A Tough "Day of Love"

Lush greenery on my first jogging round in the Diplomatic Enclave early in the morning after the summer break and large puddles of water reminding of the heavy rainfalls the night before, which turns out to be the last one in this year's late monsoon season. Green in every shade, leaves in every shape, but not a single flower, the butterflies gone, the birds are back. Only the guards of the many Embassies are to be seen. Some of the high walls that had been erected before summer appear now in fresh paint in a wide range of colors, ranging from an uplifting reddish gray over an intense yellowish gray to a cutting edge grayish beige, giving a more pleasant look; gray - beige seems to be in fashion this season. The streets are strangely quiet, and I pass along closed doors of residences that used to be the homes of friends who left for good this summer.

The Chinese Embassy is celebrating its National Day with a reception in the widespread garden - many, many dark suits, and ties, until, finally, a very small group of more colorful dresses. Newly arrived and a few familiar colleagues - we hug each other enthusiastically!


Again and again I am being asked about what my American friends think about the producer of the film "Innocence of Muslims" and I assure them that I have not met much admiration, in fact not the least sympathy for this "artist", who challenges with his work, protected under "freedom of speech", societies as far away as Pakistan. The Internet carries messages and pictures instantaneously to every corner in the world far beyond the national borders and jurisdiction of its author.

Heading with the chef and the driver on Thursday to do the groceries for planned invitations at the residence, we are surprised to come across masses of well equipped security forces along our way, starting right outside the gates of the Enclave. Fish and meat, milk, butter and about everything from the very limited variety of vegetables and fruit - Madam, it's the season in between! - that let us change and adapt the menu constantly while doing the shopping, and the way back home turns into an odyssey to find an open gate that would let us in. Eureka, Shamsi Gate, the last eye of a needle, at the last moment, and it closes safely behind us. A large group of protesters takes a blocked gate by surprise and penetrates the enclave; only my absolute determination to safe the fish, and the milk, and the flowers, convinces the commanding officer of the police that there is a way for me through the chaos and we reach the residence - and the refrigerator!
Not knowing yet there will be no use for all these goods in the days to come. All dinners and other events are canceled and we are advised to stay behind bars. We hear the tumult and see the smoke of the ongoing riot and clashes with police and army. Massive security forces are being deployed to control the outburst of anger among the demonstrators outside the Enclave and in front of the Hotel Serena a couple of hundred meters away. Anger and frustration about the worsening living conditions for large parts of the population add to the fury.

On Friday violent demonstrations are expected again and the Government declares a National Holiday to celebrate the "Love of Mohammad" hoping for peaceful protests and taking at the same time massive security measures to stop and divert the expected march of demonstrators towards the capital and the Diplomatic Missions. The day passes, the violence remains outside the gates and we stay unharmed and even head for the French Club for dinner with some neighbors and friends. We are the only guests, a somewhat surreal atmosphere, but an evening of relief after days full of anxiety.

The countrywide protests cost at least 23 lives and the rage continues. Massive damage is done to private and public property, banks, cinemas, gas stations, shops and restaurants, cars, looted and torched in all major cities, a Lutheran church is set on fire, despite the Christian community's expression of solidarity with their Muslim fellow citizens against the film.

The tailor is looking up from stitching on a blouse, an educated and devout muslim who is devoting one fifth of his time teaching young Mullahs in villages and tells me how all the Mullahs he knows are preaching that there is no sense in reacting to a stupid movie that an ignorant man produced in a far away country - and certainly no sense at all of attacking people or property here in Pakistan or elsewhere in the Muslim world.

A beautiful sunny and crisp Sunday morning, daring to run in the Enclave again, the streets deserted, just police cars on their patrol and a few guards who greet and smile, two colorful kites dance in the blue sky and a group of young men and boys jump and laugh and run after them with the leashes in their hands. An eagle, the American emblem, joins them high in the sky sailing with wide-spread wings his silent and majestic rounds. An unexpected harmony - possible, when men not interfere.