I Forgot I lived In A Real World

Yesterday I looked beyond the crescent and star imposed on green and white and peered out into the open plains of western Pakistan. At the moment I was enjoying quite an enthusiastic performance, the border closing ceremony at Attari and Wagah, of the 'decorated' soldiers (decorated as in fashionable) of Pakistan and India trying to out scowl and out high-kick one another. Quite a sight indeed.

An hour or so later though, Benzanir Bhutto was attacked and killed by a shot to the head which was then followed up by an explosion that killed at least 20 others. As much as I have tried to keep up with the goings of the world while traveling, it has been difficult and it is not that I received this news dumbfounded wondering how this could have happened, but I did not expect this. This whole thing of news coming unexpectedly shouldn't be acceptable to one who aims to be a political scientist. Of course there is no formula to decipher how a series of events will play out, but a political scientist should be able to come up with likely scenarios and the preceding series of events should be able to be matched up accordingly.

So what does her death mean? Bhutto was (no longer is except in memory) the leader of Pakistan's biggest political party, Pakistan People's Party, and also a twice elected Prime Minister. She had been on 'self-imposed' (debated) for 8 years and her returning to Pakistan to take part in the political process was encouraged by countries in the West as it was thought to ease the instability in Pakistan and increase Pakistan, and more importantly for the US, Musharraf's democratic credentials. Although she was marred by corruption charges during both of her terms, she was welcomed back by thousands of supporters as well as suicide bombers who left close to 140 dead and hundreds more injured. Her party was expected to win the election, albeit not a majority, and she would most likely be the leader of the coalition government and serve as Prime Minister from an unprecedented third term. PPP (Pakistan People's Party) is Pakistan's most secular of political parties, so to those of us who had hoped this election outcome would be a set back for the extremists in the country, her death comes as unwanted news.

So once again, what does her death mean? Another question we must discuss before discussing that answer is who was responsible? From my point of view, two parties are responsible; Mr. Musharraf as well as the extremists who planned and carried out the attack.

Let us start with Musharraf. He was responsible for providing security for Mrs. Bhutto during the campaign rally and the bomber/gunman was able to get within 20 feet (maybe 20 yards, but still quite close) to Mrs. Bhutto and from that distance he carried out the attacks. For a 'former' general who consistently makes claims that he keeps Pakistan stable and secure, the fact that a terrorist (or whatever you label you wish to use) was able to get so close in proximity to Mrs. Bhutto raises eyebrows.

Now for extremists. Logically I place responsibility for her death because well, they, I believe, carried out the attack (I have not yet discussed who gave the order). Given their agenda, it is logical that they would not want an influential secular party in control of parliament. Whether it be for PPP's championing for modest women's rights or the possibility of taking a greater stand against extremists in the country (note: PPP could be far better but in Pakistan, well, probably as good as you're going to get for the moment).

So who gave the order? Did Musharraf not only provide the opportunity via poor security or did he and his minions (they truly are minions) plan the whole thing in a further attempt to thwart democracy and further strengthen his hold on the country? To start, I am quite certain that Bhutto's death wasn't that saddening of an event for Mr. Musharraf, but nor do I think he celebrated it. I say this because I believe a man who is power hungry doesn't like to share power or have other competitors. Surely with Mrs. Bhutto being out of the picture the likelihood of PPP recovering completely by election time is poor at best. Although people tend to rally behind new leaders in the face of tragedy, people also identify more with the figurehead than the party itself. Although Musharraf technically has one less competitor, who really won? The extremists.

Clearly in the past there has been back-agreements between them and Musharraf that would allow both of them to maintain a specific sphere of influence without the other meddling in their respective affairs. By taking out the possibility of an increasingly liberal and secular Pakistan, the extremists have begun paving the road to further instability thereby strengthening their hold in their respective spheres as well as branching out into new ones. So although it may make sense to some that Musharraf's is the real one behind this event, they should remember that to Musharraf, power is like a new toy to a 5 year-old ... good luck getting him to share it.

Whether I am right, ball-parked it or completely off remains to be seen. All I know is that this event has reminded me that the world is always turning and that in order to be truly informed about the present, one needs to be aware of events/persons/places and their respective pasts.

Goodbye Ashram ...

Day of departure: December 13

The library was as loud as ever during game time as children and volunteers alike were playing games and putting together puzzles. After giving my best to the cooks, the only ones left to say goodbye to were the kids ... my boys. In the days leading up to my departure, I knew that I would miss them and that it would be hard to say goodbye but when it came down to it, it was harder than I had expected. When someone says they are going to leave the effect tends to be minute because things could always come up. One could stay a day, a week or month longer than had expected and because of that, why fret? The real goodbye makes it official and all the comfort that you had just the day before vanishes leaving you feeling alone and cold.

I first said goodbye to Manoj. Rambunctious, smart and often a punk (reminds me of myself), out of my students he was the one I would miss most. He wrapped his little arms around me and his head pressed into my stomach as I told him I would miss him dearly and that everything would be okay. My mind kept telling me that everything would be okay. I felt him start to cry and as I held him my eyes began to water as well. It might sound harsh, but I told him, as well as myself, that men don't cry, that we have to remain strong during the hardest moments of our lives. He then let go and turned away so I couldn't see him cry. I watched him calm himself and heard him say under his breath that "men don't cry ... men don't cry". He then looked up at me still with watery eyes and smiled. He smiled.

I then said my goodbyes to my other two boys, Vijay and Gulshan. Vijay, who is quite the artist (he loves to draw parrots) and cricket player (a true baller), and Gulshan, the most playful and seemingly innocent out of the bunch, just looked at me like their best friend was going away. They called me 'biyah' (buy-yuh), their older brother, and told me just the day before that I was a good teacher, their favorite teacher with favorite being one of the words I taught them. Although not as visibly emotional as my goodbye with Manoj, I felt that I would be missed and surely they felt they would forever be remembered as two of the three boys who could always make me smile.

Teaching them was one of the greatest gifts that have ever been bestowed upon me. The children had such a desire to learn and often the speed at which they would pick up a new concept amazed me given their minute base in English. I wish I could show you the pictures that are forever locked away in my mind. The pictures of these boy's faces when a new concept 'just clicked' in their heads is priceless. One day I taught my boys the difference between 'this' and 'that' and when and how to use them appropriately. The next day when they came into class, without me saying anything, one took the book out of my hand and said "this is a book" while another pointed to the ceiling fan and said "that is a fan". From there they pointed to many other objects around the room using 'this' and 'that' accordingly. I cannot express the level of satisfaction and happiness that came over me. I mean they listened, they tried and they succeeded. In the few moments like those I caught a glimpse of what it might be like to be a parent and see your child succeed at something new. It is truly an unforgettable feeling.


Whatever I taught these children is merely a fraction of what they taught me. They gave me a lesson in resilience. They taught me when adversity laughs in your face the only thing to do is laugh back at it.

They reminded me that hope and love are the most powerful forces in this world. The two work together, lifting each other up when the other falls. Without them, we are simply the walking dead. They also taught me that every chore and every task can become a game. And most importantly, although it may have been just for a moment, they taught me how to look at the world like a kid again ... equally intrigued by the mundane and complex alike. Oh yeah, they also taught me to dance (see video, you'll enjoy it).



So Goodbye Ashram. My time there will be remembered fondly and hopefully, I will be able to return one day.

Jaul melangeh ...