"Sindhi Chateaux"

Spring with the warming sun eases the hardship of last months' harsh winter nights for large parts of the population, that had to endure without proper heating or hot water. But the elections are approaching and tensions grow, the frustration of a generation whose literacy rate is under 50% is increasingly directed into attacking citizens of other beliefs, usually in very poor neighborhoods. The police struggles with protecting the victims and their belongings and the investigations do not promise much hope for a swift punishment of the perpetrators. Increasingly worried by this senseless violence, friends tell me that they grew up peacefully in mixed neighborhoods and that religious affiliation was of no importance, not even a topic among students or families.

Pakistan International Airways is once again the airline of choice to Karachi - their motto: "Great People to Fly With" - and always good for a surprise. This time a giant Jumbo Jet is waiting at Benazir Bhutto Airport for a handful of passengers at the gate and the choice for a seat is left up to them. The fleet is slowly shrinking, as due repair works are more and more limiting the availability of aircrafts.

A visit at a Textile Factory in Hyderabad north of Karachi and we are warmly welcomed in the conference room with a cup of tea and various cakes from the famous "Bombay Bakery", that lets people as far away as Karachi rave. Another cup, another piece of another cake offered with the same friendliness and smile and with the tight schedule ahead first glances at the watch, and the cups are filled again. After having covered all possible topics of small talk, we finally dare to ask - looking at the empty seat at the head of the table - who we are waiting for, and the polite hosts look at us in surprise: They are simply waiting for us to finish the tea... which we then manage easily in a few seconds and proceed to visit the factory. Only male workers can be seen handling the production of light cotton fabric.

But the surprise grows even bigger at the affiliated motorcycle factory, where we see only women assembling the complex motors. The reason for this unexpected assignment is an equally surprising and convincingly short explanation by the manager: "Women have a much better technical understanding". Well, I have to repeat that, women have a much better technical understanding! I will have to invite my former physics teacher at high school, my driving instructor, and my beloved brother of two sisters, to meet this wise gentleman.

"Hero" is the name of this popular motorbike, seven hundred thousand of them produced every year, sold all over Pakistan and capable of easily carrying up to six people (babies on the lap, children and women in front and on the back, the ladies holding casually onto the shoulder of the driver with one hand for safety). Helmets, if at all, are solely carried by the male motorcyclists.

The main reason for our trip to Interior Sindh is to visit a project by the Swiss Red Cross, that is about to finish the construction of more than seven hundred small and simple two room houses for flood affected families. The houses are being built by the villagers themselves under the supervision and guidance of an expert team. The four hundred km drive to Dadoo stretches epically, the area looks arid and the fields stony and barren, the villages and hamlets poor. Hot peppers are harvested and laid out in the open to dry, giving a welcome change of color in the otherwise austere landscape. A look at Google Map at the iPhone confirms the feeling of slowly vanishing in this part of the country: no directions given to hold on to, no road important enough to be registered;  "in the middle of nowhere" gets a concrete meaning - nothing but a blinking spot on the display. 

After four and a half hours and two stops - one to buy a box of "Pringles" type "bursting flavor", ignoring the service of the restroom after inspection and one to buy another box of "Pringles", now of the new and fancy type "bursting with more flavor" (fully exploiting the whole range of eatables at the gas station) and no longer ignoring the restrooms (no inspection, just eyes closed), we are welcomed by the locals and invited by the "king of the village" into his chateau for tea and talks.

A two room house finished and furnished to perfection for our festive reception, the colorful walls got an extra elegance by applying a generous amount of glitter and the two male visitors receive garlands around their neck by every villager present in the room, fearing that suffocation would soon set in if there would be more such honoring gestures along the way. A distinct air freshener fills the room with a unique blend of flowers and perfume and Bombay Bakery's goods made its way even to this distant village. Heartwarming hospitality and every one inspects the adjacent bedroom - the young homeowner very stylish, with American sunglasses and big smiles and we try to communicate, keeping the decorous distance, not knowing that I will soon land in his arms in front of the whole happily laughing village, as he jumps to safe me from gliding into a slippery waterhole.

He proudly shows us bathroom and toilet - consisting of two small spaces, one with a water bucket, soap and a towel and the other one with a latrine. 

Building the houses, the aid workers quickly realized that along with the extreme poverty went a complete lack of hygiene, latrines were added to the project built and the villagers were instructed how to handle them. The government has not provided any assistance until now and the families are struggling to survive under the extremely harsh living conditions, when in summer the temperature raises over 50°C.

  

Back in Hyderabad and invited for tea at the estate of an influential feudal family, we enter a contrasting world and a real Chateau Versace with all the sophistication of the late Gianni. Mosaic floors with the head of the famous Medusa in the center, golden lusters in the shape of peacocks and their feathers on the lamp shades with matching turquoise silk curtains. Instead of tea we are unexpectedly offered a lavish breakfast (just coming from another fine breakfast at the hospitable guesthouse of a Swiss company operating in Hyderabad) - more fried eggs and omelets, counting close to a dozen eggs within the last 48 hours, and interesting talks with this family that has been politically active for generations. Their expressed concerns cover all issues that are so terribly visible to everyone's eye - schooling and healthcare being their personal priority. Elections are coming and our visit is covered by photographers and local television.

A long journey back to Karachi and I am happy to see in Jamshoro a general store that promises to cover all the basic needs for a common household - "Zahid Baloch General Store".

  

  

Free Ticket To Ride

As Dr. Qadri's star is vanishing with the same speed as it has been rising (his petition at the Supreme Court seeking reconstitution of the Election Commission was dismissed and his capacity to file petition in such matters as a double citizen questioned), the fate of a brutally persecuted minority is finally gaining its urgently needed attention.
Quetta is home to half a million Hazaras, who migrated in the 19th century from Hazarajat in Afghanistan to this part of former British India due to persecution by the then ruler Emir Abdul Rahman Khan in their homeland. They are mainly Shiite muslims and easily identifiable due to their distinctive Central Asian features and Persian dialect.

The escalation of violence between militant groups of the Sunni majority and the Shiite minority started in the 1980 under President Zia ul-Haq, made largely possible by the influx of weapons following the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Today, Quetta, capital of the province of Beluchistan, is a hotbed of various separatist movements aspiring more autonomy or even independence from Pakistan. Furthermore, the Pakistani military is engaged in counter-insurgency operations near the province's border with Afghanistan. The Hazaras fall victim in the deadly clashes between the militant groups increasingly influenced by Saudia Arabia's puritanical Wahabi Islam and Iran's effort to promote its revolutionary Shiite Islam, facing a full-fledged campaign of ethnic cleansing claiming over 1300 lives and injuring 3000 more since 1999.

Lashkar-e-Jhangvi, an extremist Sunni militant group, banned in Pakistan since 2001, is behind the latest attacks in January and February that targeted busy markets and schools where children were about to leave for home. Over two hundred mainly women and children died in the blasts.
Protests in Quetta by the Shia community erupted and they refused to bury their victims until the Pakistani army would take control of the security in the city. Prime Minister Ashraf removed the Chief Minister and his cabinet from their posts, but refused Military rule. 170 suspects, including one of the masterminds behind the attacks, were finally arrested and the victims are now being mourned at their graves by their relatives.



Lahore is about to celebrate the inauguration of the country's first Metrobus service, that is expected to carry 30 000 people daily to work, and the Chief Minister of the province of Punjab, Shahbaz Sharif, invites the Diplomatic Corps to join the "jour de fête" - it is campaign season and extensive photo coverage in the media is to be expected.
Ambassadors and High Commissioners of twenty four countries meet and their flags are adorning the majestic hall of the Hotel Pearl Continental, including the one of Swaziland. Sadly missing Switzerland's white cross on red ground, we soon realize, that we have become the representatives of that fine African country instead.

The old town of Lahore is a very tempting place to hang out for diplomats residing in the new city of Islamabad and "Cuckoo's Den" one of the most romantic places - the food is being lifted to the rooftop by a hanging basket - and we melt with the local people and in front of the view down at the Fort, the Mosque and the mystical illuminations of the night lights.

Sunday morning and following the script we take our assigned seats in the marquee on time, waiting for the other guests to arrive, representatives of laborers, lawyers, nurses, senior citizens, etc., the music band to unpack and tune their instruments, the press to dribble in, the water bottles to be distributed, the lights to be adjusted, the cameras to be installed and finally, we witness the arrival of the chief guest, Punjab Chief Minister Shabaz Sharif along with his unlike brother Nawaz Sharif, who is preparing for the next election, aspiring to become the new Prime Minister of Pakistan. An exhausting series of speeches follows, interrupted by frequent trumpet bursts and marches and we listen with interest to the Urdu and Punjabi speaking dignitaries' extensive talks, left to admire the sound of the language in the face of failing translation devices.

We experience how efficient the security coverage of high politicians work, cover our arms and heads and follow to the buses waiting for us for their first ride.

Shiny red buses, adorned with gladioli taped on all sides, swallow the whole delegation and we embark on a journey that will cover the entire 27km stretch of the bus line from Gajjumata to Shahdara town, passing slowly all 26 stops, waving and smiling to the enthusiastic crowd that awaits us on every station. And then, we turn around and enjoy the ride once more, now able to fully enjoy the opposite side of the busline. Collegues are being seen on their mobile phones, frantically canceling first their scheduled late business lunches, then their meetings, wondering if there even will be a moment left to refresh at the hotel before the evening program.

Lunch and a leisurely afternoon was planned at the famous Polo Lounge in Lahore and arriving under the golden light of the setting sun the motorcade of all our armored vehicles dashes on the Polo ground, and we just make it to witness the end of the games and for the Dean to hand over the cup to the winning team.

Everyone swiftly heads for a seat in the garden terrace and the tasty lunch finds immediately grateful recipients,  the hot chocolate cakes are equally fast off the plates and we hurry back to the hotel to get refreshed and dressed for the evening banquet.

Out in the garden and in front of the Lahore Fort of Mughal emperor Akbar from the 16th century, musicians from different parts of Punjab entertain, dinner follows and we hold on to our warm shawls, as evening dew starts cooling the air on this poetical spring evening.