LARKANA -
With some trepidation I step through the narrow wrought
iron gate into the largest madrassa, or Islamic
school, in
this corner of the Indus River Valley in
Sindh province. The long, quiet, arched brick hallways
and tidy air of hushed reverence occupy another world
from the bustling marketplace I just left. The
conversation I would be having, with one of the most
powerful Islamic religious and political figures in this
part of Pakistan, turns out to also be something out of
a parallel universe.
The deeply conservative
Jamait-e-Ullema Islam (JUI) political party, the same
Islamic party that nurtured - and still supports - the
Taliban, runs this school. I sought out the
madrassa as a place to gain some insight into the
fundamentalist movement in Pakistan and the perception
of radical religious leaders here toward the United
States' "war on terror".
The cleric I am to meet
is Dr Khalid Mehmud Soomro, 44, the Sindh provincial
secretary general of the JUI and the coalition party it
leads, the Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal (MMA). The MMA
coalition has grown rapidly in recent years and it is
now the third largest national party, controlling the
tribal areas of the north and wielding considerable
influence in other provinces, especially Balochistan,
west of here, where the MMA dominates the provincial
coalition government, and North-West Frontier Province,
where it has sole control of the provincial assembly. As
a politician, mullah and madrassa leader, Soomro
is not an underground agent - he is a major public
figure.
This is an edgy place to visit. The US
embassy in Islamabad advises US citizens that they could
be targets of kidnapping or assassination in Sindh and
other parts of Pakistan. Four police bodyguards trail my
movements in Larkana, and my local hosts, who are not
affiliated with the mullah, insist that the precaution
is necessary.
"People here have no hope in the
economy, no hope in the government. These schools and
parties are very serious," said a friend of mine from a
wealthy Karachi family. "If I had not been born into the
elite, I would have been a fundamentalist, even a
terrorist myself. What is there to lose?" The mullah, my
friend said, would give me an inkling of what is being
taught and believed in rural Pakistan.
Inside,
up a narrow staircase in a darkened room, young boys in
white robes and skullcaps, most of them from
impoverished tribal families, are kneeling and
rhythmically chanting verses of the Holy Koran. There
are 1,200 students in this school alone, part of a
network of five schools in Larkana. Their main task is
rote learning of the scriptures in preparation for a
life of Islamic preaching.
Outside the gates, a
steady rattle of donkey carts, motorized trishaws and
perilously overloaded cargo trucks jostled for space on
the dusty streets of this major rural trading city, 300
miles northwest of the port city of Karachi, in a region
of Sindh province known for tribal rivalries, aching
poverty and feudal landowners. This is the home turf of
former prime minister Benazir Bhutto's very wealthy
family, but even their political fortunes have declined
as the Islamic parties have risen.
This lush
green valley fed by the Indus is also one of the cradles
of civilization. At the outskirts of town lie the
sprawling ruins of Monjoe-Darho. With its intricate
networks of public baths, temples and irrigation
systems, it was one of the most developed cities in the
world at the time of its prominence 5,000 years ago. Now
it is an empty tourist attraction since few travelers
are willing to ignore safety warnings to visit here.
Larkana, like much of Pakistan, is also home to
a growing movement of Islamic fundamentalism.
Officially, US President George W Bush and Pakistani
President General Pervez Musharraf have forged an
alliance to combat terrorism and promote moderation. But
in the quiet halls of the madrassa, moderation is
not on the agenda.
Soomro, 44, and I sit on an
Oriental carpet in a small room with cracked and fading
walls. I want to know more about your movement, schools
and beliefs, I tell him. As an American, I am disturbed
by the ill feelings that the US-led war and occupation
of Iraq are creating in the Islamic world.
"We
believe that the policies of America and Britain are
against Islam and are based on an enmity toward Islam,"
he says quietly, leaning against a cushion. "Bush and
[UK premier Tony] Blair want to destroy Muslims. The war
that Bush has launched is against all Muslims."
Soomro says this without rancor in his voice. He
is as calm as if he was reciting verses in the mosque.
With a long full beard, a white turban, flowing shirt
and loose-fitting trousers, he looks directly into my
eyes and pronounces that the American adventure is
doomed to failure. "This war will be very expensive for
Bush. Iraq is now caught in his throat - he can't
swallow it and he can't get it out."
I nod and
explain that I, too, have my reservations about the Iraq
war. I think it ill-conceived and ill-timed. But surely,
I ask, you can understand the American fear and anger
after September 11, 2001? Can you understand Western
actions in Afghanistan? US anger toward al-Qaeda?
"Islam is a religion of peace and we condemn the
attacks of 9/11," he says, as I begin to think we may
have found room for a real discussion, an exchange of
views. "The meaning of Islam is peace. Islam teaches
peace. But the attacks of September 11 were not the work
of Muslims. Muslims do not have the technological
capacity to do this," he says. "We believe 9/11 was
staged by the Jews as an excuse to attack Muslims."
Soomro then went into an extensive - and by now
disturbingly familiar - account of the events of
September 11 that claims that Jewish workers were warned
to stay away from the Twin Towers on that day and that
no Jews died in the attack. It is a version of the
tragedy that has been printed in newspapers, repeated on
television and passed by word of mouth throughout the
world. It is commonly held among Muslims in Malaysia,
the Philippines, Indonesia and elsewhere. I have heard
many versions of the tale all over Asia since September
11, but the myth has seemed to grow since the Iraq war
as American credibility erodes in the minds of many
people.
The purpose of the "stage" attack,
Soomro said, was to allow the West to act against the
Taliban. "It was an excuse to destroy Islam, and
especially Afghanistan, where an exemplary system of
justice and peace had been established under the
Taliban. This was a threat to America and the Jews."
Similarly, there is no al-Qaeda; Mullah Omar and
his Taliban in Afghanistan nurtured no terrorist cells.
It is all a plot, Soomro says, his voice never raising
much above an intense conversational tone.
By
now, deep into what he says he believes about the state
of play between the West and Islam, I can find no way
into his belief system. There seems no point in arguing
about the Taliban system or the existence of al-Qaeda.
Soomro is not entertaining a debate; he is preaching the
word. I let it go.
Musharraf, who seized power
in a bloodless coup in 1999 and recently had himself
reconfirmed in office for five years by a questionable
national referendum, and other Muslim leaders who
support American policy will pay dearly for their
actions. They are beyond contempt, traitors to the word
of God, says Soomro. "Musharraf is such an obedient son
of Bush that he won't even go to the bathroom without
his permission. He thinks Bush is Allah."
I
understand the anger, I say, but how is it affecting the
madrassa? Things couldn't be better on that
front, Soomro says as he discusses the logistics of
building Islamic culture through the madrassas.
Since September 11 and the invasion of Afghanistan, he
and the JUI and other Islamic parties in Pakistan have
grown sharply, successfully challenging older secular
parties and waiting for a chance to take down Musharraf.
The madrassas in particular are expanding
rapidly, a fact confirmed by a building project on site
and several conversations with local business leaders
and journalists in Larkana. "There is such high demand
for places in our school that we have been hard put to
cope," says Soomro. Donations come in constantly from
local citizens, he says, and there are no problems with
funding the expansion of the party and the schools.
There is no foreign funding, he says.
Moderate
Pakistanis worry about the impact of this burgeoning
madrassa system - some 500,000 students are
enrolled nationwide - and many fear these students will
be sent to fight in Iraq or one day turn Pakistan into a
hardline Islamic state. It was inside the network of JUI
madrassas in the northern frontier provinces and
Balochistan that the Taliban got its start in the 1990s,
supported by Pakistani intelligence agents as an
antidote to the chaos of war-torn Afghanistan. If
anything, local observers say, the radical Islamists of
the JUI and their allies are stronger than ever.
Diplomats and others believe that elements of military
intelligence still back the Taliban through the
Islamists. The government denies the connection.
But do not worry, assures Soomro. The schools
are not a recruiting ground for terrorists or potential
Taliban fighters. Despite repeated published accounts of
Pakistanis moving back and forth across the border to
fight in Afghanistan with the resurgent Taliban, he says
that the party has issued instructions not to send its
students to fight in Iraq or Afghanistan.
He
just wants to be left alone. He angrily rejects a widely
publicized government campaign to force madrassas
to teach more conventional subjects, like history and
mathematics, as part of their curricula in an effort to
broaden students' knowledge. "We are not asking the
government for anything so they should not interfere in
our teaching Islamic culture and Arabic. We are simply
training scholars for religious purposes."
Critics, though, say that the madrassas
turn out a steady stream of young graduates who are
unprepared for the job market or anything other than
reciting the Koran and seeking jihad against the enemies
of the faith. This is nonsense and propaganda, says
Soomro. "Society needs Islamic scholars. They will be
better people for it."
But what of the future? I
ask, trying to draw an increasingly uncomfortable
conversation to a close. How will this conflict play
out? "There will be a change," he says. "It is my faith
and hope that Iraq and Afghanistan will be a graveyard
for Americans. Bush and Blair are mad dogs and they must
die or be destroyed. And the same thing will happen to
Musharraf. God will punish him."
By now I can
only nod. Throughout this, my first real encounter with
one of the fabled radical mullahs of Islam, I have
looked for a way to make this a discussion rather than a
sermon, but it seems impossible. I am obviously a symbol
for Soomro, an American who wandered into his midst. It
is like any conversation between a true believer and a
skeptic, and not unlike similar deadend dialogues I have
had with born-again Christians back home. The true
believer acquires strength through absolute faith and
certainty; the skeptic can only pose questions and
listen.
Later, dozens of Pakistanis from all
walks of life confirm that the madrassa movement
and radical Islam are growing, fed by disenchantment and
suspicion directed at American policy. "Every thinking
person here believes Bush is an idiot," prominent
newspaper columnist and determined secularist Ardeshir
Cowasjee told me later in Karachi. American attitudes,
he said, are radicalizing vast segments of the Pakistani
population. Certainly most observers agree that the
views of mullahs like Soomro are, if not yet mainstream,
a significant strain of thought in Pakistan.
Finally, our encounter winding down and the
vitriol receding, warm cups of strong tea laced with
sugar and milk are brought in and the mullah relaxes a
little. Sweets are served and the meeting unwinds.
Nearby the soft drone of students reciting the Koran
continues uninterrupted. I hope you are enjoying your
stay in Pakistan, he says finally as he offers me a
slice of cake. "But you must be very careful. Americans
are not welcome here any more and you are not safe. You
must go nowhere without armed protection. It would be
too bad if something were to happen to you."
A Lin Neumannis a
Bangkok-based writer.
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Oct 29, 2003
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Central, Hong Kong
this corner of the Indus River Valley in
Sindh province. The long, quiet, arched brick hallways
and tidy air of hushed reverence occupy another world
from the bustling marketplace I just left. The
conversation I would be having, with one of the most
powerful Islamic religious and political figures in this
part of Pakistan, turns out to also be something out of
a parallel universe. 
