Democracy Has Won

The people of Pakistan participated enthusiastically in the May elections, with an unprecedented turnout of more than 60 percent and a large number of women exercising their right to vote and lining up at the polling stations. The Pakistani Taliban TTP  did not succeed in intimidating the voters with their threats of terrorist attacks, as they consider democracy a western political system in contradiction with Shariat. Their threats did not include all political parties; the newly elected Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif and his party PML-N were spared from their spell -  no protests against the deadly attacks could be heard from either his or his brother Shabazz Sharif's side,  who is chief minister in Punjab.

PML-N as the strongest party will have enough power to lead the country without having to compromise. "The economy, economy, economy is my first and last concern",  Nawaz Sharif said, "and an end to power outages is on top of my agenda."  Normalizing relations with neighboring India and Afghanistan as well as the US would be next on his agenda and yesterday's meeting with General Kayani gives hope to a constructive relationship with the leadership of the Pakistan army that will allow to confront the urgent national security issues, in particular extremism within its own borders.

Imran Khan is still in hospital, recovering slowly from his severe injuries he got when falling from a toppling platform during election campaign. He is determined to take charge of his new political power. He will have the opportunity to prove in the next five years, that he is able not only to lead a cricket team to world championship and bring a party as a charismatic campaigner to a notable success, but also to lead constructively the major opposition party on the national level and run a government on the provincial level in Khyber Pakhtunkwa, a province neighboring Afghanistan and the Taliban plagued FATA (Federally Administered Tribal Area).

Freedom of press and today's fast communication means were crucial to make the elections more transparent and correct as any of the previous ones and will remain powerful forces to monitor the new government.





An unusual heat wave in this early summer, fast rising temperature reaching 40 degrees celsius, give not only hope to a greatly reduced population of "aedes aegypti", mosquitos who carry the dengue fever virus and won't be able to survive in the existing high temperature, but also time for a lazy sunday.

A thirty minutes drive to the outskirts of Islamabad, passing a village with playing children at a water fountain and I am surprised to be expected at the Golra Train Station museum by an impressive welcome committee - one gentleman to unlock the heavy door, one to guide me through the premises, one to give a guided tour and one to welcome me with a bouquet of white gladioli. A simple call by the always scrupulous assistant to make sure that the museum would actually be open on that day and announcing my visit made way for a truly stately reception.

Golra train station was put into service during the British Raj in 1882 to connect Delhi with Peshawar, one of the last outposts in the frontier region leading to the Khyber Pass into Afghanistan. Today, trains pass mostly without stopping, leaving the station to the touching care of devoted museum staff.

Two saloons - one with various memorabilia, once being used in the station and on the trains such as an adventurously looking first aid kit complete with a suitcase full of surgical instruments that made sure you would arrive at the destination of choice without interruption, preferably still alive (but not guaranteed...).

Tea was brought to the Indian continent by the British and advertised as a healthy refreshment for  men of all faiths, be them Sikh, Muslim or Hindu, and made sure that the cups were distinguishable for every religion and cast, as not to jeopardize the pleasure of carefree drinking - round bowls for the Hindu, round cups for the Muslim.

Or the royal treatment with a fine bone china tea set for the Viceroy.

Hot kettles stood ready on the fire at the station and on the trains; drinking tea became such a common habit - usually tea bags dipped directly into hot milk and with plenty of sugar these days - that it is hard to imagine that there was a time without that simple pleasure.

A truly elaborate system of keeping track of the passing trains - a machine that had to be fed with weights of a certain shape thrown out of the passing train by the conductor, that then would spit out another weight and allow the motorman to continue his journey to the next station, took me several attempts of carefully listening to the instructions to get an idea of the procedure -

that was since then replaced by four different generations of telephones and a screen. To my surprise, they all stay in perfect use. Within a quarter of an hour all of them give their distinct ring tones and are even being answered as a fast train on its way to Peshawar travels through.

The next saloon is kept as it was, as an entertainment facility for waiting passengers, comfortable mahogany seats and a piano that has lost some of its piano keys, resembling the mouth of an aging crocodile, photos of Maharajahs and dignitaries posing with their families and staff at the station and a large sail hanging from the ceiling that was kept in constant motion during the very hot days of summer. I am assured that the staff appointed to keep the sail in motion was changed every four hours.

The splendid wagon of Lord Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of India, found asylum here and I am guided through the rusty shower room, the remains of a kitchen, the dusty saloon with sofas and armchairs in velvet but with indistinguishable color. Even the constantly closed shutters and curtains (we find our way with a whole box of matches lit one after the other...) could not prevent the complete fading of the colors. My seriously looking tour guide waggles constantly with a big white handkerchief during the whole tour for two practical purposes - wiping his sweating face and quickly dusting anything my eyes might fall onto. My devoted bodyguard gets an extra physical exercise by the challenge of deciding where the actual danger for his object of protection lies - in being alone inside the dark train with three men or rather in being in a remote area outside Islamabad, jumping repeatedly in and out of the train.

Splendor that has lost its shine, but remains a symbol of a once functioning and reliable transport system - another challenge for the newly elected government...