It wasn't as if the attack came as a surprise. Prior to Benazir Bhutto's return to Pakistan last week, the country's intelligence services had received several warnings of possible attacks against the 54-year-old former prime minister. Indeed, Bhutto, returning from exile to run in the upcoming general elections, had been urged to shorten her triumphant march through Karachi and fly to her private home in the southern Clifton neighborhood by helicopter.
But Bhutto, head of Pakistan's largest political party, the Pakistan People's Party (PPP), insisted on going ahead with her planned parade and basking in the adulation of her throngs of supporters. The vehicle she was riding in -- the upper part of which wasn't unlike the pope-mobile -- was armored with three-inch-thick bulletproof glass. The words "Long Live Bhutto" were emblazoned across the side. "I want to see the love on the faces of my supporters," she told SPIEGEL shortly before departing from Dubai.
Bhutto fled into exile in 1999 to avoid a number of court cases in which she and her husband, Asif Ali Zardari, were accused of corruption. Since then the wealthy Oxford graduate and her family have lived in Dubai and London. After two secret meetings with Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf in Dubai during the summer, the two rivals reached a surprising agreement that made Bhutto's political comeback in her native Pakistan possible. As part of a general amnesty, all charges against Bhutto have been lifted. In return, she agreed to support Musharraf's re-election as president.
General Musharraf has promised that, should his early-October election victory be confirmed by the country's high court, he will take off his uniform, as demanded by both the constitution and Bhutto. American and British negotiators helped broker the deal. The main purpose of this marriage of convenience between Bhutto and Musharraf is to weaken the influential Islamist coalition, Muttahida Majilis-i-Amal, which has served as the basis for General Musharraf's power -- obtained in a military coup d'état in 1999 -- until now.
Still, the situation is a risky one for both Musharraf and Bhutto. Musharraf has threatened to declare a state of emergency if Pakistan's supreme court decides to invalidate the Oct. 6 presidential vote -- which saw Musharraf win 98 percent of the votes cast in national and provincial assemblies. And the court has likewise not yet ruled on Musharraf's amnesty decree for Bhutto. If the judges declare it invalid, Bhutto could still be sentenced on the corruption charges.
At 1:45 p.m. last Thursday, Bhutto arrived in Karachi, the PPP's stronghold, almost an hour behind schedule on Emirates flight EK 606. The reception for the politician -- who has had two terms as prime minister cut short due to corruption charges -- was overwhelming.
Karachi's main commercial street, Sharea Faisal, was gridlocked by 8 a.m. Colorfully painted buses filled with dancing Bhutto fans drove up and down the street at a snail's pace. Party workers and supporters had sewn clothing from the green, red and black flags of the PPP and wore turbans made of the same material. Loudspeaker blared rhythmic hymns dedicated to BB, as she is often called. The thousands of Karachiites celebrating on the streets and on the roofs of buses seemed not unlike revelers at Berlin's famed Love Parade.
Posters, pictures and flags throughout the city testified to the excitement at Bhutto's return -- a giant banner promised a new beginning, calling Bhutto's return the "Sunrise of a New Pakistan." It depicted the face of Bhutto, wearing a white shawl over her dark hair, identifying her as a good Muslim woman, her concerned gaze directed at the masses.
Bhutto wept out of joy and emotion over this outpouring of reverence, and apparently forgot all security precautions. "Pakistan is not terror," a beaming Bhutto proclaimed into the microphones, "Pakistan is its working classes and the yearning for stability and democracy." She had left her protective glass cage and was standing on the front of the Bhutto-mobile, surrounded by party luminaries, waving indefatigably to her supporters.
It was already past midnight. The procession was slowly making its way to the Qaid-e-Azam mausoleum, the tomb of Pakistan's founding father, Mohammed Ali Jinnah. Bhutto planned to give her first campaign speech from the site.
Photographer Athar Hussain and his friend, cameraman Arif Khan, who were sitting behind Bhutto on the vehicle's platform, were beginning to tire of the event, after a long and hot day. Suddenly the streetlights went dark and an explosion erupted near the vehicle. The crowd panicked as people ran for safety. The two journalists immediately jumped from the Bhutto-mobile and ran toward the site of the explosion. An extremist had thrown a hand grenade from his car, hitting a group of dancing Bhutto supporters. But it was only a precursor of the real horror yet to come.
A few minutes later the suicide bomber detonated a 100-kilogram bomb in his car, which he had driven closer to the party vehicle, intent on killing Benazir Bhutto.
Bhutto's convoy was immediately turned into a blazing inferno, as cars burned and flames shot out into the crowd. Bhutto, who happened to be in her vehicle's bathroom at the time of the explosion, was quickly moved to an SUV and taken to her house. The explosions killed 136 people and claimed 400 injuries, many of them serious.
A short time later, the PPP leader accused supporters of former general Zia ul-Haq of being behind the attack. Zia had ordered the 1979 execution by hanging of Bhutto's father, Zulfikar Ali, who is still extremely popular in the country and from whom she inherited her own great respect. She later shifted her suspicions to the Taliban and terrorist organization al-Qaida. A "brotherly country," she said, had warned her about the threat of attacks from Zia supporters.
Oddly enough, however, neither al-Qaida nor the Taliban have claimed responsibility for the bloody attack, significant because the extremists are normally quick to boast about their acts of terror. From Dubai Bhutto's husband, Zardari, held members of the Pakistani intelligence community responsible for the attack. President Musharraf called his adversary to express his condolences. He also announced his intention to relentlessly pursue whoever was behind the attack.
While Pakistani politicians were already beginning to find ways to use the attack to their advantage, photographer Athar Hussain remained at the scene, where he witnessed images that can hardly be captured on film. "There were bodies all over the street, severed heads, arms and legs. The injured were screaming," he says. His friend, cameraman Arif, was killed in the bombing.
The city was filled with the wail of ambulance sirens throughout the night. Within an hour, hospital emergency rooms were overflowing with people who had suffered serious injuries and were already hooked up to tubes and needles. Many of the injured are still fighting to survive.
It was only later that night that photographer Athar Hussain noticed that he too had been hit by a few bomb fragments. The next morning, as he was dropping off the chip card containing his photos at his agency, Hussain knew that he had just photographed the bloodiest sunrise in his country's history.
Bhutto, for her part, made her first public appearance since the ban on Sunday morning. She visited attack victims and went to the site of the explosion. Amid the tension, however, it is unclear just what her campaign might look like from here on out. The government has banned street rallies of the kind her party has favored for decades. But the candidate remains stoic. "We will continue to meet the public," she said according to the AP. "We will not be deterred."
Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan
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