A politician and his bodyguard step into a house in Quetta, and everybody stands up to greet them respectfully. Sehar Gul Khilji, 40, has everything that an ambitious politician needs in this ramshackle border town: a huge moustache, slick hair, and firepower. His guard always keeps a Kalashnikov rifle within arm's reach, even when Mr. Khilji is relaxing with friends and relatives, sipping tea and watching a television special about the British royal family.
The politician pulls out his phone and starts flipping through photographs that prove his clout. He moves quickly through images of himself with prominent figures, including a snapshot with the head of his party, Nawaz Sharif, the most powerful opposition leader in the country. That's not what makes him proud, apparently; the photos he really wants to show off are the images of guns. He clicks through a gallery of sniper rifles and assault weapons the way a proud parent might show off baby photos.
More than ever, such tools of death have become status symbols in Pakistan's dangerous borderlands. Tribesmen from this region have always loved their guns, since the bygone days of raiding camel trains. Demand grew especially strong in the last 12 months, however, as sectarian violence climbed in southern Pakistan.
Supply has also been pinched by the war in neighbouring Afghanistan, where record-breaking levels of insurgency are consuming vast quantities of arms and ammunition.
Mr. Khilji estimates that a brand-new Kalashnikov rifle now costs about 120,000 Pakistani rupees ($1350 Canadian) in Quetta, a dramatic hike from 25,000 rupees last year. Other sources quibble about the prices, which can depend on whether it's a genuine Russian AK-47 or one of the many copycat versions, but all agree that the price increases have been steep.
"Everybody has increased their security, hired more guards," Mr. Khilji says. "It's the job of government to protect the local people, but the government officials themselves are not feeling safe these days."