By Mehreen Zahra-Malik
SOUTH WAZIRISTAN, Pakistan Dec 24 (Reuters) – This
Christmas, pastor Nazir Alam will stoke up a fire, lay a fresh
cloth on the altar and welcome parishioners as they arrive at
his church in Waziristan, a Pakistani tribal area known as an
al-Qaeda haven.
“The lights are all up, and the choir boys are ready. The
church is looking its best,” said 60-year-old Alam, a former
missionary who has celebrated his last ten Christmases there.
“There’s not much left to do but to pray and rejoice.”
Outsiders might see little cause for joy. Pakistan is the
sixth most dangerous country in the world for minorities, says
London-based watchdog Minority Rights Group International.
Christians, Shiite Muslims and Ahmadis are victims of a rising
tide of deadly attacks.
But Alam’s church, and the homes of most of his 200
parishioners, are nestled inside a Pakistani army base in South
Waziristan, a mountainous region that was a hotbed of militancy
until a military offensive in 2009.
“When the U.S. went into Kabul, things became bad for
everyone. But we are safe here. The army protects us,” says
Shaan Masih, who helps clean the church and likes to play the
drums and sing carols.
For two decades, the church was little more than a room and
the tiny community worshipped there under light protection. In
2009, the army set up a base in South Waziristan as part of the
offensive against the insurgency and invited the church inside.
“It was a longstanding demand of the community to be given a
proper space,” Col. Atif Ali, a military officer, told Reuters
during a rare trip to the region arranged by the military.
Many of the Christians work for the army in clerical or
domestic positions. So far, they have been sheltered from the
bombings, raids and drone strikes, violence that rocks the
region on an almost daily basis.
Less than a 100 miles away (160 km) lies North Waziristan on
the border with Afghanistan and one of the last areas controlled
by the Pakistani Taliban.
The United States has repeatedly urged Pakistan to launch an
operation against militants sheltered there including remnants
of al Qaeda and Pakistani groups targeting the nation’s
minorities.
Pakistan says it is doing everything it can to fight the
militancy and needs to consolidate the campaign in South
Waziristan before opening a new front.
FRESHLY PAINTED
The small blue and white church building has been freshly
painted and the main hall covered in new ceramic tiles. A small
chandelier hangs from the ceiling and a cloth spread over the
altar reads: “So if the Son sets you free, you will be free
indeed.”
The church’s gratitude to the army is expressed in a sign
outside thanking Ali for his help with the renovation.
“Now it is much easier and convenient for them to worship.
The new building is close to their homes. They are very happy
with us,” he said.
While Christians elsewhere in the country are lowering their
profile, community members here mix freely with their Muslim
neighbors. Their children attend the same schools and neighbours
go to each others’ weddings and funerals.
When five Christians from Waziristan were kidnapped by the
Taliban on their way to the plains of Punjab in 2009, pressure
from the army and the community helped free them.
“There are lots of Muslims in our neighbourhood,” said
30-year-old Saleem Masih, another church helper. “We take part
in each other’s happiness and sorrow. Christmas is coming.
You’ll see the Muslims will join us.”
Relations between Pakistan’s Christians and Muslims are not
always so harmonious. Rimsha Masih, a teenage Christian girl,
was accused of blasphemy in Islamabad earlier this year in a
case that underlined the climate of fear and suspicion that
minorities face.
Masih was eventually cleared of the charges, but many of her
neighbors fled their homes and her family is still in hiding.
Nine Christians were killed after a similar accusation in 2009
and mobs frequently lynch anyone accused of blasphemy before
they can get to court.
That’s one reason why Christians in South Waziristan say
they feel safer in their army base than living in Pakistan’s
capital, where they are vulnerable to accusations from anyone
who covets their homes or businesses.
But the main reason, says pastor Alam, is their trust in
their neighbors, ordinary Muslims who are also living under the
shadow of war.
“If there is one person who kills, there are also so many
who protect. We couldn’t live here if Muslims didn’t give us
protection,” said Alam.
“Don’t forget: where there is bad, there is always good
also.”
(Editing by Katharine Houreld and Sanjeev Miglani)
