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
30
Positive Pakistani 34 Steel Wheels He refused to let the wheelchair define who he was
Up North and Personal
18
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
34
4
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
12 MARCH 11-17 2012
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
14 MARCH 11-17 2012
Komal Rizvi
Uzma Batool
PHOTOS COURTESY CATALYST PR AND MARKETING
Frieha and Nida Azwer
MARCH 11-17 2012
MARCH 11-17 2012
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
26
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.
27
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