ORAKZAI
By Akbar Ahmed
Originally published by https://www.albiladdailyeng.com/orakzai/
With the Taliban back in control in Afghanistan and the TTP once again on the march along the borders of Afghanistan and Pakistan, it is imperative that tribal societies, their leadership and organization are better understood by those dealing with them. Without this understanding, there will be little hope of successfully managing conflict with the recently re-emerged Taliban and TTP. It is with this in mind that we must applaud Colonel Rai Kashif Amin Khan for making a classic of tribal society available to the reader. This is Sir Lucas White King’s celebrated monograph, The Orakzai Country and Clans written over a century ago. The re-printing of the monograph is the occasion of my writing an Op-Ed in its honor, and it is also an opportunity to revisit some autobiographical notes from my life among the Orakzai (for further information see my Pukhtun Economy and Society).
Who are the Orakzai peoples? Their name Orakzai derives from the words orak or lost and zai meaning son. The story goes that a Persian prince arrived in this region a long time ago as a result of changing fortunes and founded the tribe. When I was appointed Political Agent in charge of the recently formed Orakzai Agency in the mid-1970s, I looked around for literature about its history and culture. Indeed, when I was not attending official meetings or presiding over reconciliation assemblies among the tribes, I would spend my free time researching and locating rare manuscripts on tribal societies. I found three priceless monographs: Merck on the Mohmand, Howell on the Mahsud and King on the Orakzai. All three authors were British officers belonging to the elite cadre of the Indian Civil Service, the famed ICS. Writing about the people they served was a great tradition of British field officers and I believe it is essential to continue this tradition in Pakistan. In one way or other, I managed to preserve all three monographs through publication. Last year, I was delighted to see that Oxford University Press had republished Howell’s little gem.
King, who wrote on the Orakzai, was Deputy Commissioner of Kohat (from 1897-1900) and gave us an intelligent and analytical account of the Orakzai tribes who were then part of his charge. I am now thrilled to receive King’s Orakzai, re-published by courtesy of Colonel Kashif, a true scholar-soldier, presently Commandant of the Orakzai Scouts. The Colonel deserves our gratitude and I hope his senior colleagues take note of his contribution.
The monograph is divided into three main sections: the first deals with an overview of the Orakzai clans and the regions where they live; the second deals with their history and their relations with other tribes; and the third discusses relations between the British colonial government and the Orakzai clans. There are sections on military expeditions but also on other topics such as customs, shrines and leadership which are invaluable to the reader. It is notable that although the tribe is overwhelmingly Sunni, there are significant Shia communities living in the Orakzai Agency. The final chapter describes, beginning in 1885, hostile Orakzai “depredations” – the word used by King – to which the British reacted by launching several campaigns into Orakzai territory.
King points out the sympathies the Orakzai felt for the Afghans in the Second Anglo-Afghan War (1878-80). The final major expedition against the tribe took place in 1897 and ended in its surrender to the British and the handing over of a large number of arms and ammunition as well as stolen cattle. King’s monograph, as he states, was meant to provide his colleagues in the British colonial administration with a better understanding of the important tribes of what was then the North-West Frontier Province. Being aware that they were in the Afridi-dominated Kohat district, the Orakzai always had a sense of being treated as a minority and therefore neglected. It was only when the Orakzai finally had their own Agency did they feel the validation of their identity.
Today the tribes of the Orakzai Agency are seemingly peaceful and away from national events. But one century ago they were in the eye of a political storm. A British girl, Miss Mollie Ellis, the daughter of Major Ellis, had been kidnapped in 1923 and taken into the Orakzai areas. Ajab Khan, a young Afridi, was behind the kidnapping. He was upset because he believed that some British troops had come to his village and insulted the local women. He promised revenge, according to the code of honor and eventually slipped into the Kohat Cantonment and kidnapped Miss Ellis. In the scuffle to get her out of the house, her mother was killed. The empire was outraged. Keep in mind that this was the high noon of the British Indian empire. The idea of a British girl kidnapped by a tribesman and taken into the tribal areas was enough to send electric shocks of outrage through the bodies of every red-blooded British male. There was talk of revenge; regiments were marched about, there were even air sorties and search parties sent into the tribal areas.
But most effectively, it was the political officials, who through negotiation and diplomacy brought back Miss Ellis. Overnight she became an international celebrity. Films and books came out of her story. But people soon noticed that she talked about the courtesy and hospitality she received at the hands of the tribesmen. This dampened the interest in her story as her own community was expecting outrage and sexual assault as they saw the tribesmen through the prism of caricature and stereotypes. When she began to talk about the modesty of the people and the care with which they treated her, they soon lost interest.
Miss Ellis was taken into the house of Akhundzada Mahmud, a respected religious leader, to ensure that no harm came to the young girl. He would be her guardian and protect her in his home. His son Akhundzada Saeed told me half a century later that he still recalled her as a woman of great beauty. He was proud that they protected her honor and cared for her. I interviewed him and we became friends.
My time in the Agency was fraught with danger and excitement. Two events stand out. They provide us with lessons for today: in both cases with patience and wise handling the tribes can be united peacefully in a common cause. This conclusion flies in the face of the common stereotype about the tribes that they are recalcitrant and difficult to handle.
In the first case, I hosted the first-ever visit by a Prime Minister to the interior of the Agency, and the second was my overseeing the shifting of the headquarters into the Agency. Both these developments were assisting in incorporating the Agency into the larger nation of Pakistan. The visit of Mr. Z. A. Bhutto to the heart of the Agency was indeed historic. The tribesmen vigorously resisted any intrusion let alone something as visible and consequential as the visit of a Prime Minister. Besides, these areas always had foreign agents working to spoil precisely such occasions. As I began to prepare for Bhutto’s visit, I knew that one shot fired in the distance would ruin the entire trip with headlines forming across the world. I, therefore, worked very hard to ensure that peace prevailed when Bhutto landed. The problem was that almost every tribe was in the midst of tribal feuds with their neighbors. How could I impose universal peace when no such thing had happened before in the area? I enquired about traditional methods of creating peace in such a situation. I was told that there was a long shot but it was worth trying. If I could get the tribes to agree on and sign off on teega, a stone, they would honor it. The symbolism of the stone was that it would act as a boundary between the tribes and it had to be limited to a specific period. In this case, we got the tribes to sign off on a teega for a 24-hour period.
In the event, the invited elders sat peacefully and quietly listening to the Prime Minister but when it was all over, I noted that they still continued to sit. Curious, and alert to possible mischief, I asked my staff what was going on. I was told that this was not a form of protest, but that they were keen to see the helicopters take off again. Nothing like this had happened before in the Agency.
Bhutto had arrived in a convoy of three helicopters and we had ensured that he would be received with full honors as the head of the government of Pakistan. We had erected an impressive covered stage and flags and buntings were visible everywhere. The surrounding hilltops were taken by our scouts ready to ensure that no one would make an attempt to disrupt the proceedings. We had found an antique gun to present to Bhutto through our tribal elders and he was pleased to receive the gift. That photograph along with an article was published by Time magazine that week; proof that the Orakzai had arrived.
Bhutto, who it was known, had begun to lose his temper easily was in a foul mood. At lunch, which we had arranged in the tiny rest house, he was hearing the news of Jimmy Carter’s victory in the American presidential race with increasing gloom. “The Democrats always give us a tough time. They’re not our friends,” he said more to himself than the officials gulping food around the table and wondering who would be the next victim of his wrath. He had already insulted General Jamaldar, a member of the National Assembly for the Agency.
Bhutto had promised adult franchise, educational and development programs and gave significant importance to the Tribal Areas. This had made him more popular than any other politician from Pakistan. While Bhutto’s reception was peaceful in the Orakzai Agency, he received a hostile welcome in other agencies during his tour of the Tribal Areas, especially the South Waziristan Agency. It was an ill omen. Bhutto would be toppled from the government within a year and would not survive his successors’ determination to see that his life ended on the gallows.
In the end, nothing would matter. It was like a Greek tragedy, preordained and prewritten. After seeing off the Prime Minister, I traveled with General Jamaldar, a member of the National Assembly from the Agency, on the way back from the agency headquarters. Tall, erect, and always dressed in smartly pressed shalwar-kameez with an impressive tribal turban on his head which made him look even taller, he was one of the most prominent figures from the entire Tribal Areas and a Sandhurst graduate to boot. Central casting could not have selected a better military officer. He would come to dine with me every few weeks and we would exchange notes. He had a great sense of humor and I enjoyed his company.
As we hurtled down the mountains to my headquarters in Hangu in the General’s car, the Pakistan flag flying and flapping in the wind, I asked him why he took so much nonsense from Bhutto who had upbraided him in public in front of his own tribe. The General thought for a moment, and then pointed to the flag with a slight smile and said, that is the answer. He meant that the power and status provided by his appointment were seductive and dulled a man’s sense of honor.
When the elections for the assemblies were to take place in the Tribal Areas, General Jamaldar approached me to persuade the Maliks, who then had the sole authority to vote for the assembly members, to support him. I genuinely admired the General and said if I had a vote, which I did not, I would give it to him but I was going to be perfectly neutral and not exert my authority on anyone’s behalf. The General became irritated and reminded me that he belonged to the ruling party of Mr. Bhutto who would be informed that the Political Agent of Orakzai Agency was not cooperative. The implications were dire; transfer and even removal from service were on the cards. The matter created some tension between us and I was informed by the General that I should be ready to receive a call from Mr. Bhutto the Prime Minister himself early the next morning. I arrived early at my office, as was my wont, and waited for the call. It never came. Later, when the General met my father in Peshawar, he praised me to the heavens, saying that I was the best political officer since the time of the British, but that I had ruined his political career. My father also admired the General and told me this was conveyed in a semi-humorous way.
The other big event that took place during my time was the shifting of the Agency headquarters from Hangu to deep into the Agency for the first time in the history of the Orakzai. My main task then was to get people used to the idea that we intended to move into the Agency and help them to see its benefits. I took several steps, some small and some significant, to signal the move. I took to visiting the most inaccessible areas like the Mullah Khel, where I spent a night with the tribe. My staff warned me against this plan citing the passions and unreliability of the tribes and the risks involved to my person.
Living deep in Tirah on the borders with the Afridi tribes, the Mullah Khel were staunch opponents of the British and when I became the first Political Agent to tour the area there was a great deal of tension and even hostility in the air. There was firing all night. I along with my bodyguard spent the night with the elders. But once I joined them for the evening prayers that tension melted. Suddenly I was one of them. In this aspect, I had an advantage over the British.
Then, along with my staff, we shifted deep into the interior of the Agency in a broad and beautiful valley surrounded by mountains in the area called Kalaya. This is where the future headquarters would be situated. As I arrived with my staff, I was conscious of a thousand curious eyes following my every move. To show commitment on behalf of the government, I decided to spend the night on the intended site of the new headquarters. Just my spending the night made a major statement. The government had arrived. I prepared to sleep for the night in the small rest house on top of a hill in the middle of the valley. I expected some reaction but not as intense as what happened. There were shots fired at the rest house all night.
I then decided to exhibit a show of strength by walking through the mountains and then around the Agency, coming out near Peshawar to indicate to all that government had irrevocably arrived. There were no roads and we could only travel on foot through rocky and difficult terrain. This was part of Tirah, famous in history as one of the most inaccessible areas in the entire region. I had instructed my assistant political officers to spend time persuading tribal elders to make sure everything went well and I was received without any mishap. They had promised a warm reception.
We left early in the morning, I at the head of a convoy of some one hundred para-military men under my command. As there were no roads we bumped and struggled through the rocky ground. I was sitting in the first jeep confidently looking at the mountain peaks running along our left flank and thinking that they would make the perfect ambush on our convoy. This is exactly what happened. When the attack began, I heard a gentle plop, plop, plop, plop. It sounded like raindrops and, sitting in the front seat of the jeep with my leg virtually hanging out, I saw the dust around the front tires shooting up. I thought maybe it was drizzling. My assistant was wedged in the backseat and I said half-incredulously, “I hope we’re not being fired on.” He replied, “No, no sir, these are our friends, I have worked hard with them.”
But the next volley of shots was uncomfortably close and I yelled, that these are real bullets and we will be killed if we continue to remain in the jeeps. I ordered the convoy to stop and for everyone to take cover. We jumped out and hid behind the large rocks. Once we were behind the rocks, I asked about our relative strength in case we had to face a full assault. How many men do we have? He replied, about 100. I felt confident. I calculated the tribesmen would require double that number to prevail. Just then a group of our men weaving and ducking to avoid the bullets came to talk to us. They appeared in a state of agitation. I asked sharply why our men were not firing back? They don’t have any bullets in their guns, came the reply.
This information altered the situation. From then on it was a sheer bluff. We refused to move from our positions. When a messenger came down from the hilltop and asked us to return immediately, I replied in the grand tradition of the officers of the Frontier, the Government does not go back, it only moves forward. This show of strength, I was told later, convinced their leaders that I had a large number of Pakistan army soldiers ready to join us in case of real danger. Shortly afterward the tribesmen sent down a small group of elders carrying white flags denoting the desire for negotiation.
Pinned as we were, I considered my choices: I could retreat or call for the army and even the air force. In the event, I chose none of these options. I would handle this in the tradition of the old Frontier: I sent them a message saying that as I refuse to turn around and go back, I would invite them to join me on my journey through their areas. I would be their guest. My honor was in their hands. I had said that I knew they were hospitable people and I was prepared to travel from this point on along with them as my companions so we would see the agency together. This appealed to them, and it became a way out of the impasse. After some debate amongst them, they agreed. Everyone’s honor was preserved. We walked for several hours and eventually came out of the Agency without any incident. Some of the elders warned me that we could be attacked at any point as there were some people who were foreign agents. Along the way, those we met greeted us cheerfully and offered us hospitality. Many joined our march. By now we had formed into a large procession. We finished completing the loop around the agency late into the evening and emerged on the main Peshawar road. The Agency had now been officially “opened” and we did not face any such incidents in the future.
So much has changed since I was in the Orakzai Agency. To start with, the Tribal Areas of Pakistan in which was situated the Agency is no longer in existence. The agencies have been absorbed into Pakistan and are now converted into districts, subject to the regular criminal civil and revenue laws of Pakistan. Prominent members of the Orakzai tribe serve in the military and civil services and are a part of Pakistan’s development. Most important to note, the Agency is now in the front line of the great and dramatic changes taking place in the region, lying as it does almost on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border. What happens here will directly or indirectly impact Pakistan.
In my time, we were on the eve of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and with it the Great Game, the rivalry between world powers, would arrive at the doorstep of the Agency. It would ultimately set the stage for the emergence of the Taliban leading to the events of 9/11 in the USA and the invasion of Afghanistan for the next two decades. That invasion led to disruption in the entire region including in Pakistan. The Orakzai agency would never be the same again.
Almost half a century ago when I shifted the headquarters into the agency the assumption was that colleges and other developments would follow. The battle for the future of this region will depend on how the government is able to introduce well-funded and excellent colleges, schools, major roads and industries, and development schemes. If this does not happen, then the frustrations of local people will provide an explosive background to the turmoil in the region. In some dramatic sense, the battle for the future of Pakistan will be decided in these former Tribal Areas of the land.
I found the people of the Orakzai Agency to be warm, intelligent, and graceful. Given the opportunity in service and with some education, they were capable of competing with the best of Pakistan. In my estimation, they needed three things urgently: Education, peace, and development schemes. This would help them take off as a society and their natural talents would see them soar. I always felt the priority was to provide education through good schools and teachers. Failing that, I feared this entire region could become rich grounds for radicalized groups influenced by outside forces. Though it was a tough posting as Political Agent, looking back it also carried sweet memories as I met some extraordinary people and was awarded several letters of commendation from the Governor for valor in the field.
The story of Orakzai may just be restarting. It is part of a larger story that includes forces emanating from Kabul and Islamabad. Perhaps the best first step is to actually make an attempt to understand this land and its people by reading King’s monograph on the Orakzai. There is a lesson for both the government and the elders of the tribe: unless you understand the past, it is not feasible to plan for the future. Only by reading history do we understand what needs to be done to bring peace to the region and only by knowing what caused the wars of the past can we have harmony in the future.
Professor Akbar Ahmed is the Ibn Khaldun Chair of Islamic Studies, School of International Service, American University, Washington DC and was the former Pakistan High Commissioner to the UK and Ireland.
