Pakistan — not so ‘dangerous’ after all | The Express Tribune (2023)

“Pakistan?! Isn’t that too dangerous?” Most of my friends and family reacted in the same way when I told them that I would be going there in the second week of October. And to be honest, I also hesitated when I got the offer to participate in a Pakistan-German media dialogue in Lahore organised by the Heinrich Boll Foundation. But I’ve already been working long enough in the media to know that the images we have in mind of most of the so-called ‘dangerous’ countries are mainly created by a ‘good-news-is-no-news’ principle.

In the end I didn’t hesitate for very long, as I was curious to learn how this image of natural catastrophes, Taliban, suppressed women, military regime and an enmity towards India matched up with the reality. An image which yet was also influenced by a female prime minister long before the Germans were ready to accept a woman as prime minister, by a modern well-educated elite and a great passion for cricket.

So, I arrived at Lahore and the first thing I realised was that yes it may have been dangerous because the city was in the grip of a dengue epidemic. I hadn’t anticipated that I should be afraid of mosquitos.

In the days following, I talked to Pakistani colleagues, politicians and many others who taught me that this country is so much more complex and contradictory than the images I had in mind.

I visited beautiful mosques, Mughal palaces and restored old houses in the Walled City and met a famous designer who revives the great cultural history of the country in her fashion. But I also learnt from a cultural historian, that at public schools this history is hardly taught. “Why?”, I asked. “Because it’s a history we share with India”, was the answer.

I met a Pakistani businessman. He told me in a lowered voice that he is a Hindu and that this is the reason why in his office he is given always the same mug while all his colleagues don’t have ‘private mugs’. “Maybe they believe my religion is infectious,” he laughed. It was no happy laughter.

I saw only few women compared to men in the streets and hardly any of them on their own. As I am used to travelling on my own, I asked myself for the first time if this could be a problem here. Nevertheless I walked through the beautiful Bagh-e-Jinnah Park. But then I discovered the Gymkhana Cricket Ground. Bystanders (only men) were watching from outside a cricket match of young women among whom were players of the national women’s team. They told me that since one year the players have paid contracts (like their male counterparts), that they’re dreaming of winning the World Cup next year and that even women from the tribal areas are playing in their team.

I talked to a young middle-class woman, who told me how she once wore a burqa for a couple of months in order to find out what religion really meant to her. Later on she became a member of the Communist party and an atheist. I know many young people in the West who undergo a similar search for their own identity. But for this woman it could be perilous, especially if the wrong people get hold of passport (she told me she has “no religion” written on it).

I also met a law student who told me how open-minded her parents had brought her up. That she had always been able do what her brothers had done and to choose for her own what she wanted. Her father, a military man, was dead and her two brothers had joined the army. She longed for change, for less influence of the military and more democracy.

Pakistan, as I could read every morning in the newspapers, has a free media with brilliant journalists, who are not only very critical but also courageous. I talked to Pakistani colleagues who investigate, criticise, and their work has an impact but too many have paid with their life for this.

I had many astonishing encounters, enlightening insights and yet only got a glimpse of the larger picture. I came back home and told my friends and family: No, it’s not too dangerous to go to Pakistan.

Published in The Express Tribune, October 23^rd, 2011.