October 5, 2018
Chicago, IL
As I was in Chicago to
run the Chicago Marathon for Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, I decided a stop at the
Pakistani Consulate was in order. The Consulate is located on the seventh floor
of a high rise building on Michigan Avenue, a vibrant and bustling street in
Chicago's downtown. Interestingly, there didn't seem to be any other consulates
in the area.
Just as I arrived, a Black Lives Matter (BLM) protest passed, proceeding quickly onto E. Wacker Avenue (the site of many of the organization’s protests). The protestors chanted slogans deriding the killer police. Earlier that afternoon, in a radical departure from the norm of impunity, a police officer was convicted in the death of an innocent Black man. I itched to join the BLM march, but knew I must fulfill the purpose for which I had come to Chicago: to call attention to the case of Dr. Aafia Siddiqui, an innocent Pakistani Muslim woman scientist entering her 15th year of illegal detention. As the BLM march disappeared from view, my heart went with it.
I stood in front of
the Pakistan Consulate, a silent one-woman protest, my sign calling for Dr.
Aafia Siddiqui's freedom. The security guard, a heavy set Black man asked me to
move away from the building. He gestured that I should stand closer to the
Starbucks which was next door. I naively told him I was there for the Pakistan
Consulate, and not Starbucks. He insisted I move away from the Consulate entrance.
I really didn't want to be in front of Starbucks, so I re-positioned directly
in front of the Consulate, but closer to the street side.
The only problem was that the street side was lined with police officers. Chicago panicked whenever Black people marched for justice. The heavy police presence there was in anticipation of "riots," Orwellian Double-Speak for Black protesters making Whites uncomfortable.
I was not eager to be in close proximity to the cops, so I temporarily moved towards Starbucks. Thankfully, the cops cleared out shortly thereafter, and I returned to my position closer to the Consulate.
As it was late Friday afternoon (the one woman protest for Aafia was 4:00 - 6:00 PM), I saw only a small handful of Pakistani officials emerge from the building. A few glanced in my direction, but it was not clear if I made a dent.
Soon after I arrived, a Pakistani couple passed me and went into the Starbucks. The wife was in full niqab. They remained in the coffee shop for some while. When they came out, I was in plain view in front of the Starbucks. They did not bat an eye, and continued on their way.
During the two-hour protest, hundreds, if not thousands, of pedestrians walked by me. Others were in cars or buses. Many of those on foot turned around for a second look at my sign. A few cars honked their horn for me to turn toward them, so that they could read my sign (if it was not oriented in their direction at the time that they passed). Many made eye contact, which I returned with a smile. Some gave me a nod or a thumbs-up.
The ordinary (ie non-consular) Pakistanis who passed by were of two extremes: The first group were those who were overtly interested, and stared or turned around for a second look at my "Free Dr. Aafia Siddiqui" sign after they had passed. The second group was completely disinterested (or at least feigned disinterest).
I was surprised to see how many of the passersby were extremely fit runners. They were there to run the Chicago marathon that Sunday. They came from all over the country, and were notable by the race packets--distributed by all major races--slung over their shoulders. Many of them wore Boston Marathon jackets, indicating they had completed that illustrious race. Others wore the blue-colored 2018 Chicago Marathon commemorative shirt. Many of the runners passed my one-woman "Free Aafia" protest with looks of interest on their faces. We runners--particularly marathoners--tend to be very narcissistic. Also, marathons charge on average $100 registration fee, making marathoning an expensive hobby, and as a result largely the dominion of the well-to-do. I wondered how many of my fellow Chicago Marathon participants would stand for a cause higher than themselves, particularly a political prisoner whose false imprisonment their tax dollars subsidized.
As it was my first
visit to the Pakistani Consulate, I didn’t realize it lay in the path taken by
many marathoners leaving the McCormick Center (where packet pickup for the
marathon was held). The marathon had not even started, and inadvertently I’d
introduced a large number of runners to the Aafia case.
As I left the
Consulate and headed to the nearby subway station, I prayed that the newly
elected Pakistani government would reverse the ignominies of its predecessors,
and work to free Dr. Aafia Siddiqui. It was a shame and a travesty that a
Muslim nation had allowed one of its most innocent and vulnerable citizens to
languish for 15 years in American, Pakistani, and Afghan prisons, all without
just cause. I prayed that all those complicit in her torment would be punished
by Allah Almighty.
© 2018 Nadrat Siddique
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