(Google translate)
I sit in front of my laptop and I miss the words. I do not know how I can put into words all the things that happened to me during the last 3 days, so that it will be understood and the reader might even begin to understand how it happened to me.
I’ve traveled to many countries, experienced many tricky situations and would describe myself as a reasonably experienced traveler, but what happened yesterday and the day before yesterday surpasses everything I’ve experienced so far. In between, I was unsure if I could ever talk openly about it, let alone post a blog post on the internet about the events. At times, all I wanted to do was break my journey and go back to Iran.
The events are confused, I do not understand many things yet. One thing is clear. If I had not had the power of my country of birth, I would not have been in Pakistan as a German, but the situation would probably be different now, especially for Nadir. But now from the beginning:

After an 18-hour train ride, I reach Multan, a town halfway between Quetta and Lahore, at 4am. I’ve already arranged a sleeping place via couch surfing and Nadir, my host, has promised to pick me up from the train station. Since the police in Quetta have assured me that I can move freely in Multan without any police protection, I am all the more surprised to be received by 5 police officers directly at the train door. However, Nadir calms me down and says that the troupe just drives us home to make sure I arrive well too. Arriving in front of his house, however, the men decide spontaneously and take us to the station. Once there, I learn that I am not allowed to stay with locals for security reasons. I cannot hear that word anymore and I’m pissed off. I try to reach the German Embassy, ​​but I cannot get through and so we wait three hours until the head of the guard appears. Just before he arrives, however, we realize that there is no other option but to go to a hotel or drive straight to Lahore. Had it come to me, I would have left the city in the same breath, but since Nadir has already worked out a program for two days, including fishing, hunting, boating, sightseeing and visiting his village, I let out of necessity to go for a night in the cheapest hotel in the city. The police promises to go everywhere, according to our wishes. When choosing the hotel, we are not free and so we have to book a room for 30 € the night in a three-star hotel. Actually, Nadir wants to pay, but fortunately, as it turns out later, the hotel does not accept credit cards and so I pay cash. A short time later we want to leave (I have almost completely renounced sleep this night) and a police car with five men crew is in front of the hotel. I just want to get in, it says that I should not ride on the car for security reasons, but we should drive behind in a rental car. I hardly trust my ears. For more than 600km I drove through Baluchistan, all alone on the back of pickups, through an area which is regularly hit by assassinations and as soon as I am in the first city outside Baluchistan, in which there was no attack for decades, it is too dangerous between five policemen armed with submachine guns? I could just puke. What shoud that? This is nothing but a bully. But I’m too tired to get really upset, and I know it would not work. I just have no desire to run against walls that were built only to demonstrate power. Nadir does not let up and after half an hour he manages to persuade the driver to take us at least the way to his university, we want to look at us. Once there, however, we learn that there is a fight between two student groups and we are not allowed to enter the building. Disappointed, we get into the police car, which brings us directly back to the hotel, without getting involved in an alternative plan.

A bit helpless we sit in the hotel room. Since I have no permission to leave the hotel, Nadir goes home for a few snacks and drinks. But 10 minutes later he appears completely disturbed and pale again in the room. A police man called and ordered him to return to the hotel immediately. Neither of us would have permission to go anywhere. Soon, men would come for an interrogation.
I do not understand the world anymore, but I’m less worried about myself than about my host.
Nadir comes from a very poor country family. His brothers are simple people, his parents illiterate. At the age of ten, he decided that his future was not in Pakistan and that education was recognized as the key abroad. In two months, he will graduate with a Computer Engineering degree from the country’s largest private university. He raises the extremely high costs of the university as a freelancer. His clients are located all over the world.
Just on the phone, however, he was made clear that if he does not cooperate, could forget the conclusion also. I feel like I’m in the wrong movie, but the real shock is yet to come.
Two hours later, three men appear in everyday clothes. First we sit in an extra room in the hotel, then in our hotel room. The door is locked, the curtains closed. Suspicious late one of the three through a gap between the curtains. I’m running ice cold down the back. What’s happening? Who knows that I’m here? Nobody!
One of the men faces Nadir, my request to speak in English is ignored. The following 1 ½ hours Nadir is massively pressurized, he translates parts later but also so I can see that this kind of interrogation misses any respect and respect. Again and again Nadir are asked the same questions: „How do you know him?“ „Did you pay him to visit you?“ „Do you like“ he „or“ she „? „Did you rent the hotel room to have sex?“ „Which of you paid?“ „We know everything about you, you just have to admit it!“ „You’re a liar.“ I feel like a scene Everything fits in the movie „The Lives of Others“. The toneless voice, the repetition of the same questions, the massive pressure of questioning one’s own future.
Finally, the man goes with the emphasis that this was certainly not the last interrogation and Nadir should set after my departure for further. I was hardly asked a question during the whole interrogation, the man could not even speak English properly. All three of us knew he could not harm me because of my nationality and so my answers are rude and concise.
After the man leaves, Nadir sits stunned in the hotel room. Everything is just at stake for him, his whole future, everything he’s been working for for the past 10 years. He implores me, if anything happens to him, to inform the German embassy about everything. He was clearly told that „they can get him anytime“. He also asks me to stay in contact with him every day for the next month. To be on the safe side, I take a photo of his passport, pick up our call and send it to a friend in Germany with the request that he saves everything safely. Just in case.
I feel powerless, powerless and guilty. Guilty to have brought Nadir into this situation. I promise to do everything in my power to use all my options as a German citizen to protect and assist him if something happens to him.
We try to distract ourselves, to plan the day tomorrow, but it succeeds only conditionally. Again and again we come back and I feel what a deep fear was set in Nadir.
We have dinner together and at 1am Nadir goes home to sleep there for safety, so as not to give any point of accusation for new allegations.
I’m trying to mobilize my contacts in Pakistan and get the recommendation from a friend from Quetta to hire a very experienced couch surfing from Lahore. I’ll send the following message at half past one in the morning:

Dear Hossain,

I got your contact from Abdul Ghani from Quetta. I am a German hitchhiker and I came all the way from Germany by lift.
During the last days I had to face some problems with the police. Today I arrived in Multan and was immediately caught by the police. Even though I had a host they forced me to take an expensive hotel. As you are very experienced in CS* did you ever heard about something like this?
Moreover, they suspected me and my host to be gay and we had to spend 2 hours on an interview. They put hard pressure on my host and I am very inquired about him, because they asked him for another interview after my departure.
At the moment I feel like I just want to leave this country, however I cannot because I need some visa from Islamabad. Tomorrow I am coming to Lahore. Could I maybe talk to you or your wife (she’s German?) about my experience? Could I maybe stay one night at your house tomorrow? (not as mentioned above 18.-19.) however I don’t want to cause any problems to you too. I really don’t know if I can do CS* anymore in Pakistan.
You may contact me on WhatsApp +49***
I really feel not save anymore after that, even though I got a lot of travel experience.
Hope to meet you!
Caspar
Ps. I am taking the bus from Multan tomorrow afternoon.
*(Couchsurfin)

Hossain calls me the next morning and his first words are „Relax, I’ll manage it, just relax“. For a short time with the feeling of regaining some control, I open the door for Nadir. At his tired look, I immediately realize that something is wrong. Carefully, he begins to tell that he was picked up on the way home by several men and taken in a car out of town, somewhere in the middle of the desert. There he was interrogated for an hour, then left for an hour to be interrogated for another hour. Finally, he was dropped off at home with the clear indication that he would never tell anyone about the event. I’m shocked, horrified, do not know what to say. The only thing I know is that the fewer people know about it, the more power these men have over it. I earnestly ask him to tell, document and conceal anything that continues to happen. We agree on codes for WhatsApp: If I ask how he’s doing and the answer is „okay, okay“ or „I am god“ (with spelling mistakes), then something’s wrong.
For today we have the permission with the police to look at three places in the city. So I ask for an escort in 10 minutes in front of the hotel and also ask if we can ride this time on the police car. Both are assured me. Half an hour later there is still no escort and I call again. „Please wait 15 minutes“ it says only. At some point, our calls are simply ignored and eventually we are left to wait 1 ½ hours. We clearly feel who has the power here and sits at the longer lever.
When the car is there, we suddenly can not ride and have to take a taxi, I almost expected it already. In the following three hours, we are almost always accompanied by a police officer, several times he asks Nadir for money.
After all, it is said enough for today and I am brought to the bus station. With great anxiety I say goodbye to Nadir, who once again urges me to keep in touch with him and, in case something happens to him, to inform the German Embassy. I promise to do everything in my power to assist him. Slowly the bus drives from the bus station and I feel again this powerlessness in me. How can it be that a state should be there for its citizens, so oppressed and humbled. What happened to Nadir is contrary to any Pakistani and Islamic laws. We grow up with the premise that all people are equal, but how far we are from that I could feel the last two days permanently. The very fact that I have a German passport has saved us and Nadir in particular from even worse. But now I’m gone and Nadir has no protection left. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to tell more people about the events than my personal environment, since Nadir has asked me to do everything to keep him from getting in trouble. But this is exactly where the page turns!
From now on it’s going to blow you up. On WhatsApp, a few minutes later, I get the message from an unknown number. The sender pretends to be a friend of Hossain and says that he has contacts with the government. I’m supposed to share my live location with him from now on. Shortly after, Nadir calls me and reports the call of an unknown man, who assured him that from now on, no more problems for him. When I arrive in Lahore, not a single policeman welcomes me, instead a busy man in a jacket. In the subsequent drive in the car, I tell all the facts. We stop in front of a large gate behind which rises a magnificent white building from colonial times. We arrived at the government building of Lahore, the seat of the government of Punjab. There’s a big event going on there right now, but on the Rade I’m meeting several politicians from the district of Punjab. I also tell them everything, many of you already know the basics, because Hossain has passed on my message from Couchsurfing to numerous politicians. „It may have reached our premier minister as well,“ he adds with a laugh. The representative of the head of government assures me that she cares. Everybody apologizes for the incidents this evening and that I got to know Pakistan this way.

Later I learn that Multan has probably the worst and most corrupt police in Pakistan. The government is working hard to improve the image of the country and is investing heavily in tourism. However, one forgot to include the security forces, some of which still use practices from the military dictatorship and are still heavily influenced by the years of corruption.

In the meantime, I have arrived well in Lahore, but even now, this feeling of powerlessness comes up again when I listen to the voice messages of the last days that I have sent to friends from Multan. Not least by luck and the right contacts at the right time worse could be prevented. It was never directly about me. I am by my Bordeaux red passport largely safe from attacks. I was mainly interested in Nadir, who was at the mercy of the policemen and who only wanted to show his own culture and beauty to a stranger for two days.
So much has become a matter of course for us. Free and open expression, the ability to move freely and without restriction throughout Europe and a functioning police that is lawful and lawful.
To experience how it feels when all this is taken is an experience that I wish for no one, but that has shown me the inestimable value of equality, justice, and last but not least freedom.