Leading on the Frontline

20Empathy

How slipping on their shoes (or burkha) allowed me to connect and be seen

I had the most unlikely of allies during my time in Pakistan, one who was to become my staunchest friend. My driver, Faisal, was a Pashtun from Swat Valley, near the Afghan border. Taliban country. Faisal belonged to a community where women would be chastised for showing their face in public, let alone travelling unaccompanied and bossing farmers about. Initially, Faisal had a strictly professional concern for me as his passenger (and meal ticket), but over the months this grew into real mutual affection and respect. He often offered me advice and increasingly engaged in the work I was doing. A wiry man in his late twenties with a thick black beard and moustache, he had a wife and three small boys back home, a hundred miles from Islamabad, whom he got to visit only every few months.

I learned many rules to protect my safety, but I disregarded the one that stipulated you should change your driver frequently. Keeping the same driver was a known hazard. Any employee who knew too much about your daily habits and schedule could be used by terrorists. Keeping Faisal, though, was a risk I was prepared to take. From the first, I liked his air of calm and attention to detail. The moment I exited a building he was by the car door, ready for me to slip away. His initiative saved me on numerous occasions. And he was the one who dried my tears when things became too much. Faisal was the one person in Pakistan ...