Opinion Unlike Shahzad,I was lucky the ISI just tortured me
The fact that he was tortured sent me back to a chilly night last September,when I was abducted by government agents.
We have buried another journalist. Syed Saleem Shahzad disappeared a few days after writing an article alleging that al-Qaeda elements had penetrated Pakistans navy and that a military crackdown on them had precipitated the May 22 terrorist attack on a Karachi naval base. I couldnt sleep the night that Saleems death was confirmed. The fact that he was tortured sent me back to a chilly night last September,when I was abducted by government agents. During Saleems funeral service,a thought kept haunting me: It could have been me. Mourning journalists lined up after the service to console me,saying I was lucky to get a lease on life that Saleem was denied. But luck is a relative term.
When my attackers came,impersonating policemen arresting me on a fabricated charge of murder,I felt helpless. My mouth muzzled and hands cuffed,I couldnt inform anybody of my whereabouts,not even the friends Id dropped off just 15 minutes before. Despite the many threats Id received,I never expected this to happen to me.
The ISI always contacted me,afterwards. I was first advised not to write too much about them and later sent messages laced with subtle threats. But I never imagined action was imminent.
On September 4,I was driven to an abandoned house instead of a police station,where I was stripped naked and tortured with a whip and a wooden rod. While a man flogged me,I asked what crime had brought me this punishment. Another man told me: Your reporting has upset the government. It was not a crime,and therefore I did not apologise. Instead,I kept praying,
Oh God,why am I being punished? The answer came from the ringleader: If you cant avoid rape,enjoy it.
They tortured me for 25 minutes,shaved my head,eyebrows and moustache and then filmed and photographed my naked body. I was dumped nearly 100 miles outside Islamabad with a warning not to speak up or face the consequences.
The following months were dreadful. I suffered from a sleep disorder. I would wake up fearing that someone was beating my back. I wouldnt go jogging,afraid that somebody would pick me up again and Id never return. Self-imposed house arrest is the life I live today; I dont go outside unless I have serious business.
When Saleem disappeared,I wondered if he had been thinking about his children,as I had. He had left Karachi,his hometown,after receiving death threats,and settled with his wife and three children in Islamabad. From there,he often went on reporting trips to the tribal areas along the Afghan border. Tahir Ali,a mutual friend,would ask him: Dont you feel scared in the tribal areas? Saleem would smile and say: Death could come even in Islamabad. His words were chilling,and prescient.
Shahzad is the fifth journalist to die in the first five months of 2011. Journalists are shot like stray dogs in Pakistan easily killed because their assassins sit at the pinnacle of power. Today,impunity reigns. Journalists have shown resilience,but it is hard to persevere when the state itself becomes complicit in the crime. Now those speaking up for Saleem are doing so at a price: they are being intimidated and harassed.
News organisations throughout the world must join hands in seeking justice for Saleem and ending the intelligence agencies culture of impunity. An award for investigative journalists should be created in his honour,as was done for Daniel Pearl.
No stronger message could be delivered to his killers than making him immortal.
The writer is an investigative reporter at The News,Karachi
Share
