Travel Notes: Pakistan in wake of Bhutto's killing

This morning, over a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea, I said goodbye to life in Pakistan. I had been the guest of Bashir Akhtar, the wealthy grandfather of a high school student in my history class. The Lahore-based clan wanted to honor the teacher who had turned their 18-year-old grandson around and so I had been invited to have a quiet vacation in Punjab.

Three days after I arrived, Benazir Bhutto was murdered and all businesses were closed for three days. Mobs sacked banks and massive electrical blackouts increased to 20 or more times per day. Nonetheless, my life
in Lahore was anything but dreary. To be honest, the trip was a non-stop love fest. After three weeks and hundreds of hours on the street, I would say that what is missing from the news is simply this: the Pakistani people.

Two magazine covers call Pakistan "the most dangerous place on earth" but that is not how the people see things. Pakistanis are fighting against all odds for success, and, after meeting hundreds in markets and country clubs, I can see that they win out -- every day.

The nan baker, the shirt cutters, and the street-side barbers assured me that they will survive in the bull's eye of the American "war on terror." But really, how can anyone survive in a country surrounded by China, India, Iran and Afghanistan? How can the people find peace in a mountainous land peopled by Punjabis, Balochis, Sindhis, Kashmiris, and Pashtuns? Partial answer: with abundant humor, humility, persistence, and courage.

I can never understand what it means to be a Pakistani, but I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of jokes, funky Urdu music and the anarchy of traffic where no accidents occur. I danced on New Year's Eve, shopped in the crazed bazaar of Anarkali and choked up when trying to say goodbye. I was appalled at Benazir's death, but I was honored to be present during this time of grief and anger. What story tells the tale the best?

They all do, but especially moving is the lawyers' tale.

My last night in Lahore was an encounter with two fearless Pakistanis, lawyers who pursue careers in a broken legal system. In a place far from the authorities, I had an amazing dinner with Ninna and Ali. He is a corporate lawyer with the firm of Chima and Ibrahim and who can argue cases as a "High Court Advocate." Also a lawyer, Ninna works for another firm that has a department that only does legal aid work, totally free of charge. Ninna is paid a salary by the firm but no client pays a single rupee. Since the Pakistani government does not fund legal aid, a few big corporate firms shouldered this task and pay for all costs, from investigations to document preparation and litigation. She represents abused women, mainly, and was the lawyer for my host's home for homeless people.

Unfortunately, Ninna's work has ground to a halt due to her unwillingness to plead her cases before judges apppointed by President Musharraf. On March 9, 2007, Musharraf singlehandedly amended the Pakistani

constitution and removed Supreme Court Chief Justice I. Chaudhry, claiming that necessity demanded such an act. The other 13 Supreme Court justices re-instated Chaudry on July 20, saying that the President acted illegally and, as Ninna said, "the justices buried the doctrine of necessity." The justices ruled that "unlawful acts by our president would not be tolerated."

Musharraf's response was to castigate the Supreme Court for its investigation into 500 human rights habeas corpus petitions, for its refusal to accept his unconstitutional dual role as army chief and president, and for its "activism."

After hearing all of this, I had to just stare at this courageous woman. She looks a good bit like Benazir: black-rimmed glasses, voicing passionate thoughts that are impossible to forget. She abandoned