{"article":{"id":11535,"heading":"Allah ap koh muhdath dho","author":"Asra Q. Nomani, Pakistan","created":"2001-10-10 14:43:12","modified":"2005-08-15 00:40:29","last_modified":"Mon, 15 Aug 2005 07:40:29","article":"<p>\"Now, Jihad Has Begun\" <br>  <br> Asra Q. Nomani <br><br> \"Ub jihad shur-u hoe-ah.\" Now, jihad had begun.  <br><br> \"All Muslims will be all out for jihad,\" he says. \"Inshallah.\" God willing.  <br><br> These words don't come from a fringe bearded man with a turban and AK-47 <br>  <br> next him, speaking on a video from a cave somewhere in Afghanistan. They <br>  <br> come from a man, Khalid Khawaja, who is a friend and longtime advisor to <br>  <br> Osama bin Laden. A retired Pakistani Air Force squadron leader, Khawaja <br>  <br> fought with the mujahedin beside bin Laden to drive the Soviets from <br>  <br> Afghanistan. In July, CBS News quoted him as saying, \"America is a very <br>  <br> vulnerable country,\" and that \"Your White House is the most vulnerable <br>  <br> target. It is very simple to just get it.\" To the world, he surely looked like just <br>  <br> another scary dhari walla, bearded man.  <br><br> But sitting here in his sweeping Greco-Roman style home with Corinthian <br>  <br> columns, gold-gilded bedroom furniture and a poster of a grinning Garfield in <br>  <br> his teenage daughter's room, Khawaja and his family can be sure that there <br>  <br> are many others in Pakistan who might not take the street in protest Monday <br>  <br> but feel the same way. For if you think there is universal support for what <br>  <br> appeared to the entire world as harmless-looking green flickers of light on <br>  <br> CNN, then peek into the homes of this city. Walk through these streets where <br>  <br> the sweet scent of a flower called rath ke rahni, queen of the night, seeps <br>  <br> deep into you.  <br><br> No matter what qualifications come from President Bush or the caveats put <br>  <br> on the attacks by Defense Secretary Rumsfeld. And no matter that, as British <br>  <br> Prime Minister Tony Blair instructed us Sunday, \"Islam is a peaceful and <br>  <br> tolerant religion, and the acts of these people are contrary to the teachings of <br>  <br> the Koran.\" The bombings will inevitably seen as an attack by the West <br>  <br> against Muslims by many who feel deeply that the Quran teaches that all <br>  <br> Muslims are brothers and sisters.  <br><br> In Khawaja's living room, they sit around the television tucked into a large <br>  <br> wooden wall unit, growing quiet as the Al Jazeera videotape of a frail-looking <br>  <br> Osama bin Laden is broadcast.  <br><br> \"Allah ap koh muhdath dho,\" whispers Khawaja's wife Shamama to the <br>  <br> screen. May Allah give you help.  <br><br> The Pakistan government is the first -- and at this point, only -- Muslim <br>  <br> country to voice support for the attacks, and reportedly opened its airspace to <br>  <br> allow fighter jets to storm overhead. But that's the government. After two <br>  <br> weeks of conversations with many from here and neighboring towns, from <br>  <br> nokars (servants) washing dishes, to retired military officers, housewives and <br>  <br> professionals, it's clear the minority in the streets protesting against any U.S. <br>  <br> operation against Afghanistan very much represents a larger constituency. <br>  <br> Among them, there is great empathy for the Taliban and Osama bin Laden, <br>  <br> and anger and frustration over issues of Western foreign policy -- Israel, Iraq, <br>  <br> Palestinians, Kashmir and Bosnia. Most of them aren't going to do anything <br>  <br> about it except share their bitterness with their family and friends.  <br><br> But inside Khawaja's home, there is a sense of faith, anger and mourning, and <br>  <br> a need for action. Though the Taliban says that Osama bin Laden is still alive, <br>  <br> the sense is that many uncles may very well have died.  <br><br> \"Assalamalaikum,\" the greetings come gently. Peace be upon you.  <br><br> \"Walaikumsalam,\" comes my reply. And peace be upon you.  <br><br> Khawaja's wife glides forward to offer an embrace. Once an aspiring lawyer, <br>  <br> she is tall, graceful and eloquent in Urdu and English, as is her husband. She is <br>  <br> grim but optimistic about those that died in the first wave of attacks.  <br><br> \"They have become 'shadeeth,'\" -- martyrs, she says, pulling her dupatta over <br>  <br> the gray hair that gently frames her face. During another rebroadcast of <br>  <br> Osama bin Laden's statement, Khawaja slips to the ground in his chilwar <br>  <br> kameez. He leans forward on a squat table, with a tissue box lined with red <br>  <br> tulips resting on top. His 10-year-old son comes out from the kitchen with a <br>  <br> plate of \"dhal chawal,\" lentils and rice, to eat with two spoons. He is a fan of <br>  <br> Disney's \"The Lion King,\" he says (the first one, he makes clear, not the <br>  <br> sequel). Khawaja's elderly mother, who once taught in a girls' school, sits <br>  <br> beside the TV, draped in a white cotton flowered dupatta, a necklace of <br>  <br> brown prayer beads, a thuzbi, hanging from her right hand.  <br><br> The wife reads the flash excerpt from bin Laden's statement, referring to the <br>  <br> hijackings of Sept. 11: GOD HAS GIVEN THEM BACK WHAT WE <br>  <br> HAVE RECEIVED.  <br><br> Khawaja is calm. He is mostly quiet.  <br><br> His wife is calm, too. Muslims have to choose their side, too, she says. With <br>  <br> Allah. Or not. Khawaja breaks his silence, echoing the message from bin <br>  <br> Laden most sure to haunt Americans. \"No American is safe now,\" he says. <br>  <br> \"Americans are not safe. They have started this jihad.\"  <br><br> This is rhetoric that could be easily dismissed, painted onto a white sheet in a <br>  <br> street march in Islamabad's twin city of Rawalpindi. It will, in fact, likely show <br>  <br> up on a placard on the streets Monday. The White House markets this as a <br>  <br> war against terrorism. The people here know that -- they watch CNN, too. <br>  <br> Khawaja's mother leans toward the TV to read the banner: WAR ON <br>  <br> TERRORISM.  <br><br> But this isn't the way it's seen over here. \"They have killed our Muslim <br>  <br> brothers,\" Khawaja tells his wife. \"Now, we will react. Tomorrow it will not <br>  <br> happen. It will happen over time. This is a lifelong war.\"  <br><br> The anger isn't just at the West. It's against the Muslim governments that run <br>  <br> their countries as dictatorships and monarchies. \"We have to overthrow our <br>  <br> Muslim states. There was only one Islamic government and now they have <br>  <br> attacked it.\"  <br><br> CNN's Christiane Amanpour comes on the air from here in Islamabad. She <br>  <br> explains to viewers that most Muslims don't agree with the Taliban <br>  <br> \"fundamentalists.\"  <br><br> \"Ch!\" comes the answer from Khawaja's wife in this culture's universal <br>  <br> exclamation meaning utter disdain: What a shame. What a pity. How terrible. <br>  <br> How horrible. \"This woman has so much anger in her heart for this <br>  <br> 'fundamentalism.'\"  <br><br> They, too, study the tape of bin Laden, which appears to be taped during the <br>  <br> day in sunlight, and wonder when it was taped. But it doesn't matter much to <br>  <br> them; they feel his message is clear.  <br><br> On TV, Rumsfeld explains that food is also being dropped on Afghanistan, as <br>  <br> relief aid. Giggles break out when someone compares it to a Quranic account, <br>  <br> manwasalva, of God dropping food from the heavens for Moses when he and <br>  <br> his people were hungry.  <br><br> Ten-year-old Mohammad is curious about something else. He looks at the <br>  <br> sign behind the defense secretary that says, \"Pentagon.\" He thought the <br>  <br> Pentagon was destroyed.  <br><br> Tony Blair, whose youthfulness is often remarked upon in the West in <br>  <br> innocent terms, like that of a schoolboy, fills the screen and lauds the British <br>  <br> military's role in this war. \"He looks like a terrorist,\" comes the comment from <br>  <br> this room.  <br><br> Nobody can say what will happen for certain with this war. It looks by all <br>  <br> accounts that this battle will be over, perhaps, in days, but those here are <br>  <br> convinced a wider war has sprung from it.  <br><br> \"We will see, Inshallah,\" says Khawaja.  <br><br> His wife nods. \"Allah will fight this war, Inshallah.\" Visiting relatives here for <br>  <br> dinner, we first learn about the bombings because of a call from America. <br>  <br> \"War start ho-guy-yah.\" War has begun, my uncle says as he hangs up the <br>  <br> phone.  <br><br> CNN reports air strikes on the Afghan cities of Kabul and Kandahar. <br>  <br> BREAKING NEWS flashes over the screen.  <br><br> \"Yah Allah!\" comes the sigh from my aunt. Oh God.  <br><br> This is a house much like other Pakistani houses with a divided family, partly <br>  <br> in Pakistan, partly in the United States -- the only reminders are wedding <br>  <br> photos laminated onto blocks of wood hung on the wall.  <br><br> CNN flashes the image that has become the poster sheik of terror, Osama bin <br>  <br> Laden.  <br><br> Razia Phuppi, an aunt, is something over 80 years old. Nobody knows exactly <br>  <br> how much more than 80. They didn't record births in her day. She is a <br>  <br> subdued maternal version of my dadi, my father's feisty mother. She drifts her <br>  <br> lithe body out of the room, leaving the English CNN dispatches to listen to <br>  <br> BBC Radio's crackled transmissions in Urdu in the bedroom. America <br>  <br> created Osama bin Laden, she says. Now, they want to destroy him. She <br>  <br> laments the flip-flop.  <br><br> She prays for little damage. \"Jahldee hoe dho.\" Let it be quick.  <br><br> Another cousin bent closely toward the screen is a modern, global woman. A <br>  <br> graduate of the University of Hawaii, she keeps Gap body cream by her <br>  <br> bathroom sink and talks wistfully of her love for the New York subways. She <br>  <br> watches the flashes of light across the screen like muted starbursts.  <br><br> \"Becharay Thah-lee-bahn,\" she says. Poor Taliban.  <br><br> The crickets have gone silent as the morning comes to Pakistan. An alarm <br>  <br> clock goes off in the house next door. A car honks. The TV is back on with <br>  <br> talk of Dick Cheney being moved to a secure location.  <br><br> My father, in Morgantown, W.V., sends me an e-mail. His subject line: <br>  <br> \"STARTED!\" He reports that my 8-year-old nephew Samir says, \"War is <br>  <br> bad.\" My 10-year-old Safiyyah, \"It is horrible.\" They should now be tucked <br>  <br> into bed, but refuse to go to sleep. \"Pray Allahsubanathala,\" a praiseworthy <br>  <br> adulation of God, my father writes, \"for Peace.\" Then he signs off.  <br><br> The call for morning prayer spills into the air here as light begins to break <br>  <br> across the sky. The call for prayer, however, competes with the chatter rising <br>  <br> from Islamabad living rooms, the voices of TV talking heads in America, <br>  <br> where it is now night. What is black there, is very much white here. <br>  <br> <\/p>\n","contact":"","link":"http:\/\/www.alternet.org\/story.html?StoryID=11661","address":"","phone":"","parent_id":0,"mime_type":"text\/plain","summary":"Few of have probably been inside a Pakistani home.  Here Asra Nomani gives us a taste of the world as seen from the other side.  Very insightful reading - if you can remain open to the idea that there are human perspectives other than what we hear in the US.","numcomment":0,"fileurl":"\/uploads\/2001\/10\/allah_ap_k.txt","filesize":"9.6 kibibytes","article_url":"\/news\/2001\/10\/11535.php"},"attachments":[],"comments":[]}