Fireworks: Ken Gibbs

Some of my earliest memories of November 5th were of the tradition of reciting this verse:

Remember, remember, the 5th of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Little did I know of the history which gave rise to this event, but one can read the Wikipedia entry for Guy Fawkes to save having to read it here. It gave rise to ‘Bonfire Night’ celebrated quite widely with lots and lots of fireworks which I little expected to meet in Quetta. I was in for a surprise or two.

*****

In the four years we spent in Quetta, there were many ‘events’ of note but few which challenged us directly. The one which appeared to be the most significant was someone who was probably Iranian or Afghan who wanted to bomb someone or something. We never did discover who or what was to be bombed. He booked a room at the Blue Moon Hotel and – apparently – had a stock of a bomb ingredients which he was busy building into a bomb.

Later, one of the expatriates referred to him as the Irish Afghan bomber for good reason. Well, perhaps it is being a bit unfair on the Irish but then they do do the oddest of things at times – which my wife can confirm as she comes from Irish ancestry on both sides of her family. The Irish Afghan was industrious and had completed his device and we believe that he felt it important to check that it worked before placing it. Well, it worked and worked well – a large portion of the Blue Moon Hotel was demolished in the blast. At least the bomber had the right mix of chemicals. History doesn’t relate as to whether anyone apart from the aspiring bomber was killed, but most of the Blue Moon Hotel had to be demolished and rebuilt.

*****

At another time, an alleged terrorist was walking down the Main Street in Quetta, holding his device when it exploded. Naturally, a number of bystanders were killed but it was said that little remained of the bomber. It is wondered if this event even made it into the mainstream press in the country as guns and bombs were so ‘normal’ in Baluchestan at that time, that one more appeared not to excite too much interest.

*****

Close to where the bomb had exploded is a bakery which we visited from time to time but we did so with care because the shop doubled as a gunsmith. On one occasion while we were buying something like jam tarts, we had to step around a couple of locals who were wielding shotguns to see how they weighed in the shoulder. (Note for the editor: At least the place didn’t treble as a bordello where strawberry tarts might have been on offer. . . . .)

*****

The majority of Muslims in Pakistan are Sunni whereas those in Iran are mostly Shia. It was my understanding that Islam is a peaceful religion where helping neighbours is central to the beliefs. Yet, when it comes to strife within Islam, Sunni and Shia don’t mix. Wars have been fought over their differences such as the Iran-Iraq War where hundreds of thousands gave their lives in the belief that if they died in the conflict, they would become martyrs. This intra-sect conflict was quite serious in Baluchestan and there was one group that felt that it was necessary to visit terrorism on the opposition – to what end ? I never did discover. However, some Iranian fundamentalists came to Quetta at one stage, seeking to bomb their way to glory.

One expatriate British family was living beside one of the local (Pakistani) folk being targeted. Somehow, the Pakistani folk got wind of the impending attack which they believed might well come from the garden of the expatriate family, and they set about defending themselves. Between the two properties, there was a high brick wall and between this wall and their own property, the Pakistani folk put old carpets to absorb any blast that might be aimed at them.

Their intelligence was accurate. The Iranian fundamentalists did bring a very large pressure cooker filled with shrapnel (nails, screws and other jagged steel splinters) and with high explosive; they placed it on the ground close to where the expatriate’s Pajero vehicle was parked, and detonated it. The results were spectacular – for the expatriate family rather more than for the targeted Pakistani group whose preparations admirably absorbed the explosion with no structural damage to their house.

The British family’s experience was not so good. Their Pajero was parked in front of the room in which their daughter was asleep under the window which undoubtedly saved her life. The explosion went straight through the Pajero leaving it almost spherical in shape from the blast which continued through to the windows above the daughter’s bed. All glass was shattered and glass splinters were found embedded in the wall opposite. The pressure from the blast must have been fearsome as the exit door from the daughter’s room into the passage was blown straight into the passage – frame and all. The daughter was badly shaken and deaf for quite some period but eventually recovered though she is unlikely ever to want to return to Pakistan.

So serious was this event that the UK High Commissioner decided that he should visit the British Community in Quetta to reassure them that they were not forgotten. Because I happened to be the most senior Brit in the UN in Quetta at the time, I was asked if we would host a meeting with all Quetta-resident Brits to allow the High Commissioner to meet them all. He came with a couple of staff members and my memory of one of them, remains vivid. He was relatively young and inexperienced and he asked me if there were any other events affecting security which had taken place recently ? I confirmed that there were some. Rather flippantly, I mentioned that we had had an AK47 bullet land on our flat roof one night, making a very loud noise. I suspect that the bullet had been fired by a reveller or marriage attendant in celebration rather than in anger. It happened all the time. The staff member seemed to pale when I showed him the mangled bullet that I had retrieved from the roof the morning after it had landed (and I still have it on my shelves). The likelihood of such a bullet hitting someone is vanishingly small and I never felt threatened by the possibility. The meeting achieved its aim, I believe, and the High Commissioner ended the evening when most guests had left with his feet on the coffee table, reciting some verses from Omar Khayyam in Persian. What a memory !

*****

Ken Gibbs can be contacted via kengibbs1941@gmail.com

Click here to read more stories by Ken Gibbs