The Night Of The Massacre
By Sherry Rehman
06 November, 2007
The NewsFor more than one reason, October 2007 will be etched in our collective memory for a long time to come. For many of us taking part, either virtually or literally, October 18 was the best of days, while October 19 was the worst of nights. It was the best of days because after a long time Karachi saw a sea of unarmed people throng the streets to be part of a caravan of democracy to receive Ms Benazir Bhutto at Quaid-i-Azam International airport. It seemed as if the longest peaceful rally in Pakistan's history was on its joyous march to its founding father's mausoleum. This was the Pakistan he had hoped for, a country borne through a democratic process where its women and men could vote with their feet without fear, for the leader and the vision they chose. And for eight or more hours it looked as if indeed we had all returned to that place.
It was the worst of nights because just a few minutes after midnight as we went into October 19, the bomb blasts that turned a carnival into carnage ripped through the flesh and bone of young people who had been dancing on the streets. The blast was a heinous attempt at curtailing the activities of progressive, democratic forces, and it did so without sparing the lives, limbs and futures of anyone. It marked in red letters the helplessness of ordinary people against the deadly intent of the mass murderer. It left its grisly imprint of pellets and flames on skin and bone, but also on the hearts and minds of all those who see peaceful association as a fundamental right.
I was on the truck that had been inching slowly from the airport after Ms Bhutto and others boarded at it about three pm at the airport. From the beginning, the unarmed 'jaan nisaar' Benazir volunteers had been advancing in concentric rings around the truck, holding hands, sending up water and food for us on the vehicle from time to time. The atmosphere was electric with the rebirth of hope and joy, resonating with the pulsating secular rhythms of the PPP's hallmark campaign anthems. The good news was that despite all armchair punditry to the contrary, the streets were heaving with the ranks of women and families from the middle classes, rubbing shoulders without pause with the poorest of the poor. It was these people who had saved money for their travel fare to Karachi from all over the country that day, jostling on buses, hanging from trees and waiting for hours just for the caravan to pass.
Evil often strikes under the cover of darkness. At about 8.30 pm, we noticed that the streetlights on the road started going off. At that point Ms Bhutto asked me to inform as many local news outlets as possible that the streetlights are off, and we see this as a danger signal. All our phones registered either no signal or very weak ones, but we managed to text at least five of the networks, hoping that if they run it on air, the local authorities would take note of our distress signal and have them switched on uniformly along the route. Later on, we were told that all the networks ran it for hours, but the lights never came on, except under one of the bridges. Realizing that we have another eight hours ahead of us, Ms Bhutto went down with Abida Hussain to adjust her shoe straps, and soon re-surfaced at the back of the truck to discuss her speech with her political secretary, Naheed Khan. A few minutes past midnight, from the front of the truck, as we approached Karsaz, the crowds had swelled to an unprecedented pitch, and someone remarked that we are witnessing history in the making.
It was then that we all suddenly lurched to the side from the impact of a blast, hurled to the floor of the truck from the sheer velocity of the bomb. While most of us were scrambling to our feet, in shock at the blood and burns everywhere, the second stronger blast struck. This one felled us all to the floor. Through the sulphurous haze, I remember hearing MPA Murad Ali Shah screaming stay down, while struck with a deadly pellet. I remember Raja Parvez being smothered in a carpet as his waistcoat went up in flames. I remember looking down to see body parts flying and one of our truck guards dying. I remember Amin Fahim, blood dripping from his forehead, making sure we all evacuated, literally dragging those of us who couldn't move from things having fallen on us. I remember Ms Bhutto sent down among the last, as we saw an orange pylon of sulphurous fire from the side, and bodies littered and mangled on the ground. No one who was there will ever forget that massacre site. Yes, another kind of history had also been made. 139 were killed and over 500 lay suffering from burns and nasty pellet injuries in hospitals all over Karachi.
After that what happened will never be recounted as one narrative. But those of us who were at its epicenter must try to ensure that eyewitness accounts surface. Karachi's public and private hospitals were bathed in blood, but no one was standing there recording testimony or looking for clues from those who were not on the truck, and had suffered the most. Instead the police registered an FIR without recording the key victim's complaint. With sixteen unidentified bodies and scores of missing persons, no DNA tests were done. Fifteen days after the event, they still had not recorded a single statement of anyone on board. Instead of sanitizing the site by cordoning it off for forensic tests for three days, as is the practice even locally, the site was cleaned up within hours. More than one car was suspiciously allowed to be parked right near the bombsite in a huge moving procession.
While local and international sympathy calls jammed the Bilawal House switchboards for a week, instead of condoling with the victims, key ministers in the regime began leveling blame on the party itself, which itself amounts to condoning terrorism. This blame the victim game led to the victim naturally losing confidence in the independence of the investigation. To compound the problem, when Mohtarma Bhutto asked for a Pakistan-led inquiry assisted by Scotland Yard or the FBI, her demand was rebuffed despite the many precedents for the same. There is no substitute for a scientifically conducted, independent investigation, and for the first time the UNSC passed a resolution asking for the sponsors, financiers, and organizers of such acts to be investigated, but official intransigence only grew as the death toll from the blast mounted. At first suicide bombers were blamed, but later eyewitness accounts seem to negate that story, as evidence of other types of devices like IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) mounted. Which adds to our questions about why the jammers went off before the blast, as suddenly our phones all showed a full signal at midnight. Although one of the police vans bravely took the brunt of the first blast, why were there such few mobiles, leaving the truck exposed from so many sides?
Many other questions remain unanswered. Official blame shifts every day, but no real movement on the investigation is taking place. Like the Nishtar Park tragedy, or the Aabpara blasts, the danger is that no official answers may ever surface. This will be the worst fallout after the deaths, because public confidence will continue to erode and fear will rule the streets. If the government remains aloof, refusing to take responsibility for the lives of the ordinary people of Pakistan, or of protecting its democratic leaders, then anarchy and chaos will rule. Bombs will continue to haunt the national psyche and the killers will be emboldened by impunity. Attacking democracy is a horrible thing. Refusing a police investigation with full international resource-inputs is no less bad. History is a harsh judge, and Pakistan can ill afford such studied negligence.
The writer is a member of the National Assembly and central information secretary of the PPP
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