MOHTARMA BENAZIR BHUTTO ASSASSINATED
December 27,
2007
Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto was assassinated Thursday in a suicide attack that also killed at least 20 others at the end of a campaign rally, aides said.
The death of the 54-year-old charismatic
former prime minister threw the campaign for the Jan. 8 election into chaos and
created fears of mass protests and an eruption of violence across the volatile
south Asian nation.
The attacker struck just minutes after Bhutto addressed a rally of thousands of
supporters in the garrison city of Rawalpindi, 8 miles south of Islamabad. She
was shot in the neck and chest by the attacker, who then blew himself up, said,
Rehman Malik, Bhutto's security adviser.
At least 20 others were killed in the attack.
Bhutto was rushed to the hospital and taken into emergency surgery.
"At 6:16 p.m. she expired," said Wasif Ali Khan, a member of Bhutto's party who
was at Rawalpindi General Hospital.
"The surgeons confirmed that she has been martyred," Bhutto's lawyer Babar Awan
said.
Bhutto's supporters at the hospital exploded in anger, smashing the glass door
at the main entrance of the emergency unit. Others burst into tears. One man
with a flag of Bhutto's Pakistan People's Party tied around his head was beating
his chest.
Some at the hospital began chanting, "Killer, Killer, Musharraf," referring to
Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf, Bhutto's main political opponent. A few
began stoning cars outside.
"We repeatedly informed the government to provide her proper security and
appropriate equipment including jammers, but they paid no heed to our requests,"
Malik said.
Nawaz Sharif, another former premier and opposition leader, arrived at the
hospital and sat silently next to Bhutto's body. Earlier on Thursday, four
people were killed at a rally for Sharif when his supporters clashed with
backers of Musharraf near Rawalpindi.
In Washington, the State Department said it was seeking confirmation of Bhutto's
condition.
"Certainly, we condemn the attack on this rally," deputy spokesman Tom Casey
said. "It demonstrates that there are still those in Pakistan who want to
subvert reconciliation and efforts to advance democracy."
The United States has for months been encouraging Musharraf to reach an
accommodation with the opposition, particularly Bhutto, who was seen as having a
wide base of support in Pakistan. Her party had been widely expected to do well
in parliamentary elections set for next month.
Bhutto served twice as Pakistan's prime minister between 1988 and 1996. She had
returned to Pakistan from an eight-year exile on Oct. 18. On the same day, her
homecoming parade in Karachi was also targeted by a suicide attacker, killing
more than 140 people. On that occasion she narrowly escaped injury.
At the scene of the bombing, an Associated Press reporter saw body parts and
flesh scattered at the back gate of the Liaqat Bagh park where Bhutto had
spoken. He counted about 20 bodies, including police, and could see many other
wounded people.
Party supporter Chaudry Mohammed Nazir said that two gunshots rang out when
Bhutto's vehicle pulled into the main street and then there was a big blast next
to her car.
Police cordoned off the street with white and red tape, and rescue workers
rushed to put victims in ambulances as people wailed nearby.
The clothing of some of the victims was shredded and people put party flags over
their bodies. Police caps and shoes littered the asphalt.
Hundreds of riot police had manned security checkpoints to guard the venue. It
was Bhutto's first public meeting in Rawalpindi since she came back to the
country.
In November, Bhutto had also planned a rally in the city, but Musharraf forced
her to cancel it, citing security fears.
In recent weeks, suicide bombers have repeatedly targeted security forces in
Rawalpindi, a city near the capital where Musharraf stays and the Pakistan army
has its headquarters.
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RAWALPINDI, Pakistan (CNN) -- Pakistan's
former Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto was assassinated Thursday outside a large
gathering of her supporters where a suicide bomber also killed at least 14,
doctors and a spokesman for her party said.
While Bhutto appeared to have died from bullet wounds, it was not immediately
clear if she was shot or if her wounds were caused by bomb shrapnel.
President Pervez Musharraf held an emergency meeting in the hours after the
death, according to state media.
Police warned citizens to stay home as they expected rioting to break out in
city streets in reaction to the death.
Police sources told CNN the bomber, who was riding a motorcycle, blew himself up
near Bhutto's vehicle. (Click
here for the video)
Bhutto was rushed to Rawalpindi General
Hospital -- less than two miles from the bombing scene -- where doctors
pronounced her dead.
Former Pakistan government spokesman Tariq Azim Khan said while it appeared
Bhutto was shot, it was unclear if the bullet wounds to her head and neck were
caused by a shooting or if it was shrapnel from the bomb. Bhutto's husband
issued a statement from his home in Dubai saying, "All I can say is we're
devastated, it's a total shock."
President Bush, vacationing at his Texas ranch, has been "informed about the
situation in Pakistan," said the White House. "We condemn the acts of violence
which took place today in Pakistan," said a spokesman.
The number of wounded was not immediately known. However, video of the scene
showed ambulances lined up to take many to hospitals.
The attack came just hours after four supporters of former Pakistan Prime
Minister Nawaz Sharif died when members of another political party opened fire
on them at a rally near the Islamabad airport Thursday, Pakistan police said.
Several other members of Sharif's party were wounded, police said.
Bhutto, who led Paksitan from 1988 to 1990 and was the first female prime
minister of any Islamic nation, was participating in the parliamentary election
set for January 8, hoping for a third term.
A terror attack targeting her motorcade in Karachi killed 136 people on the day
she returned to Pakistan after eight years of self-imposed exile
CNN's Mohsin Naqvi, who was at the scene of both bombings, said Thursday's blast
was not as powerful as that October attack.
Thursday's attacks come less than two weeks after Pakistan President Pervez
Musharraf lifted an emergency declaration he said was necessary to secure his
country from terrorists.
Bhutto had been critical of what she believed was a lack of effort by
Musharraf's government to protect her.
Two weeks after the October assassination attempt, she wrote a commentary for
CNN.com in which she questioned why Pakistan investigators refused international
offers of help in finding the attackers.
"The sham investigation of the October 19 massacre and the attempt by the ruling
party to politically capitalize on this catastrophe are discomforting, but do
not suggest any direct involvement by General Pervez Musharraf," Bhutto wrote.
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Remembering Benazir Bhutto
Khalid Hasan
recounts, in words and
in pictures, an association spanning a lifetime
If Benazir Bhutto was to be summed up in one word, that word would be kind.
Indomitable though her will was, and extraordinary the courage she was gifted
with, behind her sometimes steely exterior lay a deeply humane woman who felt
for the poor and the deprived, a quality she had inherited from her father. In
many respects, she resembled him, but in several ways she was quite different
from him. Zulfikar Ali Bhutto found it hard to forgive those who had once
crossed him, or who he thought had crossed him. Even minor incidents, sometimes
quite innocent, he found hard to overlook or let go. That was his great failing.
When I mentioned this once to Maulana Kausar Niazi, he took a deep breath and
replied philosophically that the failings of great men were also often great.
Benazir was forgiving. She had an amazing capacity to take personal abuse – and
that was one count on which she was never to want. She would shrug her shoulders
and move on. She preferred to concentrate on the essentials of her relationships
with people, not the trivia that often gets to define them. She was by nature a
generous person. She did not harbour a grudge; but being a Bhutto, she was born
with a photographic memory. She remembered but she did not settle scores. During
her two stints in office, both cut in the middle, one by the renegade Farooq
Leghari, she who had a lot of scores to settle had the grace not to settle any.
I went back with her a long way. A week after ZAB took office in the dying days
of that catastrophic year of 1971, he sent for me and asked me to work for him.
Until then, the press officer to the president – which ZAB then was – was called
a public relations officer, which I thought was more appropriate to someone
selling soap. I said that much to ZAB and suggested that I should be his press
secretary. “Fine,” he said, “but not the kind they have in America.” Benazir was
in school in the US by then. She came home for a visit around then and that is
when I first spoke to her. From amongst ZAB’s children, my rapport was with the
precocious Shahnawaz who had a sharp mind and on whose face I always saw a smile
full of mischief. But I’ll leave that story for another day.
As I sit here in faraway Washington trying to write this, my mind goes to and
fro over the vast stretch of years that divide then from now. Let me cite one
example of Benazir’s ability, her gift I would say, to refuse to take offence
where most others would. Some years ago, in a long memoir I wrote of her father,
I described an incident involving the teenager Benazir in New York in 1971 when
ZAB had come to the United Nations to try to retrieve what he could of his
disintegrating country’s honour. This was what I wrote, “My friend Hayat Mehdi,
who was deputy permanent representative at Pakistan’s UN Mission, Agha Shahi
being the permanent representative, told me that as he went to Bhutto’s room to
pick up some papers that he wanted, he nearly fell to the floor with shock when
he heard the teenage Benazir, who had come from her school in the East to be
with her father, chattering away on the phone to a friend telling her what her
father was going to do the next day at the UN and that she should not miss it on
television. I am not sure if Mehdi snatched the phone from her hand or put his
hand on her mouth as she was giving away the best-kept secret of the day. Next
day, Bhutto entered the Security Council looking grim and made the most
emotional, though well-prepared, speech of his career. It was in that speech
that he said, ‘I have not come here to accept abject surrender. If the Security
Council wants me to be a party of the legalisation of abject surrender, then I
say that under no circumstances, shall it be so. The United Nations resembles
those fashion houses which hide ugly realities by draping ungainly figures in
alluring apparel’.”
I never sent Benazir the book that included my Bhutto memoir for fear that some
of what I had written might offend her. A few years ago, on one of her visits to
Washington, she told me that she had read the book and liked it. “But there is
one thing that you got wrong,” she added. When I asked her what it was, she
replied that the 1971 incident I had described had never taken place. “I am
sorry,” I said, “but I wrote what Hayat Mehdi had told me, word for word.” “Then
that is not your fault, but of the person who told you,” she said. Having worked
with her father and been in situations where he took umbrage at something
written about him, I could never imagine him just dropping the matter and moving
on. She was like that. She was not bitter and she had this tremendous capacity
to go on, no matter what the odds and how difficult the situation in which she
found herself. When she came to America on one of her lecture tours, she always
found time to meet her party workers, her friends, whose number always remained
large, and even those who merely wanted to meet her because she was Benazir
Bhutto. Some of them had no interest in politics or in her as such. I suppose
they met her in order to be able to let drop casually at a later social evening
that they had spent time with her the other day. Her brow never furrowed when in
company that could not possibly have been the source of any pleasure or benefit
to her. Like her father, she remembered names, especially of her party workers.
Benazir did not attend the all parties conference organised by Nawaz Sharif in
London last summer. While she sent three members of the party, including what I
described in a piece as “the fragrant Sherry Rehman,” she herself went off to
Paris, though she remained connected to what was going on - laptop to laptop. I
wrote about it tongue in cheek but she was not offended. When she came to the US
this year after the living arrangement with Musharraf had been successfully
brokered by the Americans and the British, she stayed in New York for more than
two weeks. Once again, she was not offended by what I had written, which was,
“The Musharraf-Bhutto arrangement is viewed as one best equipped to deal with
the ‘spectre of terrorism and extremism’ – as the mantra has it. To that end,
high-gloss exposure of Ms. Bhutto, the acceptable face of the Musharraf regime,
has been facilitated. There is the long arm of the government and then there is
the well-financed and well-connected, high-powered public relations and lobbying
network to which the United States is home. Selling, be it soap or politicians,
local or foreign, has been perfected to an art form in this country. Ms. Bhutto
stands sold.” She phoned to say before she left New York that she was finally
returning home. When I asked her if journalists would be going with her, she
asked me to come along. The next day, I received a mail from Farhatullah Babar
asking for passport number and the rest. As it was, I did not go, having had
things to do here requiring my presence.
She had a puckish sense of humour and there was a glint in her eye and a
childlike expression of mischief on her face when she wanted to tease someone.
Her loyal follower, former Senator Akbar Khawaja, who would not leave her side
whenever she came to the US – and she let him do that because she obviously must
have liked him – was and remains a good friend of mine. Writing about her last
visit to Washington, I took a gentle dig at Akbar Khawaja when I wrote, “Benazir
Bhutto was in town for three days, but had it been left to former Senator Akbar
Khawaja, who followed her like a shadow and never let her out of his sight till
such time as he would be told to go home and grab some shut-eye, we would never
have known she was here. That being so, if there is a prize for keeping secrets,
Akbar Khawaja should get it.” Akbar told me later that in Karachi, where he had
gone with her from London, she turned around and found him standing behind her.
That was at Bilawal House. She said, “Oh! it is you. I am going to tell Khalid.”
She also told him once, “Khalid is family.” I think one reason she always
treated me with great affection and much respect was because I had never asked
her for anything when by any measure, I should have been at least accorded what
I had voluntarily turned my back on after the July 1977 coup. I was a member of
the Pakistan Foreign Service and posted at London – by ZAB personally – and I
resigned rather than serve the military government or, in Lillian Hellmann’s
words, “cut my conscience to suit today’s fashion.” The only time I broached the
subject with her was when I asked her several years later what I should say to
those who ask me why I alone of all the Bhutto people had been left out of the
camp of victory. She did not answer that but I could see from her expression
that she was sensitive to what I had said. Once someone who knew about such
things and how they work, told me that she had tried both times she was in
office to find me a position to suit my wishes and my experience but both times
it was the ISI that had shot it down. One day, I am going to ask the ISI – to
quote Gen. Yahya Khan – at what point did I inadvertently “untie its tethered
goat.”
In 2001, while I was rifling through some old papers, I came across a photograph
of Benazir, sent to her father and mother from school in the United States with
a long, loving note scribbled to them on the back. She must have been around
seventeen then. I mailed it to her in London, saying it belonged to her. She
wrote back to say how time had passed and how wistful one felt thinking of those
young and early years. In Simla, Benazir who had accompanied her father because
Begum Bhutto was ill at the time in Karachi, was put under my charge, so to
speak. She had barely turned 19 and was a big hit with the Indian media. I
remember one headline that ran, “Benazir is benazir.” Everybody wanted to
interview her but I was under instructions from ZAB himself to say no to all
such requests. The only exception made – after due permission from the President
– was a meeting with the late Indian journalist Dilip Mukerjee who had published
a hurriedly written biography of Bhutto. He told me that more than him, it was
his daughter, also Benazir’s age, who had her heart set on meeting her. When I
asked ZAB if an exception could be made in this case, he told me to go ahead as
long as I remained present at the meeting. Mukerjee was thrilled when I told him
that he could come along with his daughter to the Vice Regal Lodge where we were
staying. The two came but Benazir paid little attention to the starry-eyed girl,
instead going hammer and tongs after Mukerjee, whom she faulted for having got
several facts about her father wrong. Mukerjee, one of India’s most respected
journalists, and a great Bengali gentleman of the old school, spent the meeting
fending off Benazir’s blows. At one point I asked her if we had not had enough
of that and if we could perhaps move on to other things. She reluctantly let go
and Mukerjee heaved a sigh of relief. She then turned to the girl and spoke to
her for quite some time to put her at ease. The Indians wanted ZAB to see
Pakeezah, a “Muslim social” as the Bombay film industry classifies such
productions. ZAB was not interested but felt that it would be rude to say no and
asked me to escort Benazir to the cinema on Simla’s fabled Mall, which I did. We
later took a walk and also visited a bookshop where I bought many books for ZAB
that he had asked me to do.
Except for the last year and a half or so, I kept a steady to and fro email
correspondence with Benazir. She was a great email sender, though the last time
we spoke I said to her that for long we had not exchanged emails, whereas I
often ran into people who bragged about getting emails from her all the time.
“Not emails, but SMS,” she replied. I was not into SMS – one gadget less to
fiddle with – but I had decided to SMS her from now on. But that was not to be.
I have more pictures of Benazir than anyone I know – all my own work. Several of
them are appearing in this special TFT issue. Off and on, while rifling through
my piles of photographs, I would pick up some of hers and email them to her. I
have a message from her dated December 3 2003 which says, “Dear Khalid bhai,
Thank you for sending me the pictures taken at Dr. Javed’s House (Dr Javed
Manzur, Washington PPP president at whose house she always met journalists and
party workers). Your picture collection is phenomenal, covering many a decade
and many an era. Bibi.” Another mail dated January 3 2004 says, “Such beautiful
pictures you have. Thank you for sending it to me. It brought back many memories
of a happier time.” A birthday greeting I sent her in 2002 brought back this
response: “I am writing to thank you for the greetings on the occasion of my
birthday on June 21, 2002. It was kind of you to remember the occasion. I
appreciate the prayers and the good wishes. It is such gestures which give me
strength to work for the restoration of a democratic process in our country
Pakistan.”
A set of pictures I took of her in 1992, when she was living in a rented house
in Islamabad’s F-8 sector, I sent to her in early August 2003. She wrote on
August 22, “Thank you for the photos which I received. I was thin and wish I
could be so again. It is too much effort. Nice to know about Nadira becoming
Lady Naipaul.” (When I took the pictures, Nadira was interviewing her along with
Roshan Dhunjibhoy for a German TV channel.) When a scandal involving Pakistan’s
UN ambassador striking his woman friend broke in New York four years ago, the
PPP issued a formal condemnation. I wrote to Bibi about it, reminding her that
Munir Akram was Pakistan’s most brilliant ambassador and one of the few Sindhis
in the foreign service. She replied on January 14 2003, “Dear Khalid bhai, Munir
is a woman beater and PPP feels strongly about the rights of women. A man who
beats a woman is unfit, to my mind, to represent Pakistan.” She wrote to me on
May 31 2003, in response to my early birthday message, “It is kind of you to
remember my birthday so early on. Thank you for the good wishes for the
occasion. I am going to be half a century old and that makes for reflection. I
have written a poem called Banazir’s Story inspired by Marvi of Malir, written
by Shah Latif. Marvi was in exile from her land and pined for it as I do too. I
was moved when I read it and adapted it to the present circumstances.” Daily
Times published the entire poem.
When Ijaz Batalvi died, I wrote a column on his passing in these TFT pages. I
stated that he was never the same after ZAB’s execution and in later years and
in private regretted his role in the case. Rao Rashid wrote a letter to TFT
castigating Batalvi’s role. Benazir who saw the column wrote to me, “Dear KH, I
saw this article. It made me think the better of Rao for taking exception to the
obituary on Batalvi. It also cooled the heart to know that Batalvi was never the
same again and in private regretted it. Wish it could have been at a public
level. Batalvi would have had so much knowledge about what went on behind the
scenes. I firmly believe that someone has to come forward to tell the truth,
someone who was part of the fray and knew exactly what went on with the
assurance that what is wanted is an end to perversion of justice and not
retribution. This is why I keep calling for a Truth and Reconciliation
Commission knowing how many were tortured and how justice was shredded in the
name of justice itself. Bibi.”
When I passed on to her a suggestion someone had made asking her to become
Pakistan’s Sonia Gandhi, she wrote, “Luckily, I come from a village in Larkana
rather than Italy.” In 2002, certain stories were planted in the press by the
regime or its friends that Benazir was not a graduate of Radcliffe. I got in
touch with Radcliffe, which confirmed that she was not only a graduate but had
passed with honours in 1973. Daily Times printed my story on July 13 2002. When
Benazir saw it on July 16, she wrote, “Khalid bhai, Got the message upon my
return. The regime began the wrong propaganda and I was to nail them on the day
of filing the nomination. They seized my papers previously and now thought they
could do ‘dada-giri’. However, I was alerted when FL (Farooq Leghari) dismissed
the government and argued that I was never a graduate. Thank you for working to
defending my reputation in the face of the manifold lies of the regime. Insha
Allah, all their lies will be caught. Bibi.”
Yusuf Buch, who worked for several years as ZAB’s special assistant for
information, told me that ZAB wanted Benazir to be spared the rough and tumble
of politics. Instead, he wanted her to go into foreign service, get married to a
nice young man and raise a family. I mentioned this in a column, which Benazir
saw. She wrote to me, “I am surprised Yusuf Buch told you that all my father
wanted me to do was to join the Foreign Service and get married and have
children. Those close to my father all know that he wanted me to go into
politics. It was I who wanted to join the Foreign Service. In fact, mother
contested in 1977 to pave the way for me to enter parliament when I turned
twenty-five. When my father was imprisoned, destiny took hold of my life and I
followed the path that he had chosen for me. He was proud of my having done
that. The greatest consolation I have is that I lived up to his expectations and
faced each crisis with fortitude as (he) would have wanted me to do. Bibi.”
Benazir was a beautiful person. But she was not free of faults. Once she said to
me – it was her first term as prime minister – that she was always judged
harshly. I replied that she was judged harshly because much was expected of her.
The never-to-go-away charges of corruption that hovered over her head bothered
me deeply, as they did all those who admired her and wished her well. Although
she kept denying them, the fact is that she was not pure as driven snow. Was it
Asif Zardari who led her to that path? Or was it something innate to her? She
told me in Casablanca in 1995 – if I have the year right – where she had gone
for the Islamic Summit, that when she was ejected out of 70 Clifton, all she had
on her were the clothes she was wearing, She told me that had her husband not
had “some money,” they would have been on their own.
I recall walking on a Casablanca road, having just filed my report to my Lahore
newspaper from the telegraph office, when Benazir’s prime ministerial cavalcade
with sirens blaring passed me by. She saw me and had her car and the rest of the
motorcade come to a stop. Khalid Shafi, then chief of protocol and ZAB’s ADC
when I was his press secretary, jumped out of the car and said, “The prime
minister says get Khalid in the car and bring him over.” I spent that entire
afternoon with her, talking about old times and about ZAB whom we both adored.
Not always was she the best judge of people, however. In her first term, it was
people like Happy Minwala who roosted around and pretended as if the sun rose
every morning not from the east but from some orifice on their person. When she
fell, they abandoned her without wasting a minute. I also could not understand
how she could come close to people like Gulzar Chaudhry (a dismissed patwari)
who because of her munificence became a millionaire. It always bothered me that
she would stay at his residence when in Lahore. That someone like Rehman Malik,
a policeman of dubious reputation, became such a close companion of hers, I
never quite understood. He christened himself as her chief security adviser and
yet he failed to protect her, first in Karachi, where she was lucky to have
survived, and then in Rawalpindi, where she wasn’t. He has not even had the
decency to offer an apology to the nation and confess that he failed in the task
he had assigned to himself or that had been assigned to him. But let all that is
now laid to rest with her in the eternal earth of her beloved Sindh. She is one
with Marvi with whom she had once compared herself. She is gone and as the Quran
says, speak only well of the dead.
I asked three people – Husain Haqqani, fellow correspondent and friend Iftikhar
Ali in New York, and VOA broadcaster Murtaza Solangi - to share with me briefly
their memories of Benazir. Let me end this long, rambling piece with their
words. Husain Haqqani, who came very close to her in her last years and did a
lot of work on her behalf in Washington and with the US media, wrote, “Benazir
Bhutto was the most amazing, loving and lovable person I have ever known. For
those who only saw her as a distant political figure, her human dimension
clearly did not matter. For everyone whose life she touched, her humanity
transcended the politics. Most powerful figures in Pakistan know how to turn
friends into enemies, but Benazir Bhutto had the capacity to turn critics into
admirers. When I first met her, I worked for her opponent but she won me over by
her charm and persuasion, leading to fifteen years of close relations and my
absolute personal loyalty to her. She was told many things about me but she
never believed any and on more than one occasion put her appreciation or praise
in writing. ‘I know something about vilification, Haqqani Saab’ she would say.
“The day after Farooq Leghari dismissed her second government I showed up to
meet Bibi who was under house arrest at the Prime Minister’s House. She turned
to someone present there and said, ‘See, I told you Haqqani Saab will remain
with us. He is not like (and then she named someone who had joined Leghari’s
cabinet even though he was a PPP senator after working as her spokesman
earlier). We disagreed vehemently once when I was Information Secretary and she
asked me to suggest a way of “keeping our friendship while relocating you from
here.” She asked why I did not consider electoral politics in Karachi, which led
me to move back to Karachi and engage in direct politics for a while. Our
relationship became much closer after my marriage to Farahnaz Ispahani. Bibi
sent a gift from Dubai she said she had chosen herself and invited the two of us
to visit her. She said she knew this was the beginning of personal happiness for
me. When Farah and I moved to Washington in 2002, Bibi called us and arranged a
meeting every time she visited the US. I told her I did not have a home big
enough to entertain, unlike some of her rich doctor and Pakistani businessmen
supporters. She said she would be happy to meet me in my office. Everyone at the
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace was surprised when Benazir Bhutto
arrived unannounced at the reception one morning and spent the entire day in my
small cubicle. She spoke on the phone to Asif Zardari, who was still in prison
and being advised by the then head of ISI’s Internal Wing to break with her and
find happiness. I heard her side of the conversation and she filled me in on
what was said from the other side. Then she told me, ‘You will now understand
why Asif remains so precious to me.’
“For the next five years, I assisted Bibi as she tried to convince a sceptical
Washington of the merits of democracy in Pakistan. Hundreds of emails and text
messages were exchanged between us. She went over every word that was written on
her behalf and wrote significant portions of her own statements and articles. I
was always elated by emails that said ‘Excellent’ or ‘I will share these points
with the party’ in response to some article of mine. After I became a professor
at Boston University she introduced me to her American friends as ‘my favourite
professor.’ I probably wasn’t but she said it anyway and it made me feel good.
She had the capacity to make people feel good, which is the most important
attribute of a politician – something cold-blooded analysts and technocrats
cannot understand. Yesterday, I printed out one of her recent emails and framed
it alongside her portrait in my office. It read, ‘Ur judgement is invariably
correct haqqani sahib. So nice to work with someone with such a good mind. Bibi.’
Even if she wrote it just to make me feel good, I would rather believe that than
the news that she is not there any longer to lead the fight against the butchery
of nihilists and the arrogance of Pakistan’s authoritarian state machinery.”
Iftikhar Ali, who was APP correspondent at the United Nations in 1971, wrote, “I
first saw Benazir in November of 1971 when she came from Boston to join her
father in New York who had come to fight Pakistan’s case at the United Nations –
a losing battle with Pakistani troops failing to defend the country’s frontiers
in what was East Pakistan. Mr. Bhutto stayed at Pierre Hotel on Central Park.
She appeared to be Mr. Bhutto’s secretary as she picked up the phone virtually
every time I called. Mr. Bhutto had asked me to keep him informed about the
developments on the war front at any time of the day or night. He was not the
type who would rely on the information providedby the Pakistan Mission. Whenever
I called Mr. Bhutto’s hotel room, she would invariably ask me, ‘Anything big?’
And I would tell her. Reuters had given me access to their UN office and I would
pick up the news from the ticker and read out to him. When Mr. Bhutto was not in
his room, she would ask me to tell her the news and she would listen with great
attention.
“But she stayed in New York just over a week before returning to her college.
During that time, she came to the UN with her father a couple of times, dressed
in pantsuits. As far as I know, she never sat on the official meetings which her
father was having with diplomats at the UN. She always waited outside talking to
Mission officials. Whenever she spotted me, she would ask me, ‘What’s the news
on your net?’ She was remarkably thin, in fact, skinny in those days. She could
get along with everyone, and never behaved like the daughter of a Deputy Prime
Minister. Subsequently, I met her a couple of times at Ambassador Iqbal Akhund’s
residence where she stayed during her holiday breaks at the college. She was
into American politics, especially as the race for 1972 presidential election
was picking up. My impression was that she was inclined towards Democrats – her
preferred candidate seemed to be Edmund Muskie, a liberal, who subsequently
couldn’t get the Democratic nomination. The party nominated George McGovern, who
lost to Richard Nixon badly. She was up-to-date on American politics and
generally dominated dinner conversations. And like most young people in those
days, she was against US involvement in the Vietnam War.
“I never saw her until she was released from jail and was allowed to travel out
of Pakistan. In New York, she addressed a number of highly emotional meetings of
Pakistani supporters of Mr. Bhutto and organised her party - Shabbir and
Zulfiqar were her lieutenants. Because of the news clampdown during Zia days,
not many people knew about the Bhutto case and she worked hard to apprise not
only the Pakistanis but also opinion leaders here. She lived very simply here
mostly with family friends, especially Shama Haider, Mrs. Bhutto’s secretary.
There were no parties or eating out in fancy restaurants. Shama always drove her
around; sometimes she also used PPP workers’ cars. She developed close relations
with her party workers, visited their homes and even knew the name of their
wives and children. During her Oct. visit, she was in the big league. While she
was invited to top class events in think-tanks and other forums, she held two
press conferences in the homes of her workers who lived in such obscure places
in New York that even taxi drivers have difficulty getting there. There was
hardly any place to sit in those homes with dozens of reporters chasing her. I
never had her direct phone number but whenever I called Shama and told her that
I wished to speak to herabout some matter, she would call back within hours. She
was a very decent and charming person. May she rest in peace!”
Murtaza Solangi, who is from Sindh, became close to her in the last three years
of her life, exchanging emails with her and speaking to her on the phone with
great frequency. He wrote, “She was the leader of the next century who had
completely changed her lifestyle to meet the political demands of this age. No
Pakistani politician has harnessed the Internet to political advantage as she
did. If she thought anybody would help advance her cause, she was in
instantaneous contact with that person. She traveled a lot in the last eight
years, but no matter what part of the world she was in, she was accessible to
those she wanted to stay in touch with. I have seen her “sent by blackberry
device” emails replied within two minutes of being received. No matter how
critical a question asked of her, she would find a way to handle it with a cool
answer. No matter what she thought of you, she was always respectful. Like her
father, she had an amazing memory. She would always call you by your name. I
think she had realised that this could be her last trip to the US. She came here
many times in 2007. And every time she came, she was on every network, every
radio station, in every newspaper, at every think tank and forum in order to
advance her cause. The difference between 2006 and 2007 was that Musharraf was
here all over the place in 2006. In 2007, Benazir had conquered every American
institution and every American media outlet. She knew that she was running out
of time. She had to speak her mind before life quit on her.”
I would like to close this tribute to that gentle lady whose like we will not
see again with something my friend Ziauddin wrote for Dawn from London where he
now lives: “She listened, defended and argued but never for a moment did I find
her losing her patience or her cool. I had gone to (one) meeting after hearing
many stories about her arrogance, hot temper and short fuse. But the Benazir I
met was a person one could communicate, enter into heated debate and argue with.
After this meeting I had several longish debates with her mostly in the company
of the late H.K. Burki. On these occasions, I would listen mostly to the
monologue of Mr Burki who would dissect her policies and actions like a surgeon
without mincing words. She would listen attentively and would never make even
the slightest unpleasant response to the most unpleasant and uncharitable
criticism of Mr Burki. He was perhaps the first person to tell her on her face
that her choice of Farooq Ahmed Khan Leghari as the president was wrong and he
even went on to predict that Mr Leghari would betray her. In my discussions with
her, I found her to have a deep understanding of economic issues. She was very
well versed in the subject and could stand her ground in a debate on economic
issues even with the experts.”
– This is a regular column by TFT’s Washington correspondent. He can be reached
at khasan2@cox.net
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