Leaving Sinking Ships

AUGUST 2002 - The British Council letterhead, the one with 49 black and white circles forming the cross, has two lines below it that read, ‘Promoting cultural, educational and technical co-operation between Britain and Pakistan.’ Well some of that, if not all will change as a recent letter from the Council indicates. The Council libraries, a haven for many, who sought books, films, newspapers and refreshing knowledge here, are being closed down all over Pakistan. What happens to the rest of the British Council operations here is a matter of conjecture but it would be foolish to think that they will be flourishing brighter than ever before. No, the three divorces are imminent.

The news of course is shattering – particularly for the thousands who flocked to these small pockets of civilization – what else could one call them, where conversations were conducted in hushed tones, more with raised eyebrows and silent nods than with words, but where there was assurance of usually finding what you were looking for. That is all now going to slip away into the past and undoubtedly the fall out will be widespread. There are of course many unanswered questions other than the truncated operations of the Council itself. In Pakistan’s case, there is the question of numerous examinations and courses that were coordinated and conducted by the Council. What happens to them is a moot point but again a downsizing or total abandonment is very much in the pipeline. There have been rumours that the Council, as indeed the High Commission, have been the recipients of numerous threats and calls containing such heart-warming announcements as bombarding the buildings, murdering the High Commissioner and his staff, suicide bombings and other equally spine-tingling and motivating communications. Warnings like these may be casual for those who are not at the receiving end, but if you are threatened, you have no option but to pay attention. In fact, a trip to any British Council office these days will reveal, other than the air of desertion that pervades there, the sight of sandbags and machine-guns at the gates. It is enough to sink any one’s spirits. Personally, I think they have done the right thing by pulling out. Who wants to get killed for doing a job and what for? And what empires can be now conquered by spreading British-inspired propaganda?

My memories of the British Council are long and wonderful because it was here that I met some of the nicest people I have known. Friendships struck here have survived and grown over the years in spite of distances and time and changed circumstances. Almost the first recollection is of running into a slightly tousled-haired young, half-stammering (much in the style of Hugh Grant) in the early 70s – the young man went on to marry my childhood friend at a ceremony in the F.C.College Chapel – I wonder what they use it for these days. Andrew Norris was fresh to Lahore and when he married Tina daughter of Mr. R.C.Thomas first of Murray College, Sialkot and later of F.C.College, a kind of bond sprang up that endures so many years later. At the same time, her sister, the gifted and quite irrepressible, Promilla Thomas, or Prom as she was known, married Lloyd Mullen, who was teaching at Aitchison. Later on Lloyd went to work for the Council in India, Pakistan and other parts of the world, before settling down in England where he maintains a close watch on all things Pakistani – needless to add that he is a passionate supporter of this country.

The wonderful thing about the people who came to work for the Council, was their warmth and obvious delight in being here. Perhaps they were carefully selected but it was strange to observe that almost without fail, they were some of the nicest people out of Britain and surely its finest ambassadors. The list of those who settled in Lahore, almost as if they had always been here – and for that the credit must also lie with the spirit of Lahore and its many wonderful people who never hesitated to open their hearts, their homes and their lives to these strangers, is long but many might remember the Hawkins, the Rogers and the Davidsons. They were all refreshingly different and they all became great friends. John & June Hawkins were here in the late 70s and we became close friends, seeing each other very regularly. As the children grew in both homes, the ties grew as well. There were holidays together and many memorable meals. We were like family to each other. When the Hawkins left, we were heart broken but we maintained contact and still do over 25 years later – June was a painter and is now even more accomplished and John left the Council years ago and rejoined it years later – something like that! The Rogers were another breath of fresh air – Trish, a master mathematician and fine pianist and David, suave, warm, friendly and highly intelligent. Becoming close friends was easy and remaining close friends even easier. As they, like other Council people, travelled the world, the contacts were rarely broken. Perhaps we, rooted in Lahore, were their anchor. The Davidsons arrived and although older than most Councillors, immediately charmed the Lahorites, who of course returned the compliment ten times over. Tony cycled for hours every day and described parts of the city none of us even knew existed. With his selection of music and long evenings with friends, sharing his experiences of Africa and its music, he and Bridgett were assimilated into Lahore as only Lahore can.

Last month as Robert Snell, in some anguish, hurriedly called and said he was leaving in two hours and had no idea where he was going, a book of many happy chapters seemed to be coming to an end. Now, the letter finally seals it and the next news should no longer be a surprise. The Germans pulled out quite a few years back, the French are crippled and in despair and the Brits have started to go – a cheerful scenario stares at us, doesn’t it? No one seems to be unduly troubled about all this or the fact that almost all summer the embassies have been closed and thousands who had planned visits abroad have been left stranded. This is a good endorsement of the absence of basic essentials that are required to run a country, even one as warped and off course as ours. It is a slap in our face and what is more, it is a resounding slap administered daily, yet the concern is limited to slight murmurs and clicking sounds of regret. Are we drifting into another arid galaxy of global rejects or are we already there or did we never leave it? Who knows what we are or where we are, if anywhere. All most of us who don’t matter in the least, know is that we are sadly out of tune with the rest of the world. This summer, the faint trickle of tourism received another shot in the arm when happy-jehadis threw grenades at a tourist bus of 60 year olds from Germany who were only peering delightfully at Ashoka’s ancient rocks. Pakistan is ‘celebrating’ – you can hear the death wails, the ‘Year of the Mountain’ whatever that is, except that there is no one on the mountain. The sound of silence in the northern areas is deafening but the country’s leadership is well armed with thick plugs in their ears and blinkers on their eyes. Only the mouths are open, as always, and they go on talking and talking and talking – always in the future tense, always about what wonders they will perform. In the meantime, there is not much you can do except to hold your head between both hands, press tightly inwards and let out a howl.