I love Pakistan, because it’s home

Last time I was in Karachi, sitting in the departure lounge on my way back to Dubai, just a few seats away from the spot I’m in right now, I said something that I’m deeply ashamed of. “I hate Pakistan” was my outburst to my dad. It felt satisfying at the time, but as the plane ascended, the burden of those words started to weigh in. As soon as the plane landed, I called my dad and apologized. I didn’t mean it.

So what pushed me to say it?

Over the past 3 years, I’ve been to about a dozen cities and have been to airports ranging from a tiny terminal in the mid-Western city of Peoria to the massive regional hub of Singapore. Holding a Pakistani passport has never been convenient. I have invariably been selected for secondary screening, but have always been treated with respect. Even in the US, notorious for its broken, paranoid immigration system, after 4 hours of waiting (which is unpardonable), the visa officer was at least polite and apologetic.

So why is it that it was in Karachi of all the places that I was treated like a criminal?

As you enter the main airport building in Karachi, there is a security guard who checks your ticket to verify the departure time. Right after, there is a customs check-point that generally let you pass without any bother. After that there is a scanning machine, which takes a moment to pass through. The work-flow is well laid out and on most days it takes less than 30 minutes from the moment you enter the airport to the time you’re sitting at the departure gate. By any standard, that’s pretty good. Civil Aviation and ASF (Airport Security Force) are two government organizations that work. When other government departments decide to stick their respective noses into a well integrated process, shit happens.

I don’t know if most readers are familiar with the ANF. The highly ineffective, effete anti-narcotics force of Pakistan. If they weren’t so busy lining their pockets, they might actually do something about the rampant drug problem in the country. Last month, when I crossed the Customs counter uneventfully, as usual, right before the scanning machines, a bearded peasant-looking man was standing with a crowd around him. He was wearing a crushed white shalwar kameez, stained with body grime and tea spills. I thought he was a labourer on his way to some construction pit in the GCC. I navigated the crowd around him (there was no obvious queue), and someone called out in a gruff, rude voice “Kahan ja rahay ho?” (Where do you think you’re going?). I turned back and saw this cretin gesturing rudely towards me.

He turned out to be a constable of the ANF. He spent 2 full minutes memorizing my passport, while I patiently stood by. Looking at me suspiciously, he said “Udhar jao” pointing to an improvised luggage rack where another plain-clothes (but decent looking) ANF constable was standing. I lugged my hand-carry over, and let the guy prod through my stuff. While this was happening, the first ANF guard said “Meray saath aao.” (Come with me). I wanted to take my bags with me, not wanting to leave them unattended. He asked me curtly to leave the stuff where it was.

I followed him to a dingy, poorly lit corridor, which appeared to be a makeshift store-room. I had a deep sense of apprehension building. He asked me to lean against the wall and started roughly probing my stomach, poking invasively. When I protested (loudly), he said he said gruffly “shak door kar raha hoon“. Finally, I headed out into checkout area, deeply infuriated, wanting never to come back. To do the rational thing, I approached the CAA counter to complain. It turned out that the ANF operates from its own ivory tower that was too high to receive complaints from lowly citizens.

What pissed me off was not just the invasive body search, but the way it was conducted, the place it was performed, the lack of a process, the obnoxious manners of the ANF constable, and the general disregard that security forces in Pakistan (police, army) have for ordinary citizens.

But no, I do not hate Pakistan.

This time it took less than 30 minutes to go from check-in to boarding. Each check-point operated efficiently, airport personnel spoke respectfully (“aap” not “tum”) and the immigration officer engaged me with familial banter while she stamped my passport. Only in Pakistan am I treated this warmly.

I love Pakistan, because it’s home.

-Adnan

(Written in the departure lounge at Karachi Airport on 12 November 2009)

Tags: airport security, ANF, ASF, Karachi, karachi airport, Quaid International Airport

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