Importance of education in Pakistan

Zafar sahib was silent for a few moments. He then squeezed a few more drops of lemon in his cup and said, “There was a time when I thought that I was wrong in thinking that way. You know decisions with our children in mind. That was a tough time for me. I can’t forget it; maybe I will never forget that nightmare.”

I smelled a story, and indeed there was one, and so Zafar Sahib began, “We live at the edge of Malakand. The laws of the federal government cease to exist here. That’s why many lawless people who commit crimes in any part of the country move here to be safe from law enforcement agencies.

Many of these criminals cross the border to the nearest city, Mardan, seek a ransom or steal a car and head back here, and no one can do anything about that. It’s that simple.

Last spring, the citizens of Mardan had enough of it. They gave an ultimatum to our city officials: control the criminals, or the people of Mardan will march towards Sakhakot. That caused turmoil in our city hall. Something had to be done: As usual, a late-night meeting. A grand Jirga of the elders of the cities of Sakhakot and Mardan was announced. This Jirga was to decide on the operation that was to be conducted to round up the criminals, the drug lords, and the ammunition suppliers. They also decided the date and place for this purpose.

I pay little attention to things happening around here, so I was unaware of all this. My school is located on the main highway and can always be easy prey to such criminals, but many of them respect me as an educationist. Most of them have their children studying here. They have often shown a desire to keep their children away from all this. They genuinely want their children to pursue a different path in life.

The nightmare began for me the night after the Jirga was announced. Around midnight my mobile phone rang. The voice on the other end said, “Master jee since when you have joined the ranks of the politicians. It looks like you want to be popular. Planning to run for the election next year? Well, you have to be alive to do that.”

I could recognize the tone. It was no joke. The accent and the style could tell me of a whole tribe speaking here. Killing is not a serious offense for them. As a matter of fact, I don’t know what they considered a serious offense.

I rushed out, told the school guard to keep his eyes open. I couldn’t think of anything that I had done that could invite such a threat. Am I running for election and trying to be popular? Not in my wildest dreams!

The morning came. I was up all night. That had slowed my reflexes. I could not think of a line of action and didn’t find the courage to discuss the issue with anyone, even my wife. The mystery unfolded when I received a phone call from the city government. It was the personal secretary to the city commissioner. “Zafar sahib, you probably know about this, but I thought we informed you officially. We are planning a jirga to chalk out the details of the grand police operation in the district. We have decided to hold it in your building, as it’s conveniently located on the main highway linking the two cities. I am sure you will exhibit the best of the Pathoonwali hospitality for this event.”

You can’t imagine how furious I was to hear that. “My building, you call that my building,” I yelled, “No sir, it’s a school; A school with 300 plus children. You can’t hold your Jirga here. Not at all! I won’t allow police mobiles and guards with their guns accompanying the so-called elders entering the school.

You won’t believe it, but the person on the other end could not understand my concern. The threats are increased as the date of the Jirga neared. The drug lords threaten all the members of the Jirga. They even threatened to blow up the place of the Jirga. The city government was calling for decisive action. Both sides went on the offensive. Statements were covering the city pages of the newspaper. The school became the center of the action.

On the one hand, some politicians considered changing the venue of the Jirga as a tactical defeat even before the start of the offense. On the other were the lords of the guns, who were planning to blow up the very place selected to plan for an operation against them.

No one thought of them, three hundred children, belonging to the same people. No one!

My days went worrying; my nights went moaning.

“Allah help me. I want to do good in my life. This is one chance you gave me. Now you are taking it all away.”

I just went back, looking into every important thing I had done in my life, just to see where I had gone wrong, but couldn’t think of anything.

By now, my family was aware of all this. My wife and I stayed awake by the bedside of our children at night. We were expecting a volley of bullets or a rocket. I was suffering from insomnia. Every day I would go to city elders, to district headquarters, and beg to spare the school. I even carried the picture of school children with me. I showed them the excellent results of the school. But they didn’t listen.

The number of threats increased. Every day we received handouts and phone calls warning us of the punishment we were to receive either on the day of the Jirga or a day before it.

Finally, I lost hope. I mentally prepared myself and my family for the worst. We decided to stay in school. If we were to die, then better die while protecting the school.

I stopped going to officials and offices. There was no point begging now.

Two days before the Jirga, I received a phone call from Peshawar. The voice on the other side said, “I am doctor ***, I am a secretary in the ministry of ***. I came across this news about a jirga to plan an operation, and it is to take place in your school. Good gracious, what’s happening to us? Do you need my help?”

I had no hope left by now. But I could recognize a divine help when I hear one. So I just cried and said. Yes, sir. I do, I surely do. In the name of God, in the name of humanity, help me, please.

Doctor sahib replied, “Come to Peshawar right away. Let’s get you out of this mess.”

I headed for the door. My wife grabbed me by my shirt. “No, you can’t go now. It’s too late to be doing anything. What if something happens to you on the way? Or something happens to us while you are away. Please don’t go. Let us stay together now, till the end, together, as a family.”

I replied, “I think there’s finally help from the heavens. I have to go. I see hope.”

Doctor sahib had recently returned from the UK after doing some specialization. He offered me tea and said, “All civilized countries of the world shave their educational institutions from all kinds of political activities or social troubles. We have to do the same here. We should start thinking about our children in our minds.”

He accompanied me to the top police and government officials. The top officials understood my concern. They started to make calls to my city elders. And by that evening, they were able to convince them to change the venue of the Jirga. That was the happiest day of my life. I called my wife, gave her the good news, and returned home with peace of mind.

That day I decided to do one thing and one thing alone for the rest of my life: To think and do everything with our children in my mind.