Reflections
Before leaving for Pakistan, I prayed an extra two nafl to ask for a few things - health, fun, bonding with my family. But what I prayed hardest for was knowledge. If anything, God, I asked, let me learn from this trip. Let me learn about this country, this people, and my passion for this place.
Since finally declaring my major at the end of freshman year and scoring the most perfect advisor for the direction in which I want to take my study of International Relations, I’ve felt more focused and more driven. Part of it is out of intimidation - I do not want to look like a fool in front of Ayesha Jalal, I want to be taken seriously and, therefore, should probably show that I am serious about this. But a major part of it is just…internal motivation. I am very, very focused when I want to be (not always when I need to be).
Pakistan, to me, is the scene of the most interesting and complex socio-geo-political drama in contemporary history. I find South Asia to be fascinating, and seeing South Asia with Pakistan as the epicenter is doubly so. In case it isn’t clear, my IR concentration is on South Asia and the Middle East.
I guess one of the beautiful things about this trip is that it made me realize that my passion for this study is not purely academic. At certain points I questioned whether I was studying South Asia and the Middle East for the right reasons. Did I just find the region “fascinating”, as if it’s just something to be studied and learned about, like a plant, or an animal in a zoo? Or did I actually truly feel a connection to this region? Did I love this place?
The fear was that I would not be able to do genuine good if I didn’t actually love the same region I find so fascinating. I don’t even mean love of the culture, or love of the people or the landscape or the history. I mean that inexplicable feeling that makes you want to dedicate your whole life to something because for some unknown reason you just care. You care so, so much.
I know that I want to do foreign journalism and international correspondence, and I also know how dangerous Pakistan is for journalists in particular. I had some major ups and downs while in Pakistan when I considered what I wanted to do with my life alongside newspaper articles and personal stories of killings, kidnappings, and general violence. I’m not going to lie, it had me scared. Really scared. Did I honestly think that I could do this - report in one of the most dangerous places in the world? Me, a diminutive five-foot-three-quarters-of-an-inch-tall female, with my regular instances of self-doubt and occasional cluelessness? Did I really think I was tough enough, strong enough, intelligent enough to do that?
I’m only 19, so it might seem slightly ridiculous for me to be wondering about these sorts of things. But this is just who I am, and my planning is serious. I get insanely passionate about something and focus my whole life on it - I mean, journalism has been the focus of my life since I first started writing for my middle school paper, a bit over seven years ago, though I have considered and still am considering joining the Foreign Service at some point in my life.
In any case, I knew that I was passionate about South Asia, especially Pakistan. I knew that I was passionate about journalism. So in the weeks before leaving for Pakistan I threw myself into learning as much as I possibly could about this country. I read Pakistani newspapers, took multiple trips to bookstores and bought Pakistani literature and history books, which I immediately began devouring. While in Pakistan I read as many signs in Urdu as I could, asked for clarifications on the language, read the newspaper every day, tried my hardest to observe and understand the place I was in. In that relatively short timespan, I felt a renewal of purpose.
At the end of my stay, as I watched Karachi sink slowly in the distance and the sands of Dubai draw nearer, I felt a searing optimism and hope and love. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked out the window, because I realized that I had been worried about nothing. I did love this place - unconditionally, irrevocably. For all the terrible things that happen in this region - because there are parts of some of the cultures that I despise (i.e., treatment of women…) - I still can’t help but feel connected to it and genuinely hopeful about where it can go.
I care. I really do. Shukria, Pakistan. Thank you.
