Paranoia Attacks Pakistan

After the explosion yesterday at the Islamic University in Islamabad, I officially declare that everyone is going crazy. People won't leave their homes, suspicions of being followed are common, and you can feel nerves are on the edge. Text messages are the main culprit, breeding fear in everyone by sending leaked details of alleged next bombings. There is a message circulating today that reads as if you will trigger a suicide bomb by pressing a key on your mobile phone...

All the education centres have closed for the week, what has this place come to when the children cannot even go to school? Security checkpoints are multiplying, and while waiting in a traffic jam today I truly lost it for a moment, scared at all the 'what if' scenarios that were filling my mind. I always thought I was attracted to danger and could keep my cool. Apparently not this kind of danger.

Luckily I have support here for that, and after calming down it is simple to calculate that the risk is largely exaggerated. I pity the local population so much. I can always choose to return home if the situation becomes too tense to bear. They, however, have their lives, homes and families here. Where can they go?

The War In Warziristan

The military operation in Warziristan that we have been expecting for months is well under way and we are unable to do anything about it. By now we were supposed to have rehabilitated the hospital and opened up our trauma centre, but because we do not have the authorisation to operate neutrally without army protection, we are helpless, just like the IDPs. It is now that we need to be present, not in a few months time.

I hope that when the head of mission returns from Lahore today, he will have the signed papers in his hand and it will be full speed ahead for our project. Inshallah...

The Pashtuns And Their Pashtunwali

Not all Pakistanis have dark features. Those from the northern mountain ranges and Afghani borders have fair skin, light coloured hair and green eyes. Often I believe I have spotted a rare foreigner on the streets, but their traditional dress sense gives them away. These are the Pashtuns, an ethnic majority, closely knit thanks to a clan system. They are governed not by the state but by a common code of conduct, the Pashtunwali. Their unique identity, reinforced by feudal systems of honour, makes them an interesting tribe to learn about and very nice people to meet.

Children collecting water to prepare chai for the gori (foreigner)

Why We Are Here

I visited one of our projects. A basic health unit tucked away in a village near Peshawar where IDPs arrive daily for treatment. I was thrilled to mix with the community, and interacted with the children using my pitiful Urdu mixed with the occasional word of Pashtun. The nicest part of the visit was when an elderly man came to pay his respects and thanks. A refugee from Khyber, he had walked eight miles to obtain healthcare, with only one hundred rupees (less than £1) in his hand. Upon asking what he could receive for that amount, he was delighted to discover that his treatment would be comprehensive and free. Although I couldn’t understand him, his smile spoke volumes. This moment added a real feel-good factor to the day!

Children receive health education to improve hygiene standards while their mothers are treated in the clinic.

Peshawari Transport

Peshawar

Peshawar. The name evokes romantic notions and now I see why. Strategically positioned near to the Khyber Pass and the now closed roads to Afghanistan, it remains an almost ungovernable town. The British couldn’t capture the region back in the days of the empire and neither could the Pakistani government after independence. It is hard to say who rules the town even now. After Islamabad it is where I spend most of my time supporting and auditing the fieldwork.

It is a crazy place; blasted day after day life goes on for the locals and judging from the traffic there are not many who are hibernating in their homes. I am not allowed to explore the town, nor walk freely. Movements are limited and we travel hidden behind curtains, the standard office to house, house to office, office back to house routine. As I peek out through the curtains, I sometimes ask myself the question if I am looking at a member of the Taliban, for their presence is unquestionable in this town. The atmosphere is tense, military planes fly overhead every few minutes on route for some more air strikes.

Culturally the area is much more conservative than Islamabad. Female flesh and hair are not part of the sights on offer and most of the women wear the full hijab or burka in public, but of a kind I have never seen before. A tent-like chaddar that covers the body and face completely, they would have diffculty finding their way if it were not for a small grill of holes from beneath which they can peer out. It comes in a variety of colours and you can tell which region a woman comes from by the colour of her clothes.

Congestion is impressive, with an amazing array of vehicles and modes of transport on the streets. The buses are my favourite. Hand painted in assorted designs, they are bright and colourful with bells and trinkets attached so that they jingle when the vehicle moves. People hang from the sides and the back and often passengers find it more roomy to sit on the roof. Taken from the safety of my car, the next post shows some examples.

My Source Of Inspiration

Everyone has their source of inspiration for doing certain things in life. And at times when the going gets tough, I rely on mine. As one reader will indeed recognise, I sometimes rely heavily on mine! You know who you are, and I thank you for being just that...my inspiration.