Aboard the Democracy Train (28 page)

At the home of the PPP senator, Benazir waxed casual as I reminded her of the Interpol alert. She began to ask party
leaders about individuals in Pakistan’s establishment who might have been responsible for issuing the red alert against herself and Asif.

“Can you believe it, they are equating me with terrorists like Ayman Al Zawahiri,” she turned to me with a twinkle in her eyes.

Asif, too, was relaxed in the homely settings and more chatty than usual. It was a contrast to his behavior a few weeks ago when he had dodged my questions by saying he was under a “gag order.” Instead, he had passed the buck rather nicely:

“Why don’t you ask Benazir? You’ve known her longer than I have.”

Now on a one-to-one level, he volunteered to explain that he had been released from prison without striking a back room deal with Musharraf.

“You never thought I would get out of prison did you,” he chuckled.

To my surprise, Benazir talked of her erstwhile rival, former Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif, with camaraderie. It was a far cry from the Benazir I knew in Pakistan’s last decade of civilian rule, when the two former prime ministers were bitter rivals and worked at cross-purposes. Instead, a year ago Benazir Bhutto and Nawaz Sharif had come together in London to frame a “Charter of Democracy” that promised to force Musharraf to hold “free and fair” elections and enact constitutional reforms.

Long years of exile suffered by Nawaz and Benazir under Musharraf had convinced the ousted prime ministers to agree on a charter that would prevent military rulers from overthrowing elected leaders like themselves.

In London, the politicians did the spade work for the constitutional package, passed by the Zardari government in April 2010, which undid the constitutional amendments passed by two former military rulers – Gen. Zia ul Haq and Gen. Pervaiz Musharraf – and curtailed the power of the president. The “Eighteenth Amendment,” as it is called, has been largely welcomed in Pakistan, even while some sections have been challenged in the Supreme Court.

More western savvy than Nawaz, Benazir had after 9/11 correctly surmised Pakistan’s importance for the US. Although President Bush had developed a one-on-one relationship with Musharraf, American voters were growing disillusioned with a sagging economy and a seemingly unending war in Afghanistan. Taking advantage of the swing of voters toward the Democratic Party, Benazir put her foot in the door and worked to prize it open for her reentry to power.

A senior journalist seated at our small table suggested to Benazir that her goals may be better served if she moved from Dubai to the US. Benazir demurred, not just because it would make her US connections far too obvious, but because she said she was concerned about the education of her children enrolled in Dubai’s schools.

Instead, Benazir went on to work with Democratic members of the US Congress to broker the National Reconciliation Ordinance (NRO) deal with Musharraf, which granted amnesty for herself, husband Asif Zardari and thousands of other politicians and businessmen accused of corruption. PPP sympathizers say it was Benazir’s way of ensuring that the “politically fabricated” cases did not stand in her path to return to Pakistan.

Among those who got former President Musharraf to sign the National Reconciliation Ordinance was Democratic Senator John Kerry. Kerry’s advisor Shahid Ahmed Khan accompanied Benazir and Kerry to the office of Tom Lantos. The latter, a Jewish Holocaust survivor, knew Musharraf in his capacity as the head of the House Foreign Affairs Committee.

As Benazir telephoned Musharraf, Khan stated that he had stepped out of the office “to give them some privacy.”

Afterwards, Khan said that Senator Kerry told him that he had talked briefly with US Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs R. Nicholas Burns to ask that he telephone Musharraf to ensure security arrangements for Benazir’s return. Khan said that Senator Kerry subsequently asked the Republican administration’s US Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice to ensure that Benazir was provided with proper security while she was in Pakistan.

In 2007 Benazir met President Gen. Musharraf in Dubai to work out her quid pro quo arrangement with him. It culminated on October 4, 2007 with Musharraf’s signature on the NRO – which paved the way for Benazir, Asif and several party officials to return to Pakistan. Two days later, as Gen. Musharraf presented himself for presidential reelection the PPP members permitted him a façade of legitimacy by remaining in parliament while other political parties boycotted the vote.

That cold February afternoon, as Benazir and I stood alone at the refreshments table in the Virginia home of her party senator, she picked away disinterestedly at the lavish spread. She was in a pensive mood, apparently reflecting on the gravity of her decision to return to Pakistan. Instinctively, I said to her,

“It’s very brave of you to go back.”

She dropped her gaze still further and became still. It would be many seconds before she turned to me and we rejoined the rest of the group. Perhaps she knew that this would be her last battle.

In Pakistan, the body politic was divided on whether Benazir should return before the elections announced by Musharraf for January 2008. The secular Awami National Party (ANP) – which now heads the government in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa along the Afghanistan border – had had bitter experience of the rabid “Talibanization” under Musharraf. Through an emissary, its leaders conveyed to Bhutto’s husband Asif Zardari that she should not return.

PPP stalwart and former senator Taj Haider went on a limb to beseech Benazir not to come back. He had researched the security situation for months, and had even asked former ISI chief Lt. Gen. Asad Durrani about Benazir’s chances of survival if she were to return.

“Durrani had said ‘zero’,” said the white-haired party loyalist, visibly dismayed that despite his communication to Benazir, she
had ignored the warning. Instead, she had quoted a line from a poem by Robert Frost that he wistfully recalled in its full verse.

As the PPP cadre festooned Karachi for Benazir’s return on October 18, 2007, there were emotional scenes from the exile. Two days prior to her return, Benazir held a press conference to make the announcement in Dubai. There, an elderly Sindhi expatriate from Khairpur Mirs had wept and begged her not to leave. She, too, held his hand and cried. But her determination and apparent faith in the US had shone through her tears as she told supporters: “The West has assured me of my security.”

But Benazir did not have a promise from the US government or even private security agencies in America that she would be protected in Pakistan. While Senator John Kerry and Senator Joe Biden supported Benazir’s bid for power, returning home was clearly her own initiative. Boston-based consultant Shahid Ahmed Khan says that prior to her return, Senator Kerry had warned Benazir about the “volatile” situation in Pakistan and told her she should not go.

As though the challenges weren’t enough, Benazir braced for a new player in Pakistan’s politics. He was Supreme Court Chief Justice Iftikhar Chaudhry, whose defiance of the ruling Gen. Musharraf had turned him into a folk hero. Only six days before her return, the chief justice had thrown a spanner in the works by suspending the NRO and declaring President Gen Musharraf’s re-election as invalid.

But October 18 was the day Benazir was determined to tell the world that she still reigned over the hearts of the people. Indeed, some two decades after her return to Lahore, Pakistan was more populated, angry and desperate to find a leadership that could lift them out of poverty under quasi-military rule. Karachi’s frenzied energy level had not diminished over time.
Instead, the crush of humanity looked for a political change to end grinding military rule and return the nation to democracy.

That afternoon, as Bhutto’s plane prepared to land from Dubai to Karachi, a member of the PPP welcoming committee, veteran trade union leader Habibuddin Junaidi, arrived ahead of others at the airport. From the elevated Jinnah terminal, all he saw were waves of people. Not only had they packed the wide Shahrah-i-Faisal Road to the airport but also the arteries that ran into it. Startled by the panoramic view, he mumbled to his colleague: “There are so many of them, they can take over the sea.”

As Benazir stepped off the plane after a self-exile of nine years, she raised her hands in gratitude for the opportunity to return home and tears of joy rolled off her cheeks.

The poorest of the poor had arrived to greet Benazir. They included people from remote corners of the country, with tattered clothes and without shoes, who had chased her “Democracy Train” almost two decades before. Some of the villagers in rural Sindh had sold their livestock to pay for their fare to Karachi. Others had traveled from Gilgit and northern areas of Pakistan just to catch a glimpse of her.

Thousands of people broke the security cordon at the airport and milled around her truck, where she stood amid party leaders to acknowledge their cheers. Even the MQM activists, then in coalition with the Musharraf government, had been unable to suppress their curiosity and turned up for the welcome.

PPP’s information secretary Saeed Ghani looked at the sea of people and was briefly overcome by a sense of misgiving as to what would happen if there was a security breach. His cell phone had rung all morning – a sure sign that the bomb jammers promised by the Sindh administration did not work. For weeks, his enthusiastic party workers had clashed with police as they decorated the city with banners. The encounters had left him uneasy about whether Sindh Chief Minister Arbab Ghulam Rahim would provide Benazir with the security they had requested.

Still, like thousands of PPP devotees Ghani brought his family to celebrate Benazir’s homecoming. His younger brother Fahad traveled in the third truck behind Benazir’s bombproof
vehicle. The sea of humanity forced Benazir’s vehicle to crawl to Karsaz and the 45-minute journey stretched to seven hours. The “Janisaran Benazir” – a cadre ready to sacrifice their lives for Bhutto – ran along her truck and their Baloch members danced in joyous abandon to African drumbeats.

Figure 11
PPP Chairperson Benazir Bhutto is welcomed on her return at Karachi Airport on October 18, 2007 (
Dawn
photo).

It was dark and the streetlights were off when the first bomb went off. “We stayed calm, imagining a tire had burst,” said Fahad, whose voice choked as he recalled how the scene would turn into a massacre.

Apparently, the first bomb exploded when a man passed a crying infant swathed in a blanket over the heads of the crowd, with a request to Benazir to appease it. She did not take the baby, knowing it would not stop crying. Instead, her security personnel – among them, PPP’s Agha Siraj Durrani – directed that the infant be moved along.

The crying infant was put on the lap of a party office-bearer, Rukhsana Farid, who sat in an accompanying police mobile. Moments later, the infant exploded and killed Rukhsana, along with police officials and an unfortunate cameraman.

Later, Benazir had a strong-willed argument with PPP’s Taj Haider that the bomb had been delivered in a doll. Haider patiently told her that eyewitnesses had identified that it was an infant who wailed and cried as it was passed over the crowds.

“But Benazir stayed unconvinced,” said Haider. Instead she argued, “Nowadays in the West, they make dolls that cry like real babies.”

The second explosion shook Benazir’s bombproof truck while she was inside. It sent a bolt of lightening across the sky, even as it threw human flesh in the air and scattered showers of blood. Hundreds of
Janisaran
Benazir, who had made a human shield around her truck, were instantly killed. Perched on a press truck a few vehicles behind Benazir’s truck, Fahad saw the joyous PPP loyalists dancing one minute and the next – dead.

Ghani’s wife Naila, who arrived at Karsaz with her six month old baby to catch a glimpse of Benazir, saw the sky light up in the terror attack and found her hair covered with bits of human flesh.

“My heart still pounds when I think of that moment,” says the slender young woman, who has since renamed her daughter “Benazir.”

Benazir clambered out of her bombproof vehicle with other PPP party office-bearers, alive, if somewhat bruised. Some 180 PPP supporters lay dead all around. The police van, which carried her back over the Clifton Bridge to Bilawal House, rushed in panic mode as though the assassins still chased them.

Flanked by loyalists at the Bilawal House, Benazir named three of President Musharraf’s associates as suspects in the attack: former chief of the Inter Services Intelligence Hameed Gul; Intelligence Bureau chief in the Punjab Brig Ejaz Shah; and Chief Minister of the Punjab Chaudhry Pervaiz Ellahi.

Brig. Ejaz Shah, a friend of Musharraf, had come into the spotlight in 2002 for his role in sheltering the jihadist Omar Shaikh, currently serving time in Pakistan’s prisons for his role in the kidnapping and murder of US journalist Daniel Pearl.