The Good Shepherd
MIKE AND ALISA WELSCH pay little attention to the prattle coming from the television, the “Breakfast at Dawn” news commentary tuned to a whisper as Mike hunches over his lesson plans. The shutters on the balcony window are locked. The heavy drapes surrounding the small opaque glass window have been pulled shut, allowing only a sliver of light to penetrate the family room. A stout man with red hair and full beard, Mike twitches his pen and absentmindedly pulls at his whiskers, racking his brain on how to effectively communicate the importance of articles — “going to the Bazaar” not “going to Bazaar” — to his students.
Alisa, an attentive mother and dutiful wife, tends to laundry while the girls, 12-year-old Caitlyn and 10-year-old Chelsea finish their school assignments and chores. Little brother Mickey employs precocious, four-year-old high-jinks to campaign for their attention.
Every once a while, a staccato blast emanates from the TV, earning baleful glances from Mike and Alisa. The fact that today is quite possibly the most anticipated news day in the world goes virtually unnoticed, other than the enforced seclusion keeping the Welsch family prisoners in their own home.
The dusty, traffic-congested, polluted streets of Islamabad, Pakistan are a far cry from the peaceful Spanish moss draped rolling-hills of small-town Ocala, USA, yet both countries are heaved in political turmoil. Though the Democratic Primaries pitting Hillary Rodham Clinton against Barrack Obama capture a worldwide audience, there’s much more at stake in Pakistan — the parliamentary election stands to determine whether the nation returns to democracy or continues its military dictatorship.
At the center of the maelstrom — the assassination of Benazir Bhutto (December 27, 2007). Charismatic, striking and a canny political operator, Bhutto, 54, was reared amid the privileges of Pakistan’s aristocracy and the ordeals of its turbulent politics. Smart, ambitious and resilient, she endured her father’s execution and her own imprisonment to become the country’s — and the Muslim world’s — first female leader before her assassination. The iconic image of Bhutto floating through a frenzied crowd in her gauzy white headscarf pervades international reports of the election. Still, Pakistan remains a country divided.
Though the world remains rapt to the events that unfold on February 18, 2008, the Welsches go about their daily lives, the election but a sidebar to their personal struggle.
The Welsch family is like any other from Ocala. Caitlyn and Chelsea are huge fans of Miley Cyrus, Hanna Montana and the Jonas brothers, whose dewy, Disney faces peer out from posters all over their bedroom. Mike teaches basic and intermediate English at the English as a Foreign Language School (EFL) to college-aged students and manages the household. Yet contending with the frustrating, ineffective bureaucracy makes “Slow-cala” seem to operate like a New York minute. Mumbling softly, he complains over the incompetence of the Visa office, which has sent him home, without progress, for the third time. To him, life in Pakistan means one step forward and three steps back.
Alisa must accustom herself to the suppressed lifestyle of women, difficult for a woman of such strong will and mind. She is licensed to drive but mustn’t. She enjoys western fashion, but must wear the Shalwar Kameez at all times. Although she has a teaching degree, as a woman she must take additional preparation to equal a man’s skill level before she can teach alongside her husband. The children feel isolated and friendless, forced to be home-schooled or risk almost certain abduction.
But for the second time in five years, Mike and Alisa, along with their three children, have exchanged Ocala’s serenity and safety for the torrid, unpredictable future they believe is offered to them in Pakistan. Their decision, they say, is a mission from God, so despite the peril and upheaval surrounding them, for the next four years the Welsches will remain American Christians in a 97 percent Muslim country perched on the precipice of change.
WITH THE SUN QUICKLY WARMING the musky August air, the 150 students of Murree Christian School, north of Islamabad, ushered themselves away from recess and inside for morning tea. Mike and Alisa were putting the finishing touches on their morning language lesson when a commotion broke out and an alarmed guard rushed to their door.
“Close the curtains! Lock the door! Hide!” he shouted. “Terrorists are attacking the school.”
In a calm panic, they gathered their two daughters, Chelsea (then five) and Caitlyn (then seven), and complied with the guard’s directive. Just outside the compound gates of the woodland mountainside children’s school, machine guns opened fire amidst “Allah-hu-akbar,” (“God is great” in Arabic) and screams of panic.
Within minutes, six people were dead.
That was August 5, 2002. Many missionaries fled for safer regions in China and Indonesia. Remarkably, Mike and his family — one of two American families and a handful of British, Canadian and Australians — remained for another year. Despite the threat to their safety and that of their children, Mike and Alisa returned to Islamabad in November 2007, shortly after the first assassination attempt made on Benazir Bhutto’s life.
So why return? Why not select a different country to work in, one that would be safer for his family?
“Because God commands us to reach out to everyone,” Mike replies. “It is not enough to reach out to those in safer regions because it is easier, but rather to reach out to those who have Christianity in their heart and nowhere to go.”
For him, it is the fulfillment of a biblical mandate, understood by Christian missionaries as the Great Commission to engage in missionary work. Mike means to reach those who sweep the streets and clean the toilets in Pakistan cities because, while tolerated, they are also harassed for being Christians. Many are illiterate and have menial jobs because that is all they would be allowed to have. Facing brutal beatings, kidnapping or even death, they must practice their faith in hiding. Mike intends to reach them – the unwanted and shunned — because few others would. “We are all children of God,” he says.
As much as Mike’s life is governed by the word of God, so too is Pakistan. Indeed, religion governs Pakistani life on just about every facet of social order. Ninety-seven percent of Pakistan’s population is Muslim (Sunni, 77 percent; Shi’a, 20 percent); the rest is made up of 1.5 percent Christians — about 2.8 million people out of a total population of 162 million. Although the Pakistani Constitution guarantees that all religious minorities are equal, social prejudice is actively practiced with Christians. A major chunk of the Pakistani Christian community originated from the Colonial Era, missionary work completed in the 17th century. Since then and still today, it is illegal and punishable by death to convert from Muslim to any other religion, especially Christianity.
Christians are treated as second-class citizens, be they native Pakistani Christians or religious refugees from other nations in the Middle East like Afshin, his wife Azita and their two daughters, Maasan and Mashid, who fled Iran in the middle of the night. From their windowless, undecorated home, save for a portrait of Christ in the living room and a poster of Shakira over the girls’ bed, Afshin says that in Iran, they faced imprisonment, torture and execution; his two teenaged daughters most certainly would have been raped if they remained. The family has immigration applications for the west — Canada, Australia and the United States — but after nearly 10 years on a wait-list, it seems they may remain in Pakistan forever. The penalties may not be as severe, but in Pakistan, Afshin is unemployed, taking on day labor whenever possible.
Speaking in Farsi, Azita’s expression, at first warm and cheerful, grows stoic and weary. Mashid translates for her mother: “There is no problem with the government or the people here but there is a minority radical Islamic group like the Mullahs who are intolerant, especially if they discover you are converted or have a Muslim background. They would discriminate against you and treat you very inhumanely.”
Iranian undercover agents are everywhere in Pakistan, searching for expatriates like Afshin and Azita. As such, they live in constant fear and do not ever feel safe, not even speaking to other refugees, who out of jealousy or spite may report them to Iranian officials or corrupt Pakistani police. Often stories are fabricated to police as revenge, a means to acquire a coveted apartment or job, or even advance status for visas.
For Afshin and Azita, their best hope is a new prime minister, one who would free the bonds of religious and social discrimination.
“BEN-A-ZIR, ZINDABAD!” the men chant. “Long live Benazir!” The posters, the pictures, the chants… they’re everywhere I look.
In the moment of her killing, Benazir Bhutto transformed from Muslim woman/politician/individual into mythic figure.
But like her country, Bhutto is a riddle. Brilliant, beautiful, fearless, she has also been described as ruthlessly ambitious, devious and corrupt.
How could Bhutto — Harvard- and Oxford-educated, unapologetically secular — have become the first woman elected to lead a Muslim country? In part, the answer is that in dynastic Pakistan, she is effectively royalty. Why should this election matter so much to America? That answer is simpler. Pakistan has nuclear weapons. Also, the most dangerous place in the world is Pakistan’s lawless border with Afghanistan, described as the Ho Chi Minh Trail of terrorism, where Osama bin Laden is believed to enjoy sanctuary.
Still, she has claimed, “I am what the terrorists most fear… a female political leader fighting to bring modernity to Pakistan. Now they’re trying to kill me.”
And that, they did.
In the wake of her assassination, the murky waters of Pakistani politics became further muddied. “The assassination is the most serious setback for democracy in Pakistan,” opined Rasul Baksh Rais, a political scientist at Lahore’s University of Management Studies. “It shows extremists are powerful enough to disrupt the democratic process.” Analyst Talat Massod, a retired general, agreed, “Conditions in the country have reached a point where it is too dangerous for political parties to operate.”
Afghan President Hamid Kazak, who met with Bhutto just hours before her death, called her a brave woman with a clear vision “for her own country, for Afghanistan and for the region — a vision of democracy and prosperity and peace.”
Though democracy for Pakistan had been Bhutto’s rallying cry to her people all the days of her life, many remained skeptical — like the three Afghan Amin brothers, refugees, Christian and students of Mike Welsch. The brothers do not believe that the outcome will have any direct impact on their education, economic situation or lifestyle. Whoever is in power, whether the Pakistan People’s Party or the Pakistan Muslim League, will care little or can do little to change their predicament.
For Mike, regardless of the outcome, his work — like Bhutto, like Christ, like Allah — must move on.
THE CHARACTERS of Pakistan’s religious landscape — Christian and Muslim alike — are as colorful as they are diverse. Consider Hubert Schwartz, a German who teaches various subjects, well known and liked having lived in Pakistan for 12 years. A man of staggering height, Hubert strikes an imposing figure, in stark contrast to his gentle demeanor, behind his professorial eyeglasses. Brilliant, scholarly and worldly, he has mastered the Urdu language, among many, and communicates effectively. He could have been a tenured professor at the finest European or American universities, yet he chose to dedicate his life to the poorest in Pakistan. He prefers to go out into the streets where everyday people live, using public transportation – an oft-packed VW Eurovan that will hold 20 people or more – to achieve maximum exposure.
Hubert often meets with Christian groups held at a member’s home within a “Busti” slum of Islamabad where Christians must live. Each rendezvous would hold a different purpose, sometimes the evening was to encourage and teach and other times an invitation for new neighbors to join. The evening follows certain patterns with Hubert sharing a different story at each place, based upon who was attending and how God touched him at that moment. They always concluded the evening with the Lord’s Prayer.
Hubert lives his life modestly. He has chosen so in order to assimilate best to the lives of those of lowest means. His work exists so that others can pass what was freely given to them. He started a workshop for Pakistani Christians so they could reach out to other believers.
It was here that I had the unique opportunity to talk with both Pakistani Christians and Muslims for a rare glimpse on how they view us, themselves and each other. Shahbaz, a native Pakistani and Hubert’s helper, has been a Christian for 36 years and a born-again Christian for seven. Uneasy at first he begins to relax as he talks about his progression of faith. In Urdu, translated by Hubert, he says that being Christian in a Muslim world is quite difficult. Pakistani Christians are viewed by Muslims as “dirty people” and so they are treated as inferior. He fears what kind of treatment he would endure if Muslims discovered he was a Christian, let alone his congregation of 250-300 people. Yet he feels that the good Lord has a distinct purpose for him — to live as an example to others — and that is why God placed him as a Christian in an Islamic country.
“The fundamental component that could improve the lives of Pakistani Christians is better education,” Shahbaz shares. “With illiteracy over 75 percent, it’s the fundamental problem that keeps [Pakistani Christians] oppressed. It’s something I pray the newly elected democratic parliament would provide.”
In general Pakistan offers free education but it is not very good. Tuition for private education is relatively expensive. Shahbaz pays 1,200 rupees a month for his son’s private education yet earns only 7,000 per month. With a current exchange rate of 62 rupees for a dollar, that would mean Shahbaz pays $19 for tuition from his earnings of $113, one seventh of his monthly income for just one child. Often only one will be chosen, exclusively males.
“I believe that United States declaration of a war on terror is viewed by most Muslims in Pakistan as a war against Islam,” he says. “They associate Americans as Christians therefore seen as a Christian war declared against Islam.”
Taken a step further, Pakistani Muslims make no distinction between American Christians or Pakistani Christians therefore all Christians are viewed as enemies of Islam — including Pakistani nationals.
“Corrupt Pakistani police and military would take their frustration out on defenseless Pakistani Christians yet it was President Musharraf who placed ordinances to protect them,” he admits. He believes that Nawaz Sharif is like a Mulvi (radical Muslim) preacher thus an Islamic hard-liner, so in his opinion, the Pakistan People’s Party is the best party to alleviate his concerns.
Shahbaz, one of the few eligible voters, seems undecided as to who offered the better alternatives for Christian Pakistanis. Benazir Bhutto promised more land to improve living conditions for those forced to live in Christian slum settlements called Kachi Abadi (translates to “a place that is not very good”). The land he currently lives on is owned by the government, and while the residents do not pay taxes or rent they can be evicted at any time without notice. It is Shahbaz’s hope that her successors keep that promise as her legacy. Shahbaz believes that had Bhutto still been alive, she would have been a good prime minister for Pakistani Christians.
HUBERT INTRODUCED ME TO A MUSLIM ELDER, a highly regarded wise man, despite his financial status. He lives in a tarp over piled stone walls, with two wooden beds and a small table. A man over 65, he rents construction equipment to day-laborers and makes a modest living supporting himself despite suffering from polio since age 20. He was a bright student and very clever but lost any opportunity his education would have otherwise afforded him when he lost his legs.
“Sometime before the election, there was a very famous man who traveled aboard and did surveys — and it was speculated that the PPP would generate 50 – 60 percent. It was his belief that most would favor the Nawaz Sharif party, PML-Q,” shares the elder. Gesturing with his arms in the negative, he said that he did not vote because he is a supporter of those who boycotted the elections. He believes that for the people there would be no change.
“Bhutto led the PPP party in a better way and had she still been alive, the party would have been even more successful,” he admits. Still, he would not have supported her. From Bhutto’s liberal Islamic belief, they are taught there are two different kingdoms – one for the king and one for God. There is a separation between private life and political life. Gesturing “no” with his finger, he does not support this as an accurate interpretation of Islam.
“There is a difference between the democracy of the west — America and Europe — and that of Islamic democracy. There are things in Islam that cannot be changed.”
The elder speaks with authority on many fundamental differences, but most interestingly, he turns to homosexuality to prove his point. “In the west, liberal ideology is headed where a man can marry another man; if the majority accepts this it becomes a law and people can do it.”
He laughs wildly, viewing the notion of same-sex marriage as completely preposterous.
“In Islam, this can never be accepted, so politically it cannot be done. Islam faith and state are one. Islam gives good direction and guidance for people to live a peaceful life.”
While he does not believe that his circumstances will change as a result of the election, he would hope that the judges fired by Musharraf last year would be reinstalled; then perhaps there would be change. Apart from politics, his personal wishes would be that his young wife, a girl when he married her, and their three small children would be cared for. He hopes his children would get a good education, become good Muslims and he asks for a blessing over the ones who helped his teenage bride with her first difficult delivery; had it not been for the Christian missionaries, now working in Afghanistan and for Hubert, she would have died. He was moved that people of another faith could step forward when other Muslims would not to save his wife and child. He considers Hubert one of his closest friends.
“Christians, ‘the people of the book’ are more similar than different. Muslims also believe in Jesus and so it is possible to be friends and inter-marry. One can see that those countries where Christians live have developed well. I feel that this is a personal relationship and that perhaps not every Muslim or Christian for that matter, feel the way we do, but that they should and perhaps with time they might,” the elder says with a smile at Hubert.
“THE TIME HAS COME FOR CHANGE… to believe in change… in the country … in the ballot box. People of other countries have elected democratic representatives — Pakistanis have the power to do the same. This is Pakistan where your vote matters — makes a difference.”
As Mike and Alisa went about their daily routines, I was glued to Breakfast at Dawn. As early as 8:45 a.m., just 45 minutes after the polls were opening, there are reports of violence, corruption and voting obstruction. In Hyderabad state, someone was killed, causing voters in the region not to turn out. In Badin, an unknown man snatched ballot sheets from three places of NA 224 and PS-56. From Shikarpur, 600 blank ballot papers were missing from polling station in NA 202. Three were injured in a bomb explosion in Guetta as an unknown man lobbed grenades into a polling station. In Karachi, a young man was shot near the Landhi police station by an unknown gunman; the body moved to Jinnah Hospital. In Lahore, three were arrested for casting bogus votes in NA-125. Each time violence or corruption was reported from a polling station, that station was immediately suspended, effectively preventing any further voting in the area.
A commercial interrupts reports as a determined woman states her opinion, “He (the elected prime minister) should be answerable to the masses.” Hope continues.
By noon, six people were shot and injured in Badin at a polling station due to firing between two groups. Also in Badin, eight people were injured in a clash between the Pakistan People’s Party and Pakistan Muslim League workers at a polling station. Reports stated women were prevented from casting their votes by elders in 30 polling stations. In Peshawar, no women were registered to vote. In Dadu, by late afternoon near the end of voting, Independent candidate for PS-74, Pasha Channa was injured in a clash between two parties at the Murabadad polling station. Another candidate and four men were killed the night before elections, while 20 were killed two days before in Lahore.
This is February 18, 2008 – election day. All told, the violence was lower than expected, but still a far cry from life in Ocala. In the end, Bhutto’s assassination proved inspirational. The Pakistan People’s Party prevailed; Bhutto’s son, 19 year-old Bilawal Zardari — symbolic leader of the party — and Bhutto’s husband, Asif Ali Zardari, took effective control.
Benazir Bhutto died for her political convictions, preparing to lead her people to democracy. She died a hero — a martyr. And like Afshin and Azita, who sacrificed so their daughters could live without religious or political oppression, and Mike and Alisa, who left a world where they were in the majority for one where they are in the extreme minority, choosing to live in seclusion and constant suspicion of breach of safety — somehow, she was not afraid.
“I will not be intimidated,” Bhutto wrote in a PPP blog post dated October 19, 2007, just hours before a plane would take her to Pakistan where she faced threats of assassination. “I will step out on the tarmac in Karachi in a few hours not to complete a journey, but to begin one.”
