Swat's last native ruler recalls a time when the wali's writ held sway as a peaceful and prosperous one, writes MARY FITZGERALD, Foreign Affairs Correspondent in Islamabad
THIS HAS been a difficult year for the man known as the last Wali of Swat.
Every morning the headlines offer yet another reminder to Miangul Aurangzeb that the idyllic valley his family once ruled as one of the last princely states in south Asia is now one of the main battlegrounds in Pakistan’s fight against an indigenous Taliban.
For the past months gunfire and shelling have echoed in a region that had, rather fancifully, been known as the Switzerland of Pakistan. An army operation to crush remaining militant redoubts continues close to where tourists once flocked to the country’s only ski resort. Along Swat’s picturesque mountain roads come thousands of locals who, having fled the fighting when the military offensive began in May, now venture back to rebuild rubbled homes and upturned lives.
It is all a far cry from the Swat of Aurangzeb’s childhood and early life. “Swat is a beautiful place but it has been turned completely upside down,” he says at his Islamabad home. “It is very sad.”
Aurangzeb’s forbears were initially referred to by the religious honorific Akhund – a title that inspired Edward Lear to write one of his nonsense verses which began: “Who, or why, or which, or what/Is the Akhund of Swat.” It was later changed to the Ottoman term wali, meaning governor.
Not surprisingly, Aurangzeb, a sprightly octogenarian, recalls the time when the wali’s writ held sway as a peaceful and prosperous one. The wali governed as a “benevolent autocrat” as he puts it. “No one will tell you that the wali’s rule was bad.”
Roads and hospitals were built and education was a priority. Several schools for girls were founded. Many, including one established by the Irish Presentation Sisters in the 1960s, were bombed or burned down by the Taliban in recent years as the militants strengthened their foothold in the area.
The wali oversaw Swat’s unique justice system. “It was a mix of sharia and local customs,” says Aurangzeb. “Cases were decided on common sense. There were no extremes like cutting off hands or stoning. But it was quick. You pleaded your case yourself, with no bloody lawyers.”
After Swat agreed to merge with Pakistan in 1969, the valley’s inhabitants had to adapt to the glacial – and often corrupt – pace of the country’s courts.
In recent years, militants promising swift justice through sharia law have exploited legal grievances to drum up support in the region.
Aurangzeb was allowed to keep the title of wali, although it comes with no power. Until the army moved on the Taliban two months ago, he divided his time between the ancestral home in Swat and a house in Islamabad. He last visited the valley in April. “As far as we know the house is all right but the gate was damaged in an attack,” he said. “Who knows when I might be able to return.”
Aurangzeb has fond memories of hosting family and friends at the wali's palace in Swat. One of the guests he entertained was Irish author Dervla Murphy who described the encounter in her 1965 book Full Tilt.
“She turned up on her bicycle,” recalls Aurangzeb. “My wife and I were sitting out on our lawn and a servant came to tell us that a European lady had arrived on a bicycle.” Before she arrived, Aurangzeb says, Murphy had used the wali’s residence as a forwarding address for mail. “At last I knew who she was. I gave her the mail and we asked her to stay,” he remembers.
“She had run out of clothes. I told her she was welcome to my wardrobe. She picked out a few pairs of trousers. She said she was not fussy and they fitted her like a glove.
“She was a lovely woman and she told us a lot about Ireland. The day she left I was going to and I offered to give her a lift there but she said no, she would go on the bike. And you know what? She arrived in ’Pindi before I did.”
After extolling Swat’s rich heritage – one that includes heavy Hindu and Buddhist footprints as well as the influence of Islam – Aurangzeb laments the obscurantism of the Taliban. He blames Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan’s former president, for the rise of those who carried out beheadings in Swat, publicly whipped those suspected of adultery, and ordered women to stay at home. He believes Musharraf deliberately turned a blind eye as the Taliban strengthened in order to scare the US into supporting him. “This should never have been allowed to grow. Musharraf could have nipped it in the bud. These mullahs could have been arrested by a handful of policemen a few years ago but he wanted to alarm Bush.”
Neither did Aurangzeb support the peace deal the Pakistani government brokered with the Taliban last year. The agreement fell apart after the emboldened militants tried to push into the neighbouring district of Buner, a move which prompted the recent military offensive. “The agreement was a wrong step. You don’t make peace with dacoits ,” he exclaims.
But Aurangzeb admits he has few answers when it comes to resolving the situation. “I cannot say this military action should continue because it is bound to fail. But talking to the Taliban is also problematic because they will not honour their promises. They want everything and they won’t stop at Swat. It is very difficult. I see sadness not only in Swat but all over Pakistan.”