Safe House
Thursday, 12 March 2026
The situation in the Middle East became volatile following Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait in August 1990. I didn’t imagine that the conflict would affect us in Pakistan. But it did.
Our imam’s preaching broadcast from the minaret of our local mosque became malign when Operation Desert Storm began in January 1991. ‘Burn the Christians!’ the imam repeatedly shouted.
There is a long history of hatred between Muslims and – as they see it – idol-worshipping Hindus, but Muslims and Christians are said to be ‘people of the book’ and worship the same god. Even so the small local Christian community cowered.
The mood on the streets grew uglier each day. It was no wonder as CNN News reported with enthusiasm the Shock and Awe raining down on Muslims in Iraq. We too watched, horrified, as missiles snaked towards buildings which exploded in palls of smoke and debris. This was the first war people could see live on TV.
Tensions grew. People drove around with photos of Saddam displayed in their cars. Colleagues judged that we Brits would be safer in a government rest house in Sukkur so that became our new home.
I half expected there might be some kind of security guard or police presence at the rest house but there was none. It occurred to me that gathering foreigners together in one place made us an inviting target especially as, being white Westerners, we were assumed to be Americans.
After dark one evening, I sat enjoying exotic and transporting night sounds, and intoxicating tropical perfumes when I heard the sound of a motorbike driving up. I pulled baby Alexander close and waited, hardly daring to breathe. Two well-built men wearing the local baggy nut-brown shalwar kameez and cream-coloured Gilgiti goats’ wool hats had arrived. Between them they carried long objects wrapped in sacking. No one challenged them. They strode into the building shouting, but I couldn’t decipher the words echoing along the corridor. Was it Allahu Akhbar?
Posted:
12/03/2026 07:29:17 by
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First Gulf War,
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