Crazy Days

jan - feb 09

The first days of January prove normal, but not for long. On 4th of January around midnight I happen to still sit with my laptop on my bed and browse the net. I stumble over a video clip about an interview of Benazir with sir Frost of Aljazeera by whom she is asked what she believes about who was behind the bomb attacks in Karachi at her arrival. Amongst others she names a man and says, “… Umar Sheik, the man who killed Osama bin Laden.
Now Sir Frost is not famous for ignoring things, but in this case he does it - and the world follows his example. It is nowhere mentioned what could have been the meaning. BBC takes over the video, however, cuts this part out. Later is to be read in a small side-note that they are sorry and they wanted to hide nothing, but they thought that this "slip of the tongue" confused people.
But still no discussion about the matter. At none of the big media societies does, not CNN, not in BBC, not Pakistani newspapers or online versions - simply nowhere. I search the Internet - nothing. Only a few underground pages on which everyone is surprised why the world has nothing to say, if somebody of the caliber like Benazirs seems to know who has killed the most wanted man of the whole world. I search for hints that somebody explains whole as a Fake - nothing. The world seems to be quiet. (the video is with Youtube and now also in the BBC). Quite odd that nobody officially has to say anything, be it to deny it, to state it as a fake or to confirm it. I am taken very much by the whole thing when I suddenly hear someone shaking my gate. Seconds later it crashes opens. I hear running steps in my direction and 3 men stand in front of my kitchen door, which leads to my room. After some seconds, they break my door as well. I am quite surprised. They shout in Urdu (Pakistani language), one wants to expel me from the room, the other holds on to me. In the wrangling they fling me against the door frame, however, the headache should come only later. I try to understand what they want. Are they after me? Is it maybe because I have seen these things on the net? Is it a special unity? Do they want to violate me? Do rob? Ha-ha, they won’t find much.
One starts to scream that I am here illegally and I should leave. Is something not right with my visa?
I try to call my boss who lives on the upper floor and run outside in the yard to shout for him. I do not dare to run out on the road because I do not know whether even more of these people are waiting on the street.
Finally wife of my boss wakes from my rings and I explain to her what happens and beg her to send her husband down and call the police.
Suddenly brick stones fly from the upper floor, one misses me only by a hair. Are they now also in the house? Burglars? What is happening up there? Later I find out that my boss has tried somnolently to get rid of the people here below by scaring them with bricks, his aim needs improvement though.
One of 3 men seems to calm down and explains to me that this is his property and waves a slip of paper. I say OK, I see that he is right - the first-class psychology lessons (tell the crazy guy he is right to calm him down) - and that I only wait for my boss to come and clear everything. He agrees at first only to break down the next door. Now I run out at the street and around the block, where the entrance of my boss’s private quarters is located. There I am told that one of these men is the younger, drug-addicted brother of my boss to whom a part of the house actually really belongs, which had been rented from him though with contract and everything. Now he has gone crazy once again and tries to claim his part immediately to turn it into cash.
The police arrives, one of the friends of this younger brother tries to bribe the cook to write a statement that this brother has already been living here for a while - what is not right of course, but 25,000 rupees is a lot of money for a cook with 7000/month salaries (280Eur - 80 EUR). However, he refuses, because he knows that also my statement will be asserted. After reporting they also bribe the police and get released on the way to the police station instead of landing there. When the ‘keepers of law’ are gone, I want to fetch my things, however, I learn that the whole office including my room has been locked up by the police for further investigations. Thank God I was so alert and had taken my handbag, money, passport and laptop – I just didn’t want to leave that to those guys, which at that time I assumed are robbers or whatsoever. My boss come to know about the bribery and calls a friend – a high police officer at 3am who come to the house to do another report. Then at 4 o'clock I sleep or try at least - on the couch in the sitting room, the cook likewise lies there on the ground and snores like a bear.
The next day I learn that it should be a momentous experience. The lower floor remains close, I have one single pair of shalwar-kameez – the one which I wore -otherwise, nothing - also no place to stay. This my boss tells me very clearly. Gone is the time of accommodation along with work.
A great friend, Amina provides me shelter when i tell her about the events. I can stay there and teach her younger sister Rudaba for the forthcoming exams. She has specially come to Islamabad to get better tutors.
The day after the "burglary" I grab a cab and go to her, but before I needed to buy a phone card at the market to inform a few friends of all, so I have the driver drop me there.
The events of the eve still rotate in my head and after five minutes I realise that I have forgotten my laptop in the taxi. Bravo! …
It had to be. I had rejected the offer of a lift from relatives of my boss because this could have taken anytime between 30min and 30 hours, if I would have been dropped even by the taxi at Amina’s, the guards there would have noted the license plate of the car as they usually do in big apartment blocks. If it was not for the break-in, I wouldn’t have needed the phone card, I wouldn’t even have needed a taxi... Well no need to wail over spilled water.
I arrive pretty confused, catch them up with the latest news. They are very sorry, but I do understand very well that it is my lone guilt to have lost that laptop. And lost I have it, I am as sure as they are. I won’t see it again. No taxi number, no name, no company - taxis are private, usually owned by a single owner. Amina’s husband scans the market with me and questions all the cabbies, they seem to understand the matter, promise to ask around, but the chance is small. To make things worse, all the other hard disks were also in the laptop bag. Usually I keep them separate, but at that evening I just grabbed everything and stuffed it in.
Now are agree, it would be stupid to even think that the laptop would come back. The exchanged bag from Daewoo was already a miracle, but a laptop equals about 3 months’ salaries for a cabby.
I call my mother, she should send me the last backup hard disk from Austria in her next parcel and mournfully say goodbye to my last year’s work and pictures.

After 2 days my phone rings - unknown number. Ordinarily I do not pick unknown numbers. I couldn’t explain why I do it this time. „Hello, I believe I have your computer, your calling card was in this bag. I have discovered it only in the evening because it was dark and now am in another city, but in 3 days I am back in Islamabad and bring it over.“
… …
Dumbfounded. It takes a while to digest the message.

And he sticks to his words. After 3 days he really comes to the meeting point and even rejects a reward for his honesty. God shows me again that there are plenty of good people.

The situation at the office does not change, sometimes I visit Col. Khushwaqt in Peshawar, I spend most time, however, with Amina, whose enormous, wonderful, selfless hospitality I stretch a great deal much to my regret. I don't like being on someone's neck all the time and though I am immensely thankful, I am looking forward to have my own place again soon. I feel like an intruder, not because she makes me feel like one, but because of my ownself.
Oh yes, another thing I frequently do in this time is washing my only garment in the evening, hanging it over the heating - yes, this is believe I the only place in Pakistan with water radiators in the rooms - to wear it allover again in the morning.
I have never thought much about an excessive wardrobe.