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2008-08-25, 19:55
I'm sure you've all heard the news: Musharraf—Army Chief Pervez Musharraf, who became President Musharraf in a coup, and who recently gave up his post as head of the army to try to legitimize himself as a civilian leader—is gone. He stepped down a week ago, after his party lost big in the first real national elections since he took power, and a coalition of political parties started calling for his head, saying they would soon start impeachment processes.
I thought it wouldn't happen—like how a few Americans have called for George W. Bush's impeachment (which there's more of a case for than Bill Clinton's impeachment), but which realistically was never going to happen. Or I thought if Musharraf did get impeached, it would be a drawn-out process, trying to get him on technicalities, and he would hang on for a long time. But before the ruling parties even delivered the list of charges against Musharraf, he'd already resigned.
That happened on Monday, when I went shopping for outfits for a friend's wedding. On my way there, I passed Bilawal House, the home of Bilawal Bhutto Zardari—the son of Benazir Bhutto, the assissinated former Primer Minister, and Asif Zardari. Bilawal is the nominal leader of the ruling party, the Pakistan People's Party, and the house is a rallying spot for his party, so it always has at least a few police trucks parked out front for security. That day, outside Bilawal House there was a big banner reading "GO MUSHARRAF GO" (hung poorly, cutting off the first "G"). Still, I had no inkling that there was going to be a big change in the government soon.  When I got to the shopping area, it was strangely quiet, even for mid-day on a Monday. One of the shops (but only one of many I went to) had the radio on, with someone speaking slowly and emotionally in Urdu (the main language spoken in Pakistan, and along with English, the country's national language). I had only heard Musharraf before, in little snippets, speaking in English. But for some reason I thought, "That sounds like Musharraf." Turns out it was—and he was resigning. It's one of those times I really wish I spoke Urdu, since I didn't know what was going on.
(One time I was on a plane next to an elderly Indian man who started talking to me, and soon asked me, "If you could have any ability in the world, what would it be?" It came out of the blue, and seemed like one of those things he asks lots of people. I often get brain-tied, and can't think of an answer to questions like this, so he came back with his answer: "I would want to be able to speak every language, so I could talk to anyone, anywhere." I thought that was brilliant—and I often wish I had that.)
Once I got home and read the news online, I thought that the city would be in some turmoil. Maybe people would go out and celebrate, causing havoc, like crazy Red Sox fans in Boston. Or maybe Musharraf's supporters, while few, would come out to show support, if not for Musharraf, then for his party. I drove all the way across the city to pick up Sarah at the airport, but nothing unusual seemed to be going on. There weren't even many police out—and they come out often to stake out the roads whenever something has happened, or might happen. (A couple of weeks ago, there were police stationed every 500 feet or so along a long stretch of a major road leading to the airport. We wondered if there had been some kind of bombing or attack. But it turned out Musharraf was in town to attend a couple of weddings, so security was beefed up.)
The only public celebration I saw was outside Bilawal House later that day, where it was thronged with TV crews, filming someone giving a speech and firing a gun in the air in celebration. And a day or two later, the PPP put up this billboard, reading "Democracy is the best revenge." That all brings me back to the title of my post. Even with the change of government, and the Presidency now vacant and the various parties here bickering over who will get the seat, we're still alive and well in Pakistan. I've been surprised at how smooth the transition of power has been from Musharraf to the democratically elected Parliament—and soon, to a new President elected by that Parliament.
 Speaking of "Alive and Well in Pakistan," there's a book by that name by an American author, Ethan Casey, which is the only recent book I've run across that gives a good sense of what everyday life is like here. Instead of dwelling on politics and the military, as most books about Pakistan do, Casey talked to many people here from different classes about their problems, their thoughts, and their lives. He does dig into persistent problems such as the conflict with India over Kashmir, but with a different approach to it than most writing you'll find. If you're interested to beyond the newspaper headlines and get a better sense of what the country is like, you should check out the book. It's available on Amazon, and Casey has created a Facebook group for it too. Or you can read Casey's articles, like this one in The South Asian, or read reviews of the book, like this favorable review from the Daily Telegraph in England . (Casey is now starting on a documentary film called "Pakistan Live" that I think could reach a much wider audience, so if you're got spare change, he's looking for donations.)
In the news—both the international news and the Pakistani media—you hear about suicide bombings, clashes between militants and the army, worries about the security of Pakistan's nuclear weapons, the latest incursion into Pakistani territory by a US robot plane (aka drone)... and it all seems to be a warzone. While this violence has definitely risen in the past few years, it's largely confined to the area near Afghanistan, and meanwhile, in big cities such as Karachi, life goes on. |
