Don’t Slow Down

By Aisha QureshiEveryone was busy in preparation for the big night. My uncles were either on the phone with the caterer and decorator, or trying to get a hold of other family members who had not yet arrived. My aunts were helping their little girls dress up. Some of the cousins were out and about, picking and dropping people from the salon, while the others remained home, crowding into every mirror they could find. The girls and I were sitting around my cousin, Mariam, beating the dhol (a traditional Pakistani drum), and singing folk wedding songs. Even though it was just her engagement, it was only tradition that everything be ostentatious and festive.All the hustle and bustle made my granny’s huge home in Karachi crammed and chaotic. But it was a happy chaos. Nothing could possibly stop the celebration… nothing but the assassination of Benazir Bhutto.Benazir Bhutto, fondly known as BB, was the former Prime Minister of Pakistan. She came from a prominent political family and was in the hope to carry on their legacy when she led the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP). At the age of thirty-five, she was one of the youngest chief executives in the world, and the first woman to serve as Prime Minister in an Islamic nation. This immediately makes her a notorious figure in the eyes of Islamic Fundamentalists.BB had been arrested several times and was forced to live in exile in London. While away from her homeland she continued to advocate the restoration of democracy in Pakistan, and in the autumn of 2007 when BB returned eager crowds poured into the streets dancing and celebrating to greet her. But within hours of her arrival, a suicide bomber attacked her motorcade. Hundreds of the bystanders died, but BB survived.BB’s companions and the President, Perwez Musharaf cautioned her, suggesting she maintain a low profile, but BB was dogmatic, or perhaps too passionate. They provided her with ample security and pleaded that she addresses the public within the safety of closed doors. Regardless of this, on December 27, 2007, BB went forth campaigning her party on open ground in the city of Rawalpindi. It may have been her love for the people of Pakistan, but it undoubtedly was her ignorance that allowed the second assassination attempt. This time the attempt was successful.As BB drove away from the successful rally, the supporters chanted, which urged her to stand out of the sunroof of her bulletproof car and wave. Unfortunately, those who wished to destroy her infected the crowd of supporters… and a bullet was shot… after which a bomb was detonated. BB was killed.My uncle came in frantically screaming the news bringing celebrations to a halt. We gathered round the television… “She was rushed to the hospital, but soon succumbed to the injuries suffered in the attack”. We stood still. I am sure the entire nation at that moment stood still. Silent. Shocked.Then panic broke through the house. People were on cell phones trying to get hold of everyone… “Where are you?” “Don’t leave the salon!” “Close the store!” My younger cousins and I were completely confused; we did not quite know what was happening, or what could possibly happen next. Living in Afrian cities my entire life,where politics were always humble, I had never had I experienced anything like this.Even more astounding was how everyone waited for Pakistan to erupt in riots and turmoil. I guess that is just what happens- when the people disagree with the country’s political decisions, they go out to protest and riot. But this was a riot that even they had not seen before! Usually they throw a stone here and a stone there, and call it a day, this time that was not the case. It was too great a disaster to settle at that. Cars, buses, flour mills, textile looms,and train engines were being burned and destroyed.It was insane. So insane that the people, who very well anticipated turbulence were confused too.That night, while the streets roared, people stayed at home, or remained at their work place, and those on the road rushed to a friend’s house or hotel closest to them, even flights could not depart or arrive. We remained at my granny’s house.The following night my parents felt that we would be able to get home safely if we left late night-early morning, before the riots broke again the following morning.At 3AM we sat in our car saying our prayers. It took no longer than 20 minutes to get home, which actually felt longer than the hour it would normally take us in Karachi traffic. This time, there was no traffic, no cars, nor a sole in the streets, not even the guards that sit outside of gates. The streets were dead- dead as a ghost town. It was like a scene out of “I Am Legend”.Never had I seen Karachi so quiet and abandoned at 3AM. People are always out shopping or eating… that is just the way Karachi is meant to be; a “city of lights”.While driving we saw men wrapped in shawls at the back of a parked pick-up truck, and as we drove past them we looked back to see if we were being followed.We also saw large objects standing in the middle of the road, approaching them we realized that they were burned buses or cars. They stood ash-black as the night’s sky itself. It was horrifying. My father slowed down as we got closer to them, and in the silence I could actually hear him think… “Don’t slow down. Should I make a U-turn and drive back, or perhaps I can make it through the gap… just don’t slow down”.It was more stressful than having to drive in the crazy, traffic-filled streets.Finally we turned into our street and drove up to the gate of our home. My father got out of the car and rushed to open it. I felt my mother’s heart stop as we looked around hoping not to see anyone lurking. My father quickly returned and without closing the door of the car, he drove into the gate, and dashed back out to close it behind us. I turned my head round to watch him. He locked the gate and paused. I saw his shoulders relax as he signed with relief. We were home safe and sound.However, Karachi was not safe and sound for another 2 days. All businesses, offices and stores were closed, and people stayed in their homes as the rioting destroyed the economy. On the forth morning stores opened and people tried getting back into routines, but everyone was nervous and hesitant. Everyone remained alert, ready to pull down shutters in the case of another outbreak. It was a very new and strange experience for me- to sense the diffidence in the air… but it soon prevailed. Pakistan, on the other hand, had not recovered and it will be a long while before it does.