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I am Pakistan
What is the unit of measurement for relief following a disaster submerging a nation under massive losses? Is it the scale of the disaster? Is it the worthiness of the victims of the nation or its intimacy to the one helping it? Or is it the magnificence of aiding a nation’s beneficence and power?
We have failed to help Pakistan in all three measures. This disaster is greater than the tsunami, as the Prime Minister said. Pakistan is a nation deserving of all kinds of sacrifices, as our media is constantly reminding, and our nation might have made more effort with its beneficence and its power.
But there is another measure for help, rendering us more “responsible”: Being awaited…
A friend of mine, who is a doctor, borrowed a quote from Turgut Ozakman’s book “Su Cilgin Turkler” (Those Crazy Turks) the other day. The quotation was about a Turkish soldier, whose friend was killed by an enemy bullet during the Turkish Independence War. In the trench, the soldier asked his commander for permission to rescue his friend, who fell down after being hit by enemy fire at the front. However, the commander continued to say that rushing into the line of a constant hail of bullets to save the life of his friend, who had possibly already died, was pointless. Faced with the cries of the soldier’s begging, the commander eventually allowed him to go. The soldier carried his friend back to the safety of the trench, but the body slung across his back was already dead. The commander said: “Didn’t I tell you putting your life into danger was not worth it? He has died already!”
- It was worth it, really it was, said the soldier.
- But how? Can’t you see? Your friend is already dead.
- Still it was worth it, commander, because he was still alive when I reached him, and hearing his final words was worth it for me…
And through his tears he repeated the last words of his friend: “I knew you would come!”
I have heard this phrase often in the news coming from Pakistan. It is definite that have been waiting for us. The genuine trust behind this cry, “We knew you would come!” is incredibly strong.
Have we reached them? Have we really reached the place in every sense of the word, “reach”? Have we really reached them thorough financial aid, prayers, tears, not just sensing their pain but really feeling the hurt inside our hearts? Have we said, “We cannot celebrate during such a painful time” or “We don’t want any birthday presents this year, send them to Pakistan?” Have we really reached the country with projects, tent schools, plans for providing education to Pakistani orphans in Turkey, and portable hospitals?
Are we able to make those watching say, “This nation has stood up and is walking towards Pakistan?”
Allah is watching us!
The Only Sovereign speaks to us through the language of events. Not our responses, answers, or attitudes to events. We respond to Allah. Like the azan (Muslim call to prayer) call for namaz (prayer), disasters call for help. Have we been able to say our Pakistan prayer appropriately?
Financial aid is the ablution for this prayer, the prayer for victims is the Kiyam (standing up during prayer), the sincere pain is the Ruku (bending for Sajdah), and finally being able to say “I am Pakistan” is the Sajdah (prostration). Can we honestly say it?
What an old saying “A calamity only really affects its immediate victim” means for today is to say, “I am Pakistan,” a country that has been touched by disaster.
I am Pakistan…
October 24, 2005
LONDON
25.10.2005
KERIM BALCI
http://www.zaman.com/?bl=columnists&alt=&hn=25714 | 
