Ahmed Ali was a third-year student at the Sindh Medical College. He was waiting eagerly for the summer holidays so that he could go to his native town, Jaffarabad, and meet his family and friends. His family, particularly his eight-year-old sister Amina, was equally excited about his impending homecoming. When finally the holidays started, Ahmed took the first bus to Jaffarabad. News of his arrival had travelled fast and at his father’s hujra, his friends awaited him. Even without meeting female members of his family, his friends took him for shikaar (hunting). Little did he know that would change his life. Out of practice or perhaps it was the excitement of coming home, Ahmed mistakenly shot dead, in friendly fire, one of his friends. He rushed back home petrified and told his father the whole story. The father had one solution. Ahmed Ali acted upon it. Entering the house, the first person he saw was Amina who rushed towards him excited, clutching a badly made, embroidered hat that she herself had made for Ahmed. Acting upon his father’s advice to shoot a female family member, Ahmed shot dead his eight-year-old sister in the name of ‘honour’, for as he told the jirga later, he had killed both his friend and his sister as they had an illicit relationship. Sher Ali owed money to Omar Hasan. Omar Hasan had started asking for it repeatedly and to Sher Ali’s horror, had started asking for it in front of other people too. Be it a wedding, a funeral or even when they bumped into each other at a local tea stall, Omar would request that his money be returned to him. Sick of his endless requests, Sher Ali asked Omar to come to his house to take the money. At the agreed time and date, Omar knocked on Sher Ali’s door. The door was opened but at the same time, Sher Ali opened fire, injuring Omar’s foot, followed by a deadly shot at his wife who was working nearby. He accused Omar and his wife of having illicit relations, of Omar entering his house without permission and confessed to killing his wife in the name of honour. When the jirga sat to resolve the matter, Sher Ali not only demanded that the debt be cleared but that as further compensation for his honour, Omar’s 15-year-old daughter be also given to him in marriage. The jirga complied. Humayun and Arslan were cleaning their pistols when by mistake the former’s pistol went off, injuring the latter in the foot. Arslan assured his friend that he realised it was an accident but that he needed to be rushed to a hospital. Humayun complied and Arslan was rushed to the nearest hospital. However, at the hospital, Hamayun’s father became apprehensive. What if Arslan pressed charges? The family could not afford a police investigation and lawyers’ fees. The father came up with a solution. In the name of honour, Humayun went home and killed his mother, accusing her of having illicit relations with Arslan. I could go on narrating one true, horrendous story after another. The Centre for Peace and Development, Balochistan, has compiled 183 such stories of ‘honour killing’ around the province. They investigated each one of them. Apart from two cases, the rest of the 181 apparent cases of honour killings were actually stories of greed, accidents like the one described above or plainly motivated by self-interest. Each story is more depressing than the other. The names and locations changed but what remained consistent was the utter disregard for the life of a human being in the minds of these animals. Listening to these stories compelled me to think what it meant to be a woman in such societies and cultures, to be so devoid of human dignity and respect. Lest I made the mistake of thinking that only women are victims of violence in Balochistan, Mohammad Ayub’s story corrected my understanding. The 40-year-old Muhammad Ayub had the distinction of being a Station House Officer (SHO) of Awaran’s lone police station. This police station was the only one in interior Balochistan where the Pakistani flag was hoisted. In January when we met, Ayub was quite proud of being brave enough to do that although most of the other policemen who were present declared him eccentric. Ayub paid for his bravery or eccentricity by having two arrows pierce his head and heart. Kidnapped on May 19, 2012 while on his way to Quetta to attend an official police training workshop, his bus was intercepted by two armed men. Checking his identity card to be sure, he was taken away. On May 22, 2012, his body was found with arrows through his head and heart. The Balochistan Liberation Front claimed responsibility because ‘Ayub had dared to fly the Pakistani flag on his police station and arrested BLF workers.’ To believe in Pakistan or discuss endlessly Pakistan’s security, etc, on talk shows, in seminars and columns is one thing. To hoist the Pakistani flag in a hostile area like Awaran is true courage. The writer is a development consultant and can be reached at coordinator@individualland.com