Love in the time of drones

Published: February 10, 2013
Eight flamboyantly dressed eunuchs danced and gyrated to Pashto music as the men cheered and hooted.

Eight flamboyantly dressed eunuchs danced and gyrated to Pashto music as the men cheered and hooted.

Eight flamboyantly dressed eunuchs danced and gyrated to Pashto music as the men cheered and hooted. There’s much more to Waziristan than the Taliban and terrorism. There’s much more to Waziristan than the Taliban and terrorism.

A few days before I visited Frontier Region (FR) Bannu, where the last of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa’s derelict roads meet the tribal areas of North Waziristan, and the endless blue sky and abundant fields dramatically transform into a dull beige panorama, a girl’s arms were broken for dancing at a wedding.

A grainy cellphone video of that dance, shot by a guest at the wedding, made its way through dozens of phones and computers to her brother and father. By the next day, seven people had been killed, including men from the host family. The video maker (fortunately for her) remained unidentified. Unlike a very similar case in Kohistan, this one, taking place in the village of Dawood Shah Gala Khel, stayed below the media’s radar.

A few days later, there I was in the same village, a fifteen minute drive from Miranshah, ready to attend a wedding with a camera and handycam in my hands.

Getting there had been an experience in itself. To me, the best part about driving from Lahore to K-P (or North Waziristan in this case) is the loud Pashto music blaring from the speakers and reverberating through the body of the car.  Raees Bacha sounds good, Nazia Iqbal sounds even better.

It’s not just the scenery that changes as you get closer to the tribal areas. Speeding vans stuffed with passengers — with burqa-clad women stuffed further inside and men hanging from the iron grilles — become a common sight. When they race past you, the wind carries scattered notes of Pashto music to your ears. They hang in the air for a moment and then are lost; until the next van whizzes by.

Our lunchtime stop, along the banks of Lake Chashma, was quite edifying. There are a string of fried fish restaurants here and the one we stopped at just so happened to be run by Asif, a former personal cook for none other than General Ziaul Haq and Dr Abdul Qadeer Khan.


As we devoured the fish, he told us that Dr AQ Khan still stops to eat here every time he is in the area, and by the time we were on our third helping, I had no problem in believing this claim. With our bellies now full of fish, we embarked on the last leg of our journey.

The cell phone video incident had left a tangible air of insecurity and distrust around the village. Every woman entering the wedding house was carefully frisked and cell phones with cameras were confiscated by an intimidating woman, to be returned only when the guests left.

“No one wants more videos or broken bones or their sons and brothers killed. This is a matter of honour for us now and we have to be very careful,” said the woman frisking the guests as I stood beside her, sticking name labels on the confiscated cell phones.

Being a part of the groom’s family, I was allowed to hold onto my camera, so long as I only took photos of the women of my family alone. Even then, indignant comments and intimidating remarks followed me as I carefully clicked away. Not far away, hundreds of cell phone cameras clicked and flashed as pictures were taken and movies made as the men enjoyed the bachelor’s party at the baithak (men’s drawing room). There, eight flamboyantly dressed eunuchs danced and gyrated to Pashto music as the men cheered and hooted.


We stayed at a relative’s house in the same village. The window in the room was covered with a cardboard sheet that I removed minutes after I settled in. The room now filled with fresh air, and saw its first rays of sunlight in what must have been years. Houses in Bannu don’t typically have first storeys, and if they do, the windows are permanently covered with thick fabric or cardboard sheets nailed to the wall, negating the very purpose of windows. The few first storey houses are normally surrounded by unusually high walls with bricks removed from a couple of “safe” places by the women to allow for short ‘peek-a-boos’ at the roads or neighbouring houses. I tried to peek from one such opening while visiting some distant relatives, but my eyes could only see the sky at a 180-degree angle due to the depth of the wall and what the women called “lack of practice”.

Besides the Khost Road, the newly unblocked window also gave me a clear view of Baitullah Mehsud’s ancestral home a few metres away. A humble single storey mud house, it is now home to Mehsud’s cousins and their families.

Before I introduced myself as a journalist, the women welcomed me graciously into the house. However, they apologetically refused to interact after my professional introduction, saying they were ordinary people and did not want to say anything that could land them in the news.


“We have nothing to do with militancy or militants,” the woman who had earlier welcomed me into the house said.

As I saw the men running around busy making arrangements at the venue, the young boys appeared especially ecstatic. While the women and the girls will dance to drum beats at the night of the mehndi ceremony at the house, the men and the boys will enjoy a show of a different kind.

Arrangements were completed hours before the show was scheduled to begin. There was a music system, gargantuan speakers, disco lights, power generators and armed men to guard the entrance of the baithak.

By the time the eunuchs appeared, the crowd had swelled to some three thousand men and the hooting and clapping could be heard all the way in the zenana, giving the women a hint that the show had begun.

Of course, I needed more than just the soundtrack and so I found a convenient window, turned out the lights and wrapped myself in a black dupatta. Now in full stealth mode, I got a somewhat hampered view of the ‘forbidden’ men’s section. Then my aunt showed up and hustled me on to the roof where we got a birds-eye view. This was part of a trade-off between my aunt and her husband, who was only given permission to attend the dance if she was able to spy on him!


The party in the baithak continued till 3am, not decreasing even a decibel in its intensity. The venue sparkled with camera flashes from iPhones, Galaxies and HTCs alike. The eight eunuchs were hired to dance for Rs3,000, but they went home with Rs150,000 that night, thanks to all the money they were showered with. Notes of 20s and 50s were most common, but there were 100s and 1000s, too. For every note of more than Rs50, the dancers’ ‘collector’ would return the difference while keeping 20 percent with him, so for every Rs1,000 showered at the dancers, the thrower was returned Rs800.

The collector — a petite and slender man in his fifties — was actually more agile and skilled than the dancers themselves. While they stomped and threw their limbs about, he sidestepped and hopped, bending low to grab the notes fluttering all around him. Some he grabbed while in flight, but others had to be plucked from the damp ground. Practice makes perfect, and with these dancers in such demand (there is hardly a night when they are not booked for a performance) he gets a lot of practice.

The June 2012 killing of the Pashto music sensation, Ghazala Javed, shook the entertainment industry of the province. People, especially those living close to the tribal area, now think twice before arranging musical functions that include dancers. In 2009, a famous Pashto singer, Shabnam, was dragged out of her house by militants in Swat and executed publicly. It was then that Ghazala Javed’s family fled the area and settled in Peshawar, not knowing that death awaited her in the dark, narrow streets of Peshawar’s Dabgari Garden.


The morning after the dance performances, some of the family’s boys found a hand grenade on the road behind the baithak. Fortunately, whoever had thrown it had done a sloppy job and it failed to detonate. The ring was broken, but the pin was still wedged inside the bomb. I got a chance to hold it in my hands and a close relative, who clearly knew his explosives, defused it.

Sidra, who is in her 20s, was the most prominent dancer that night. Dressed in fancy orange clothes, she danced barefoot on the uneven ground that was damp from dew. Even from the distance, my eyes were drawn to her arms, where she had made an attempt to cover what looked like burn marks with foundation and base creams. It didn’t work.

A discussion with her later revealed that some men in the village would regularly break into the house in which she and her fellow dancers lived. They would beat them and take away all their earning. She said they didn’t dare retaliate since they could not afford being thrown out of the village. The marks were souvenirs from these repeated ‘visits’.

“You know what our problem is? We do not save money. We spend whatever we earn on ourselves and those we are in a relationship with. We spend on them because we need men to protect us.”

As we sat in the lawn of her house two days later, Sidra and her colleagues’ generosity was on full display. A cake from a famous bakery in Bannu lay uncut on the charpoy. Halwa, cut into neat cubes, was decoratively placed in a circular pattern on a glass plate along with some sweets and dry fruit. Milk tea and green tea were both served.

Sidra was leaving for Peshawar that day, where she was invited to dance at a wedding. Her boyfriend waited outside ready to drop her at the bus stop, carrying a blanket he had bought especially for her just a few hours back. He did not want her to use someone else’s blanket or stay without one in the chilling cold, and would not relent until she took it from him. The way they dealt with each other proved that love transcends all boundaries, whether those of caste, religion or gender.

That night we ourselves drove to Miranshah to bring the bride to her new home. Some 30 cars and vans stuffed with the groom’s immediate and extended family stopped in front of the bride’s house, but only three women went in. After around 10 minutes, they appeared with the bride. Before we knew it, we were back at the groom’s house being welcomed by volleys of aerial firing by the groom’s brothers, cousins and friends. Apart from handguns, there were G3s and AK-47’s on display as well. Inside a room, an elderly mullah waited for the couple to perform the nikah. Unlike in other parts of the country, the nikah ceremony here is conducted in the groom’s house. The bride, accompanied by at least one elderly woman of her family, is given three options to choose from among her witnesses. Out of these three, who are all from the grooms’ brothers or cousins, she then selects one to become her “nikah brother” as they call it. The ‘nikah brother’ then swears to take the bride’s side for the rest of his life if an argument ever occurs between the couple. From here on, he will be responsible for the bride’s protection at her new home and will ensure that her husband treats her well.

The nikah was performed, and then ensued enough aerial firing to drown a drone. When the house finally emptied out, I saw some children picking up bullet shells that they would later use to play with.

On the way back, some locals decided to accompany us to Lahore, where they had some business. This wasn’t surprising as Pashtuns will never miss an opportunity to travel in groups. Even though we took the same route as before, we seemed to encounter far more police pickets this time. Later we realised that this was because of our travelling companion’s Toyota Corolla, noticing that until we crossed the border into Punjab, every Corolla –whether new or old — would get the full checking treatment from the cops

At the third picket we finally found out why. A policeman told us it was to monitor the smuggling of corollas from Afghanistan into Pakistan through Miranshah. Pashtuns love their Corollas it seems, and this makes both Pakistan and Afghanistan a huge market for Toyota. “We’ve caught three smuggled cars today alone,” the cop told us.

The incessant checking turned an otherwise eight-hour journey into a twelve hour ordeal, but at least our car was spared such scrutiny. Despite being a full-blooded Corolla loving Pashtun girl, this was the one and only time I was thankful for my husband’s love of Hondas!

Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, February 10th, 2013.

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Reader Comments (29)

  • Feb 10, 2013 - 12:00PM

    Holy Ships ! The eunuch in the pic look like a pretty aunty. :D


  • IC
    Feb 10, 2013 - 12:28PM

    U went a long way brave girl :)


  • ayesha azeem
    Feb 10, 2013 - 12:58PM

    @Vishnu Dutta:


  • Faisal
    Feb 10, 2013 - 1:34PM

    In marriages all over the rural Pakistan, there are separate areas for men to “enjoy”. In most areas, including pushtun ones, dancing girls are invited, booze is freely availabe. While on the one hand we appear to be stricktly in love with our religion while on the other hand indulge in ” forbidden” actions. Are’nt we hypocrates?


  • Zeeshan
    Feb 10, 2013 - 1:42PM

    That wedding can be easily passed as a wedding in rural punjab except for the Nikkah part.


  • O2
    Feb 10, 2013 - 2:29PM

    indeed we are :) but I have to point out one major thing over here! people keep their tribal traditions not the religious ones & this is why you see so much hypocrisy in Pakistan.


  • Member Fourth Pillor..
    Feb 10, 2013 - 2:45PM

    @Ayesha Hasan.. it clearly shows you had a great trip…but you did not discuss the ground reality.. i mean.. do you still believe Media telling the truth about Waziristan..specifically North Waziristan…


  • Feb 10, 2013 - 3:13PM

    Right now, I’m fixed with astonishment over the extent of hypocrisy. Is this K.P, where people are regarded as so called religious and narrow minded? What is seriously wrong with this country- Islamic republic of Pakistan? Ok, forget religion. This is a case of values and conscience. Does it, in anyway seem right to hire eunuchs at weddings???


  • Janu Kapati
    Feb 10, 2013 - 3:16PM

    cute !!!! :) I think guys had great marriage.Recommend

  • Parvez
    Feb 10, 2013 - 3:19PM



  • Cosmix
    Feb 10, 2013 - 3:20PM

    @ Faisal: U seem like a “hypocrates” as ure writing in language that you cant spell, and then by going public with it!


  • Nabeel Khan
    Feb 10, 2013 - 4:06PM

    I had a chance of staying in South Waziristan during War times back in 2009, offcourse under severe Army protection. What I felt that majority of the people did not agree to Bait Ullah Mehsud’s thinkings. People had no work, no food, no security and no peace. Walking through the streets of Jandola, Sararogha and Wana, you could easily feel the question in locals’ eyes asking you the reason of being neglected for soooo many years. Its really shameful we never gave them enough oppurtunities to live an honourable life.


  • hina
    Feb 10, 2013 - 4:08PM

    really feeling happy to read about wedding in this part of pakistan….media is only left to broadcast about grenades, mullahs, talibans but this piece is really appreciated…long live KPK long live pakistan.


  • Mindhunter
    Feb 10, 2013 - 4:32PM

    @Vishnu Dutta:


  • ABC
    Feb 10, 2013 - 4:42PM

    Woah Sidra has a boyfriend???
    Anyway SO much for the so called religiosity in this part of the country.


  • Abheet Sethi
    Feb 10, 2013 - 4:48PM

    Very well written article. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I am saddened to hear about drones always dampening even the best of days. :(


  • Palvasha von Hassell
    Feb 10, 2013 - 5:19PM

    How very reassuring for the bride to have that “Nikah Brother”! A beautiful and enviable tradition. Good of the author to write something so refreshingly different on Waziristan.


  • David
    Feb 10, 2013 - 6:43PM

    Beautifully written…There is a flow in this article.. Keep it up..


  • Candid 1
    Feb 10, 2013 - 6:50PM

    What an interesting trip report. Thank you for showing us another side of this region. Now, I am tempted to visit.


  • Enlightened
    Feb 10, 2013 - 7:16PM

    Fully enjoyed the article which is so different than those dreary ones of doom and gloom. Hope peace will return to Pakistan soon and these spoil-sports are either eliminated or change their ideology to ‘jeeo aur jeene do’.


  • Name?
    Feb 11, 2013 - 8:31AM

    Something about this article just doesn’t add up.


  • Deb
    Feb 11, 2013 - 11:34AM

    Great read.


  • Stranger
    Feb 11, 2013 - 3:31PM

    Wow Brave girl whoever went to this wedding and took pictures.


  • Mohsin Faizi
    Feb 11, 2013 - 11:05PM

    As I read bit by bit I realized I was actually part of the wedding. As I learned and I am happy to know that Pashtun’s carry their traditions and feel proud about it. @ Fisal, it is not about Hypocrisy, it is about 100 of years old traditions which unfortunately are dying in other parts of Pakistan. As we want to be so called “westernized”.
    Happy to finally read about life does exist in KP and parts which is surrounded by drones and so called war on terror. A different side presented by Ayesha though lucky you are a Pashtun and was surronded by your tribe the whole tripe. For others they, have to think twice just to even get close to such an occasion. Great Work. !!


  • arshad nawaz wazir
    Feb 12, 2013 - 1:54AM

    i am from bannu and i know about all the realities…this article seems to be written in the same manner in which people want to attach everything with waziristan,, her article does not show the real waziristan.. ayesha village is in daud shah which is a part of bannu district and it is a settled area and under proper district administration,,she is trying to show that this wedding took plae in north waziristan,.haha only to bring charm and attraction in her was not a trip full of bravery and daring acts because she has gone to her own ancestral village in district bannu in a safe honda car..she brings all the stuff in one article like smuggling, G3 rifles, AK47, smuggled cars, late singer ghazala javed, baitullah mehsud and a HAND GRENADE found after the last night function…just like a typical boolywood movie 12 MASALO KI CHAT…we are trying to be famous by defaming our own culture….


  • Kinza Farooqi
    Feb 12, 2013 - 10:48AM

    Great & very well written Ayesha !


  • Feb 12, 2013 - 10:51AM

    keep it up very well written Ayesha !


  • SJ Khan
    Feb 12, 2013 - 3:12PM

    @arshad nawaz wazir:

    “we are trying to be famous by defaming our own culture….” HAHAHAHA… the pictures are the proof that all this happened. The writer, i believe, hasn’t made it up. She has just tried to show us some fun side. She didn’t mention visiting war zones or intentionally findings militants my brother. She said she went to attend a wedding and explained what she saw there, so relax, no one’s defaming your culture. Plus why travel in buses when you have your own car?

    I enjoyed the feature.


  • Feb 17, 2013 - 12:21AM

    Wow, what a vivid description that makes one a part of the journey to that village with Ayesha Hasan! Appears to stir all human senses; even the brief description of the fish restaurants couldn’t help watering my mouth! I agree with Mohsin Faizi; after reading the feature, I had myself felt a part of the wedding too; not only the notes of Pashto music kept ringing into my ears but also I couldn’t help again and again entertaining in my mind particularly the moving image of that short and slim character who kept on sidestepping, hopping and bending low to grab the fluttering notes that were showered on the dancers. And then there are a host of small mentions in the story which lucidly build up the whole physical, psychological and cultural scenario of the place in its totality e.g. the hole in the thick mud wall on rooftop through which she could only peek the sky at a 180 degree angle as quite indicative of the purda-observing privacies of women folk in the neighborhood, her own turning out the lights and wrapping herself in black dupatta to steal a view of the men’s forbidden section, the lurking fear of the killings that already occurred in the area and the presence of that intimidating woman in Zanana and above all entirely a new fascinating insight into the cultural values of these people which Palvasha von Hassell has so rightly pointed out to be very reassuring for the bride to have that “Nikah Brother” in the groom’s family (can’t help reproducing Palvasha’s words: “A beautiful and enviable tradition. Good of the author to write something so refreshingly different on Waziristan”). Candidly speaking, I being a student of anthropology never knew of it before! Furthermore what Ayesha wrote is just what she saw, felt and observed and that too without making any value judgments (good, bad or worse etc). Her article has nothing to do with religiosity or hypocrisy of the people but only how humans tend to avoid pains and seek pleasures within their own socio-cultural, religious or environmental contexts. And then for Sidra and her boyfriend what else could be other than human than to love each other. In short, from the journalist point of view, Ayesha’s article is one of the best ones I have ever read on Waziristan.


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