No-one has lived to die of natural causes

By NATASHA MANN
Published Date: 12 February 2008
Scotsman

What's it like to be part of a political dynasty struck by tragedy so often? Fatima Bhutto gives her first British newspaper interview to NATASHA MANN and talks about Benazir's murder, her changed attitude towards her aunt, and why she will never follow the same political path.

FATIMA Bhutto is only 25, but already the glamorous, sharp-talking girl from Karachi knows how violence stalks the Bhutto dynasty. She is reminded of it every time she leaves "70 Clifton", the famous Bhutto residence in the posh, palm-studded sea-front Karachi Suburb

Two hundred yards or so from her front gate is a small children's park. It was here – in front of this park – that her father, Murtaza – Benazir's brother – was gunned down in a shoot-out between the police and his bodyguards in 1996. Benazir was prime minister at the time and feuding bitterly with her brother.

That death has shaped Fatima's life. She was at home that night, and still remembers the sounds of gun shots. She and Murtaza's Lebanese wife, Ghinwa, famously questioned the role of Benazir's government in his death. When Benazir arrived back in Pakistan last December, her niece lambasted her in the papers, and a clip appeared on YouTube with Fatima talking about her aunt cosying up with Musharraf. Then came the news of Benazir's assassination.

"It just felt overwhelmingly familiar – that we've done this too many times before," says Fatima. "It is every 11 years that we bury someone in this family, from violence, not from natural causes. And it's too much. It really is too much."

On 27 December she, like much of the world, watched television as details of her aunt's assassination filtered through. Sitting in family seat of Larkana in the dusty province of Sindh, she was grimly struck by the similarities between her aunt's and her father's death: the disputed "shot" to the neck, and the way the scene was hosed down so quickly after the killing.

"I remember after my father's murder we asked: 'Why did you wash the scene up after 45 minutes?' Obviously it's to cover the tracks. And the government were like: 'Oh well.' No answers were given."

There is an air of tragedy overhanging 70 Clifton like the black flags waving above it. From the outside, there is little to mark it out from the other high-walled Clifton villas, except for a lorry-load of police and an overblown colour poster of Murtaza – a lone figure among the flapping PPP banners that adorn the neighbourhood. Since Murtaza's death, Ghinwa has carried on his splinter group of the PPP.

Inside, history seeps into the atmosphere. There is a huge painting of Fatima's grandfather, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, greeting the masses on the wall. Another black-and-white photo of him rests on a coffee table. This is the house Benazir was married from, to Asif Zardari, the feudal landowner who is overseeing the PPP while his son, 19-year-old Bilawal, finishes his studies at Oxford University. But, for all the luxury, this is a dynasty that has been ripped with feuds and violence. Benazir is the fourth Bhutto to die a short, sharp, premature death. Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto was overthrown in a military coup by General Zia ul-Haq and later hung. And Fatima's other uncle, Shah Nawaz, was mysteriously poisoned on holiday in the South of France, aged only 26.

Perched on the sofa, with her feet tucked under her, Fatima is clearly stamped with the Bhutto features, despite being only about 5ft tall. Much has been made of her resemblance to her aunt. She has the same fine, aristocratic looks, the long nose, pale skin, defined cheekbones. And she has the same mix of East and West – dressed traditionally in shalwar kameez and shawl, but speaking in that slight American accent most young upper-class Pakistanis have. Fatima was educated in America and the UK. But now it is Fatima that some are whispering is the natural heir of the PPP. Murtaza was Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto's first son, and Fatima is his eldest child, born to his first wife, Fauzia, an Afghan he married while leading a resistance movement in Afghanistan in the late 1970s early 1980s. Afterwards Murtaza fled to Syria where he met the Lebanese Ghinwa, who was teaching ballet classes. It is Ghinwa – who Benazir famously disparaged as a "belly dancer" – that Fatima refers to as "my mother".

In recent weeks a trail of journalists have been making their way to Fatima's front door to see whether she is being persuaded to stand against her cousin.

"I always hope the journalists are coming for the right reasons," she says, arching her eyebrows, knowing they are not. "For my writing. They have a picture of Pakistan in their minds. That we are interested in dynasty over democracy, family over principles, and have a hard time understanding when I tell them I am not. I don't believe in birthright politics. I don't believe in dynasty, because I think it's dangerous for the country. I don't think it empowers the people. I don't think it strengthens democracy."

Fatima's writing includes two books and columns in two Pakistani newspapers: the Jang and The News. She writes on social justice issues and has earned a reputation for frank views and a sharp turn of phrase.

Despite the feud with Benazir's side of the family, she is keen to show respect for her aunt as a family member. She calls her aunt a shaheed at one point – a martyr. But Fatima doesn't want to erase history.

"I was very critical about her government's role in my father's death. I was very vocal against the corruption, of her government and her personally. I was very vocal about the human rights abuses practiced flagrantly under her government about the excesses of the police force, about her politics of compromise with Musharraf. And I don't mean in any way to distance myself from those criticisms, or to hide from them. I don't regret them. Had she lived I would have continued.

"But, after she has been killed, and in such a violent cold manner, there has to be a way of letting her go, and now the questions are larger. Now there is the question of this murder. On December 27, she stopped being a political opponent, a political other, and became just the fourth member of this family that we buried."

She says she has fond memories of a young Benazir, who used to read her stories, and who she called affectionately Wadi-Bua – which is Sindhi for brother's older sister. "When she died I realised that I knew two Benazirs. There was the Benazir I knew as a child, who was young, who was out of power. She was struggling, fighting, she suffered a lot. She was not much older than I am now. She was a very different person.

"And then there was the Benazir after power: the Benazir who caused suffering for so many people. And that's how I've known her for so long, through my adult life. She didn't remind me in any way of that young woman. Seeing her die in this way reminded me of that young Benazir, who was brave, and who was different. I certainly want to remember her as that young Benazir who was human and who made mistakes. And who had been through a tremendous amount."

In fact, it was only when a family friend rang up and said "Wadi-Bua's gone" that Benazir's death really hit Fatima: "Wadi-Bua was someone I knew. I didn't know Benazir."

Known for her sharp talking, today Fatima is a little diplomatic. She won't be drawn into too much talk on the PPP. She wishes her cousin, Bilawel, well, and says she feels sorry for him and the "vicious" treatment he has had at the hands of the British press. But she is clear about the state of democracy in Pakistan. "Power doesn't change hands in Pakistan. The faces change. It doesn't matter who it is at the top. They work ultimately towards the same cause, which is to protect the establishment, to protect their own prestiges of power. It's the landed, the feudals, the wealthy industrialists, and themselves, the hierarchy that keeps them at the top."

It is this political make-up that Fatima says is the reason she won't stand. She says she prefers to be politically active through her writing, and grass-roots campaigns. But her criticisms of the feudal system seem a little ironic given she comes from one of the largest feudal families in Pakistan.

The Bhuttos and their vast wealth are a theme I come across repeatedly in Karachi. One wide-eyed Karachite tells me that if you travel by train from Lahore, you will stop at four stations that fall within Bhutto land. But despite this wealth and luxury, today it is the shadow of violence that seems to mark the Bhuttos out. "It is frightening to know they have died so young. On a mundane level, there's many times I've asked my mother, does anyone have a history of such and such an illness, and we sit there and we just don't know. No-one has lived to tell. No-one has lived to die of natural causes."

Not least, Fatima's own father, whose death she is still seeking answers for. "She never fully explained her government's role in my father's murder," says Fatima of Benazir. "I did ask her one or two things, like why the witnesses were all arrested and the police were all free. The police were not arrested until after her government fell. The police were all cleared honourably and then reinstated to their positions. That was under her. But it's hard to talk about it now because she's gone."

She adds: "When violence is all you've known, it does shape your personality in the sense that I am very conscious of the violence. And you become committed to change, committed to live differently."

For now, though, Fatima says that commitment to change does not involve parliamentary politics. She is, however, refreshingly – for Pakistan – optimistic for the future, believing change may well come from the youth of Pakistan who form the vast majority of the population. "It is not," she says, "that we as Pakistanis have some genetic immunity to democracy; we are ready for it."

Three days later, as I am passing 70 Clifton again, I happen to see Fatima Bhutto outside the house surrounded by photographers and security guards. She is standing, dressed all in black, beneath the large blown-up poster of her father Murtaza. It is a strong visual image.

Fatima can say she what she likes about not following in aunt Benazir's footsteps, but this is a young woman born into the glare of politic life, who is clearly consummate in the ways of publicity.