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People suffer for something. For a grand cause, a family, a dream, a nation, or simply a better life. And in the end, they find their way, and somehow the suffering becomes meaningful. That is what has been in the history of humankind. Most of the time. I am not saying always.
A mother suffers in childbirth, a man suffers while raising a family, a labourer suffers through hard work, a nation suffers for freedom, a prisoner suffers in a cell, and I suffer in my own mind. But almost everyone reaches a point where the suffering brings relief. There is a destination. There is meaning. There is end.
We Pashtoons have been suffering for almost eighty years, mostly caught between the state, wars, militancy, borders and our own political failures. But why? What is the purpose of this suffering? What do we want at the end of it? What does the state want from us? Nobody seems to have a clear answer. It is a complete confusion all around.
From a woman sowing crops in a remote village of the north to a young girl married to a Taliban in the far south. From a twelve-year-old boy working in the coal mines of Quetta to an eighteen-year-old Taliban commander in Waziristan. From Ali Wazir in a Karachi jail to Aimal Wali in Charsadda. From PTI’s often useless MNAs and MPAs to an underground Manzoor Pashteen. (Murad Saeed wants Imran Khan, that is for sure. At least he knows what he is doing.) Other than that, no one knows what’s happening & why is it happening. Ahh! I forgot to mention Gul Chahat. He or she is also so sure what he or she wants.
Maybe they know what is happening. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they are afraid. Maybe they are clueless. Maybe they are simply too comfortable to care. Or perhaps, they just don’t give a shit.
We are not on the same page. We were never truly on the same page. And looking at the present situation, I don’t know if we ever will be.
Today is 12 August, the day we remember Babrra, when the state opened fire on Pashtun political workers. It was one of the earliest and darkest signs of the relationship that would develop between the state and Pashtuns. And perhaps that is why Babrra still matters.
Babrra deserves better. But remembering Babrra alone is not enough. We need common ground. One direction. One political understanding. One voice, from the green mountains of the north to the oil and gas producing lands of the south.
Otherwise, we will remain victims of our own confusion forever.
And there is no freedom in that.
