My friend from Israel

At an international literary festival in Germany recently, I conversed with people from many countries. I met an Israeli performer and she admitted to me that it was difficult for her to say that she was Israeli since she did not condone its actions. She then turned to me and said: "It must be difficult for you to say that you are from Pakistan too, I imagine."

The only reason one may have difficulty saying one is from Pakistan is because of the stigma attached to this for us by the western media. I told her that the times it is hardest to be Pakistani are when I am either at an embassy applying for a visa, or at passport control  in a different country and immigration officers take ages, suspiciously eyeing my green passport. I imagine what runs through their minds, calling upon all clichés I have seen in films and read in books of the treatment of Pakistanis since 9/11 in such situations. I give them an apologetic but tired look. I realise that after all, everyone is afraid.

What other people don't seem to realise though is that Pakistan is more terrorised than the rest of the world at the moment. This I attempted to explain to every single person I talked to when the inevitable subject of my Pakistani-ness and the links of Pakistan to terrorism came up. I explained to my Israeli companion that we lived in constant threat of suicide bombings and terror attacks. I told her about the Sri Lankan cricket team, the Marriott in Islamabad, the attack on the Ashura procession in Karachi and at the hospital later — and she was aghast. She had no idea. I told her that the west may be living in fear of these terrorists but they (those in the west) should try actually living in a country with them.

She then turned to me and said I must visit her in Israel some day and I told her that even if I wanted to I couldn’t because it was stamped on my passport that I could visit any country of the world, except Israel. The woman said that she couldn’t believe this bit and that I must be making it up but I assured her that I wasn’t.

For me the Pakistani passport has become a badge of valour that is worn knowing full well you are signalling a red flag by wearing it but wear it anyway. If there is anything I am ashamed of, it is the deep, dark intolerance inherent in our culture and society as recent events such as the attack on the Ahmadis and the Data Darbar are making patently clear. Incidents like these tell the rest of the world that we Pakistanis are an intolerant people full of hate for others who do not subscribe to our religious beliefs. Clearly that isn’t the case but the fact is that the outside world sees us more through these misdeeds.

Perhaps what we need is to stamp out this hate at an individual personal level and we can do that by not subscribing to such views or listening to those who espouse and disseminate them. The same goes with the outside world as well. I don’t want to hate those in the west, the Jews, the Christians or those who are Hindu. Hate begets only hate and that doesn’t make for a more peaceful world.  Incidentally, my Israeli friend also said that she thought that the same hatred and intolerance plagued her own community. Once planted, hatred has the potential to taint and corrupt everything.

Published in The Express Tribune, July 27^th, 2010.