I felt sad and shocked to hear about the political assassination of Pakistan's Benazir Bhutto today.
You can't get rid of opposition by squashing it or killing it. The more force is used to suppress people, the more the potential for the eventual backlash will grow.
This will have big implications for our world.
Personally, I had an odd connection with Benazir. She was kept under house arrest for a large part of my primary schooling in the house across the road from our school in Karachi. I was scared of the bayonet-toting guards who patrolled her fence line and often thought about her not being able to go out and be free.
Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Turn the other
A small example of how this verse can work.
"You have heard that the law of Moses says, 'If an eye is injured, injure the eye of the person who did it. If a tooth gets knocked out, knock out the tooth of the person who did it.' But I say, don't resist an evil person! If you are slapped on the right cheek, turn the other, too." Matthew 5:38-39
From the age of 11 until the age of 15, I went to boarding school in the beautiful Himalayas in Pakistan.
The setting was incredible, but it didn't always transfer across to relationships. Like any teenage girls, we all had our fair share of difficulties with our friends.
In eighth grade, I was sharing a room with four girls, including one called Grace. Up until this point we had been reasonably good friends. But one day, very suddenly, she took a huge dislike to me, without telling me why. She wouldn't speak to me or look at me. She ignored me completely at meals, in the dorm room and in class. It was a small school, and this was actually pretty hard to do, but she made a great job of it. It was as if I didn’t exist any longer in her world.
I was very upset for a few weeks. I tried to get her to talk to me and tell me what I’d done, but she refused.
So after a while, I decided that she could be as ridiculous as she liked, but that I would still be pleasant to her. So every time I passed her in the hall, I said ‘hi Grace’. I smiled at her pleasantly. I asked her to pass things at meals, and I was as conciliatory as I could be, without being cloying or over the top.
She ignored me successfully for about six weeks. And then one day, came up to me out of the blue. “Can I talk to you?”
“I’m really sorry," she said. "I just decided I didn’t like you one day and I was unfair and mean to you. But you kept being nice to me, even when I was being horrible. And I feel bad and I need to apologise.”
We were friends again! We were never best friends again after that, but at least we had a pleasant relationship and were on good terms. And I felt secretly pleased that my Christian behaviour had worked!
"You have heard that the law of Moses says, 'If an eye is injured, injure the eye of the person who did it. If a tooth gets knocked out, knock out the tooth of the person who did it.' But I say, don't resist an evil person! If you are slapped on the right cheek, turn the other, too." Matthew 5:38-39
From the age of 11 until the age of 15, I went to boarding school in the beautiful Himalayas in Pakistan.
The setting was incredible, but it didn't always transfer across to relationships. Like any teenage girls, we all had our fair share of difficulties with our friends.
In eighth grade, I was sharing a room with four girls, including one called Grace. Up until this point we had been reasonably good friends. But one day, very suddenly, she took a huge dislike to me, without telling me why. She wouldn't speak to me or look at me. She ignored me completely at meals, in the dorm room and in class. It was a small school, and this was actually pretty hard to do, but she made a great job of it. It was as if I didn’t exist any longer in her world.
I was very upset for a few weeks. I tried to get her to talk to me and tell me what I’d done, but she refused.
So after a while, I decided that she could be as ridiculous as she liked, but that I would still be pleasant to her. So every time I passed her in the hall, I said ‘hi Grace’. I smiled at her pleasantly. I asked her to pass things at meals, and I was as conciliatory as I could be, without being cloying or over the top.
She ignored me successfully for about six weeks. And then one day, came up to me out of the blue. “Can I talk to you?”
“I’m really sorry," she said. "I just decided I didn’t like you one day and I was unfair and mean to you. But you kept being nice to me, even when I was being horrible. And I feel bad and I need to apologise.”
We were friends again! We were never best friends again after that, but at least we had a pleasant relationship and were on good terms. And I felt secretly pleased that my Christian behaviour had worked!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Peer pressure
When I was a teenager, our family went on holidays in the northern mountains of Pakistan - to Hunza, the fabled land of 'Shang-ri-la'.
The mountains are incredible, the views are amazing, and the 'walks' (I use that term loosely) are for mountain climbers.
My father is a bit of an adventure-lover. And needless to say, he wanted us all to go on a particular walk he'd heard about.
"It's just up to a shepherd's hut," he said to convince us. "It'll take a few hours - just a day's walk."
We children were always less keen than Dad on such things, and voiced our dissent, but he convinced us, saying, "Look, Deb and Eunice went on it last year, and they made it, so you'll make it too."
Deb and Eunice, while the most wonderful people you can ever imagine, were not the doyennes of fitness at that stage of their lives, so we figured that the walk would be possible.
We set out early the next morning, and on the beginning of the track met some friends, also holidaying in the area. This intrepid couple had two little children with them, whom they were carrying in packs on their backs. We decided to walk together, and set off.
To be completely honest, it was the most horrendous hike. The track started out flat but quickly changed to vertical. It was a climb - over rocks, up landslide scree, past and over steep angled rushing rivers.
My legs began hurting within 25 minutes, and the pain didn't stop for the next three days. There were times when I thought I would have to sit down and die because it just wasn't possible to go on.
We climbed and climbed for four hours or more. But then we got to the top. And it was a sight to behold. The view was unbelievable - snow caps in the distance and such a blue sky. It was like we were at the top of the world in clear fresh air. I will never forget the feeling of having made it, sitting there panting in relief.
Going down was almost worse than climbing up, but at least we knew how long it would take, and that bed was waiting at the other end. (Embarrassingly: as we climbed down, at 4 in the afternoon, we met a climber cheerfully jogging up the path, whistling. It turned out he was at a base camp, a little higher up than the Shepherd's Hut and had 'just run down to town for some supplies'.)
The next day, hardly able to walk due to lactic acid build up in every single muscle we possessed, we groaningly met up with our friends, the pair who had carried their children up that horrendous hike.
"You'll never guess what it said in the guide book about that walk," our friend said. "We just read it - it's recommended for experienced hikers only."
We could believe it. We had suffered up that hill and back.
But here's the interesting thing: not one adult ever suggested throwing in the towel and turning around, even though they were in agony with every step.
Why not?
"Well, we thought, if they could carry their children up that path, we ought to be able to walk it," said my dad.
And, "we thought that if your parents who were 15 years older than us could do it, we ought to be able to do it, being young and fit and in our prime", said our friend.
"Anyway," they both added, "we thought we'd never live it down if word got out that we quit when Deb and Eunice could make it."
---------------------------------
I share this story to illustrate the positive pushing power of peer pressure. A friend with little kids blogged today about how she couldn't believe what some other mothers do, with more than two children, let alone interests and hobbies and cooking to juggle. She felt quite inadequate and slovenly in comparison.
My comment was that she has articulated the despairing cry of every woman with little children on the planet! All of us feel we can't do it, can't make it, can't continue, almost every day. But we look around and find the person who looks like they have it all together, and say, "Well, if she can do it, I can!"
We forget that she's also looking around going, "I can't do it, can't make it, can't continue... but I'd better because that woman over there can do it."
And so the world goes around.
The mountains are incredible, the views are amazing, and the 'walks' (I use that term loosely) are for mountain climbers.
My father is a bit of an adventure-lover. And needless to say, he wanted us all to go on a particular walk he'd heard about.
"It's just up to a shepherd's hut," he said to convince us. "It'll take a few hours - just a day's walk."
We children were always less keen than Dad on such things, and voiced our dissent, but he convinced us, saying, "Look, Deb and Eunice went on it last year, and they made it, so you'll make it too."
Deb and Eunice, while the most wonderful people you can ever imagine, were not the doyennes of fitness at that stage of their lives, so we figured that the walk would be possible.
We set out early the next morning, and on the beginning of the track met some friends, also holidaying in the area. This intrepid couple had two little children with them, whom they were carrying in packs on their backs. We decided to walk together, and set off.
To be completely honest, it was the most horrendous hike. The track started out flat but quickly changed to vertical. It was a climb - over rocks, up landslide scree, past and over steep angled rushing rivers.
My legs began hurting within 25 minutes, and the pain didn't stop for the next three days. There were times when I thought I would have to sit down and die because it just wasn't possible to go on.
We climbed and climbed for four hours or more. But then we got to the top. And it was a sight to behold. The view was unbelievable - snow caps in the distance and such a blue sky. It was like we were at the top of the world in clear fresh air. I will never forget the feeling of having made it, sitting there panting in relief.
Going down was almost worse than climbing up, but at least we knew how long it would take, and that bed was waiting at the other end. (Embarrassingly: as we climbed down, at 4 in the afternoon, we met a climber cheerfully jogging up the path, whistling. It turned out he was at a base camp, a little higher up than the Shepherd's Hut and had 'just run down to town for some supplies'.)
The next day, hardly able to walk due to lactic acid build up in every single muscle we possessed, we groaningly met up with our friends, the pair who had carried their children up that horrendous hike.
"You'll never guess what it said in the guide book about that walk," our friend said. "We just read it - it's recommended for experienced hikers only."
We could believe it. We had suffered up that hill and back.
But here's the interesting thing: not one adult ever suggested throwing in the towel and turning around, even though they were in agony with every step.
Why not?
"Well, we thought, if they could carry their children up that path, we ought to be able to walk it," said my dad.
And, "we thought that if your parents who were 15 years older than us could do it, we ought to be able to do it, being young and fit and in our prime", said our friend.
"Anyway," they both added, "we thought we'd never live it down if word got out that we quit when Deb and Eunice could make it."
---------------------------------
I share this story to illustrate the positive pushing power of peer pressure. A friend with little kids blogged today about how she couldn't believe what some other mothers do, with more than two children, let alone interests and hobbies and cooking to juggle. She felt quite inadequate and slovenly in comparison.
My comment was that she has articulated the despairing cry of every woman with little children on the planet! All of us feel we can't do it, can't make it, can't continue, almost every day. But we look around and find the person who looks like they have it all together, and say, "Well, if she can do it, I can!"
We forget that she's also looking around going, "I can't do it, can't make it, can't continue... but I'd better because that woman over there can do it."
And so the world goes around.
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