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"My identity is that I am Pakistani and we are first class citizens here, no matter how pushed around we are."
-- Sherry Rehman

There is nothing as attractive as a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it. There is also nothing as impressive as a person willing to give up power but unwilling to compromise on principle. Sherry Rehman is both.

By Huma Imtiaz
 
 
Sherry Rehman has an aura about her that conveys authority, respect and even pin drop silence. And one witnessed this firsthand recently when an entire cafe in Karachi fell silent and stared in awe when Sherry walked in, perhaps a testimony to her increasing popularity because of her resignation as Minister for Information. When I walk into her Karachi residence, a remnant of the British Raj, I am escorted to her library, arguably one of the best I've seen in Karachi. With aqua-coloured walls, and modern art pieces by Anwar Maqsood staring at you, it reflects Sherry's love for modern art, which she says is more vibrant to her. But the room is not without the old fashioned touches: fanoos lamps dot the room and wooden shelves bearing thousands of books are lit with softly glowing overhead lights. One spots a worn-in leather recliner with a footstool and a yellowing globe of the world. As I wait for Sherry, I peruse the titles and spy a collection of Faiz's poetry, biographies of world leaders and the anthology of Sadequain's paintings The Holy Sinner.

Then Sherry walks in wearing a kurta shalwar with her Hermes bag and in one breath, apologizes for making me wait, inquires after my health and asks whether I'd like tea or coffee. Post-resignation, Sherry says she loves the freedom, which as a Sagittarian, is very important to her; and it shows. She looks more relaxed than I've ever seen her. Not surrounded by the usual gaggle of reporters and cameras, Sherry is more at ease at home.

I'm served a cup of freshly brewed espresso by one of her uniformed servants, and we sit down to talk about her life as a journalist, her book and her time spent with her political guru, Benazir Bhutto.
The art of being

Sherry Rehman
By her own admission she is a private person who was born shy. The first question I ask is, "Who is Sherry Rehman?"

Sherry deliberates, choosing her words carefully. "That is the most difficult question in the world, because I do believe, and I have a very Socratic view of the world, knowing yourself is a challenge. It's not up to me to define myself. This is something you engage in over a lifetime, understanding who you are and knowing what you stand for. I have a value system, but I can't…" she laughs, "In any pompous fashion speak in third person about myself!"

"But there is a preconceived image about you, people say Sherry is this, Sherry is that…" I press, "Do the rumours come close to who you are?"

"But when you say 'people say (this about you)', I have been the butt of more derision than compliments throughout my life," answers Sherry. "I have a fairly thin skin for a politician, and I'm not prepared to change as I feel that will alter my sensitivity. I may be vulnerable at some points, and when I feel it's personal, I may be very dismissive of criticism."

Sherry says she is shocked at how people twist things and become personal. According to her, if one has to attack someone they should base it on their politics, realities, and on what they've done in the public world.

"I've found that women become the object of such dark and horrible conspiring and victimization," she speaks from experience. "But I strongly believe that you must not in your mind remain a victim. It's important for someone from my background and with the opportunity of education to never become a victimizer, nor should you self-victimize. A lot of people say 'oh you're a woman and you're breaking barriers and glass ceilings and all that', but if you self-victimize, then you're not really competing with yourself. I am very competitive, but only against myself, what I last did. I'm only down when I can't improve on my own performance."

The art of journalism
Sherry started her career in media by working at the daily Star and describes it as daunting. "I was slaving there! I was hired for slave labour, as all young people should be, it's good for them!" she laughs. "Those conditions were pretty rough. There was no air-conditioning, no potted plants, a two inch layer of dust on the desk I worked on, we'd be working into the night."

When she joined Herald at age 26, Sherry was the youngest editor in the Dawn group's history and she describes her time there as an enormous challenge, yet a defining moment. "In the 10 years I was an editor, I was never subjected to pressure from the management, and we ran all kinds of challenging stories." Sherry remembers being sent to jail for a story they ran on Irfanullah Marwat, when a member of the Dawn group's management was in the government. "I was in the CIA lockup and I said to myself, 'oh my'. But the management never asked any questions; they were just concerned about my safety. I had an amazing learning curve there and made lifelong friends who still are with me, or at least in my mind if we're always not together," she smiles, "We all put in such long hours, but it was incredible."

The people Sherry worked with at Herald include names that are now in positions of power at various media groups. How does that feel?

"They bloody well should be!" she laughs, "after spending so many years! They're all my buddies." She says it was never uncomfortable meeting them after she became Minister for Information, as they instantly switched back to their own relationships, which she says will never change. "I was never their boss as such; we were always colleagues, always developing stories in dialogue with each other, advising each other… and it's the same now. When I was in power, I always thought the Minister for Information should be facilitating the media, and create a space to accommodate everyone."

I ask her if there's been a story she's wanted to cover since she became a politician, and she enthusiastically replies, "So many dear, almost everyday! That hasn't gone out of my blood."
The art of style
Sherry says she used to find fashion the most difficult section to do during her time at the Herald. "I do have a sense of aesthetic style, but that is self-representation; fashion is so different from style." "It doesn't seem so", I say disbelievingly, "20 years later, you're one of the best dressed women in Pakistan!"

Sherry instantly replies, "That has nothing to do with fashion!"

"But you design your own clothes," I point out.
"What's so difficult about designing a kurta shalwar or a jacket? I wear a long Nehru jacket in winters for instance. It's not difficult, nor is it fashion; it's just how you see yourself. I never buy any designer clothes, other than when my friends Sana (of Sana Safinaz) or Rizwan Beyg hand me clothes, saying, 'you need something, this is you Sherry!'"

Sherry says she enjoys a strong relationship with art and culture, because it opens up other facets of one's personality and constantly challenges one's way of seeing the world. "Good art should transform you. Looking at an amazing painting should be an act that leaves you a little changed. It forces you to think and your creative mind is also engaged."

"People at Herald used to say you never wore the same outfit twice, would you agree?"

"Hardly! My darzi is sitting upstairs, stitching my kurtas. I really like kurtas and white shalwars."

"Did you always dress like this, or is this something that came with time?"

"As you age, you must age gracefully. I never, at work for instance, dressed in a provocative way. There is a time and place for things. I'm 48 now, I feel aging gracefully is critical to a sense of style. Self representation is important, you say a lot about yourself."

The art of Kashmiri shawls
After leaving Herald in 1998, Sherry co-authored The Kashmiri Shawl: From Jamawar to Paisley with her friend, textile expert Naheed Jafri, a subject she was 'obsessed' about. Sherry says that despite the shawls selling for huge prices at Sotheby's and Christie's, there was no serious scholarship on the subject from South Asia, which led to the book.

"I felt it would define the way for further scholarship about textile, art and the way art heritage is looked at in the West. It's won an award from the Textile Society in the US and it's important to have that acknowledgement. I think we've established a new benchmark on writing on Kashmiri textile, its social history, and the 500 years of Muslim patronage of this craft which was completely revolutionary and unprecedented. It was very rewarding because after the book got published, the Sri Pratap Singh Museum in Srinagar rang and said 'you've done the definitive book, can you archive our museum's shawls?' I told them I didn't have the three months to do it. They were rotting there, just like they are in the Lahore Museum. It was dismal to see that, but I hope someone does (archive) it."

The art of politics
"What happened post-Herald and the book?" I ask, eager to know how Sherry the journalist became Sherry the politician.

Sherry smiles, "A force of nature called Benazir Bhutto had decided that I would be in politics and it was virtually impossible to resist."

Sherry says she got to know the late Ms Bhutto during BB's second term as PM. "During her second term, she would always carry with her, in a kind of dialogue, certain journalists such as myself, Zahid Hussain, Najam Sethi, Zafar Abbas and Arif Nizami. We were invited almost every month to tell her what we thought she was doing right or wrong. She used to listen to everything we said and engaged us in all kinds of interesting discourses. Benazir had an amazing personalized manner; I have photographs that she's signed from trips… that kind of attention to detail.

"When I left (Herald) she asked me why, and I said, 'I've given it all I could. Now I want to write, I don't want to edit other people's work, I want to do other things with my life, I don't want to be intellectually dried up.' She was curious, and she said, 'well you must try politics.'

"Then I went to London for a year and a half to write the book, Benazir would often come there and we would meet. I remember making her manifesto for women's politics. She was very strong on gender empowerment, and she wanted educated women to come into politics. I said to her, 'How many of us will you bring in, how many of us will you groom? I'm not the type, and I say what I think! She said, 'that's exactly what I want, I do want opinionated people'. The political journey with her…at that stage of my political career, I don't think I would have survived without her constant inspiration. She protected and groomed all the young women who she thought she needed to."

"So Benazir Bhutto was your political tutor."
Sherry looks wistful, "She was the guru."

Sherry describes her experience working with the late Ms Bhutto as incredible. "She'd call from Dubai at 2:30 AM and say 'have you put in that bit about boarding schools for children', and I'd say 'yes I have or should we do it', and we'd have an argument," reminisces Sherry. "She'd ring me back saying, 'I know you're awake, I know you're thinking about these things' and I'd say, 'well, so are you!' she laughs, "And we would go into another discourse. We were always exchanging ideas; she was ahead of her times, she predicted everything, the terrorism, the poverty. She said there were huge challenges in front of us, we have to do this reconciliation move and that's how we need to carry the nation forward, it's not going to be the old way.

"When she died, like most of us, I was in a daze. We just went along, picked up the pieces, and somehow, doing it as a debt to her, something we owed her."
 
Life beyond politics
Sherry describes herself as a workaholic, so I'm curious how she spends her time post-resignation. When in power, Sherry says she never realised that 'your time is never your own', but now she wakes up at four in the morning to read. "My bedside tables in Islamabad and Karachi are groaning with books, my laptops are alive again. Intellectually, it's a very exciting time. I don't do a lot of media anymore because I don't have to, you pick and choose. I haven't stepped out of the party, and in politics you have to meet a lot of people, so time is still parcelled out. I was hoping to get some time with the family but I haven't as much as I thought."

"You don't talk much about your family," I say.
"My daughter (Marvi) is at the Indus Valley School for Art and Architecture. She's an artist, and I wanted to encourage that, if there are schools for art that still work in Pakistan! My husband (Nadeem) is a workaholic; we both have that in common." Sherry admits that she and her husband have a fair amount of things not in common and says she's envious of him. "He's charting a course every politician worth his salt would want to, by bringing about a change through microfinance at the grassroots level."
 

After living in London for a year and a half, Sherry moved back with her husband to Pakistan, as she felt that she needed to go back home and be in an environment that spoke to her, and she could speak back to.

"I don't feel defined as a person unless I've defined myself first as a citizen, it's very critical to my understanding and my sense of who I am. London is the cultural capital of the world, it's the next best place to be if you're not home, but it is not home. There's a whole world of ideals that you can build around that notion, and of course it's arguable, but that's how I feel. My identity is that I am a Pakistani and we are first class citizens here, no matter how pushed around we are. That's how it is."

Since we're talking about identity and culture, I ask how she feels about the Shaanakht festival controversy, which came to an abrupt end after PPP workers attacked the festival, protesting against a picture of the late Ms Bhutto. Sherry says that the picture was inflammatory, and should never have gone up. "I think the organizers should have handled it better. These are national issues, and to put Benazir Bhutto in the lap of General Zia ul Haq was an insult to her father, to herself, to an entire thought process. Now, why do this? Having said that, the Shaanakht festival has not been stopped, they could have removed the picture and gone on."

I tell her that the Arts Council cancelled their NOC and they weren't getting security from the authorities. Sherry insists that they should have tried to go on, like they did during the Martial Law. Looking a little exasperated, she sighs, "Is there no sensibility in this country?"

Changing the topic, I ask her what she's reading at the moment. A voracious reader by her own admission, Sherry reads a few books at the same time, which includes a book by George Friedman, and she's recently finished The Witches of Eastwick.

"What about Pakistani writers?"
"I recently read Kamila Shamsie's Burnt Shadows, she's a good writer. Before that, I enjoyed Mohammed Hanif's A Case of Exploding Mangoes very much. I also read a lot of international and local press, I read the Jang! I read a few columns in Urdu everyday which shocks people who say to me, 'oh, aap ki Urdu kitni achi hai'. How presumptuous! Why shouldn't our Urdu be good?"

"Maybe," I cautiously say, "that's because there's a stereotype about Grammarians not being able to speak Urdu well; I have friends who can't read or write Urdu."

"Then they should be embarrassed about it. We were taught perfectly good BA-level Urdu; I don't understand why we should be speaking in this broken pidgin Urdu. Why?" She answers her own question, "It's this post-colonial identity situation that if you only speak a certain type of English and Urdu then you're defined by that; you're judging people according to the level of English they speak. Good God! That's a very class-defined view of the world. If you consider yourself a resource, all the more reason for you to be promoting your own language and your culture."

Sherry regrets not being able to speak Sindhi apart from a few words, but aims to learn both Sindhi and Persian soon, "These are our classical languages, not Latin. I'd like to do Latin too but I wouldn't waste time learning a romance language, I'd go straight for learning Persian and Sindhi."

The future
My time with Sherry is coming to a close, so I turn the conversation towards the future, which Sherry seems optimistic about. "The good news is that the future really belongs to us. Hopefully, our young people are not going to go the way some forces like the Taliban, may want to take them. If we can keep our young people from that kind of radicalization, then this country can take a huge leap forward."

Sherry talks passionately about the future of the media industry following its exponential expansion. "Journalists need training, some of them need crash courses in history, and also, a humility for the profession they're in. It's a very big job, not something you walk into without thinking. You need to constantly reassess the questions, and understand the weight of the responsibility on you."

Sherry stresses the need to provide journalists with conflict zone training, "The industry needs to sit back and think about how journalists can write more responsibly yet not put their lives in the way of danger everyday. But, it's a wonderful time to be in this profession. You see such vibrant faces and work, especially in the electronic media. I look at you and I see myself 20 years ago!" she laughs.

So what's next for Sherry Rehman? Apart from attending the National Assembly sessions, she went to The Hague on April 17 to give the keynote lecture for the Pugwash Conference Justice, Peace and Nuclear Disarmament. "I have several lecture engagements, which I find very creative that I want to take time to do, I want to write more…but I'm getting very little time. Time is the most shrinking resource for, I think, all of us. Compartmentalizing so many appointments, the day just ebbs away, it's gone. That's how time is."

Huma Imtiaz works as a correspondent for Geo News and can be reached at huma.imtiaz@gmail.com