VIt took less than forty hours between my landing in Karachi and my departure. Nevertheless, a lot of things happened. I was looking forward to Karachi. You don’t get there every day. I was supposed to present my novel, which had been translated into English, at the International Karachi Literature Festival and also take part in a poetry reading.
How did people know me here?
As soon as I landed, a friend sent me a tweet from a Pakistani lawyer who advocates for women’s and minority rights. She wrote, “Why does @Karachi Lit Fest invite Zionist sympathizers to the festival? (…) Many say that Ronya Othmann is not only Islamophobic, but is now also peddling lies regarding rape by Hamas.” I was confused. How did the Pakistani woman know regarding the column I wrote in Germany regarding Hamas’ sexual violence on October 7th and its worldwide denial? My thoughts dissipated in the car on the way to the hotel where the festival was to take place. Karachi! As I drove through the streets of this huge city, I hoped to find time to explore a little. I had read that tens of thousands would attend the festival. Admission was free and many students were expected. There, in one of the most dangerous cities in the world, a British colleague wrote a few years ago, the written word was celebrated.
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