Written By: Faryal Zubair, Editor-In-Chief
A decade ago, many people couldn’t even point Pakistan out on a map let
alone tell you anything about the country. Things have surely changed. Pakistan is constantly scrutinized in the media for making peaceful agreements with the western world while apparently making a home for the Taliban under the table. But there’s a lot that the media misses.
This past winter break, I was half forced to visit my native country for the first time in seven years in order to attend my sister’s wedding. Most of our family still resided there and my sister wanted to celebrate with them. We moved to the States 12 years ago. After much pleading and begging, it turned out that my sister wouldn’t change the whereabouts of her wedding and all her wedding plans solely on my behalf. Big shocker there.
Just in case you haven’t been keen on international news lately, Pakistan has been quite a hot spot for suicide bombings in the last few years. To put it bluntly, innocent people in Pakistan are losing their lives because the country’s military has been fighting against the Taliban. The terrorists have been sending a harsh message back by harming the public. To make the extent of these bombings a little more clear it is important to know that Pakistan had 28 suicide attacks in the first eight months of 2008 alone. This number even exceeds the number of suicide bombings occurring in Iraq or Afghanistan.
So, I wasn’t too thrilled about going there. Nonetheless, I boarded a 17-hour flight to Pakistan. Upon arrival, I was expecting to go through heavy security. After all, this place did seem to be the hostile capital of the world. After passing through customs, I walked to the exit with my suitcase. What was their method of security? A policeman stopped every person walking out and picked up their suitcase to decide whether or not it contained explosives. I presume he must have had x-ray vision. I passed the test and walked out.
There was excessive noise coming from the hundreds of people crowded outside. Frankly, it was scary. My brother, who had arrived there earlier in the week, spotted me and raced to my side. Pakistan isn’t like America. Women don’t walk alone in crowded areas. They would easily become victims of harassment.
Another reason why a scene like this was so scary is because it’s a potential place for a bombing. Hundreds of people in a single place at Pakistan’s most popular airport equaled trouble. We left the airport as quickly as possible. I got in a car with my Uncle and we started driving to my Aunt’s house.
Getting from point A to point B turned out to be a bigger hassle than I anticipated. Driving was more like a competitive car race than a form of transportation. The rules were there, they just weren’t followed. No staying in your own lane, no following the signs, and no abiding by the speed limit. No speed limitations might sound like a thrill but between trying to dodge pot holes to traveling on the most unpaved roads, it’s a miracle their tires don’t give out every day. Oh, and the way to tell a car to move is to tailgate excessively and toot your horn every chance you get.
Every once in a while, we’d come across road blocks right in the middle of a street with army men patrolling them. They were basically in a zig-zag and their intent was to slow down drivers. Well, not drivers, bombers.
Contrary to popular belief, I was not forced to cover my hair by wearing a hijab. I was able to walk around in jeans and a t-shirt. Mostly, I stuck to wearing shalwar kameez, traditional clothing for Pakistani women. I never felt like the odd one out even though I was surrounded by family members I hadn’t seen in years. I was constantly being introduced to new faces, hugged by aunts & uncles whose names I had long forgotten.
However, the perception of who I had become always seemed to be there. I would catch it in an accusing look when I walked out in my tight jeans or if I spoke in English continuously rather than in Urdu. In other words being American meant to them that I must have lost a great deal of my traditional values. Similarly, I believed that they would disapprove with the little bits of my life such as staying out late, baring my legs in public, and most definitely boys.
Over the next week, I noticed some blatant differences in day-to-day life. Electricity was a big problem across Pakistan. The power would go out at various times of the day. We’d be sitting in the dark munching on our cold dinner. This was a new experience to me but to them, it was just another day. Water was a problem as well. Large buckets of water were kept in the bathroom and kitchen when the water wasn’t running, which was most of the time. This made showering an interesting challenge.
Such everyday obstacles make Pakistan sound like it is lacking the resources to run as a functional country. However, that’s not what its residents believe. The resources are there, the government is just not allowing the people access to it. The bad economy is the result of corrupted government officials who use tax money for their own personal benefit. It’s why Pakistan’s middle class is basically nonexistent.
It seemed like every time we turned on the news there was a new threat or bombing that had just occurred. I asked my relatives how hearing that their lives could be in serious danger at any second made them feel. The response would be preceded by a quick smirk. They couldn’t live their lives in fear.
On our last day in the Pakistan, the entire family decided to go out to dinner together. By now, I was very homesick and ready to board the next plane home. As our food arrived, my cousin started a conversation with my parents about the future of the country. He’s 30, married, and two years ago moved to Australia on account of work. His basic thinking was that Pakistan wasn’t a reasonable place to live in; it shouldn’t even be a country anymore. He said that nothing could be done for the country and that people should move, like him, to places that would greater benefit their lives.
Based on the tone of my writing, it’s easy to infer that I did not have the best view of Pakistan either. Sure, I spent the first six years of my life there but I had no real connection to the place. I was never old enough to make one. Nevertheless, such a comment from somebody who was being so cynical about the place where I was born was enough to spark some heated patriotism inside of me.
I told him that Pakistan’s problem isn’t that it’s not capable of providing a good home for its citizens; its problem is that the future bright leaders of this country find it easier to make a home in foreign countries. How can we expect things to change and to better the nation if we only think about ourselves and our wellbeing? This country is filled with potential but corrupted by leaders who steal, lie, and cheat. It educates its children who grow up to realize that this isn’t a good enough place to make a living in. How can Pakistan ever expect to prosper if its citizens have already accepted defeat?
That sure shut him up. But it opened my eyes. I came to Pakistan with the same sort of cynicism. Where was this country going? I had had no expectations for it. But then I wondered, how can a country be defeated if its citizens aren’t fearful? They live in sad circumstances but they don’t give up. One of my aunts was invited by her sons to come abroad so that she could have an easier life. She refused. I asked her why she didn’t accept his offer. She answered that this is her home, this is where she was born, and she’ll die either watching it flourish or defending its honor.
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