The Express Tribune Magazine - March 11

MARCH 11-17 2012

Five weeks in Palestine

MARCH 11-17 2012

Cover Story 18 Five Weeks in Palestine Travel to the Land of Milk and Honey for a firsthand look at the effects of the Israeli Occupation

Feature 30 Dallying with Dolphins Adil Mulki meets some unexpected friends on a routine fishing trip

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Positive Pakistani 34 Steel Wheels He refused to let the wheelchair define who he was

Up North and Personal

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38 The Ordinary Majority Daoud can never forgive the Taliban but does not understand why the world is so eager to make peace with them

Regulars 6 People & Parties: Out and about with Pakistan’s beautiful people 40 Advice: Mr Know It All solves your problems 41 Reviews: An opinion on Saving Face by someone who’s actually seen it 42 Ten Things I Hate About: The “Humsafar” Finale

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Magazine Editor: Zarrar Khuhro, Senior Sub-Editor: Batool Zehra, Sub-Editors: Ameer Hamza and Dilaira Mondegarian.

Creative Team: Amna Iqbal, Jamal Khurshid, Essa Malik, Maha Haider, Faizan Dawood, Sanober Ahmed and S Asif Ali. Publisher: Bilal A Lakhani. Executive Editor: Muhammad Ziauddin. Editor: Kamal Siddiqi.

For feedback and submissions: magazine@tribune.com.pk

PEOPLE & PARTIES

Sania Maskatiya celebrates the first anniversary of her flagship outlet in Karachi

Maleeha and Neeshay

Sarah and Noor

Muniba Kamal

6 MARCH 11-17 2012

Rukhsana, Fehmida and Mariam

ya hail Maskati

Sania and So

Nadir Khan

urney

and Maha B

Raana Khan

PHOTOS COURTESY LOTUS PR AND EVENTS

Frieha Altaf

MARCH 11-17 2012

PEOPLE & PARTIES

her s e h c and S laun re a Saim m a aho Us L r e n i m Sa label n o i fash Eman and Afia

Ayesha and Kiran

Naila and Humayun Maqbool

8 MARCH 11-17 2012

Afreen and Shiraz

Aamir and Rana Noma

n

Fatima Butt

Natasha and Bilal Mukhtar

PHOTOS COURTESY SAVVY PR AND EVENTS

irza ofia M

MARCH 11-17 2012

PEOPLE & PARTIES

Saba Waseem

Samer and Mariam

Hamna Amir

Meg, Seemi and Sara

Alyzeh Gabol

Asifa and Nabeel

10 MARCH 11-17 2012

Aliha

Imran and Aisha

Salma and Turab

MARCH 11-17 2012

PEOPLE & PARTIES

Saba and Resham

Kiran and Ayesha

Saba of La Chantal hosts a dinner at Cosa Nostra to celebrate the first anniversary of her brand in Lahore Saim and Sofia

Aamir and Ayyan

Shahzad and Mehreen

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Erum and Asad

Sophiya

Hassan Sheheryar Yasin and Waleed

PHOTOS COURTESY SAVVY PR AND EVENTS

Misbah

MARCH 11-17 2012

PEOPLE & PARTIES

an ent n a sc M z Cre 2 in a r Fa ches 201 hi n n ac lau Law Kar

Maria Wasti

Shoaib, Maheen Khan, and Faraz Manan

Nadia Hussain

eer

Safinaz Mun

Maliha Rehman and Tehmina Khalid

Florence

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Komal Rizvi

Uzma Batool

PHOTOS COURTESY CATALYST PR AND MARKETING

Frieha and Nida Azwer

MARCH 11-17 2012

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MARCH 11-17 2012

COVER STORY

five weeks in

palestine The Land of Milk and Honey is now the Land of Mistrust and Hate. The author travels to this divided state to witness first hand what the Occupation has done to the Palestinian people

BY M A QAVI

18 MARCH 11-17 2012

Travelling to Palestine for the sixth time in early December 2011, I had some cause for concern about being allowed into the country at all. In October, a

Quaker friend from California was refused entry at Ben Gurion airport, held for 24 hours in a jail cell and deported to London the next day. I was carrying a few items she had left with me for her

Israeli security guards sit inside a house being ‘renovated’ in the Sheikh Jarrah neighbourhood in East Jerusalem.

Palestinian friends, among which was a pair of bedroom slippers for the Mayor of Beit Sahour, a Palestinian town east of Bethlehem! What would I say, I kept debating with myself, if asked: “Are you carrying anything given to you by someone else?”

The check in at Luton airport — no questions asked — was smooth sailing. At Ben Gurion airport,

the queue at immigration is a short one. “Good evening,” I greet the young woman behind the desk as I hand over my passport. “Is this your first visit to Israel?” she asks, glancing at my passport.

“No, I was here last year.”

“What is the purpose of your visit?”

“To pray,” I say with a straight face.

“How long are you staying?”

“Five weeks.”

And then she bowls me over. Last July, I had travelled to Beirut for a conference and in order not

to have problem with Lebanese immigration, I had obtained a new passport — the old one being full of Israeli immigration stamps, which friends told me would not be kosher at Beirut airport.

“Would you like me not to stamp your passport?”

“Oh yes, please.”

“You have to ask for it, you know”, she admonished gently as she slid back my passport. And I was through in less than 2 minutes.

Sheikh Jarrah, an Arab neighbourhood in East Jerusalem, is across the road from the American

19 MARCH 11-17 2012

COVER STORY Colony Hotel where Mr Tony Blair and his staff have their offices.

It is also one of the sites where a Jewish Settlers’ organisation is

planning to build a 200 unit Settlement in place of the existing Arab housing.

Arab homes are being forcibly occupied by Settlers and their

Arab occupants thrown out on the street. Israeli activists in solidarity with evicted Palestinians have been demonstrating every Friday afternoon since 2009, and on my first Friday in Jerusalem I join them with my own protest banner.

The protestors are mostly young, with a sprinkling of elder-

ly socialists, and over successive Fridays I get to know a few of

them. Ironically, only a few of them are Palestinians. A Mr Al Kurd, who is one of the evicted Arabs, stands out and of course a

swarm of children from the neighbourhood also gather around.

The routine is to gather around the Sheikh Jarrah mosque hold-

Settlers march in the mostly Arab neighbourhood of Sheikh Jarrah.

ing banners in Hebrew, Arabic and English and clutching Pal-

estinian flags. After 15 minutes or so, we march to visit each

occupied house in turn, to remind the new occupants they are living in someone else’s house. Each occupied house is guarded

by border police, video monitors, and at one of the houses I no-

tice barbed wire as well. On the way back from visiting the last occupied house I see male members of a Settler family heading

home for the Sabbath, all dressed in fine traditional dress with circular fir hats and all that. Two young boys are evidently fright-

ened at the sight of us. The sins of the fathers being visited upon children, I think to myself. That’s not for me, I decide, and on my

three subsequent visits to Sheikh Jarrah I do not join the march, preferring to remain seated at the corner with my banner.

The little town of Bethlehem, where over 2,000 years ago a

young homeless girl gave birth to a child who went on to turn the order of things upside down is now totally isolated from the

place where that child, grown to a man, was crucified. An 8 me-

Raw sewage and rubbish from the Settlement is channelled

tre high concrete wall and the illegal settlements of Gilo, Har

down the hill side in the vicinity of the spring. Resistance by

lem. The daily rites of physical hardships and abuse Palestinians

under the protection of Israeli military.

Gilo and Har Homa now stand between Bethlehem and Jerusavisiting Jerusalem have to endure at the Kafkaesque checkpoint

residents of Nahhalin is met by brute force from the Settlers, all Combatants for Peace is a group of former Israeli soldiers and

are, to my eyes, degrading and inhuman.

Palestinian militants who came together in 2005 after realis-

Bethlehem were of the Christian faith. The Occupation has re-

conflict. For them, ending the Occupation and oppression of Pal-

Up to 1967, the majority of Palestinians in the governorate of

duced their strength in Bethlehem to around 25% now. Beit Sa-

hour and Beit Jala on either side of Bethlehem are two villages where the Palestinian Christians still have a significant pres-

ence. After four days in Jerusalem I move to a guest house in Beit Sahour and, for the next four weeks, it is my base as I travel up and down the West Bank.

Nahhalin, to the west of Bethlehem, is a typical Palestinian

village. The farming land is in the valley near a natural spring.

An illegal Settlement sits on the hill, overlooking the valley and

20

The Har Homa settlement in East Jerusalem.

the village — and the encroachment of Palestinian, piece by piece, is in progress.

MARCH 11-17 2012

ing that an unending cycle of violence is not going to resolve the

estinians is something that can only be achieved through non-

violent means and an understanding of the national aspirations of Israelis and Palestinians. I join the activity they have planned

for Nahhlain on Saturday, December 17. Professor Mazin Qumsiyeh, who teaches at Bethlehem University, drives me with peace activists Sherrill from Massachusetts and Doris from Florida. The

Israelis come by cars and a coach and again I notice the preponderance of the young among them. Mazin explains the non-pres-

ence of any from the village itself — they are afraid that if they join the Settlers will come after the Israeli activists have gone and terrorize them. There is a black 4x4 with a heavy set, middle-

aged Palestinian at the wheel. He ferries shovels, bin bags and tools but does not join us. Mazin knows him and tells me the

reason why he is unable to join us. He was knee-capped in the first Intifada in 1980s in his youth, lost both legs, was arrested and imprisoned and had one of his lungs punctured in the beatings he received.

We divide up into teams. Mazin and others get busy restoring

the stone wall the Settlers have partially damaged. I join a couple

of senior Israelis who are collecting the rubbish the Settlers dump on the Palestinians. We chat and their pessimism for the future of their children is palpable. I drift off with a bin bag up the hillside, along the channel from the settlement, picking up rubbish

and the other detritus of modern life. A herd of goats and sheep

(Above) Palestinian men walk near the controversial Israeli barrier in the Aida refugee camp in the West Bank town of Bethlehem.

appears from the side heading towards me until, at a shout from one of the herder boys, they turn away except for one who keeps

heading in my direction. This alpha goat stops at the edge of the channel, a yard from where I stand transfixed, looks straight

The protestors are mostly young, with a sprinkling of elderly socialists, and over successive Fridays I get to know a few of them. Ironically, only a few of them are Palestinians

into my eyes and bleats inquisitively as if to ask ‘What the hell are you doing here?’, before turning and rejoining the herd.

Later, the Christmas lights are due to be switched on in Beit

Sahur. I find a vantage point overlooking the square outside the

Greek Orthodox Cathedral. It’s a joyful spectacle with whole families turning out in their finery, and babies dangling from

mothers’ arms. The school bands come marching in an endless

procession. I lose count after 15. The stewards are flustered and overwhelmed by the crush of people. Suddenly a tall man in

camouflage uniform and body armour, armed to the teeth, appears amidst the throng, surreptitiously looking left and right.

Initially, I think it is some sort of pantomime the activists have

(Continued on page 26)

MARCH 11-17 2012

21

COVER STORY put on for the occasion, but then he is joined by another 12 or so security men escorting Palestinian Prime Minister Salam Fayad

who has come to preside over the switching on of lights. There is no ‘hailing the chief’ from the crowd, and I wish Salam Fayad had just stayed home.

At Manger Square, facing the low entrance of the Church of

the Nativity, Christmas Eve celebrations are boisterous. The tourists keep piling up but they are kept away from the Square itself

where the main event is to take place. I notice the tourists today

are overwhelmingly Southeast Asians and their dress and accoutrements mark them out as affluent Thai and Philippine Christiana. I wonder how much premium Israeli tour firms charged them for the privilege. The bands have come from near and far — Ramallah, Nablus, Jenin, Hebron, Jericho.

There is the traditional Christmas tree with all the trimmings

and another one put up by the activists which is decorated with barbed wire and mock tear gas grenades. Christians and Muslims — all Palestinians — mingle together in celebration of a national event.

Hebron, the largest Palestinian city south of Jerusalem has

goes back to when the Ottomans ruled this part of the world and

the rest. Patriarch Abraham and three generations of his prog-

mosque which she and her mother have had to leave because of

enough history, both ancient and modern, to set it apart from

eny lie here in eternal rest. Herod the Great built his palace over

their tombs, which the Byzantines later converted into a church.

When the Arabs came out of the desert in the 7th century, Herod’s palace became a mosque. That’s the ancient part.

After the Arab defeat in 1967, the Israelis set a rota for Jews and

Muslims to share the Cave of the Patriarch/ Masjid Ibrahimi. The

1993 Oslo Accords were fervently opposed by the Jewish funda-

beyond. Her ancestral home is in the shadows of the Ibrahimi

the daily harassment by Israeli soldiers who are there to protect the Settlers. She also tells me of the latest act of non-violent resis-

tance she is involved in. In November, at the instigation of Israeli Minister of Tourism, Masjid-e-Ibrahimi was closed to Muslims for 3 days. A local radio station started a campaign under the slogan: “A grain of my homeland is heavier than a whole continent” They urged residents of Hebron — even those who do not pray

mentalists. In 1994, the Jewish holiday of Purim fell on Friday

— to start visiting the Mosque on a daily basis to thwart a com-

born physician and Settler, dressed up in his Army Reserve uni-

regular visits by school students under the banner ‘Discover Your

February 25. That was when Dr Baruch Goldstein, an Americanform, walked into the Masjid Ibrahimi where Muslims were

praying, and opened fire. He killed 29 worshippers and wounded

plete takeover by the Israelis. Zulekha is involved in organising Heritage’.

To Bil’in or not to Bil’in, that is the question. Bil’in is a village

125 others. The massacre was robustly condemned by the Israeli

north of Ramallah which is struggling to survive. The confisca-

week long curfew was imposed on the 120,000 Palestinian resi-

the settlement of Kiryat Safer, now part of the Modi’in Illit block

government as the act of an unbalanced individual and a twodents of Hebron in the aftermath of the riots that followed. Goldstein’s grave is now an unofficial shrine for Israel’s radical right.

Two months later, in April 1994, Hamas carried out its first sui-

cide bombing at Afula, setting in motion this cycle of violence that has now reached Damascus by way of Baghdad and Kabul.

This is the modern part.

The Christian Peacemaker Team is one of many organisations

working in Hebron in support of Palestinians in their non-violent resistance to the Occupation which has allowed a few hun-

tion of its agricultural land began in 1991 with the setting up of

of settlements. In 2004 the Army took over more land for the construction of the so-called Security Wall. To date, the village has

lost 60% of its land. In 2005 the villagers formed the Bil’in Committee for Popular Resistance and started holding weekly demonstration on Fridays against the theft of their land. Israeli activists and foreign peace activists joined in and the campaign evolved

into a model of non-violent resistance for other Palestinian communities in similar situations to follow.

The last Friday of my stay January 6 is approaching and I am

dred Settlers to terrorise and hold hostage tens of thousands of

not sure I will be able to cope with the physical strain of march-

radiant Zulekha, a 55 year old Palestinian lady, and her indom-

and foreign peace activists are there in force to mark the first

Palestinians. I go looking for them when in Hebron and find the

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Christians and others gather in Manger Square, the central plaza next to the Church of the Nativity, as people get ready to celebrate Christmas in the West Bank city of Bethlehem.

itable mother. Zulekha tells me of her family’s history, which MARCH 11-17 2012

ing and the skirmish that inevitably follows. At Bil’in, Israeli anniversary of the death of Jawaher Abu Rahma, a 35-year-old

Showing me with my banner coming down behind the two Israeli jeeps PHOTO: HAITHAM KHATIB

The little town of Bethlehem, where over 2,000 years ago a young homeless girl gave birth to a child who went on to turn the order of things upside down is now totally isolated from the place where that child, grown to a man, was crucified

truly stranded. “Stop, please” I shout in the wind.

They don’t understand English and the stones keep coming.

The jeeps reverse and drive away. As the coast clears I make my way and come across Mustafa Barghouti, a former minister who recognises me and I tell him:

“Look this is my fourth visit to Bil’in but the first time I have

been stoned by the Shabab (Palestinian youth) for my pains.”

On my flight back home to London, I recall a programme Mark

Tulley did for BBC Radio 4, called “Something understood”. In particular, a segment from one of his broadcasts in 2007 comes to mind as I reflect on my experiences in Palestine:

“The Jesuit Priest, Gerald Hughes, in his book God Where Are You

narrates his visit to Turkey Creek where sister Clara Hearns had founded an Aboriginal Spirituality Centre. There he met Hector, an elderly Aboriginal artist, learned in Aboriginal law. He told

him about his youth, spent working on farms where they were

kicked, beaten and given very little to eat by their white employ-

ers. He also told him the story of Mistake Creek, a few miles from woman who died due to Israeli tear gas on December 31, 2010.

We march towards the under-construction Wall about two ki-

lometers away. I cannot keep pace and trail behind. The din of

firing, exploding tear gas shells and shouts starts coming from the other side of the olive hill to my right. I take a short cut and

climb over the hill to find myself looking down at two Israeli

jeeps racing out from a grove of trees to outflank the demonstrators. The soldiers spill out to ambush the demonstrators with

rubber bullets and tear gas. People run in panic. I climb down in the tracks of the jeeps ahead of me considering it to be a safe

spot. One of the village youth picks up one of the tear gas cannis-

ters as it lands near him and manages to throw it back towards one of the jeeps. Soldiers run past me, doubled up and choking.

Stones follow the retreating soldiers and I, banner in hand, am

there. In the 1940s, a farmer lost a cow. Suspecting it had been stolen by the Aborigines, the farmer with two of his Aboriginal

stockmen rounded up 13 men, women and children, killed them

and burnt their bodies. Next day the cow re-appeared. The police were called. They shot the two stockmen and warned the white farmer to clear out of the area. I asked Hector how he coped with

this trauma and whether he did not feel great bitterness. He

claimed to feel no bitterness, no hatred and said what had sustained him was his Abroginal way of seeing the world. We were

sitting in the garden at the time. He turned towards me and said, “See sky and sun, see tree and flowers, birds and insects, you me, we all one.”

M A Qavi is a Pakistan-born human rights activist currently living in London.

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Cover Photo by: Ryan Rodrick Beiler/Shutterstock.com MARCH 11-17 2012

FEATURE

dallying with A routine fishing trip leads to a close encounter of the Cetacean kind

BY MUHAMMAD ADIL MULKI PHOTOS BY RAHEEL HUSSAIN, ADIL MULKI & MEKYLE KHAN

30 MARCH 11-17 2012

dolp

phins

All these sights and sounds, combined with the beauty of the huge lagoon and its sandy shores, were nothing short of a Nat-Geolike experience for us city slickers

It was on a cool moonlit night, that my friends and I decided to take advantage of the calm winter seas to go fishing. As the old diesel boat chugged along Sand

whales and porpoises gently cruise along the Makran Coast all

in a blanket and settled myself on the rear of our boat with a hot

ing dolphins and other cetaceans on various occasions. They

in the water. It was swift, much different from the splashing of

breakwater of Karachi harbour. This always surprises me as I

Spit and Hawkes’ Bay towards Churna Island, I wrapped myself cup of tea in hand. As I was drifting off, I saw some movement

the King Mackerel (Surmai) and yet much too pronounced to be a

figment of my imagination. I thought it to be the wake of some boat, but none had crossed us.

As the mysterious movement on the waves turned the atmo-

sphere eerie, my mind went over the possible explanations and I started reciting a few prayers, just in case. As if in answer to

my supplications, I caught sight of two dorsal fins breaking the

water. For all I knew, the fins could have been that of sharks, which in fact do prowl these waters and are called “Magra” by the

local fishermen, but the movements were too smooth. Suddenly,

the way to Oman across the Persian Gulf and also patrol the Indus Delta region leisurely.

Since that fateful night, I have had the good fortune of observ-

are sometimes visible from atop Fort Manora, right next to the would not expect them to come so close to the hustle bustle and polluted waters of Karachi harbour. If one is lucky, they can be

sighted from land at the Kund Malir beach and the fish market on the Makran Coastal Highway. Once, when my friend and I

went for a swim to Kund Malir beach, we soon found ourselves in the company of a school of dolphins playing around at a distance.

They were probably chasing a shoal of “Bangra” (a small variety of Mackerel). After a brief flirtation we decided to let them enjoy their frolicking and left with broad smiles.

My most recent encounter with these graceful creatures was

realisation hit me! it was the signature rise and dip attributed to

on a self-organised Dolphin Safari from the village of Damb near

boat for a while, until finally getting bored and disappearing. To

rachi. More than an hour into our boat ride, we did not see any

dolphins! Hardly creating any sound or splash, they escorted our this day, I do not recall how many fish, if any, I caught on that trip but my first interaction — if you can call it that — with wild dolphins was a start of a lifelong interest.

Dolphins belong to the Cetacean order, which comprises of a

large portion of sea mammals. Contrary to popular belief, Pakistani waters are not only frequented by many types of Cetaceans but some of them are actually permanent residents! The most

recognisable Cetacean from Pakistan is undoubtedly the Indus

Sonmiani in Baluchistan, approximately 80 kilometres from Kadolphins except one and which only I had spotted. This did not

count much as I was the tour guide and what really mattered was that the others could spot a few. The dolphin had dipped and re-

fused to surface until we had passed the area. I felt a little guilty that the dolphin-viewing trip might end without seeing any dolphins but everyone else didn’t seem to care as they were quite awed by the other spectacles on offer.

There were plenty of seagulls flying around, with an occasional

Blind Dolphin, often nominated as the mascot for various sports

one bobbing lazily on the water. Common Terns, exhibited their

about other cetaceans in Pakistan, various species of dolphins,

their wings just before hitting the water in order to dive deeper.

teams hailing from the province of Sindh. While little is known

aerial acrobatics and spectacular diving skills as they folded back MARCH 11-17 2012

31

FEATURE

There were hordes of sandpipers on the shores picking up their

treats and a formation of Pelicans circled above like a squadron of sea-planes in search for a place to land. All these sights and

sounds combined with the beauty of the huge lagoon and its san-

dy shores were nothing short of a Nat-Geo-like experience for us city slickers but the elusive dolphins were what I sought.

We were told by the boatman that the dearth of dolphins was

due to the high wind which was present that day. The evident dust storm being whipped up from the far end of the shores of Miani Hor out to the open sea supported this theory. Resigned to our fate, we decided to head back to the jetty reluctantly but on the way back we took a different route, one passing through

deeper waters. Soon, someone spotted a splash. “A Dolphin!”, one of the kids shouted, “There’s another one!”, someone else

exclaimed. Soon we could see pods of four or more, surfacing

quite frequently. The excitement for the first-time audience was a sight to behold. Each glimpse of the shy mammals that day was applauded and cheered by our party — grown-ups and children

alike. The older kids kept shouting greetings to the dolphins while jumping and waving their hands in the air and my son, not yet two, decided to emulate the dolphins by trying to dive

into the sea! Not even Shahid Afridi, then captain of the “Karachi Dolphins”, would ever have had such a noisier audience.

To use a cliché, all good things must come to an end, and so did

this little trip. However, the experience was thoroughly enjoyed by young and old alike and fond memories were created that day.

The enthusiasm of the children to learn more about the sea and its creatures was the greatest achievement of the visit.

Mankind has destroyed much of what nature had bestowed on

us. Flora and fauna have been particularly hurt by man’s exploitation of his environment. Until now, Dolphins and other cetaceans have enjoyed themselves in Pakistani waters. Being mam-

mals, they are considered Haram (prohibited) by most Muslims and thus not hunted. However, habitat destruction, pollution

and over-fishing of their food source, is now contributing towards their decreasing numbers. Each new development which

disregards its impact on environment and wildlife causes the extinction of more and more species.

32 MARCH 11-17 2012

POSITIVE PAKISTANI PEOPLE

steel

wheels

34 MARCH 11-17 2012

Struck by a crippling disease at 17, Asad Rafi was determined not to let a metal chair define who he was

BY ASAD RAFI

Being bound to a wheelchair after knowing the joy of walking wasn’t easy. But once I began to accept my fate, I finally realised that this wheelchair did not have to define who I was I was barely 17 when the symptoms started to appear: first, incessant back pain, then curvature of the spine and loss of balance, followed by weakness in my arms and legs and a lack of coordination. Then came the diagnosis: I had a neurological condition called Friedreich’s Ataxia, a genetic disease that was causing progressive damage to my nervous system. I was an only child and my parents were devastated.

I was made to wear a special brace which was supposed to pre-

sion of mine and I refused to set it aside even after I was confined

to the chair. At first, it was daunting — a lap would be more than I could handle. But I was determined not to give up. I have been

swimming for over 30 years now and it has become a major part of my life. I can easily manage to swim 10 laps without any assistance whatsoever. Some may not consider this much of an

achievement, but for me the pool is a gateway to another world, a place where I am not confined to a chair, a place where I can be free.

While learning to swim all over again, I wondered if it was

vent further damage to my spine and help me move about. Even

possible to help others by sharing my story. I started speaking

day becoming a sportsman, but now even something as simple as

did not let my disability define me; I hoped to inspire people and

going to school had become a challenge. I had dreamed of one climbing stairs seemed impossible. The stairs at school became my greatest foe, but I persevered, moving around with the aid of a walker.

Just when I had finally adjusted, fate dealt me another devas-

tating blow. As I turned 20, walking became extremely difficult.

I was confined to a wheelchair and the doctor told me that I may

never be able to walk again. The wheelchair felt like a prison, preventing me from where I wanted to go and what I wanted

to do. It was heartbreaking and frustrating and I could not stop

at events and schools, talking about my life and the fact that I make them believe in themselves. I have been a motivational

speaker for about 5 years now and have spoken at Karachi Grammar School, Beacon House School, Aitchison College, CBM, IBA,

LUMS and Kinnaird College. I also give talks at seminars, workshops and corporate offices like Unilever, Faysal Bank, GlaxoSmithKline and Dawood Group. I am currently also raising awareness about Friedrich’s Ataxia and advocating to make Pakistan a more wheelchair friendly country.

What I have learnt is this: when faced with an obstacle in life,

questioning why this had happened to me, why my dreams and

it is important to have a positive frame of mind. To struggle for

knowing the joy of walking wasn’t easy. But once I began to ac-

achieve your desired goal. Life is unpredictable and lot of things

ambitions had been shattered. Being bound to a wheelchair after

cept my fate, I finally realised that this wheelchair did not have to define who I was. I may have lost the ability to walk but no one

could take away my hopes and dreams. Fear was, by far, a more evil prison then this small metal chair. I was determined to not give in.

When I finally embraced my fate, the wheelchair soon proved

something is of utmost importance even though you may not

can happen over which you have no control. If you resovle to nev-

er give up, believe in yourself and have faith in God, you can fight against all odds. I think my life encapsulates this beautiful and profound saying: “In the midst of winter, I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer”.

The author can be contacted at asad.rafi@gmail.com

to be a great source of strength. I can now say that this disease has proved to be a blessing in disguise as it has made me far

stronger than I ever could be otherwise. I vowed to face each challenge that was thrown at me and not let my disability dictate how I lived my life.

Swimming was my first victory. It had always been a great pas-

If you know of any people who have achieved something positive, either for themselves or for those around them, please mail us at magazine@ tribune.com.pk and help us share their story with the world.

35 MARCH 11-17 2012

UP NORTH AND PERSONAL

the ordinary majority

While the world looks forward to peace talks with the Taliban, ordinary citizens like Daoud cannot forget the atrocities of the past

TEXT & PHOTOGRAPHS BY ZAHRAH NASIR

The icy blue moonlight illuminated the stark orchard, the snow crunching beneath my booted feet as I took the dogs for one last amble before turning in for the night. The silence was profound, my snowbound world ethereal and the fact that I hadn’t seen a single soul for days somewhat of a healing meditation. Then I heard it and automatically cringed. The insistent ring of the telephone late at night could only mean bad news.

other nations.” Daoud felt betrayed, he couldn’t believe how

“Banafsha…Banafsha,” pleaded a torturously broken voice,

helping his country. Life in Kabul is far from easy, yet his belief

“they are letting the Taliban come back.”

“What happened?” I demanded, recognising Daoud’s* voice,

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?”

“A bunch of Taliban diplomats…‘diplomats’ for God’s sake…

have been covertly taken to Qatar for secret talks,” he said, “Tayeb Agha, Mullah Mohammad Omar, Sher Mohammad

38

Abbas Stanekzai, Shahabuddin Delawar and Mohammed Qal-

amuddin are opening an office in Qatar to hold peace talks with MARCH 11-17 2012

the world could forgive the Taliban and give them international recognition. “The Mujahideen didn’t fight for this, they won’t

take it. The Taliban will start another war! We want peace not

more war,” he said. Twenty-one-year-old Daoud, was born and raised in Kabul until his family were forced to flee after the Taliban took control in 1996. He was only five years old at the time

but he can still vividly recall the dismembered bodies lying in the streets of the city. Despite this, Daoud returned to Kabul as

soon as he had completed his education with the intention of in a peaceful future did not falter. Suicide bombings, assassinations, gunshots in the night and troops patrolling in APCs are all

an unavoidable part of Kabul today. The tension in the air, both

day and night, is palpable and Daoud has phoned at other times to give me on the scene information. This time though the feeling of total betrayal was just too much.

The ‘ordinary’ majority are rarely heard, the thousands upon

thousands of internal refugees eking out a bleak existence in

miserable camps throughout the country. They continually pay the price but have no voice of their own.

I spoke to another Afghan, who is currently working in the

thing happen then this time even the women will stand up and fight,” she said.

“Remember The Kite Runner?” responded a London-based Af-

Gulf. “It is good that peace talks are taking place,” he said to

ghan. He could never understand why people wanted to read

though. They can’t be like they were before otherwise there will

they be spellbound by our pain and humiliation? They were fas-

my surprise. “The Taliban must change their policies and laws

be civil war,” he explained. He said that if the Taliban were back

in charge then the Hazara will be pitted against the Pakhtun

who in turn will be up in arms against the Tajik and so on. “We have already endured 32 years of continuous war; we too have

the right to live in peace. I, like most other Afghans, want peace

about and watch the horrors they lived through. “How could cinated by that stadium...the public execution ground. But it

wasn’t fiction…it was our fact and this, Banafsha, is the problem with the world today,” he said, “No one cares about anyone else these days. It is everyone for themselves.”

He believes that death and violence has become the accepted

not war. War is someone else’s agenda not ours,” he said.

norm, children are so surrounded by violence that they can no

she is determined to return and help rebuild her country after

same children will grow up to be the leaders of the world, unless

A female Afghan university student in California told me that

graduation. She was appalled by the very mention of the word ‘Taliban’. “We will never allow the Taliban to run riot again,” she said. When I brought her up to date on the ‘peace meet-

ing’, she couldn’t believe it. “No way, they can’t do this to us!

The world won’t let them. If the world stands by and let’s such a

longer differentiate between what is reality and fiction. “These

there is massive change and there won’t be — the only word left in the dictionary will be ‘WAR’ in capital letters,” he said.

39

*Name has been changed .

MARCH 11-17 2012

ADVICE

mr know it all From relationship blues to money woes, Mr Know It All has the answers!

Q. Dear Mr Know It All,

I am a 19-year-old boy. I have a few friends at college who bor-

row money from me which they never return. Instead of appreciating me for being a good friend, my friends insult me all the time. They make fun of me and never stand by anything that

I say or do. I’ve often tried asking them why they treat me like

this, and they always feed me some unconvincing stuff about friendship and frankness going hand in hand and that leaves me speechless. I know I have low social and communication skills and because of that, I can’t make new friends. I have a girlfriend

however whom I love very much. The only problem is that she doesn’t know that I have feelings for her. She’s nice to me and

everything, but I’m afraid if I tell her that I love her, she’ll reject me and I’ll end up losing her as well. What should I do?

Ill-treated

A. I’m all for being delusional and harbouring false beliefs if it

makes you happy, but I really don’t see the point of such self-de-

ception if, at the end of the day, all it serves to do is make you sad and miserable. Honestly, I don’t understand why a young guy

like you who has his whole life ahead of him would torment him-

self by calling those egotistical, manipulative twits “friends”. I mean sure, my friends must have leeched thousands of Rupees

will all be in vain. This might sound like the oldest cliché in the book, but to attract better people into your life, you have to raise your standards and start believing in yourself more… and please let’s not even discuss the “girlfriend” here because her not knowing that you call her that is just plain stalky and uncool. If you re-

ally like the girl, try impressing her by manning-up and making

the crappy aspects of your life a thing of the past. It’s all about baby steps. Work on your supposed friends first; build your self-

confidence by standing up to them and meeting their wisecracks with equally unabashed retorts. Remember, we’re all good communicators; it’s just the filters that separate the verbal punching champions from voiceless listeners. Do away with yours for a bit and try to discover yourself before moving onto the advanced

course on wooing women, because believe me you, that’s a whole different ball game!

Q. Dear Mr Know It All,

Are there any hard and fast fashion rules regarding the colour

khaki? What to wear it with, what not to wear it with etc?

Discoloured

A. Khaki is an often unused colour for shirts because it’s usual-

off me over the years and I must’ve done the same to them, but

ly used for pants. Avoid wearing them together unless the shades

relationships: you need to be ‘good’ friends first! Friendships

neath or you’ll end up looking like grandpa when he dressed for

there’s one crucial aspect to such intimate, mutually fulfilling don’t start with one person being bullied into being the others’

ATM. You need to trust and respect each other, not insult and

scoff those who’re too nice to snap back. It may seem like you’ve been earning bonus air miles by doing extra favours for your so-

40

to the rapport in the same ways you’re willing to, your efforts

called buddies, but the reality is that unless you change your act

by demanding the respect you deserve, or they start contributing MARCH 11-17 2012

are noticeably different and you wear a contrasting t-shirt under-

weddings in one of his treasured Safari suits. Also, please don’t talk about rules in fashion, especially the hard and fast kind. It scares me.

Got a problem you just can’t solve? Mail us at magazine@tribune.com.pk and let our very own whiz take a crack at it!

REVIEW

on the face of it

BY UZAIR TAHIR

Ever since Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy won the Oscar, I’ve seen comments all over the internet that give the impression that this documentary shows only the darker side of Pakistan. However, having actually seen the documentary I would like to clear this misunderstanding.

I had the good fortune of watching it, along with other Oscarnominated works, at the National Archives in Washington DC on the morning of 26 February, the day before the Oscar winners were announced. While they were all excellent, Saving Face was definitely the best amongst them. Even though it was the longest one, the audience was riveted until the last moment.

Saving Face begins with Sharmeen interviewing Zakia, a victim of an acid attack. Zakia, who had filed for divorce, was attacked by her husband outside the court room after the hearing. Half her face, including one eye, was destroyed.

We are also introduced to Rukhsana, who was attacked with acid by her in-laws. Tired of mistreatment by her husband and his family, she takes her children and moves in with her parents.

Soon, financial problems force her to return to her husband and ask forgiveness, a decision that has terrible consequences. In a harrowing scene, Rukhsana shows us the room in which she was attacked with acid by her mother-in-law and sister-in-law.

Then there is Dr Jawad, a plastic surgeon in the UK who travels to Pakistan to treat the victims of acid attack at the Burns Centre in Islamabad. He meets Zakia first and is deeply moved by her story, trying very hard to save Zakia’s eye along with her face.

Sadly, the optical surgeons tell him there is no chance of success.

Nor does her legal struggle seem to bear fruit: Zakia attends every hearing of the case against her husband but the final hearing keeps getting postponed.

On the other hand, Rukhsana, who is waiting desperately for the surgery to restore her face, cannot undergo the operation because the initial tests reveal that she is pregnant. In a particularly moving scene, Rukhsana hopes the child will be a boy because she is afraid that a girl would face the same difficulties as her.

But there is also hope amid the despair. Zakia’s case is taken up pro bono by a female lawyer, and eventually, both women succeed in gaining the attention of various NGOs. They meet Marvi Memon and push for punitive legislation against acid attacks. Memon, moved by their pleas, proposes a bill in calling for life imprisonment for acid attackers Near the end, a scuccesfull surgery gives Zakia her face back, and the optical surgeon designs an artificial eye for her. Rukshana gives birth to a baby boy and is successfully treated by Dr Jawad afterwards. The bill is unanimously passed in the assembly. In the

end comes the happiest moment of all, as the court sentences Zakia’s husband to double life imprisonment terms.

Far from being a biased indictment of Pakistan, Saving Face shows women in Pakistan are moving ahead and fighting for justice in a male-dominated society. It also shows how, contrary to popular opinion, the courts do sometimes dispense justice.

Another great aspect of Saving Face is that it brings to light the philanthropist mindset of our society, where individuals feel the need to give something back to their country. Eloquently summing it up is the closing quote from Dr Jawad: “I was not saving their faces; I was saving my own face as I am also a part of this cruel society.”

41 MARCH 11-17 2012

THE HATER

10 things I hate about

1 2 3 4 5

…the humsafar finale

The perfect timing of Fareeda Aunty’s mental breakdown. Just when she was about to be held responsible, maybe even punished a bit, she decided to fake the

‘crazy eyes’ for us all. I’m so totally going to do that the next time I’m in trouble. After all, all it takes is calling someone you despise a ‘pari’ and acting a bit ditzy.

The wonderful son Asher. Despite all that mother dearest did — from ruining her son’s marriage to indirectly killing

a girl — he STILL does not kick her to the curb. Instead,

to the dismay of millions of Pakistani girls, he gives her a hug and a kiss!

normal after heart surgery and you know your in-laws

are direct descendants of the devil himself, you’re going to take her to a better place … NOT decide to leave her with them forever and ever. How stupid are you?

repetitive

6 7 8 9 10

Saroo or Stalker Sara. Couldn’t she just have moved on?

Like, really, he’s cute and all but really? Suicide? It’s not like hell will be filled with Asher lookalikes!

Fareeda Aunty’s impossible challenge: “Agar tum meri

zindagi mein sabit kerdo, yeh bacha meray Asher ka hay, tou tum jeetein mein haari.” Hello, DNA testing

anyone? You know that thing called science, which

figures it all out, how about we use that right about now?

Khirad’s intelligence. If your daughter’s back to

The

BY SABA KHALID

song.

WOoooooooooooh

HUmsaa-

aaaaaaaaafar thaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Repeat 500 times until you want to say: “Haan thaa humsafar, but he turned

out to be a wimpy loser tied to his mother’s apron strings, so stop rubbing it in QB.”

After calling Khirad every ugly name in the book, all

it took to turn her into a ‘bakirdaar aurat’ in Asher’s opinion once again, was one hell of a persuasive letter

and some eavesdropping. Why didn’t he stumble upon the letter before? Why didn’t he eavesdrop before?

Khirad’s hypocrisy. From strong statements like “Yeh

aik waqti samjhota hay” and “Aap ka beta meray liye mar gaya hay” to her sheepish admission in the last

episode, “Mohabbat mari tou naheen, kho gaye hay” in barely three episodes? So basically Fareeda aunty

was right, Khirad was out to make her way into Asher’s heart, that witch!

The well-written dialogues. Fareeda Aunty: “Sara ‘MARR’ gaye.” For god’s sake, I wouldn’t say that even

about my pet gerbil. Wafaat hogaye, death hogaye, iss duniya se chali gaye, but NOT marr gaye!

The lack of a real apology from Ushaaa Ushaaa. Come to

think of it, did he ever really apologise-apologise to her?

Did he actually get down on his knees and say the words

“I’m sorry, maaf kerdo?” If you call that contorted face, hitting head against some random pole on the street

an apology, I don’t buy that. Had I been Khirad, he could’ve bled to death and I’d still not take him back. a

42 MARCH 11-17 2012