Family Night in Islamabad

Host families are one of the best features of the Pakistan-US journalists' exchange. Each visiting American was assigned to visit the home of a journalist working in Islamabad. I was paired with Dawn TV anchor Matiullah Jan, who also covers the courts at a time when Pakistan's judiciary is taking a more active role. He is best known for his program called "Apna Gareban" or "Under Our Collar" which exposed unethical behavior in the media.


Among other things, he has revealed journalists accepting government-paid trips to Mecca and a $3.4 million slush fund at the Information Ministry to encourage favorable stories by paying for journalists' perks, such as their daughters' weddings. Corruption, he says, has flourished in the media since General Pervez Musharraf permitted private channels to operate in 2003 as an alternative to the tightly controlled state broadcaster. One of Jan's investigations turned the spotlight on his own employer and the program was cancelled after 10 episodes. But before it was yanked off the air, Jan's work was the subject of a fascinating profile on slate.com. Read it here.

Matiullah drove me to his home in nice neighborhood not far from the government center. He pointed out several sites where extremist attacks or police confrontations had occurred. His wife, Rani, is a physical education teacher in primary school but somehow found time to cook a bountiful array of tasty curries and other dishes. Eight o'clock is a very important time in the Jan household. The kids' homework is done and a hot meal is on the table, just in time for the lights to go out. We enjoyed the food by candlelight.
The "load shedding" blackouts are a fact of life in Pakistan's capital city. Upon check-in hotel guests are presented with a list of possible times for power outages and assurances that a hotel generator will quickly kick in. Most of the offices we visited also had generators, like this one outside the office of a non-profit group.
Regular families like the Jans don't have generators. They have to plan their lives around several hours every day without electricity, but they're more fortunate than people in outlying villages, who may be without power for more than 12 hours a day.

The real stars of the evening were the kids, confidently speaking to me in English of their hopes for the future. Fourteen year old Juny spoke of his chemistry and biology classes, which he hopes will lead to a career in scientific research. Champion debater Alina, 12, could very well be the future president of Pakistan. Ali, 9, dreams of being a pilot and Ajva, 7, is a budding artist. Listening to these bright, poised siblings, it was easy to see why so many people see hope in Pakistan's educated youth. The older ones had definite opinions on everything from computers to American pop music. They like Lady Gaga. Justin Bieber, not so much.
Talking with Matiullah was like finding a brother in journalism who treasures his family more than any byline. He showed me pictures of his parents and spoke with pride of his father, a Pakistani military officer who spoke fluent Mandarin to his counterparts in the Chinese army. He's realistic about the challenges faced by families trying to raise their kids in a country where energy shortages and random attacks are daily facts of life. But he's not giving up. I hope we'll stay in touch.