On Shaky Ground

My taxi driver this morning was a Pathan from Pakistan, near the border with Afghanistan. The short drive was a pleasant one, because after asking if I'd mind some recorded music, he turned on a tape of Pashtun songs. It was a lilting, repetitive tune, and in bits and pieces it reminded of some Hindi film song or the other, especially from the black and white era. I think one of the main new learnings of moving to Dubai has been the chance to speak to Pakistanis, hear their political views, tap to Pashtun music, learn to make out Pathans by their accent, and to be able to think of them as people and not just an ethnic-group statistic.

And so the news of the earthquake near Quetta, which happened just a few hours before that, was twice as shocking. It's not been long enough since the last one, in early October 2005. And now, they're on their knees in a tragic repetition of last time. Three years is not enough time for people to start trusting the ground beneath their feet again.