Pakistan’s”.
I have also spent almost all my life in Karachi and every single day have met with some nice people who can go any far for helping you. While on the other hand when I moved to London a few years back due to my job, it was a totally different experience. What to say about relations with strangers or neighbors when close family members are most of the times busy somewhere else when one needs them. For me, it equally applies to most of the ‘first class countries’.
I have not been to Singapore, where these two nice ladies have probably got very good social experience; however this expected attitude is not very common on this planet.
Both articles are well written. Good job!
On the teasing piece having lived almost all my life in Karachi. I myself have observed kids /young men teasing common folks just because they stand out in a crowd e.g. being tall, fat, long hair or no hair. Yet in a different part of town no one will blink a eyelid
I do not approve of this teasing but I also believe that in general these folks don’t have any bad intention to harm anyone.
Enjoy your Pakistan experience …and stay safe.
Nice article… May Pakistani men learn something from it and atleast spare the foreigners from this torture of teasing.
I found the story of Latif very touching. This shows that humanity can survive against all odds and this further strengthen my believe in everything which stands for goodness of mankind at large. You don’t need anything other than good intention to send the world a right message.
Very nice. Just goes to show that never judge a whole people by the actions of a few. This should serve as an eye opener to people living in other countries as well.
I am sorry to hear about the racist remarks that Ms. Low endured in Karachi. I am gald to hear about the positive experience with Latif who is symbolic of the many many poor people in Pakistan who are stuggling to survive and yet have so much decency and good manners as well as generousity.
I live in Karachi. Very well written articles. I apologize for any unkind words some people may have spoken to the writer’s. I really appreciate and feel proud that ordinary people like Latif have a sense of responsibility for their guests and towards their country. Pakistani people are generous in nature and their hospitality is second to none. In spite of the severe destruction that have wrecked the lives of thousands of people in recent years due to terrorism, there is still hope that humanity is still alive in Pakistan.
Acts of kindness and patriotism are sometimes forgotten in a hectic metropolis like Karachi. I distinctly remember as a child standing in line to buy “roti” from a local “tandoor”. Suddenly we saw this old woman leading a couple of Chinese tourists towards the establishment. This woman was actually a sweeper who would be seen normally cleaning the streets around our neighborhood. As she came closer, we could hear her saying in loud Punjabi…”Allah has given Pakistan a lot…you are our guests…come eat…”. She asked the owner of the tandoor to immediately give a few “rotis” with gravy and offered to pay. The owner also understood the woman’s kind intention and refused to take the money. You could actually feel the pride…it was so tangible…just because of one elderly woman who we had seen on many days and had ignored.
I hope people like Latif can keep their spirits up in these hard times in Pakistan.
Such a painful article, but being a Karachi-ite, I must say amazingly true. Karachi-ites know how they are suffering due to religious, political and sectarian affairs. Some of the painful examples to highlight would be Nishtar Park Blast, Ashura Blast and Chehlum blast, last but not least 27th December when MS Bhutto died. Being a Karachi-ite I am shameful that sometimes my city has to bear this pain for no reason what so ever.
There is a strong need to become a civilized state and nation.
Regards.
Hey guys, this was a really revealing read. Looking forward to reading more articles from you
Syaf,
We don’t deserve to be called ‘Black Sheep’ as a nation.
I understand your disappointment & inconvenience during the protests after the mass killing of people; however there’s no other way of releasing the anger except the peaceful protest asking the government to stop militants entering into our cities.
With due respect you can probably not feel the pain when a loved one is killed by the brutal militants.
Dear Irfan,
With all due respect to your sentiments. If not Black Sheep a lot of Grey Sheep and fewer White Sheep…
As a nation we need to look into our misaligned acts as there is a humongous room of improvement present for us.
Let’s reduce the grey and increase the white!
Cheers…
Very well written. I am sure there are more Latif’s out there. GOD bless all Latif’s and may GOD guide all Non-Latif’s to be like Latif. Hope and pray that you return back safe and sound to your country with Latif like memories about my country.
I really feel sorry that my country and its people are bleeding. GOD bless my country and all its people.
Best wishes and regards,
Haider.
Very well put together article. On one hand I feel happy to see that the foreigners met Latif who was able to put a good impression of Pakistanis on the them, whereas it is sad to read that rest of the Karachiites are termed as a ‘sea of black sheep’. I would like to assure you that there are many more Latifs here in Karachi who would be ready to put their lives at stake in order to protect the lives of our guests from other countries.
As for the low-life and uncivilized men who occasionally seem to ‘ching-chong’ the writer, I as a Karachiite would like to apologize on their behalf but would like you to realize that these people are the bitter reality of not only the foreigner’s but also the common woman’s everyday life here in Karachi. The day these people realize that there is more to life than mocking the people around them, our city, our country and the world in particular would be a better place.
A very emotionally charged article indeed! It is nice to know that goodness in ordinary Pakistani is noted which was long overdue. Humanity surpass everything and is the essence of Islam either practiced or not practiced by Muslims. There lies the answer to Mr. Prashant’s query of how people from one religion fights each other. It is sad but as simple as how sons of Adam, a same father fight each other. As for our Singaporian guests, I wish them a happy safe stay & wish they could explore more of the city’s lovely culture and the depth of their love for all beyond race.
Thank you Fatima for explanation. I hope every thing will be smooth in near future in Pakistan. I have heard that Allah it self means peace and prosperity.
Regards,
Prashant
Our guests expressed their feelings and experience very nicely. Pakistani people have been suffering from long time because of different forces for instance, terrorism, religious bigots and corrupt leadership. Some time I become galvanize that there is nothing positive to write about Pakistan. Even if I try to write down something positive it seems to me deception. In reality, every thing is going opposite side.
There was a time when tourists from all over were a common sight in Karachi’s Club Road Area. You could see them shopping and eating in the old Bohri Bazaar, walking along Zebunissa Street and dealing with the shop keepers at Zainab Market. There was a time in Karachi when you were able to visit anybody without any appointment and without going through any security check. The streets were used to be safe and people were generally happy and content. You were able to drive home safe and sound in the middle of the night without any fear and worry. And that was not too long ago. So much have changed and the city has been bleeding since.
Beautiful read, friends. I loved it to the last line. I hope to see more very soon!
I like the way you have put this article together, well done!
Liyana there are a lot of white sheep, there trust me
. The comments that the common men are passing to you on the street are a part of the eve-teasing culture rife in most parts of the country, the nature of the comments vary, but they are there. Having said that, there is also no shortage of nice people. Just that they are the quite part of the crowd and can therefore be overlooked. Hospitality is an integral part of the Pakistani culture and guests (foreigners) are considered god sent. Oh and I am guessing you might also have heard a lot of the evergreen slogan celebrating Pakistan-China friendship (Pak Cheen dosti zindabad!)?
Syaf, I think you will only come back sensitized about the people of Pakistan, the common man’s struggle to carry on and stay sane in the insanity that has been inflicted on the entire society. We have as a nation become stronger (not desensitized because of terror). You can see that in the continuing efforts of the people to understand the reasons behind the chaos and to somehow restore peace.
Take care and come back safe you two!
I understand where you are coming from. Please remember Pakistanis are kind people and despite what is going on politically, their faith in Allah is strong!
Hello everyone and just like the two bloggers, I live in Singapore too. But I am Pakistani who has been living in Singapore for nearly 19 years. Feels good to hear that there are still decent everyday folk living and working hard in Pakistan. Frankly, alot more needs to be done to improve the state of the country. The reason why people are still being exploited as a unit is due to the lack of social education.
Dear Friends,
I am from Pune, India. I don’t know much about cities in Pakistan. Today, I read above blog. I have one curiosity. I understand when people from two different religions fight with each other. But, I don’t understand why people from same religion (in this case Muslim community) fight with each other in same country and it results in Bomb Blast. I will be obliged if some body can explain the reason.
Best regards,
Prashant, India
Dear Prashant,
There is no connection of religion in it, I agree with the mudassir’s last paragraph, This is related to the War in which Pakistan is reluctantly being involved, and these are foreign sponsored people, (I don’t think there is a need to explain you, who is involved in this).
Dear Mr. Prashant,
Yes, you are right, fighting each other in any of the case be it religion, caste, creed, nationality etc is not right. But you see conflicts amongst the people of same religion are common in the world. Take example of Christianity where Protestants & Catholics have had differences which resulted in loss of lives and properties. Even in Hinduism, people of higher caste shamlessly suppress lower caste folks.
The latest Bomb Blasts in Karachi seemingly has nothing much to do with religious conflicts but it is more linked with the various other incidents we have in connection to War Against Terrorism. It is rightly said by some analysts that Pakistan at this point of time is a prime example of a country which is badly hurt by cross border(s) terrorism.
Thank you Mudassir for explanation.
Prashant
The end of Syaf Omar’s blog was quite telling on the state of mind and emotions and behaviors that Pakistanis go through…
I’m sorry to read that Liyana Low was exposed to racist dribble from some very immature or ill-mannered men. Though very disappointing and poor, and rare for me to not sound pessimistic, please know that there are many Pakistani men who don’t practice such bigotry and indeed many of them are like Latif.
It is shameful as a Pakistani on how dangerous life is in Pakistan, for nationals and guests. The whole country has been turned into a joke by extremists.
I am originally a Pakistani, I can tell you mate there can be few people who use these ching chong thing, the majority of Pakistani’s respect their guests and they can even give their lives to save them from any harm, I do critisize Pakistan and Pakistani’s but the truth is this nation will never let a guest fall into a prey intentionally, many people from Karachi and other cities go out of their way to help the foriegners, I have lived and work in Singapore yes a peaceful place I loved it but out of all that peaceful life I never found a single person who could go out of the way to help anyone.
Very well written.
I would like to believe there are very many more Latif’s out there and will one day out number the chaos in the country. It is evident that the locals are innocent, and they are helpless at the fate of the current governing policies and theories!
Peace in Pakistan and world over.
Ameen
Very well written …Thanks for sharing with us…
“White sheep in the sea of black”: a perfect summing up of how our Chinese guest felt when he met Mr. Latif. The question is for the Pakistanis to ponder is what caused the “sea of black?”
Thank you for sharing your experiences, Syaf and Liyana. We desperately need voices like yours, for you will be heard. Pakistanis are usually drowned out in the international media. Your voice will be heard everywhere, and you will take back good images of the country and city to Singapore. That will do more for Pakistan than any PR campaign. Thank you for this!