Saleem is the area's assistant nazim, an amalgam of village elder and county commissioner. When people disagree, he mediates. When Nila's 44 telephone customers make calls, they go through the Eisenhower-era switchboard in a dim back room.

And when people want to debate about distant and not-so-distant armies, Saleem takes all comers _ invariably men. Their opinions are gentle, but hardly lukewarm.

They're not militants _ but they don't despise Osama bin Laden, either. They're glad Pakistan is on America's side, but they think the United States is behaving badly. And each emphasizes that Pakistan, despite TV images, is not tearing itself apart over conflict next door.

"No fires here. It's quiet and we're working," says Saleem, eyeing his sleepy ox 10 feet away. Beyond it, the evening's dinner clucks. "But we are worried about the world."

The common thread in the all-Muslim village: resentment of America, though not in the death-to-infidels style of protesters in the cities. People here recognize that ordinary citizens are rarely to blame.

"Americans, you talk of peace, peace, peace all the time. But is it fair to destroy a poor country like Afghanistan for one person?" asks Amir Abbas, an unemployed local man, referring to bin Laden.

He smiles and clarifies: He does not intend to insult his guest, Nila's first American visitor in five years; he means the government of George W. Bush.

Though the talk is in Urdu and the roads outside teeming with cattle, in its way Saleem's courtyard is not unlike the county courthouse bench or Elks Club bar. When people in Nila disagree, they argue carefully; they know they'll be dealing with each other tomorrow.

Terrorism's side effects, though, have arrived. The price of diesel for farmers' tractors has shot up. Fewer customers are purchasing crops. An icy bottle of Pepsi costs a few rupees more.

"Even here, you can't keep the world out," Saleem laments.

Nila, a 90-minute drive south from Islamabad, feels farther. Settled centuries ago, the Punjabi village's maze of dirt-caked warrens retains an ancient flavor even as modern trappings trickle in.

Electricity arrived in 1987, followed by television and the occasional satellite dish. Then Pakistan's first freeway halved the drive to the capital and pulled Nila's 10,000 people toward the world.

So, villagers say, affairs in Islamabad, Afghanistan, even Washington are more relevant than ever.

They offer the theory heard across the Muslim world: That the attacks were an Israeli conspiracy and that 5,000 Jews working in the World Trade Center took the day off on Sept. 11.

They say bin Laden is the leader Muslims need. "He is practical because what he says, he does," Abbas says.

They say America lacks evidence of his guilt, and they offer, uniformly, a solution: Bin Laden should be handed to a third country or the United Nations for a fair trial, though they seem unsure what that means.

Masoom Khan, a shepherd and one of Nila's few Afghans, has been nicknamed "Afghanistan." He disagrees with many in Saleem's courtyard, saying Pakistan shouldn't have sided with America.

"The Taliban are good people," Khan says. "It's a crime that America's committing against them."

Most support President Pervez Musharraf's decision, which swept away U.S. sanctions. "What Musharraf is doing makes Pakistan better," says Ishtiaq Ahmed, a Karachi store manager who returned to Nila to wed.

Yet he, too, admires bin Laden. "It has been Osama who has stood up for the people of Palestine and Kashmir," Ahmed says.

At the public school, on a ridge half a mile away, teachers' views are more hard-line. They crowd into a circle, shouting amiable responses to an outsider's questions: Musharraf is wrong, America is a terrorist, bombing in Afghanistan is a crime.

"Why are the Americans reacting so violently? Only two of their buildings were destroyed," wonders Ghulam Ali, an art teacher.

Across town, a stone police station displays a handpainted slogan: "He who fights and runs away will live to fight another day." Officers, mellow in the afternoon heat, echo wariness of America.

More problematic, they say, is the world's perception of Pakistan.

"Pakistanis in America, they didn't leave after the terrorist attacks. But foreigners are leaving here. I don't get it," says Constable Khizer Ali, who patrols 41 villages.

Back in Saleem's cracked courtyard, the parade of opinions continues, as does the uncertainty. "We're not sure what's going to happen tomorrow," Saleem says. "There are so many maybes."

Maybe Nila once was the 18th province of Persia, as people boast. Maybe, when it rains, the roadside mud really does wash up ancient Persian coins.

And maybe the way Nila solves problems _ civilly, in the assistant nazim's courtyard _ can be put to use.

"America and Afghanistan could come here _ Bush and Osama bin Laden both," Saleem says. He grins. "I could help them find peace."