Good Strangers and Terrorists

Here are some random and unconnected thoughts about the place I now live.  Today I was riding my bike along a trail at the base of the Margala Hills.  OK, yes I was riding alone again.  Not that it matters.  Anyway I had been riding for over an hour and probably looked pretty crappy given the 108 degree temp.  So along I ride on a flat section of trail and I notice 50 meters ahead a local collecting fire wood.  He had several stacks of 2 to 3 in diameter by 3 ft long branches.  These were laying at the edge of the trail.  His motorcycle was on the trail and another bundle was already placed behind the seat.  I was unclipping because I figured I’d have to walk my bike to get past him.  When he saw me, first he moved the bundles from the trail, and then he removed the bundle from his bike so I could make it past.  I thanked him as I rode by.  He was so polite and cared about not inconveniencing as total stranger.  It is small encounters like that that make me appreciate my neighbors. 

But, this is still not the safest of places for Americans.  There are standing threats from the TTP.  Terrorist acts happen every day in Pakistan.  Luckily they generally don’t take place in Islamabad.  So when we travel on official business to nearby cities it is with military escorts carrying H&K G3 battle rifles.  We move about on official business in up armored Chevy Suburbans.  They tend to stand out, unfortunately.  Around town we drive locally leased vehicles, low profile = safe.  Still whenever I pull onto our street I scan the parked cars for anything that looks out of place.  It’s a rather odd habit and it still catches me off guard when I do so.

Mountain Biking the Margallas

I haven’t gone shopping for rugs yet.  This morning I got off to a late start.  Last night I went to play dominos and some silly card game at one of the other houses.  I was cajoled into staying later than I’d planned.  Not a bad thing though as this morning was a bit of a nasty thunder storm… not nasty as in ugly, rude or in a sexual way, just a serious downpour with lightening and stuff.  So the ride began a bit late.  I rode to Chilla Gah Imam Bari, a Muslim shrine where a local Sufi used to dwell back in the 17^th century.  I had to leave my bike near the bottom of the path up the mountain.  An old gentleman that didn’t speak English told me I couldn’t take my bike.  He also conveyed that it would be safe to leave it, so I did.  It was a nice walk up.  Many nice people, some make jokes in Urdu, usually kids.  I don’t mind as many people were happy to shake my hand and a few took photos with me.  By and large these are very nice people, much like people everywhere.  After visiting the top I collected the bike and went for another ride.  I went way up trail 5 to the top of Pir Sohawa road at Monal.  OK to be honest most of way I was carrying or pushing the bike, lots of big rocks, stair steps and it’s steep.  I made it to the top and took the road back down. I’d been wanting to ride down this road since I first saw it, steep curvy, looks like a blast for a bike.  There are several steep switch backs and I was hoping to take a nice fast run… oops, cheap tires, slippery road like an LA freeway after the 1^st rain, I spilled it on the 1^st switchback.  Luckily the slippery road surface doesn’t just cause rubber to slide, skin does as well, so the road rash is not as bad as I’d feared.  It is a strange and surreal moment, shoes clipped into pedals, knowing the bike is going over and then sliding across the lane; the realization that your skin is being rubbed off as you slide toward the guard rail.  Luckily there were no cars near the turn and I stopped short of the guard rail.  As I was putting my chain back on the chain ring a car stopped to see if I was OK.  Funny, I can rub soap on it to clean it up but water stings like a son of a bitch.  Anyway I rode more carefully the rest of the way down.  Though I did pass a couple of motor scooters on the way.  At the bottom, near 7^th Ave. a kid (boy in his 20’s I’d guess) on a motor scooter, began riding along with me.  He saw my right arm and was concerned.  I told him I was fine.  But he kept pace until we were at Atta Turk road where he was headed to the parking lot for trail 3.  Again some random kid, was genuinely concerned and quite nice.  These are good people, most of them. 

Pill Boxes and Sand Bags

Driving in to work this morning I decided to use the Saudi Shams gate to the diplomatic enclave.  We alter our routes for security reasons and it had been a few days since I used that gate.  When I made the last left hand bend before the U-turn at the barricade I saw an unusually long line of cars waiting to enter the enclave.  Usually there is very little traffic at this gate.  Oh well, so I slowed after the U Turn and joined the line.  The school kids were showing up as many local kids go to school on the enclave.  A kid about 5 was trying to kick start a motor bike next to the curb on my left.  I idly looked across the street to my right and studied the housing on the other side of the large wall.  In front of the wall was a sand bag emplacement just past the curve in the road.  As I looked at this structure I remembered all the bunkers and pill boxes that were in Sasebo, Japan when I first lived there.  Those were remnants of WWII.  Gun emplacements to protect the home port of the Japanese Imperial Fleet.  The sand bag structure I was looking at now was built to protect against civil unrest in a city that did not exist when those Japanese pill boxes fell silent. 

This caused me to think about how we treat one another.  Why is violence such a prevalent element in all societies?  I am unaware of any country, culture or religion without violence in its past.  We write books and make movies that have truly frightening villains capable of unspeakable evil.  Perhaps that is one of our downfalls.  We view evil as so distinctly satanic that we miss the point.  Evil and violence are not an abrupt manifestation of the devil.  These things build over time and have seemingly innocent beginnings.  People grow up and are slowly turned into beasts without even recognizing it in themselves.  How else do we account for the imprisonment of the entire Japanese population of the US during WWII or the attempted genocide of European Jews or the current spate of suicide terrorism based on Wahhabis belief’s.  These are not acts carried out by demons from hell.  These are atrocities carried out by normal people.  People just like your friends and neighbors, like you.  It isn’t all that difficult to get a crowd of people excited enough to do something evil while all the same feeling they are on the path of righteousness, that they have good reasons to act as they are. 

Friday, 5/10/13, the first day of lock down:  The Pakistan elections are tomorrow so we were to be in our houses by 2:00 this afternoon and will remain here till Sunday at the soonest.  So far the violence has all been outside of Islamabad, bombings in the FATA, shootings in Karachi… OK I’ll admit shootings in Karachi are not necessarily politically motivated any more than shootings in South Central LA were in the 80’s.  Ah, but my turf, last night I had to be at Nur Khan to receive an aircraft.  We weren’t finished with the customs clearance until perhaps 7:30 PM.  We then had to take the pilots to one of the houses to rest.  On the way we ran into mobs of mini-bikes and cars waving flags.  On the main boulevard we inched along between lights and finally took the “scenic route” past the city cemetery.  After all, no one excited about an election wants to be reminded of the dead on their way to a rally.  At one point we were heading south on 7^th Ave, now heading to my house, the pilots having been dropped at another place.  We suddenly saw a mob of perhaps 100 mini-bikes and dozens of cars heading North toward what turned out to be a political rally expected to draw 10,000.  People in America don’t get anywhere this excited about politics.  Sports championships perhaps, but politics… yawn.  It was a night of circuitous driving and patience. 

Today we only worked less than half a day, 8:00 till 12:30.  We had to be back at home before the dreaded hour of 2:00.  Why 2:00, who the fuck knows.  The State Dept personnel are simply being told to avoid rally’s and gatherings.  Us military types apparently need to be treated more cautiously.  Odd I know, but that is today’s military.  Hell back in the 80’s we’d be on liberty in South Korea during the student riots.  We would be told, just don’t go near any universities.  Which of course we would immediately do, out of curiosity, or because we were too drunk to garb the correct train to Inchon.  Oh, wait, perhaps that is why we’re locked down? 

OK, anyhow today was a good day.  I spend time cleaning the bike I plan to ride the hills on.  It hasn’t been well maintained.  The last guy to use it complained it shifted poorly.  No wonder the chain, sprocket and chain rings were all curded up.  All better now.  Then I smoked a stogie and read some more of “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72”, a highly recommended book as a primer on politics and elections.  Everyone should read this book if you care how your country is run and how elections are managed.  Anyway the rest of the day has been equally relaxing.  It’s a nice change of pace.  Forced to take a real weekend off, a rather odd concept for most of you I imagine.       

The Smell of this Place

Something I meant to include in my last post, but forgot, was the smell of this city.  When I first traveled to Korea the entire country reeked of Kimchee.  The Philippines, at least Subic Bay, smelled of tropical humidity and raw sewage.  The main sewage outlet from Olongapo was “Shit River”.  I think the river’s true name is the Olongapo River and perhaps they use that name now but for decades the sailors only knew it as Shit River.  Even my father called it that and he last visited was the mid 50’s.  So what is my primary olfactory sensation from Islamabad?  It is the pungent odor of wild marijuana.  Every day I notice more of it, it grows everywhere; on the diplomatic enclave, across from the US Embassy, across the street from one of our General’s houses, in the parks, in the shopping area planters, on Pakistan’s military bases.  The smell is not overpowering and I imagine most American’s don’t even recognize it, but I do.  I find it amazingly surreal to be in a capitol that has that distinct, pungent, smell ever present.

Cinco De Mayo in Islamabad

 

Cinco de Mayo in Islamabad Pakistan.  Seems odd to have a get together on this occasion.  Then again seems odd that America has so fully accepted a fake holiday.  OK, that’s a bit harsh.  It’s a real thing but a minor one to be sure.  Here we are bad mouthing Mexicans for wanting to come north for work but we gladly usurp a minor holiday celebrating a victory over the French in 1862?  OK, OK, I should not be surprised as Saint Patrick’s Day has changed from a Catholic Saint’s Feast day to an excuse to obliterate our livers through copious consumption of alcohol.  Whoa, OK how did I get here?  Oh yeah, the 5^th of May.  Today.  It was a good day in Islamabad, for me anyway.  Another hike up the Margalla Hills.  Faster this time with a smaller group of more dedicated hikers.  After that I came back and glazed the Chocolate Damnation cake I made for today’s baking contest.  We had a chili cook off and baking contest at the General’s house.  Many people, lots of entries, lots of beer, a good time.

I missed out on “best dessert” to a guy that works for me.  He’s about to depart and has always baked for events.  To be fair very few people tried my cake as the first few destroyed it as quickly as possible!  It was the first dessert to vanish.  When the winner was announced the three star general turned to me and said “I think you just got fucked”  Too funny!  Afterwards a number of us filled water balloons and then took a position on the general’s 2^nd floor while others did the same at the house across the street.  Then we used huge sling shots to stage a water balloon artillery duel.  So today was a good day.  Actually I suppose I should say I had a good weekend… all one day of it.

Pakistani Elections



Election flags in Islamabad

Another day another earthquake.  We had a 5.7 this morning.  Nothing frightening, at least not frightening to someone who grew up in California and spent time in Japan.  Still though, this is the fourth reasonable sized tremor in the past 30 days.  I haven’t been here long enough to know if this is “normal” so I suppose I should do a bit of research on that.  It’s just another thing to be aware of here.  Awareness is important for expats in Pakistan.  Even though we have reasonably free movement within Islamabad there are limits.  Hiking in the Margala Hills or attending an art show at the Marriott or Hotel Serena require a locator card from the Regional Security Office at the Embassy.  This is a way to know where larger groups of American are in case the shit hits the fan.  When hiking we are always in groups.  There are two trails cleared for diplomatic personnel.  This means they have a larger military/police presence.  Mind you, very few here have actual diplomatic status.  I am here on an “official passport”.  It is brown, not blue like my tourist passport.  It allows me to be here and do my job but does not include the diplomatic immunity that a red “diplomatic passport” conveys. 

So awareness, Pakistan has elections scheduled for the 11th (next Saturday).  Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) has been blowing people up in the Northwest.  They have a standing threat against Americans.  Karachi has more of a serious criminal element threat than an insurgent threat.  Here in Islamabad we have only had to deal with demonstrations and marches.  I haven’t seen any of them myself as I am at work during more daylight hours and also because we receive notice to avoid these areas.  Funny, back in the late 80’s in Korea we used to specifically check out the student demonstrations.  But back then the threat was more from teargas and police. 

Political flags and banners are everywhere.  Clearly there is a great deal of energy pent up and waiting.  We shall see what these next few weeks bring.  Still, this is one more element to be aware of.  We live in a city covered with check points and detours.  For myself and the people I work with we simply flash our blue embassy badge and have no hassle.  It is pretty annoying though to have so many road blocks.  You want to go straight up a street but have to turn left to avoid barriers and then make a U-turn mid-block and then a left back at the intersection.  All the time being aware you’re in a right hand drive country.  All the time watching out for other cars, motorbikes, horse carts, pedestrians, bicycles and anything else that might interrupt your plans.  Driving here is barely controlled chaos.  Whoever reaches an intersection first has the implied right of way.  Cars and motorbikes will pass on either side of you, or cut you off just to turn in front of you.  Driving here takes a particular degree of diligence and awareness.  You have to negotiate the road obstacles, the chaotic traffic and still be vigilant in case some dumb ass has evil intentions.  Some of my co-workers spend a great deal of time driving cursing other drivers and aggressively trying to force them to drive like someone in the US.  That is such a waste of energy and cause of needless stress.  It is much easier simply to drive as the Pakistani’s do.    

I feel like I have something of an advantage having grown up in LA during the violence of the 70’s and 80’s.  Having big city street smarts is quite helpful in places like Pakistan.