Guardian : Bombing Turns Bhutto's Triumph to Horror

Bombing Turns Bhutto's Triumph to Horror

By B.K BANGASH and PAISLEY DODDS | Associated Press Writers | October 19, 2007

KARACHI, Pakistan (AP) - Benazir Bhutto's triumphant return to Pakistan ended in horrific scenes of carnage beneath a mural declaring, "Long live Bhutto." AP Photographer B.K. Bangash was there. Here is his account.

The first explosion sounded like a tire had blown out on a bus but as I moved closer to see, another much stronger blast hit - sending dozens of people running as balls of flames, dirt and debris erupted into the night sky.

A police van was in flames, the streets were littered with the bodies of the dead. Arms, legs and other body parts were everywhere. I heard a man calling desperately for his son. He begged me to help, but the child was no where to be found. Later I heard the boy, a 6-year-old, was dead.

He was one of scores of people killed in a suspected suicide attack that struck Bhutto's procession as it made its way for more than 10 hours through the streets of Karachi after she returned from eight years in exile.

Moving at a snail's pace through a crowd of hundreds of dancing and cheering supporters, the truck carrying Bhutto was about 10 miles from the tomb of Pakistan's founding father, Mohammed Ali Jinnah, when the first explosion struck shortly before midnight.

I ran toward the truck and was about 20 yards away when the second thunderous blast hit.

Most of the victims were men, many of whom had been driving alongside the procession on motorcyles, though I saw the bodies of at least two children.

Limbless victims cried out to strangers for help in the darkness. Parents frantically searched for missing children as the flames sent waves of heat through the streets, fanning the smell of blood in the air.

About 20 minutes later - it seemed like an eternity - the scream of ambulance sirens pierced the chaos.

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AP London Bureau Chief Paisley Dodds, who traveled with Bhutto on her aircraft, said the day began quite differently, with hope and exhilaration. Here is her account:

As we waited at the bottom of the airplane's stairs in the blistering sunlight at Karachi's airport, Bhutto emerged and hoisted a thick black Quran above her head as if to ask for strength from above.

It was a brief moment of magic that lasted only for about 10 hours after she landed.

"Benazir, Benazir!" throngs of supporters chanted on the tarmac as the former prime minister tried to maintain her steely composure. Overtaken by emotion, tears streaked her heavy makeup. Her hands trembled as she tried to calm herself to speak.

Many thought her homecoming would never come.

It was only months ago when Bhutto told me in her London apartment that her return to Pakistan was set after eight years in self-imposed exile, declaring she would not be intimidated by threats but then ending our interview with an odd question that seemed to signal her own uneasiness about her return: "What do you think will happen in Pakistan?" she asked me.

Her exact return date had been postponed several times as hurdles multiplied in the powersharing talks with Gen. Pervez Musharraf. Then it was final. Oct. 18, 2007.

After landing on Bhutto's plane from Dubai and without sleep for two days, we were bundled into a badly organized press convoy Thursday with other journalists who were crammed aboard tiny airport buses. Soon after, we scrambled to climb on top of open-air trucks to follow Bhutto's large convoy on its way to a monument in Karachi.

This was my biggest fear of the assignment. I was nervous about bomb threats on the convoy. I was also worried about a stampede and crowds.

The only solace I had was being hoisted up on the roof of the truck with local journalists. I clenched a splintered piece of wood as the truck lurched through the thick traffic. Crowds pushed their way through the lines of traffic. Men used bamboo rods to keep people back.

The scene unfolding was part terror, part exhilaration.

A sea of supporters spilled out between Bhutto's large bus and several press caravans and security cars mounted with guards toting machine guns.

Supporters chased the convoy, their rapid footsteps stirring clouds of dust as speakers thumped with the hypnotizing and dizzying beats of a Bhutto campaign song.

Most supporters flashed peace signs and smiled widely as they waved banners emblazoned with her picture and danced in a frenzy as her convoy inched forward slowly.

Bhutto, wearing a party baseball cap over her trademark white scarf, stood and waved to supporters and then took shelter amid a crush of male advisers on the bus.

She often sat hidden from the masses, fiddling with her phone, apparently text messaging. As the crowds thickened, she shrunk more into the background of the bus.

As the convoy inched its way forward, a small group of men set three American flags ablaze, shouting "Down with the USA! Down with the USA! No to Bhutto and the USA!"

Pakistanis of all walks of life turned out for her return. Crowds included Pakistan's minority Christian and Hindu communities and Baluch tribesmen.

"The people that you see outside are the real image of Pakistan," she said. "These are the decent and hardworking middle-classes and working classes of Pakistan who want to be empowered so they can build a moderate, modern nation."

I thought for a moment I was paranoid for thinking her homecoming would end in tragedy. I was stunned at how peaceful the rally had been. People seemed happy.

As Bhutto's convoy inched toward a monument, a pink sunset painted the sky.

Before long, the salmon sky was swallowed by darkness.

We were still at least 12 miles away when I climbed off the convoy and headed back to the hotel to write. I felt relief. Then local news reported the bomb blasts.