Pakistan army imposes silence on Bin Laden house

Eight days after US raid killed Osama bin Laden in city of Abbottabad, Pakistan’s army is trying to impose silence at his last refuge.
Neighbours in the Bilal Town suburb, that was home to the Al-Qaeda chief, have been forbidden from talking to the media, and journalists have been stopped by soldiers and asked to produce their visas or to delete footage and pictures.
On Monday, local resident Aurangzeb was stopped by police in black uniform at the end of his street as he accompanied an injured friend to visit Haji Baba Zain, the old “healer” of the town.
“I told them several times that I was from the neighbourhood, that my friend was hurt, but they refused. They said no one was allowed to go there (the healer’s house),” complained the frail man in peasant threads To his misfortune, the small mud hut that houses the 80-year-old healer lies next to the white three-storey compound where US forces shot dead bin Laden in a surgical raid.
A few hours after the raid, the Pakistani army arrested Shamrez, the healer’s son, who had occasionally tended bin Laden’s garden and was believed to have been the only neighbour allowed to enter the property.
Police say at least 25 people from the city have been arrested over suspected links with the compound since the US raid, although it is not known how many remain in custody.
Shamrez was released by the military on Friday. His time in army hands seems to have discouraged him from talking to the media.
“My father left the city. He went back to our village, very far away,” said his son, Qasim Mohammad.
But his family must still contend with the army, which, faced with the onslaught of dozens of journalists from around the world, has placed the area in its tight grip.
“There is a military jeep parked in our street. I can get out of my house only once a day, to buy some food. And they strictly forbade us from talking to any media,” said one of Qasim’s neighbours who did not want to reveal his name.
The world’s media has descended on Bilal Town since the raid, eager to collect the testimony of bin Laden’s closest neighbours.
Military spokesmen have not been reachable for comment but since Thursday, up to 500 soldiers and police have deployed to protect the town and monitor movements in the neighbourhood.
“Last week, my kids came back crying. Police had stopped them on the way to school. We can only get out of our house after a certain time in the evening,” said an angry Aurangzeb.
The media, who are still waiting for the possible opening of bin Laden’s last hideout, play cat and mouse with the uniformed men, who admonish journalists creeping too close with a harsh blow of the whistle.
Several times in recent days, soldiers have forced journalists to delete pictures and video clips.
“Leave the city!” implored a soldier facing the media scrum.
In one sign of the growing paranoia gripping residents, a neighbour living 300 metres from bin Laden’s villa told AFP on Monday: “Please don’t call me any more on my mobile phone, we cannot talk on the phone.”
In Abbottabad, the powerful Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) agency has told some media to leave town because their visas do not authorise work there.
National television regulator PEMRA told several international television channels, including CNN, Fox News and the BBC, to stop broadcasting “illegally” from Abbottabad, saying they had to get formal permission to do so.
Such measures all fuel suspicion — does the military have something to hide in Bilal Town? Was Bin Laden isolated or did he have important lieutenants lurking nearby?
Abbottabad has been presented as a peaceful Pakistani town, but several other Al-Qaeda figures have been linked with the area.
Indonesian Umar Patek, wanted over the 2002 Bali bombings, was picked up here in January, while Al-Qaeda number three Abu Faraj Al-Libbi was believed to be in the area before he was finally arrested in Mardan, further west, in May 2005.
Whatever its associations, Abbottabad’s inhabitants now long for a return to normal life, with some calling for the destruction of the now infamous compound.
Tawkir, a young boy dressed in a light grey shirt and jeans, reflects the sentiment of many as he looks at the soldiers who have closed his road. “If the army had done its job before, all this would have never happened,” he said.