Located just 35 kilometres southeast of Peshawar, Jalozai camp houses some 60,000 Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) according to the Provincial Disaster Management Authority (PDMA)., and the number is set to increase. Bustling with people who have lost their homes and possessions, life here is close to unimaginable.

It is only when you meet these people in person that you know what life is like for them. It is only when you look into their eyes that you can see their pain. One such pair of eyes was Tasneem’s.

Tasneem was the only woman there who could read and write, and spoke flawless Urdu. She helped as a translator and facilitator. We were two very different women from two very different world, but we shared an instant connection.

As I sat in her tent as an unexpected guest because my guide’s car had broken down, rain seeped in. The transparent plastic window flapped as the wind roared back and forth, letting water in, wetting the pile of clothes Tasneem had heaped in the corner of the tent – her first stock of embroidery work that she planned to send out to the city for sale. She used to be a teacher but in the absence of schools in the camp, her other skills would now help her survive.

Her four little girls giggled shyly, hiding their faces behind Tasneem’s chadar. “They’re little angels. They should be educated like their mother,” I started. That is when Tasneem abruptly said “they are no angels anymore”.

In the dim light of a gas lamp, I tried to read her face. “Would you like to talk about it? Maybe I can help.” She then began sharing her story.

She grew up as the daughter of a father who had made sure his daughters got a good education, albeit with a warning.  “He used to say that non-tribal men get offended by strong women and want to overpower them,” she said

A disillusioned Tasneem spoke of rampant sexual harassment of female nurses, volunteers and doctors in the camp. “Education cannot save women from the monsters who are thirsty for our bodies?” she spat out.

Not even children are spared by these vultures. Two camp officials were very kind to her daughters. But soon the kindness progressed to them starting to tickle and then feeling up Tasneem’s eldest daughter. I looked at the nine year old, horrified as Tasneem told me the story. She was so small and vulnerable! Tasneem had to tell the child that she shouldn’t play outside as she was not a child anymore, because whenever she went outside and encountered the two men, they tried to make physical contact. “But she IS a child,” Tasneem angrily emphasised.

Things escalated when one day her eldest came crying home, saying “those men hurt me”. Unable to control her anger, Tasneem went looking for them as far as the Central Office, but could not find them.

That night she was woken up by one of the men she was looking for that day. “How dare you come to our workplace looking for us,” he said. The other man gestured to her to remain silent. “I knew then that they had come for my body. The only way I could save my daughters from witnessing this was to give them what they wanted,” Tasneem says. In those moments as they violated her body and soul, she thought of her elder sister who had also been raped back home a few years ago, in FATA.  Even if she would have screamed for help “no one would have helped because I am a single mother, without a man to protect me or stand by me.” “Don’t wake them up”, she pleaded to them, as they ripped her clothes apart.

As they got more violent, her daughters woke up and started crying, her younger ones the loudest. The men tried hushing them but ended up scaring the children. “Then one of them attacked my youngest daughter who is 4, and that was it,” she relives. That anger gave her unreal strength as she beat up the men with utensils and kicked at them with her legs. “They were startled by my sudden energy.” As they fled, they threatened to kill her entire family if she told anyone, but Tasneem no longer fears those monsters.

Her name is a word from the Holy Quran. “I feel I am not pure enough to keep my name anymore,” she said and broke into tears. I swallowed back mine.

Tasneem did not tell the police as she did not want to fight the case for several years. “Tribal or not, laws do not protect women when its a woman’s word against a man’s.”

She told her daughters not to tell anyone because he didn’t want to make the situation worse for them. This mother has more important things to do, like raise her daughters.

In her opinion when a woman is raped in Pakistan, she is the one who is made to suffer humiliation and shame. Such twisted social standards are the weapons of the rapist.

“My biggest concern is how to raise my daughters and protect them,” she said. This valiant woman is looking towards better tomorrows despite her ordeal. “I can’t wait to leave these tents and move to a city to find work. I want to teach again,” and continues. “The body heals over time. Painful memories have to be stored and locked up in a corner of the heart. Life must go on.” And for Tasneem, it will.

*Name has been changed to protect identity

Published in The Express Tribune, May 15^th, 2013.

The recent blast at Jalozai — the largest internally displaced persons (IDPs) camp in the country — shook life truly hard. For a place that caters to more than 60,000 IDPs, it’s perversely irresponsible of the authorities not to have adequate security for it. Security concerns were raised only after the bomb blast — which killed 17 (15 on site and two in the hospital) and injured more the 40 (out of which 30 had to be admitted to hospitals) IDPs. Had the authorities been vigilant, the blast was absolutely avoidable. It was the first one to occur since 2009, when most IDPs moved into the camp; however, the security threat was always there.

The first time I visited Jalozai, I was shocked to find no security checkpoint, no police personnel, no military installments and no checking at entry points. In fact, there was not even a clearly defined entry point. With tens of thousands of people all coming from different agencies, escaping war and militancy, this place had not just always been vulnerable but also an ideal place for militants to disguise and hide, which has happened in the past, when militants were arrested in 2011 and weapons retrieved at many points over the years. Still, the only security the Provincial Disaster Management Authority (PDMA) has provided over the years has been in the form of its own administrative staff, who also manage other administrative and logistical work in the camp and do not exclusively work to provide security. Imagine how outrageous it is to be 35 kilometres from Peshawar — the hotbed of violence and blasts — with an influx of people from terror-stricken agencies into a camp where there is no security procedure.

On my visit to Jalozai again, two days after the blast, I was expecting immediate security installments and better provision of food and supplies to the victimised IDPs — who, you must remember, did not leave their homes and jobs by choice, but were driven to this by the acts of the government. Instead, I met injured blast victims who were struggling to get approved as ‘eligible for medical treatment’ in the hospital because only the severely injured were facilitated by the authorities. Then I met more IDPs who complained about their food supply being suspended while things were put in order. One woman whose misery made me really angry was a mother of five who could not avail ration because her ID card had expired and she had been borrowing food from generous neighbours to feed her children, additionally causing strain in the limited food supply of her neighbours. That’s more people suffering while the authorities figure out how to fix and update their system.

The loss of lives and underlying injuries is not the only undue suffering the IDPs have faced after the blast. Many of them have been denied food and shelter, as a security measure by the PDMA and the international NGOs working here.

Apparently, the blast shook them so hard that the World Food Programme suspended the distribution of food and other supplies included in the ration and the UNHCR postponed repatriation of the new IDPs coming in from Tirah Valley — another major dilemma on the rise that is expected to increase the number of IDPs at Jalozai by 4,000 to 6,000. This speaks volumes about the utter lack of preparedness of NGOs and the PDMA and also the way they prioritise policies over provision.

The current security plan that the PDMA has chalked out is not good enough. Protection of these people still does not seem to be the PDMA’s priority as it is still trying to figure out how many weapon detectors it can afford. With militant attacks accelerating and more IDPs coming from Tirah, Jalozai is a vulnerable spot. However, this vast spread of land can easily be protected with barbed wire borders and immediate installment of security barriers. After all, any investment in security will prevent further unfortunate events that force the government to spend on hospital costs of the injured and the dead.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 4^th, 2013.

The anti-drone rally failed in all its verticals when Imran Khan took a sudden U-turn before his destination and about 15,000 (an estimated count by a group of journalists) in the rally followed suit. There were rumours of a ‘blast’ near the border of Kotkai and ‘serious threats made by the army’ to the top PTI leadership warning of serious repercussions, at which the convoy was successfully confused and disbursed. Only the leftover caravan blindfolded its way back into Tank to listen to a speech Mr Khan was originally supposed to make in Waziristan. After all that build-up and wrangling, the disappointment was hard-hitting. For the foreign journalists, who came especially to get an insight into Waziristan, it was annoying to be this close to Waziristan and not be able to cover news that otherwise won’t receive coverage.

The foreign activist group, Code Pink, which came all the way from the US and made waves in the press for ‘going to Waziristan’ in their anti-drone campaign, also went cold feet amid rumoured threats and separated from the rally much earlier, due to security concerns.

It was frustrating to lead thousands of supporters, American activists and foreign media with a promise of peace and then become scared by threats. I wonder if peace can ever be accomplished if it is intimidated by supposed violence. The abrupt change of plans occurred as if threats made earlier weren’t serious enough, when statements by groups like the TTP and the Jaishul Khilafa were made, way before the march started, or when the government warned of the dangers.

The warnings and the standard well-baked pretext of “we have already made it to Waziristan” largely indicates the disgusting and dangerous potential of the party to make such abortions in the future as well and get away with them. But that is not more important than the fact that peace was compromised for political agendas.

“We are here to be with Imran Khan” being the standard statement from these party members indicates the criticism of this being an opportunistic rally. It acutely depicts the fact that for most PTI supporters, the rally was not indeed about the ‘cause’ of drones, but to ‘support Imran’ in his goodwill. Quite thoroughly, it was as if Imran Khan is greater than the cause for peace in Waziristan, as if going to Waziristan for them is about winning a bet and not to highlight the obscenities of the drone war. As if it was not about calling for peace.

The motive of the rally seemed far from standing with drone victims and seeking global support for them and their rights and exposing their truth to the world. The speeches that Imran Khan gave during the rally largely orbited around the evils of US policies, the failures of a corrupt government and the lunacies of Fazlur Rahman.

While throwing garb on the government for not doing its job, the fact of the matter is that Mr Khan himself failed to deliver, without sufficient explanation or reasonable evidence.

The symbolism of standing with the victims of drones and to rally purely against drone strikes was utterly flushed by Imran Khan and popular activists, who promised to march for peace. On all its standing, this anti-drone rally lacked both devotion and delivery, while deep in the quarry, the victims still stand alone.

Considering a huge success of this rally was to make it amid threats, had this been successful, it would have lead the way to a new array of valid and potential discussions, including a compensation for drone victims, protection from drone victimisation and possible alternatives to deal with the war, beyond a single-pronged strategy. Quite ostensibly, the failure of this peace march will continue confident drone strikes uninterrupted and no one will get to see the real truth of the reality of the lives of the drone victims and locals who live there.

Published in The Express Tribune, October 9^th, 2012.

Hukum Khan, 51, a veteran in the Bomb Disposal Squad (BDS), laid down his life on September 27 while defusing a roadside bomb near the border of Khyber Agency in Peshawar. He had successfully defused one bomb, but as he reached the second bomb — which was allegedly targeting him — it exploded. The government of Pakistan should honour Mr Khan for his lifelong devotion to saving thousands of civilian lives and for making many fine soldiers who will continue his work.

Mr Khan’s sacrifice is a heavy loss for the government, the BDS and the people of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (K-P), who are at constant threat in this unending battle with terrorists. One of the first few recruits to combat terrorism in 1978 during the Afghan war, Mr Khan pioneered the BDS team in Peshawar. He fought militants and started defusing bombs during the 1980s when Peshawar was heavily hit by militant attacks and little was known about defusing bombs. His services continued at the peak of militancy in 2006-07 when bombs of different genera gave a tough fight to the nation. With the number of bombs that were defused outnumbering those that exploded, imagine the number of lives that were saved by the BDS in K-P. In 2012 alone, 250 bombs have been defused in Peshawar so far, out of which 200 were defused by Hukum Khan.

Mr Khan was a legend for younger squad members, who looked up to him for inspiration, knowledge and lessons of bravery. For many of his pupils, he was jokingly known as being immortal when he expertly handled arduous tasks. His devotion was remarkable. When his left hand became useless after losing three fingers, he was told to not risk his life working with one hand. But he knew his expertise was still needed in the BDS so he continued to go back in the field.

His friendly, forthcoming nature earned him many friends. Journalists, police officials and many others who fight terrorism in the frontlines of K-P have all been deeply grieved by his death. His leadership had kept many in the BDS together, especially those who were weakened when fellow members were injured or killed on duty, when stress was high and when families pressured members to leave the dangerous job. His mentoring steadied many hands at using the pliers to manoeuvre and manipulate yellow and blue wires. Even though his family would always worry for his safety, one of his own sons eventually chose to join the BDS to carry on his father’s work.

For these soldiers, walking into the red zone comes with buckling up to face death. Hukum Khan told me in December 2011, “No matter how many times you have defused a bomb, your hand will still shake using the pliers, your family will still flash in front of your eyes for a moment and at times your tears will mix in your sweat.” His sense of obligation to save lives had kept him coming to work even at a withering age. What else makes a national hero, if this does not?

Surely, with his loss, tears will be wept, hearts will swell and breaths will be held several times, but it is important to preserve his sacrifice into a medal. It is a great obligation now for the government, which has equally grieved the loss of lives of soldiers and men in this war, to show grace and responsibility in this tragedy and honour Hukum Khan with the recognition he quite well deserves.

Published in The Express Tribune, October 5^th, 2012.

Last year, human rights activist Baba Jan Hunzai spoke out as an advocate for the former residents of Hunza Valley, whose homes were swept away by the lake formed after a 2010 land slide blocked the flow of the Hunza River.

Named the Attabad Lake, it displaced over 1,000 people who lost their homes, livelihoods and access to the world. When these displacements did not get the government’s attention, and Pakistani authorities declined an offer of help from China, the hungry and homeless took to the streets to demand reimbursement.

Eventually, the government compensated the aggrieved families. But 25 of them were reportedly overlooked and denied funds. Baba Jan, who is known in the G-B community for his determination to protect human rights, encouraged the local people to demand action, and was eventually thrown in jail accused of being a “terrorist.”

Baba Jan and two other youth activists, Amir Khan (37), and Iftekhar Hussain (34), have been in jail since August 2011. Their arrests a year ago this month were made based on Anti Terrorism Charges brought against them for leading a mass movement across the country against the inaction of the government during the Attabad incident.

During his first private interview – conducted in the visitors’ room in Sub Jail Jutial – Baba Jan maintained that he committed no crime when he protested against what he sees as the Government’s persistent human rights abuses. “It is not ignorance anymore, it is a deliberate violation of the rights of common man. And this cruelty needs to be shattered.”

Appearing noticeably malnourished, he limped back and forth in the visitor’s room, enumerating the challenges that many in Gilgit have been facing for the two and a half years that have passed since the Attabad incident. The signs of torture still resident on his arms, his shaved skull, and swollen feet compelled me to interrupt him and ask about the details of his multiple jail experiences.

Nervously, he showed some of his scars. Advocate Ehsan Ali, Baba Jan’s lawyer, later confirmed details of recurrent torture, including both physical and mental abuse.

“His ear lobes pulled with pliers, his body hanged upside down and beaten with wooden stick and chairs. His shoulder-length hair shaved off. And an abusive language by jailers, who’d say horrible things to mentally torture him” said Ehsan Ali.

Baba Jan said he had never imagined torture would bring him so close to death, so many times, and yet not close enough stifle his voice. He continues to raise his voice against the Government of Pakistan’s failure to provide for the victims of the Attabad Lake disaster, as well as other disadvantaged segments of the population. And there have been protests on the streets of Karachi, Lahore, Islamabad, Rawalpindi and Peshawar to ‘Free Baba Jan.’ There has even been international support for this 35-year-old senior leader of Pakistan Youth Front G-B, including a petition signed by human rights activists such as Noam Chomsky, Tariq Ali, Sadia Toor and many more.

The text of my conversation with Baba Jan follows:

What had happened the day you were arrested?

When a 22-year-old student, Afzal Baig was killed in front of his father, Mr. Baig [Afzal's father] protested and wailed at his innocent son’s killing. The police pierced his body with a dozen bullets and killed him on the spot.

Both father and son were victims of the Attabad Lake disaster, and were peacefully protesting at a demonstration with the other victims of the lake, asking the Government to compensate them.

As we protested at KKH, and had been rallying across the country to raise awareness about the Attabad victims, the police arrested us on strict terrorism charges, including attempt of terrorism. There was a ‘criminal case’ registered against me under Anti Terrorism Act (ATA).

And this is how the government treats its citizen. Most prisoners here with me in jail have done no crime except to speak. People don’t speak out many times just because of fear. Why shouldn’t we stand with the people who have been maltreated, beaten up and killed. This is a massacre.

The police say you have been training prisoners to carry out “terrorist activity”?

Well all I have been doing is gathering the Sunni and Shia sects in the jail in a single group and making them sit and breathe with each other. I have tried to make them understand each others’ problems instead of fighting based on sect. And I am glad that there are great developments in the prison now. They now indulge in long conversations with each other, which was almost an impossible thing to imagine when I had come here exactly one year ago. Some of them also share their meals with each other, which they otherwise thought of as a sin.

The police and the government have long taken advantage of the sensitive Shia-Sunni relationship in Gilgit-Baltistan. Agencies deliberately create fights among the people so that G-B stays as instable as possible.

Now that they see them living in harmony with each other in the jail, it annoys them. Anything that has to do with protest and raising one’s voice becomes terrorist activity for the government. They are not ashamed of maltreating citizens in the first place, they even charge them with fake cases of terrorism and then torture them for the crime of speaking, calling them terrorists.

They also say you have created a support system within the jail, which is why the JIT [Joint Investigation Team] had to relocate you several times. How many supporters do you have?

Well, firstly the JIT “abducted” my fellow inmate Iftikhar Hussain and myself on 20^th July for the same reason too. It happened many times. They move us to torture us further, whenever our fellow prisoners start supporting me. Let me assure you, they never had to relocate us because we were creating any nuisance in the prison, but because they couldn’t deal with listening to our demands.

It’s funny what they say each time they have to pick us up to torture us. It must really frustrate them to have us alive even after so much torture that my fellows in jail have gone through with me. I do have supporters, yes. They support my idea of speaking out against human rights abuse.

Every prisoner supports me.

Have you not been organizing prison rebellions?

They don’t give meals for several days. Most prisoners have their families deliver food to cook, but there are no stoves. After a week of protests by the prisoners, they provided a single stove. Then for two days there was no gas. The prisoners speak out of hunger.

Various prisoners need immediate medical attention. In spite of court orders the administration does not allow them to be treated. Nor do they provide them medicine. One of my friends here is a cancer patient and has a court order for chemotherapy, but he is denied that right too. He is literally on the ground. They don’t provide beds to prisoners who are ill, not even to serious patients. Do you think witnessing all this won’t outrage fellow prisoners?

Some officials made visits to Gilgit, including the Prime Minister Yusuf Raza Gilani. Were these visits fruitful?

The Prime Minister’s visit was interesting. It was heavily highlighted in the media and that was the only successful part of the visit; the media coverage that is. There was nothing actionable done by the government. Essentially the visit was futile since there was no public gain out of it.

But didn’t he give some significant donations, including the distribution of Benazir Langar (Rashan) [Langar or Rashan are relief goods. The current PPP-led Government has a name for their Rashan, called Benazir Langar, named after the late Benazir Bhutto]?

During the protests, the Red Cross and Agha Khan Foundation had set up camps and had made provisions for rashans (food and supplies) to help the victims of the Attabad Lake disaster. PM Gilani took those provisions to inaugurate the Benazir Langar, and for the photo-ops. Locals were watching and observing all this, and since protests were going on, the environment allowed them the confidence to retaliate [they felt that the redistribution of rashan was unfair, and that they should be given food and supplies separately from the Government. They "retaliated" by fighting the police with sticks and attacked police vans and other state vehicles.] The protesters included both men and women, who walked down the valley to KKH (Kara Koram Highway). They were eventually beaten up. Since journalists were equally threatened, no media outlets were able to report on this. Benazir Langar was a mere redistribution of rashans.

Has reporting been fair on the series of these incidents [i.e. the Attabad incident, the government's non-response, the torturing of detained protesters in prison] so far?

That is also very interesting. There has always been lack of coverage about G-B issues, in the mainstream media. We do have a local paper that covers issues according to its own bias. The sectarian divide in G-B controls the way coverage is given to the issues of the common man.

Our own protests were not covered in the mainstream [Pakistani media], and only local and online papers like Paamir Times would give us proper reporting. That really disconnected G-B from the rest of Pakistan.

What do you want the government to do?

It is very simple. The government should give the people what they deserve. Reimburse the losses they incurred due to the failure of the Government’s negligent behavior. Even though some destruction had been predicted and the people were warned months prior to the land slides, the state did not take any precautionary measure.

Shahra-e-Karakoram, the road that conjoins small towns and villages to the main cities has been in-operational. Since all the banks, businesses and hospitals are only in the main cities, local citizens from these towns and villages have to face great difficulty making it through the mountains. Patients who need to get to the hospitals usually don’t make it in times of emergency. The government needs to look into this.

What would you do when you get out of jail?

I will continue to work for the cause of the people. I will make sure their problems are heard by the government and help them stand united against violence and neglect.

Kiran Nazish is a journalist and activist based in Pakistan.

This interview originally appeared on Foreign Policy, The AfPak Channel here.

While most people flee from the scene of a bomb attack, there are others — the unsung heroes of this seemingly unending battle with terrorists — who march unafraid into the lion’s maw. Sometimes armed with little more than a pair of pliers and insurmountable courage, these men save the lives of untold hundreds with no concern for their own safety.

Saleem Khan fiddled with his hands nervously while we had doodh patti at the Bajaur Hotel. Don’t be fooled by the name — it’s not some classy five-star joint but rather a dhaba surrounded by the treacherous hills of Fata. As he stared into the rapidly cooling cup of tea in his hands, I stared at his hand, noticing something odd: he was missing a finger.

Just as I had almost given up hope that he would tell me his story, he looked up and spoke: “I can’t remember exactly which wire I was on when the explosion took place, but I was almost done defusing the bomb.”

I tried to make sense of what he had said, and he looked as confused as I felt, but then he explained further. “There were two bombs planted in this girls’ school, but we knew of just one. While I was defusing this one,” he stretched out his hands, as if working on an invisible bomb, “there was an explosion from the other side.” His eyes grew wide and he leaned forward as he spoke, “Eleven young girls were killed, and so many were injured. I just lost one finger from the shrapnel.” He shook his head, seeming disappointed at having lost ‘just’ one finger.

Saleem Khan, 45, has defused more than a hundred bombs in his time with the Peshawar Bomb Disposal Squad and once he starts telling his tale, it’s not hard to see why the loss of a finger seems like a small thing to him.

Many of his friends in the squad have lost an arm or a leg while defusing bombs, but some have lost much more. Two of his best friends died in blasts while on duty — friends he had grown up with. One of them, an eager young man called Mushtaram, joined the Peshawar bomb disposal squad because he could not find any other means to support his wife and four-year-old son.

He risked his life every day for a meagre salary until he grew fond of what he did. In three years, he grew to become one of the most talented technicians and an inspiration to his colleagues. In his short career, he defused more than 120 bombs until one day something went wrong and the resulting explosion claimed his life.

While the memory of his friend visibly saddens Saleem, it also gives him the inspiration to come to work every day. Looking up from the nearly drained cup of tea, he tells me what Mushataram used to say to him: “There is no greater satisfaction in the world than to know that your job is to save other peoples’ lives.”

As we walked out of Bajaur Hotel, Saleem promised to take me to meet his late friend Rahim Khan’s 12-year-old son Mansha and his mother. Rahim had also been a bomb technician who lost his life when militants fired on him as he was defusing a bomb they had planted.

The tragedy doesn’t end there: last November Mansha was out with his mother, shopping at Peshawar’s Faqir Killey market. While Mansha’s mother was selecting the lace and gota (fabric used to embellish traditional dresses) to use in the tailoring business she had started in order to make ends meet after her husband’s death, a bomb exploded in the market. Mansha’s mother was severely wounded and can now only move with the help of multiple support instruments. Mansha himself, once a bright, talkative and talented kid, can no longer speak and seems to be lost in a world of his own, refusing to respond to anyone or anything. The shock of the blast coupled perhaps with the lingering trauma of his father’s death, has made him a prisoner in his own mind.

When Saleem took me to Mansha’s home, the first thing I saw was a wall covered with sketches and drawings. All made by Mansha before the blast. Seeing my interest his mother smiled and said, “If he could still do it, he would have sketched your portrait in about 20 minutes, right here.” Along with the drawings were pictures of him playing sports and a motley collection of medals he got as his school’s youngest sports champion. I wondered then, if Mansha would ever sharpen his pencils or swing his bat again.

Why this story is particularly painful for Saleem is because his friend who had risked, and lost his life protecting others, could not in the end protect his own family.

For his part, Saleem has vowed never to get married. When I ask him why, he responded in a sharp tone, “of course I would not want to contribute to the possibility of causing an innocent woman to become a widow, or a child to become an orphan.”

As I gear up to meet the rest of the Peshawar Bomb Disposal Squad, I am warned by my facilitator that I shouldn’t expect them to be very forthcoming. They aren’t used to talking to women, I am told, and certainly won’t be willing to discuss their own experiences and feelings. Even if they do open up, my facilitator warns me, the language barrier will be formidable. To my surprise, most of this is untrue.

They range from the fairly young to the middle-aged, and all are dressed in simple shalwar kameez. “They don’t have any uniforms,” my facilitator tells me. Most of them speak only either Pashto or Dari but some also know a smattering of Urdu, and it is through this lingua franca and the translation abilities of my facilitator, that we manage to converse.

Scratch the surface, and you find that they all have the same concerns and issues. Most of them have severe problems in their personal lives, all as a result of the nature of their jobs. Almost all of them have suffered some kind of injury, and all of them have lost friends and colleagues. Universally, they complain about a lack of training, of resources, and most of all, of recognition for the dangerous job they do.

Leading the discussion is their in-charge Major Shafkat Malik. Since he joined the squad a few years back, he has lost eight experts out of a total of 35 — all of them died on the job.

“Two of them were very close to me,” said the major. “We would go for Friday prayers together and hang out with each other afterwards. We were like family and losing them has shaken me, but it was these boys who kept me together with their courage and support,” he said, pointing towards the surviving members of the team. At many points, when the team lost someone, friends would face post-traumatic stress, break down into tears or even leave the job, but the rest of them would manage to hold it together. “Most who left the job also came back eventually,” said Shafkat.

When the going gets tough, they have a ritual of sitting in a circle and sharing their grief and try to get the stress out of their system. “Yes, sometimes it gets very emotional and overwhelming but it is cathartic at the same time to see your team by your side, sharing your sorrows,” said Shafkat.

Overwhelming. That’s the only word to use when describing what these men go through. Almost all of them have had serious fights with their spouses over their jobs, and many of them have seen their families walk out on them.

“Our department is known as the EOD, standing for Explosive Ordnance Disposal, but really it stands for ‘Every One’s Divorced’,” said Shafkat with a laugh. He would know, as he separated from his wife when she could no longer take the danger and unpredictable timings of his job. “I’m not the only one,” he adds nonchalantly. “It’s very common for professionals in this field to face domestic problems. One of my boys recently got divorced, and while many leave the job for something their families approve of, many others stay on.”

One of the oldest technicians in the team is Malik Khan, who also handles the post-blast investigations. When I asked him what sort of bombs he cannot defuse, he replied instantly:

“Suicide bombs!”

When there is a human element delivering a bomb, it’s much more dangerous for various reasons. Suicide bombers are desperate people; they’re usually brainwashed and it’s hard to influence them physically or mentally.

“Suicide bombers have back up radio control, backup timers, and in the worst of situations, a third-eye,” said Malik. This ‘third-eye’ is the handler who’s watching them, and in case the mission is compromised in any way, for example if the suicide bomber is interrupted by security forces, the handler will detonate the device remotely. Therefore, the smartest way to deal with a suicide bomber is to use lethal force.

But Malik says that that is also not a sure bet because “if they’re shot, sometimes there is a backup timer that will run down and detonate anyway.” Lost in thought for a moment, he adds, “I have heard of technicians physically going in there and neutralising the device on a bomber jacket, but we have never done that here.”

One would think that the very act of walking towards a live bomb would be terrifying to the point of being paralysing, but technician Hukum Khan says otherwise.

“The moment you step towards the bomb, your senses sharpen. Yes, there is fear at the back of your mind, of an explosion, or of a hand grenade thrown at you — which has happened at times — but with time and experience you learn to tame that monster.”

The moment a bomb disposal expert steps into the zone (the expected blast radius), he has to be careful of threats from anything that looks out of place. Sometimes, there are additional roadside bombs or a car that’s randomly parked — if it has a bomb in it, it’s weighted down from the axles.

The greatest danger is when the technician is not equipped with the exact tools needed for a specific bomb. Hukum explains, “Sometimes, you need to get a resupply of equipment and going back to the bomb site and figuring it all out can be very pressurising and stressful.”

He also pointed towards the lack of proper equipment for technicians. “Only a few years back we were so under-equipped that the only tools we had were a pair of pliers,” he laughed. “Thankfully, now we have better technology, yet it is still not sufficient for a place where bomb threats come on a daily basis.”

The department has been struggling to get better equipment, uniforms and training for the staff, but the government keeps ignoring their requests. “There have been a few developments as I brought up the issue internationally, but it is important to not overlook a few crucial requirements including insurance, and an increase in their salaries,” said Shakfat.

Still, there may be some light at the end of the tunnel. When I returned to Lahore I met Peter K Jepsen, who was sent to Pakistan as a trainer for the use of bomb disposal robots by the European Union. Peter, a bomb disposal technician himself, represents a Global Defense System Group that handles specialised equipment, support training programmes for the army and law-enforcement agencies. Peter had just finished training the first batch of bomb disposal technicians at the Central Police Training Academy, right outside of Lahore, when I caught up with him.

“My team and I are delighted to donate machinery and train these Pakistani technicians, who seem larger than life to me now,” said Peter, who travels through Europe, Middle East and Asia to train bomb technicians with robotic and other automated technology. “They are intelligently responsive during the trainings and can do a wonderful job if regularly trained.”

He said it is important for technicians to be trained not just in the use of technology but also on the psychological aspects of their jobs. “Psychological training and moral boosting is priority training for bomb technicians around the world, but seems absolutely absent in Pakistan,” he said.

Peter was training the batch in how to use a brand new High-Mobility Car, a robotic technology which would assist them during bomb disposal. Remote reconnaissance robots have also been donated to bomb disposal teams in Pakistan and are meant to assist the disposal technicians.

The government needs to work more closely on the provisions of the department and encourage training programmes for technicians. Members of the bomb disposal squad are on call 24 hours, under-paid and unrecognised by the public at large.

Every time a bomb is defused, hundreds of lives are saved but sadly the credit is hardly ever given to these unsung heroes and none of them have ever received the awards the government otherwise doles out on a regular basis. It’s particularly telling that when I first spoke to Saleem he was surprised to hear that I wasn’t looking for statistics but instead wanted to know how he felt about his job. No one had ever asked him that before, he said with a sad smile.

*Some names have been changed to protect identities.

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, May 13^th, 2012.

The devastating news of Bhoja Air crash pierced the airwaves on local TV channels and shook many homes as the tragedy was captured on a camera. It was around 6.30 pm when the Boeing 737 crashed near Hussainabad on its way to landing near Islamabad, taking 127 lives — everyone who was on board that day, 118 passengers, nine children, five infants, and nine crewmembers.

The incident quickly unstitched the wounds that the Airblue crash had inflicted on us. And the media’s coverage did not help at all. One would expect reporters and editors to learn that the most important fact in a tragedy is not who breaks it first, but the impact that the news may have on human life. The continual lack of the media’s understanding of this is a tragedy in itself.

A news channel started off with showing passengers manifest, part by part, object by object, while another one lifted footage from a Hollywood film based on a plane crash and played that several times. Reporters from different channels chased family members, with microphones and cameras capturing their grieving moments, not seeming to realise that this was a gross intrusion of their privacy. One person who was newly married, and had come looking for his wife who was on the flight, was asked thrice by a reporter where his wife was going.

At this point, I was forced to think that maybe the media should not be allowed at the site of a human tragedy or a disaster such as this, since quite clearly, their practitioners in the form of reporters did not understand that they needed to show some respect to grieving families or passengers’ dead bodies.

Is it too much to ask of the media to sensitise and train staffers on these matters? After all, the idea is to report what has happened, what is the harm if it is done with a bit more sensitivity and thoughtfulness? Reporters and editors both need to learn how to report a disaster and if this is done, it could benefit the whole industry. We should not have to see newspapers congratulating their sister television channels for being the first to report an air crash — that is unnecessary and in poor taste.

Editors and producers should try and understand that the focus of reporting tragedies such as the Bhoja air crash should be on accuracy and authenticity of the reporting, and not necessarily on a race to get the story out as soon as possible.

Furthermore, the efficacy of conducting a transmission that carries on for several hours should be reviewed because after a while it becomes redundant. Besides, showing graphic images of dead bodies or body parts continuously, makes little sense, and in fact, may end up desensitising viewers — especially those who are children — to graphic violence. Perhaps, a long open-ended transmission is also one reason why news anchors, at times, end up asking pointless or inappropriate questions, especially from grieving family members.

Reporting disasters is a good way of assessing journalism, because it is usually at such times that standard operating procedures and inbuilt mechanisms to ensure that reporters and journalists in general abide by codes of conduct and ethical practices are severely tested.

Now is also the time to ask questions, but those that would lead to further uncovering of the truth and help the government hold those responsible for this tragedy accountable.

Published in The Express Tribune, April 22^nd, 2012.

LAHORE: In 1995, when Imran Khan started his political career, he was not taken seriously.

In fact, he was not taken seriously for the next 15 years of his political career. He was hardly ever scandalised due to corruption scams like other politicians were; but that was mostly because he was hardly ever noticed. Throughout his career, he has spent most of his time doing two things: criticising other politicians and struggling to gain real political popularity. He has always been called the ‘cricketer’ turned politician – until October 30, 2010, when he created some significant seismic waves amidst the sea of people in Pakistan.

In 2002, he won his first seat in Mianwali. Later, he was offered a slot in another party but he declined and went on boycotting elections. If there is anything constant in his rather rocky career, then that would be (a) his TV appearances bashing other politicians – many of whom have now joined his party, Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI); and (b) his stance on the need for ‘change’.

There are many celebrities in the PTI list – one of whom joined the day I went to meet Imran at his Lahore residence; the next day two more had joined. PTI is famous for welcoming discredited politicians from other parties. There is a rising ‘join the-PTI’ craze among the ‘Lotas’ as they say on twitter. Imran says, “They say funny things on twitter.” (Lota is a toilet utensil and symbol of PML-Q.)

A rickshaw puller told me, “I was going to vote for Imran, but I can’t anymore.” Why not? “He has too many Lotas now. I would still vote for him, if he lets go of the Lotas, and takes real people on board.”

This makes me ponder: how can we politicise a nation that has yet to conclude the chapter on dynasty versus democracy? Politics in Pakistan is only for people who are born in feudal families or have families in politics. De-politicisation of people has been implemented throughout the history ofPakistan; this has been done deliberately by politicians to keep people secluded. This has led to the illusion of so-called democratically elected governments in Pakistan, which, in reality, have never been democratic.

In a cosmopolitan city like Karachi, it’s an anomaly to find a Sindhi vote away from People’s Party of Pakistan (PPP), or a Muhajir vote away from Muttahida Qaumi Movement (MQM). The ‘awam’ votes on the basis of favoritism, selective alliance, community faithfulness, caste, creed and provincial allegiance.

The ‘value’ of a vote is as insignificant to the doodhwala (milk man), as it is to the banker. It is lost in the dirty game of politics, with people kept away. Therefore, this effectively disables the awam from any possibility to cognitively select and choose their leaders, on the basis of their policies, profiles and agenda. No one asks for an action plan, as long as the speeches are emotional enough and the slogans cater to ‘roti, kapra, makaan’ – which the Bhuttos continue to exploit. Most Pakistanis do not even know the definition of democracy, let alone the meaning of democratic rights. There is no concept of making the politician accountable, or question the candidates they voted for within their community.

It’s a wonder how Imran Khan’s aggressive insistence that he can ‘change’ Pakistan makes two things apparent, one of which could be true. (a) That he is desperate to come to power – his critics say this ‘greed’ could indeed be backed by the establishment. (b) His vital interest to change Pakistan; this has made him enthusiastic to the point of idealism. This has also got him massive support from north to south Pakistan.

Imran Khan coming to power clearly means defeat of the largest and most popular political parties/forces in Pakistan. His drastic rise has threatened influential leaderships, making PPP and PML-N nervous. Awami National Party (ANP) and MQM are pondering over their next alliance strategies, while Pervez Musharraf expressed his willingness to join PTI. Imran declined the speculation. “Musharraf has no ground in politics, let alone any chance of working with PTI,” he says.

However, as I write this, why has the military not yet intervened in the current government when it has been so corrupt and inefficient? Despite the shadow boxing? A democratic government in Pakistan has never survived this long without potential, if not practical, military intervention between the civilian and military leadership.

The recent coup hullabaloo is hardly of real importance. The army has already lost the last bit of its cognitive ability; they would surely know that the time, context and environment is not conducive for any more coups inPakistan. People are sneezing it out, and Imran seems to be catching the cold.

In his book Imran Khan persists that the perception of Pakistan must be improved. He says: ‘How Islam is perceived here is different from how it is perceived in the West. Islam has been miss-utilised as an ideology.” And that, he thinks, should be changed. This makes the liberals in Pakistan think he is a radical and pro-Taliban. But then, Imran says, “Liberals in Pakistan are intellectually challenged.”

Conversation with Imran Khan, surrounded by a table full of current affair titles, biographies, history books. 

You talk about nation building. How do you plan to do that, before settling in this chaos?

You can only build a nation if you have the mandate of building and if people are behind you. You can only do nation building if you have institutions in a country. Rule of law. People have a stake in reforms. You carry the people with you. Inspire them. Give the people a clear goal as to where you are going to take them. They must believe that your goals are going to help them improve their lives.

What are the goals?

To make Pakistan a Welfare State. Use taxes for the people, not against them. The State is responsible and must provide the basic needs of the people. All policies must be made for the bottom 50 percent of the population. The basis of democracy is Ihtehsaab – accountability. There must be no taxation without representation. The people of Pakistan should be able to ask their democratically elected leader, ‘Tell me, where are you spending the tax money. I will then vote for you’.

But such policies are always made, never implemented; what…

(Interrupts): Look! I am against neo-liberal economics where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. This trickle-down effect is a myth, it never works. I believe that policies must have compassion. They must look after the common man. At the moment in Pakistan, the poor subsidise the rich. Therefore, fix the taxation system. Anyone who has an income above a certain amount, must be taxed. There should be no sacred cows, as it is inPakistan right now. The agenda is to raise taxes and inspire people to give taxes, by creating a tax culture and spending taxes on the people. If someone joins PTI, he has to go through a process of revealing his assets with our committee. If the committee finds anyone guilty on this account, he is discharged. Any corrupt politician will never be given space in this party.

What about income distribution, the parliamentarians who get expensive cars…

(Interrupts again) We will cut out all the extravagance in Pakistan. Including colonial symbols such as PM houses, CM houses and so on. These buildings should be utilised for the public. They will be made public spaces, institutions, academic spaces for the youth. No expensive cars.

How would you cut down extravagance, when traditionally our politicians are in the habit of profligacy? You have recently taken many such politicians on board.

All PM houses, governor houses, are symbols of extravagance. They must be used for public good. VIP cars, the entire VIP culture has to go. If the ruling elite collects taxes, it has to show that they are going in the right places, that they are worried of what the poor are going through and where their tax money is spent. We will make sure that their tax money does not fund anyone else’s extravagance, but it is spent to benefit the people. If you can break that barrier… at the moment we are the lowest tax GDP ratio at 8.3 percent. We can easily take it to 20 percent by inspiring people and then creating an equitable taxation system.

What about loans? How would we pay them back?

Pakistan is a rich country. It is not a poor country. We don’t even need loans.Pakistan not only has rich mineral wealth, we have great talent and good labour. Including huge assets of overseas Pakistanis. Indeed, the GDP of 6 million Pakistanis is equal to 180 million Pakistanis. This is where we can pull in money for Pakistan. Get investments. This is where overseas Indians and Chinese were instrumental in building India and China. They were the ones who first started investing. It’s important to create good governance, an enabling environment, to attract overseas Pakistanis in human capital as well as investment. Once that environment is created, this country will rise very quickly. Because, Pakistan is basically a rich, rich country! (Big smile)

Did your work with cancer patients at Shaukat Khwanum Hospital (SKH – which Imran Khan built), embark you to serve the people of Pakistan, enter politics?

Social work does not bring the change politics does. This country lacks no talent, people here are patriotic and vigorous. I learnt this when I needed funds for SKH and got massive moral and financial support from people, patients, women and elderly. The only problem is that we need a proper system and someone trustworthy to run that system.

You talk about Condoleezza Rice, how they (the US) wanted one puppet to go and another to come back. You talk against – National Reconciliation Order (NRO). How do you justify that when you have so many fishy politicians joining your own party?

Firstly, they are in a minority. Remember, you are talking about 850 candidates. These people you are talking about, how many are they? May be a bit, maybe 10? 15? We are not such a weak party that 10 to 15 people can hijack the whole ideology of this 15 year old party which has gone through a baptism of fire to get here – no party has struggled like this for 15 years, and stayed in opposition and come back. Anyone who joins us, joins us on our terms.

Would you dismiss them on the basis of your principles? What sort of accountability do you have in mind?

It’s not a question of me dismissing anyone; it’s a question of having strong institutions and free institutions. The way western societies also function… when you create an environment which does not allow anyone to do something corrupt. Your judiciary has to be independent, there should be a strong National Accountability Bureau (NAB) and your prosecution has to be strong. In the current government, we have seen, if the judiciary tries to hold the government accountable, they have ways of stalling the judiciary; by having their own prosecution, their own NAB, their own investigation agencies. So, what you need are strong institutions in Pakistan. A strong prosecution system, an independent NAB.

What do you think can be done about the NRO?

There can be no democracy that works like this, at least, no successful democracy. The current government which was formed on the basis of such un-democratic, un-constitutional and immoral grounds called the NRO cannot even be considered as a democracy. It is, in fact, a non-democracy where leaders are given seats, loot money from the poorest of the poor and plunder the nation, stealing billions in the name of public expenditure. NRO is the symbol of democratic corruption and should be boycotted by all means. We need to get rid of these looters and bring new people. I invite the youth to come forward and join this new movement of PTI. The movement of renewal.

Do we even need a third party in Pakistan?

In an entrenched two party system, you create a third party. It hasn’t happened anywhere. In England it hasn’t happened, in US it hasn’t happened. The reason why it happened in Pakistan is that the core of people in Tehreek-e-Insaf were always very committed to what they believed in and they did not de-politicise. People who have excelled in different fields came into politics, because PTI gave them that genuine platform. That’s the big advantage we have, as opposed to professional politicians in Pakistan who make compromises on their politics. These are not career politicians. PTI has politicians who are ideologically motivated, who have a vision for Pakistan, who want to see a Pakistan which is prosperous. Therefore, they will not allow the party to compromise on its ideology.

What will you do if people do not want to be with you? Politics among the people, at the grassroots level, is not very popular.

Every person and every citizen who cares about their country is political. Either they are involved in mainstream politics or they show participation through their vote and voice. Those who say politics is a dirty game, do it to de-politicise the nation.

Will you allow people to make you accountable? Will you give the people that kind of freedom?

Democracy does not exist if the people are not given the liberty. In a democracy, there must be no taxation without representation. The people should be able to ask questions from the government, they should also make it accountable. So, yes, I will allow people to ask me questions, because for me, accountability is the basis of democracy. I will invite anyone to come and ask whatever they want to.

What about PML-N. Will you form an alliance with them?

Forming an alliance with PML-N is out of question. We can ally with anyone but never with PML-N. (PML-N is Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz Sharif group.)

How will you ensure civilian supremacy when the military constantly sidesteps democratic governments in Pakistan?

The lack of justice and rule of law has fueled and facilitated this issue. If the State is operating fine without military intervention, why would the military intervene?

What are your difficulties in creating such an environment?

To create the environment, you have to do it in 90 days. If you cannot do it in 90 days, you cannot do it at all.

You are saying you will create this highly accommodating infrastructure in this highly chaotic environment in 90 days?

It is basically a question of who has the political will to take on the vested interests. That’s it. Full stop. It’s not what we have to do, it is who is going to do it.

Do you have any concrete steps in mind?

Yes, we will declare four ‘emergencies’: 1. The education system will revive and we will follow a singular syllabus throughout Pakistan. Something Indiahas been doing. 2. Rule of law, something I have always emphasized on. This was the founding principle of PTI. 3. Revenue collection will be made authentic and viable. We will work on the idea of e-governance. 4. And, we will control corruption by establishing a conflict of interest law. This is my priority.

Then we will de-centralize the system, with individual focus on FATA, Gilgit Baltistan, Azad Kashmir and Balochistan. We will ensure that grievances are taken care of. And the demands are met. That’s what we call change.

You say you would like good relations with India, but you also stated in your Minto Park speech that you want their 70,000 troops out of Kashmir. What’s your idea of friendship?

People have to get justice. We cannot recognise anything that defies justice. Of course, we would like good relations with India. The only problem isKashmir. I don’t believe that you can put Kashmir on the back-burner. That does not mean we can’t simultaneously be good neighbours. There is such immense similarity between these two countries. There is so much love between the two nations. We believe in good relations, we will promote trade and exchange with India at all levels. We will welcome the Indian people to come and see Pakistan, travel, live, do business and make Pakistani friends.

The original post appeared on the Hard News website and can be viewed here.

Correction: Due to a typographical error, the words “overseas” and “principle” were misspelled earlier. The errors have been fixed.

Hamed Karim has been standing in front of a wall in Benghazi for hours now, staring at the portraits and pictures that cover it. The people in these photos are Libyan rebel fighters and civilians, who were killed or abducted in the rebellion against Muammar Qaddafi’s dictatorial regime. Among hundreds of these framed faces, four images belong to Hamed’s brothers and three to his close friends. As a tear slides down Hamed’s cheek, over 650 kilometres to the west the capital of Tripoli is rocked by explosions as Nato jets bomb Qaddafi’s Bab al-Aziziya compound.

By the time you read this, Qaddafi’s tottering regime may have fallen, and the colonel himself may be dead or in custody or still in hiding. But however the endgame pans out, it will be left to the Libyan people to count the price they paid.

Accurate figures are impossible to get from a war zone, and depending on who you ask, anything from 3,000 to 13,000 lives have been lost. Many times that number opted to flee the country towards Europe, Egypt and Tunisia, with estimates as high as 100,000 — even more if you factor in the immigrant workers who fled the conflict.

“Schools have been closed since February,” says Maimoona, a second year student at the University of Misrata, who managed to escape Libya during the war. Along with other Libyans, Maimoona and few of her family members managed to take a 17-hour boat out of Misrata, to Tobruk.

“It was terrifying, and we didn’t know if we’d be able to make it out. Qaddafi’s forces were shooting any boats they’d catch sight of.” Of the thousands who took to the sea, many were reportedly killed by patrolling loyalist forces. Since Nato joined the war, “things became better”, she says.

For those who stayed behind, survival was difficult. Food stocks were available in Misrata, but were sold at such inflated rates that most people could not afford to buy. But, at least in mostly middle-class Misrata, no one went hungry. In the nearby small towns, populated mostly by low-income families, having enough to eat was a luxury. With business and markets completely shut down, daily-wage earners were the worst hit. It was the network of family and tribal ties that saved them from starvation. “Libyans treat each other like family and are very generous when it comes to sharing food and supplies with those who can’t afford the inflated rates,” says Maimoona. “So as long as you have an extended family which can afford to buy food, you don’t go hungry.”

The real problem was the uncertainty. “Everyone was affected by the war in one way or the other,” says Maimoona.  Many of her friends from university were kidnapped by Qaddafi’s army while many others joined the rebel forces against Qaddafi’s. “My friend’s uncle was abducted in February and no one ever heard back from him. Some of the arrested people were taken to prison from the battlefield, and kept in isolated conditions. But some (very few) managed to flee.”

The lucky ones who managed to escape tell tales of containers being used as makeshift prisons-cum-torture cells. A few prisoners were released after being brutally tortured, in order to serve as a warning for others. It clearly had the opposite effect.

“The people couldn’t watch their loved ones being tortured and killed, and joined the rebel armies to ensure Qaddafi’s defeat,” says Maimoona.

Maimoona’s brother, an X-ray technician at Misrata Hospital stayed back to help the wounded.  “He knew he was not safe, he didn’t know whether he would live through these times, but he wanted to be there in the fight. He wanted to make sure the hospital didn’t lose staff-strength and that no one died due to a lack of staff. So he stayed back to work on, from body to body.” In a wavering voice, she adds, “He wanted to do his part.”

Maimoona and others who escaped Libya, had to struggle to be able to speak to their families in Misrata. Most of the phone lines were down, and those that did work were tapped by the government. “Only journalists were allowed any form of communication. They had satellite phones and the internet.”

Initially, Qaddafi tried controlling people’s minds and the flow of information by giving false reports.  “He constantly lied on national radio and television” about the intrusion of external forces and enemy attacks. Alaa, a Libyan based in Qatar, who was in touch with her family in Zawwiya and Tripoli, explains her shock when she woke one February morning and saw Qaddafi giving a speech blaming ‘anti-state forces’ for causing trouble.

“My uncle had been kidnapped a night before from his own house, by Qaddafi’s army. Qaddafi would tell these lies, but no Libyan would believe him.” Alaa’s father, who speaks to Al-Jazeera regularly about events in Libya, was also under constant threat by the government. Earlier one of Alaa’s other uncles was also killed by the same forces.

Even though the game seems to be up, the possible consequences of Qaddafi’s defeat send chills down the spines of those whose loved ones are missing. “Qaddafi’s forces still have the prisoners and no one else knows where they are hidden,” says Hamza Malik who has been sending updates from Libya via Twitter and Facebook. “I don’t know what he will do to the thousands of prisoners if he becomes desperate.” Indeed, Qaddafi’s unpredictability is in itself a cause for concern. “Qaddafi was always delusional beyond belief,” warns Malik, “and one has to be careful of what steps he may take, as his narcissistic attitude could lead to more lives being lost.” For the rebels, only his capture or death will bring closure. “We will chase Qaddafi from hole to hole,” one injured fighter told the BBC.

As Benghazi was liberated, Libyan political analyst Ana El Gomati struck a note of caution. “There is an immense level of hope, but also a healthy amount of scepticism in the air which means it will be necessary to proceed with caution for the process of nation building to be a successful endeavour. I have attended the funeral prayer of a martyr and with the same people kissed the head of a baby born during the revolution, and so life continues in this incredible city.”

The hard task of rebuilding this war-torn land is a challenge for the immediate future. For the moment, the overwhelming emotion here is relief. Hamza Malik captures the feeling of millions of Libyans when he says, “We will celebrate this Eid as free men, inshaAllah.”

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, September 4^th,  2011.

There is now a forum that follows the wisdom of this saying by facilitating passionate readers in Karachi with an online library. Founded by Usman Siddiqi and Jawad Yousuf, The Readers Club is a unique book rental service initiated two years back. With TRC, book lovers and addicts in Karachi can rent their favourite titles, read and then return them and get others. It works exactly like a library, only better: the books come to your doorstep.

With about 3000 books and 300 active members, this forum seems to be growing in popularity among all kinds of people from housewives and elderly readers to the children and the youth. The success of TRC encouraged the founders to start an online book store as well, called Kitabain.com. Kitabain has more than 50,000 books in store and makes deliveries all over Karachi. They have both English and Urdu books belonging to different genres including biographies and memoirs, current affairs and politics, history, religion, fantasy and sci-fi, children’s books, fiction, self help, cookery, graphic novels, humour, reference books and others.

Co-Founder Usman says: “We started The Readers Club to provide a cost effective and efficient way for people across the city to indulge in reading from the comfort of their homes and offices. It wasn’t started as a commercial venture but rather to address the gnawing problems of a lack of libraries and the high cost of books. The response to the service has been extremely encouraging and beyond our most optimistic expectations.”

Indeed, most avid readers have greeted the newly formed club with much joy and anticipation.

Ayesha Sana, a Canadian Pakistani who has now moved to Pakistan, says “When I moved here, I was amazed at how little Karachi had to offer to literary hobbyists like myself. It took me eight months of frustration before I came across Kitabain.com and Voila! I found my Amazon books right here in Karachi. From there I learnt about Readers Club and found it amazing. I think it’s a great service, especially for people like me who can’t live without devouring books. Their collection, however, needs some work and it would be nice if they expand the Readers Club collection.”

Aqsa who is a housewife with two kids, enjoys the easy-access factor the most, “The best part is being able to view books online, select them and simply place an order. I never had any issues with their delivery service too.” Aqsa’s eldest daughter, Umm-e-Qulsoom, is in kindergarten and she thinks it would be nice if there was more variety for Umm-e-Qulsoom too. “They do have lots of children’s books, but not many for her age. Sure I can go to their request option and ask for book titles, but it would be better if I had a pile to choose from.”

Usman says, “We have strong demographic data on what people want and what can get popular among our members.” The best driving force for Readers Club and Kitabain.com, he says, has been the customer loyalty.

According to Usman, it’s the feedback, suggestions and requisitions from users and members that have helped these sites to improve their functionality. Without paying any heed to the feedback, it would have been impossible to cater to the needs of the users.

He says they plan to expand Readers Club across Lahore and Islamabad gradually while they are already delivering in Lahore and a few other cities from Kitabain.com’s platform.

For now anyone is Karachi can read a title available on Readers Club’s online shelves or order a book for purchase from Kitabain.com.

Both Readers Club and Kitabain.com also cater to those who want to swap or sell their own titles with their members. Many book stores publish their hot titles on Kitabain.com for very reasonable rates. The best titles are mostly featured on the front page and sell like hot cakes. So if you have been clueless about what to do with your old books and where to buy new ones without putting a dent in your wallet, you know where to go. Reach out for your laptop!

Published in The Express Tribune, August 20^th, 2011.