I was ready, but it was so sad to leave the country.
I have made a true connection with Pakistan... finally after years of visiting.
Khuda Hafiz, Pakistan - fair mulakaat hogai
(Goodbye, Pakistan - see you soon!)
x
Monday 20 October 2008
Friday 17 October 2008
Another assessment x3
I visited one village and managed to get information about 2 more villages in need of water from locals living in the villages. So, all-in-all, I have information about 5 villages now!! Hoorah! Busy day!!
Zahid was stopped by the police in Abbottabad, but managed to escape with a cup of tea. How does he do it?! x
Wednesday 15 October 2008
All's well that ends well … and it ended very well indeed!
So, today was an unplanned day that Zahid and I decided to spend together given it was his last day here in DMS. So, first things first: get my PIA ticket. Once the weather got a bit less rainy, Zahid and I left DMS straight for the PIA office. The men there were very helpful, found my booking, but could only take cash, not credit card. Oh, crap. As I didn't have 30k rupees on me, I agreed with them that I would return shortly with the pennies before 3pm. So, off we trot. The bank was not far, thankfully, so we went it and I decided that I had the time to sort out my account stuff, too. You might recall, I open an account before and was given 10k rupees from the bank manager. I thought it was time I paid it back, pick up my debit card/cheque book and consider removing the majority of the money. It was 1pm by this time so all this was do able. I paid the manager back, took money for the ticket and then decided to withdraw 60k rupees to convert back to GBP so only a little money remained in my account. In other words, I had quite a lot of money in my pocket and only a short while now to return to the PIA office.
Just as we left the bank, we were met, as arranged with my host's cousin. He was going to accompany us around to ensure we were ok. One of the slightly annoying aspects of Pakistani culture: People think we will always be ripped off, but in escorting us everywhere we end up doing things differently and not getting the experience we desire. Today was a classic example.
In meeting this cousin, we were delayed in getting a rickshaw slightly. In waiting for another rickshaw, Zahid and I were stopped by 2 men asking us where we came from, what we were doing etc. I was on a mission to get my PIA ticket so didn't bother with them, but they then became a bit more forceful and claimed they were the 'secret police'. Of course, my response was "not anymore, Jack". They didn't seem amused, but as I tried to get a rickshaw, they shooed it away which pissed me off no end. They then insisted on us answering their questions and they wanted to know if we were Pakistanis and where our ID cards were. Really not in the mood for this madness, I asked where their cards were. One replied "In my pocket" and when I asked him to show me it, I told him he was a liar and needed to go now because he was being a knob (plus, I've heard about fake police people - Dakus - and their thieving ways, which, given as I had just come out of a bank, I was not ruling out this possibility!) Anyway, I refused him our details and then suddenly, the cousin came over and recognized the men as his friends. I thought this madness would be over now and we could go, but we were told to follow these police and somehow stupidly, we did! I think I was swayed by the cousin knowing them that I agreed, but where we were led down this dodgy staircase to a basement 'office', my concerns grew. It was 2.20 by now. Suddenly, we 3 were surrounded by about 10 men who were blocking the door. In my threatened state (partly due to them and the fact that I might now not get my ticket), I became very verbally aggressive and demanded they back the heck off. They were very calm as I ranted on about them being a ridiculous outfit. They kept saying that I didn't understand their questions and that I needed an NoC (no objections certificate) to be in Pakistan. However, as I am Pakistani with a Pakistani ID, they didn't need to waste my or their time. But, there was no way I was going to co-operate given they were not showing me their ID. Anyway, I did write down a few bits of information for them as a compromise. When they continued to talk about us again for about 1 minute after my writing this info down, I started up again with even more frustration and within a few minutes, they let us go.
Un known to me, they had taken the cousin's number and were tracking our movements. I managed to get my PIA ticket (thank goodness!) and wanted to change my remaining money into GBP. But, it wasn't until we were in the bank that I heard the cousin tell someone on the phone where exactly we were. I shouted at the cousin for being a prick and promptly left the bank for my host's office. This is where she had a go at the cousin for being a prick. Soon after, the police arrived at the office and Abuse Part 3 commenced with no hesitation. My host recognized 1 of the party and by this time I was so bored of this bull that when she asked me for my ID card, I handed it over. I did still demand to see their ID and the Chief who accompanied them pulled out the sorriest excuse of a business card, you know the sort you can get printed at those machines in shopping malls. I threw it back at him and told him that if he thought that was suitable ID, then this would partly explain the state f this country's affairs. Anyway, once I sensed a satisfied response from the Chief re my ID card, I stormed out of the room in true diva style and continued on to convert my money.
But, the trauma did not end there: I got my eyebrows etc sorted at a local beauty parlour and then I impromptuously and stupidly, I requested a haircut. The woman did not want to listen to my instructions of redoing the layer and hacked of a ridiculous amount of hair, stating that she's adding in the step, as I requested. Noooooooooo…
However, after being calmed down with a promise of crisps, we eventually returned home to a text message saying my sister-in-law had popped and my 6lb 1oz nephew, Aman, had been born. I cannot explain how happy I feel. I know he is beautiful and I love him already. Suddenly, life seems a-ok.
I forgot all about my crisps. God bless my beautiful Aman x
Just as we left the bank, we were met, as arranged with my host's cousin. He was going to accompany us around to ensure we were ok. One of the slightly annoying aspects of Pakistani culture: People think we will always be ripped off, but in escorting us everywhere we end up doing things differently and not getting the experience we desire. Today was a classic example.
In meeting this cousin, we were delayed in getting a rickshaw slightly. In waiting for another rickshaw, Zahid and I were stopped by 2 men asking us where we came from, what we were doing etc. I was on a mission to get my PIA ticket so didn't bother with them, but they then became a bit more forceful and claimed they were the 'secret police'. Of course, my response was "not anymore, Jack". They didn't seem amused, but as I tried to get a rickshaw, they shooed it away which pissed me off no end. They then insisted on us answering their questions and they wanted to know if we were Pakistanis and where our ID cards were. Really not in the mood for this madness, I asked where their cards were. One replied "In my pocket" and when I asked him to show me it, I told him he was a liar and needed to go now because he was being a knob (plus, I've heard about fake police people - Dakus - and their thieving ways, which, given as I had just come out of a bank, I was not ruling out this possibility!) Anyway, I refused him our details and then suddenly, the cousin came over and recognized the men as his friends. I thought this madness would be over now and we could go, but we were told to follow these police and somehow stupidly, we did! I think I was swayed by the cousin knowing them that I agreed, but where we were led down this dodgy staircase to a basement 'office', my concerns grew. It was 2.20 by now. Suddenly, we 3 were surrounded by about 10 men who were blocking the door. In my threatened state (partly due to them and the fact that I might now not get my ticket), I became very verbally aggressive and demanded they back the heck off. They were very calm as I ranted on about them being a ridiculous outfit. They kept saying that I didn't understand their questions and that I needed an NoC (no objections certificate) to be in Pakistan. However, as I am Pakistani with a Pakistani ID, they didn't need to waste my or their time. But, there was no way I was going to co-operate given they were not showing me their ID. Anyway, I did write down a few bits of information for them as a compromise. When they continued to talk about us again for about 1 minute after my writing this info down, I started up again with even more frustration and within a few minutes, they let us go.
Un known to me, they had taken the cousin's number and were tracking our movements. I managed to get my PIA ticket (thank goodness!) and wanted to change my remaining money into GBP. But, it wasn't until we were in the bank that I heard the cousin tell someone on the phone where exactly we were. I shouted at the cousin for being a prick and promptly left the bank for my host's office. This is where she had a go at the cousin for being a prick. Soon after, the police arrived at the office and Abuse Part 3 commenced with no hesitation. My host recognized 1 of the party and by this time I was so bored of this bull that when she asked me for my ID card, I handed it over. I did still demand to see their ID and the Chief who accompanied them pulled out the sorriest excuse of a business card, you know the sort you can get printed at those machines in shopping malls. I threw it back at him and told him that if he thought that was suitable ID, then this would partly explain the state f this country's affairs. Anyway, once I sensed a satisfied response from the Chief re my ID card, I stormed out of the room in true diva style and continued on to convert my money.
But, the trauma did not end there: I got my eyebrows etc sorted at a local beauty parlour and then I impromptuously and stupidly, I requested a haircut. The woman did not want to listen to my instructions of redoing the layer and hacked of a ridiculous amount of hair, stating that she's adding in the step, as I requested. Noooooooooo…
However, after being calmed down with a promise of crisps, we eventually returned home to a text message saying my sister-in-law had popped and my 6lb 1oz nephew, Aman, had been born. I cannot explain how happy I feel. I know he is beautiful and I love him already. Suddenly, life seems a-ok.
I forgot all about my crisps. God bless my beautiful Aman x
Tuesday 14 October 2008
Balakot – The often inaccurately-described epicentre
I called PIA again and they said they could extend my deadline to 3pm tomorrow and in fact I could go to the PIA office in Muzaffarabad. Sa-weet. Job for tomorrow.
Zahid was only going to stay until Thursday morning and then he was going to cycle back to Islamabad where I would meet him, hopefully for a return journey back together (PIA had). He rested the first couple of days, just checking out the village and its river.
I had a meeting arranged in Balakot with some locals of villages near Balakot itself. They described water problems so I went to assess their needs. Zahid came along, as did my host and her brother-in-law, who drove us there. Balakot is actually equidistant to the epicenter of the earthquake as Muzaffarabad, but the damage in this city has been vastly different. Balakot is a smaller city with much less damage due to landslides. Instead, most of their buildings collapsed with the quake, including on the less steep hillsides. As we drove into Balakot, it was clear that many blue-roofed shelters had been provided to the affectees. Apparently, these were completely free donations by various countries/organisations and, when I saw one of them, I was surprised at how well constructed they were: double-glazed windows, electric power points, lockable doors, 15 year durability. Much better than some of the shelters I'd seen in Muzaffarabad. In addition, we drove past at least 2 hospitals, some schools, a children's play area, bridges spanning the river, new roads and rebuilt shops.
The men we visited from a central area within Balakot seemed very aware of the problems in their specific area that the meeting had much promise. Discussions with them started off with what seemed like a basic water supply problem, but as I recapped with them their needs, they seemed to add on a bit more. So what initially started off with a straight-forward main water pipe line between 2 pre-existing tanks became an extension of an existing mainline, then repair of another line (which Oxfam had already done - even though the locals had collected money for this work, they didn't want to spend it on repairs), to activation of the filtration tank, and finally more activation tanks. I then got told that many an assessment had been carried out on their area, but nothing came of them to the point where people can be abusive of NGO visits. This rang alarm bells – was the lack of funding a function of their needs not being a priority (after all, they have something of everything) together with ignorance of not knowing their relative position, or simply their inability to state clearly their needs? I came to the conclusion that, based on my assessments so far, they were no way a priority and even if they were, it would be difficult to know exactly what they wanted and wasn't entirely sure we would receive active support from the locals. Anyway, another area of Balakot honestly stated that they already had a bit everything, but would like improvements on the situation. Fair enough. I don't think Balakot is a priority area, really!
In the evening, Zahid had planned to begin this massive walk up to Pir Chanasi, some 3km high. The plan was to go up to Thore, that village I assessed, stay overnight to continue early in the morning. But it rained so hard that evening and became so foggy high up that the trip was cancelled. Never mind!
Hope the weather's peachy where you are x
Zahid was only going to stay until Thursday morning and then he was going to cycle back to Islamabad where I would meet him, hopefully for a return journey back together (PIA had). He rested the first couple of days, just checking out the village and its river.
I had a meeting arranged in Balakot with some locals of villages near Balakot itself. They described water problems so I went to assess their needs. Zahid came along, as did my host and her brother-in-law, who drove us there. Balakot is actually equidistant to the epicenter of the earthquake as Muzaffarabad, but the damage in this city has been vastly different. Balakot is a smaller city with much less damage due to landslides. Instead, most of their buildings collapsed with the quake, including on the less steep hillsides. As we drove into Balakot, it was clear that many blue-roofed shelters had been provided to the affectees. Apparently, these were completely free donations by various countries/organisations and, when I saw one of them, I was surprised at how well constructed they were: double-glazed windows, electric power points, lockable doors, 15 year durability. Much better than some of the shelters I'd seen in Muzaffarabad. In addition, we drove past at least 2 hospitals, some schools, a children's play area, bridges spanning the river, new roads and rebuilt shops.
The men we visited from a central area within Balakot seemed very aware of the problems in their specific area that the meeting had much promise. Discussions with them started off with what seemed like a basic water supply problem, but as I recapped with them their needs, they seemed to add on a bit more. So what initially started off with a straight-forward main water pipe line between 2 pre-existing tanks became an extension of an existing mainline, then repair of another line (which Oxfam had already done - even though the locals had collected money for this work, they didn't want to spend it on repairs), to activation of the filtration tank, and finally more activation tanks. I then got told that many an assessment had been carried out on their area, but nothing came of them to the point where people can be abusive of NGO visits. This rang alarm bells – was the lack of funding a function of their needs not being a priority (after all, they have something of everything) together with ignorance of not knowing their relative position, or simply their inability to state clearly their needs? I came to the conclusion that, based on my assessments so far, they were no way a priority and even if they were, it would be difficult to know exactly what they wanted and wasn't entirely sure we would receive active support from the locals. Anyway, another area of Balakot honestly stated that they already had a bit everything, but would like improvements on the situation. Fair enough. I don't think Balakot is a priority area, really!
In the evening, Zahid had planned to begin this massive walk up to Pir Chanasi, some 3km high. The plan was to go up to Thore, that village I assessed, stay overnight to continue early in the morning. But it rained so hard that evening and became so foggy high up that the trip was cancelled. Never mind!
Hope the weather's peachy where you are x
Saturday 11 October 2008
The arrival of the brother
Having trouble booking a flight back to the UK. BA are, in a nutshell, shit. NEVER fly to Pakistan with BA – they have dumped me here to sort myself out with a return flight and their local offices all seem to be closed now (no flights, no office staff). So, I've been calling the UK office. I keep getting told I need to visit a major city to buy my ticket or go to a PIA sales office in Islamabad, 5 hours away because BA and PIA have a repatriation agreement!! Of course, I didn't accept this, but that I had to make a number of calls today and got no where bothered me hugely to say the least. I kinda need to get home. In the end, I focused on calling PIA and finally managed to speak to someone more helpful. She said she could get me a flight, but I could only buy it in person from a sales office, the nearest one being Islamabad. However, she reserved me a seat for the 20 Oct, my original return day, on the same flight as Zahid, my brother, but I had to buy it today. There was no way I was going to get to Islamabad before the day was out so I accepted the reservation and would try my luck later at extending this deadline.
I decided that my illness was fatigue, related to a lack of good sleep (as are many illnesses, in my opinion). However, I soon recovered just about in time to received Zahid, my brother.
Zahid finally reached Muzaffarabad today after an upset tummy/jetlagged start. He also needed to purchase a cycling helmet as he accidentally left his at home - not normally a problem, but given the limited use of motorcycle helmets, cycling helmets were met with strange facial gestures and shoulder shrugs indicting "you'll be lucky, mate". So, he didn't actually leave for Murree until Thursday. However, in his gentle cycling/ramblings around Islamabad in search of a helmet, he realised that perhaps Murree was a bit too much of a steep climb given his slightly ill state. After all, Islamabad is 300m above sea-level and Murree is 2100m and the distance between the two cities is only 60km. You do the math!
So, he decided to catch the bus – again, not a problem assuming you can find the bus station. Now, you've got to remember, Pakistanis don't do much in the way of a) road signs, b) road names, c) inter-city traveling, d) reading or e) saying "I don't know". So, you can imagine finding the bus station was not simple at all. Eventually, he got there after being told be different people that the station in every major direction of the compass and arrived into Murree on Thursday afternoon. Zahid described the journey to Murree as "beautiful and fantastic", but reaching Murree seemed a huge anticlimax, "boring and dirty". However, he did manage to break into the only church to enter what sounded like aanother world or green grass, children playing on the lawns, parents sitting at a picnic. These were the priest of the church's family who invited Zahid in for a cuppa. Lovely. The 3 police check points even seemed trouble-free, even if one of the policemen tried Zahid's bike and rode a fair distance away, inadvertently scaring Zahid into thinking he was watching his bike and luggage being stolen.
Zahid left Murree on Saturday, direct to Muzaffarabad on bike. 40km was marked mainly by "weeeeeeeeee…" and the remaining 40km were tougher. I was at a typically Muslim wedding (ie boring and impersonal, though, atypically, food was served some 3 hours late that when it was announced, everyone stormed the dinner hall as if they hadn't eaten for 3 iftars of Ramadan. My hand was even slapped away after I, in true Brit style, patiently waited my turn to serve myself!! Some people then very strangely proceeded to cast their chicken bones on the floor ready for their next helping. I was a little perplexed by this behaviour and tried to shield myself in a corner of the dinner hall) and so was very pleased when Zahid called to say his legs were now jelly and could I pick him up from the petrol station he had almost collapsed in and where the owners of a nearby shop were helping him regain the feeling in his legs by feeding him Cornettos. So, I did!
It was really great to see him, particularly after his adventure, but I must have been in conservative Kashmir too long as hugging him seemed a bit awkward. I was surprised I didn't let that cultural issue go, but we sat in the back of the Suzuki chatting an laughing away as we drove back to the village. Twas lovely.
I decided that my illness was fatigue, related to a lack of good sleep (as are many illnesses, in my opinion). However, I soon recovered just about in time to received Zahid, my brother.
Zahid finally reached Muzaffarabad today after an upset tummy/jetlagged start. He also needed to purchase a cycling helmet as he accidentally left his at home - not normally a problem, but given the limited use of motorcycle helmets, cycling helmets were met with strange facial gestures and shoulder shrugs indicting "you'll be lucky, mate". So, he didn't actually leave for Murree until Thursday. However, in his gentle cycling/ramblings around Islamabad in search of a helmet, he realised that perhaps Murree was a bit too much of a steep climb given his slightly ill state. After all, Islamabad is 300m above sea-level and Murree is 2100m and the distance between the two cities is only 60km. You do the math!
So, he decided to catch the bus – again, not a problem assuming you can find the bus station. Now, you've got to remember, Pakistanis don't do much in the way of a) road signs, b) road names, c) inter-city traveling, d) reading or e) saying "I don't know". So, you can imagine finding the bus station was not simple at all. Eventually, he got there after being told be different people that the station in every major direction of the compass and arrived into Murree on Thursday afternoon. Zahid described the journey to Murree as "beautiful and fantastic", but reaching Murree seemed a huge anticlimax, "boring and dirty". However, he did manage to break into the only church to enter what sounded like aanother world or green grass, children playing on the lawns, parents sitting at a picnic. These were the priest of the church's family who invited Zahid in for a cuppa. Lovely. The 3 police check points even seemed trouble-free, even if one of the policemen tried Zahid's bike and rode a fair distance away, inadvertently scaring Zahid into thinking he was watching his bike and luggage being stolen.
Zahid left Murree on Saturday, direct to Muzaffarabad on bike. 40km was marked mainly by "weeeeeeeeee…" and the remaining 40km were tougher. I was at a typically Muslim wedding (ie boring and impersonal, though, atypically, food was served some 3 hours late that when it was announced, everyone stormed the dinner hall as if they hadn't eaten for 3 iftars of Ramadan. My hand was even slapped away after I, in true Brit style, patiently waited my turn to serve myself!! Some people then very strangely proceeded to cast their chicken bones on the floor ready for their next helping. I was a little perplexed by this behaviour and tried to shield myself in a corner of the dinner hall) and so was very pleased when Zahid called to say his legs were now jelly and could I pick him up from the petrol station he had almost collapsed in and where the owners of a nearby shop were helping him regain the feeling in his legs by feeding him Cornettos. So, I did!
It was really great to see him, particularly after his adventure, but I must have been in conservative Kashmir too long as hugging him seemed a bit awkward. I was surprised I didn't let that cultural issue go, but we sat in the back of the Suzuki chatting an laughing away as we drove back to the village. Twas lovely.
Wednesday 8 October 2008
The Eagle has landed...
My brother, Zahid, finally arrived into Islamabad a couple of days back with his bike (he plans to cycle between Islamabad and Muzafarrabad, approx. 100km). Unknowingly, the hotel I arranged for him was just around the corner from the Marriott bomb-blast… Ooops. Which reminds me, I still don't have a flight booked back to London after BA's over-the-top suspension of flights to/from Pakistan. Oh, great, and now I'm ill… L
Hope you're in better health x
Ps It was the 3rd anniversary of the earthquake today. It was marked very subtly with food offerings to family and friends that is you blinked or (somehow) did not know it was the anniversary, you'd think it was just a normal day. Unless you spoke to someone about it, you would not know. There was apparently a ceremony in the city which we decided to stay away from given the currently bombing interest here and some kids were off school, but unless you spoke to someone about it, you would not know. Please remember the victims and their families in your prayers over the next few days.
Hope you're in better health x
Ps It was the 3rd anniversary of the earthquake today. It was marked very subtly with food offerings to family and friends that is you blinked or (somehow) did not know it was the anniversary, you'd think it was just a normal day. Unless you spoke to someone about it, you would not know. There was apparently a ceremony in the city which we decided to stay away from given the currently bombing interest here and some kids were off school, but unless you spoke to someone about it, you would not know. Please remember the victims and their families in your prayers over the next few days.
Tuesday 7 October 2008
Reality sucks!
As the Eid celebrations continue and there is more time to learn about how people operate here, it is clear that corruption is rife everywhere, and in the charity field/social enterprise field, it is no different. Or there is plain disorganization that means that money is inefficiently used and consequently sent back to the benefactor, typically some rich Arab geezer who just didn't know what to do with the extra change.
Sadly, I have learnt that someone is almost always making a fast buck from whatever they can. It's disgusting. I have even been involved in minor levels of this behaviour already: My host works as a contractor for the government and recently submitted a proposal to run a vocational training course on vegetable growing. According to her, this is not a new programme, but her application form is being majorly delayed. Now, my host's ex-boss contacted her and said he would like to meet me. So, he's taken us both out on day trips, apparently, to show me the Muzaffarabad area. In doing so, he's asked me many a question about my observations so far and where I think work should be focusing. I do believe that education is seriously lacking in this area now, with families not being able to send children to school. So, he proposed a business plan to me to open a school up and upfront asked for 350,000 rupees. Of course, I said that I'd think about it. But, it just so happens that this man is in charge of my host's vegetable growing application and he seems to be implying that her application may never be process unless she puts pressure on me to enter this school business. How mad is that?! I want to play this guy a this game somehow, but my host says to not bother because he's incredibly shrewd and I suppose I wouldn't want any repercussions for her. Fair point, but boooorrrrrriiiiiing!!
On the other hand, I've managed to secure some contact details of filthy rich Arab folk who I'm going to attempt to get some money from. They are big sources of unfd for this Kashmir area so are worth accessing. It's the longest shot of my life, but I'm fired up now...
Hope you are experiencing a relaxing corrupt-free life x
Sadly, I have learnt that someone is almost always making a fast buck from whatever they can. It's disgusting. I have even been involved in minor levels of this behaviour already: My host works as a contractor for the government and recently submitted a proposal to run a vocational training course on vegetable growing. According to her, this is not a new programme, but her application form is being majorly delayed. Now, my host's ex-boss contacted her and said he would like to meet me. So, he's taken us both out on day trips, apparently, to show me the Muzaffarabad area. In doing so, he's asked me many a question about my observations so far and where I think work should be focusing. I do believe that education is seriously lacking in this area now, with families not being able to send children to school. So, he proposed a business plan to me to open a school up and upfront asked for 350,000 rupees. Of course, I said that I'd think about it. But, it just so happens that this man is in charge of my host's vegetable growing application and he seems to be implying that her application may never be process unless she puts pressure on me to enter this school business. How mad is that?! I want to play this guy a this game somehow, but my host says to not bother because he's incredibly shrewd and I suppose I wouldn't want any repercussions for her. Fair point, but boooorrrrrriiiiiing!!
On the other hand, I've managed to secure some contact details of filthy rich Arab folk who I'm going to attempt to get some money from. They are big sources of unfd for this Kashmir area so are worth accessing. It's the longest shot of my life, but I'm fired up now...
Hope you are experiencing a relaxing corrupt-free life x
Thursday 2 October 2008
Eid days!!
So, there was a bit of confusion last night because we were first told that Eid would be on Thursday – which put me in an incredibly foul mood as fasting for one more day would – but, then got told it would be Wednesday. Randomness aside, I'm glad this happened.
My host's best bud visited last night and she put mehndi (henna) on both my arms and both sides of my hands. She has some serious skills and I couldn't help but wonder how much talent there was floating around. I mean, other than the artistry of the mehndi, everyone makes and designs their own clothes (another contributing factor for the busyness of Eid), cuts their own hair, deals with their own electricity/plumbing problems and builds their own houses!! Granted, it's because these services are not easily available and not always to the standard we in the UK would be satisfied with, but skills none-the-less! So, last night my sleep was a bit 'crumby' to say the least because of the mehndi drying on my hands overnight.
Unfortunately, a lie-in wasn't going to happen on Eid day as everyone was up and running by 6am!! That's one thing about Pakistani culture I like: It's a very 'early to bed, early to rise'. That said, sleep is something I do feel a bit deprived of recently because of Ramadan. Hopefully, an end has been put to all that for another 11 months or so.
Eid was really fun. Everyone was in good spirits, looking good and there was food everywhere!! You can't argue with that. I looked properly Kashmiri I was told (not sure what that means exactly, but it involved predicting marriage proposals). The day was filled with lots of visits from family and friends, and Eidi (Eid gifts/money) was given to the children. I even got Eidi and made 300r!! Sa-weet.
While sitting there and taking part in the festivities, it occurred to me that this is the first proper Eid I've really had. Back home, it's nothing like this: new clothes, new hair style, extensive visiting and Eidi-giving. If Eid falls on a work day, people typically take annual leave for the morning at least and visiting relatives doesn't happen so readily – not in my experience anyway. I suspect the differences in Eid celebrations are a combination of the UK not being a Muslim country and family being more friendly in Pakistan. I must say, it's worth emigrating to a Muslim country just for Eid.
That said, Muslim hospitality became a bit of a burden. Every household you visited offered food… and sadly, the same food: kheer (rice pudding), chana chaat (chickpea/veg mix), fruit chaat (spicy fruit salad) and mitaai (Indian sweets). So, as the day went by, it became harder to eat people's offerings. But, it's really rude not to eat anything. Given that hardly anyone drank mineral water, I was stuck with the heavier foods. Needless to say, Day 2 was managed a lot better.
And lo-and-behold, that Kashmiri look I was apparently pulling off so well did result in a few interested parties, including a young man who is studying to become a molbie (religious figure)! Thanks, but no thanks!!
My host's best bud visited last night and she put mehndi (henna) on both my arms and both sides of my hands. She has some serious skills and I couldn't help but wonder how much talent there was floating around. I mean, other than the artistry of the mehndi, everyone makes and designs their own clothes (another contributing factor for the busyness of Eid), cuts their own hair, deals with their own electricity/plumbing problems and builds their own houses!! Granted, it's because these services are not easily available and not always to the standard we in the UK would be satisfied with, but skills none-the-less! So, last night my sleep was a bit 'crumby' to say the least because of the mehndi drying on my hands overnight.
Unfortunately, a lie-in wasn't going to happen on Eid day as everyone was up and running by 6am!! That's one thing about Pakistani culture I like: It's a very 'early to bed, early to rise'. That said, sleep is something I do feel a bit deprived of recently because of Ramadan. Hopefully, an end has been put to all that for another 11 months or so.
Eid was really fun. Everyone was in good spirits, looking good and there was food everywhere!! You can't argue with that. I looked properly Kashmiri I was told (not sure what that means exactly, but it involved predicting marriage proposals). The day was filled with lots of visits from family and friends, and Eidi (Eid gifts/money) was given to the children. I even got Eidi and made 300r!! Sa-weet.
While sitting there and taking part in the festivities, it occurred to me that this is the first proper Eid I've really had. Back home, it's nothing like this: new clothes, new hair style, extensive visiting and Eidi-giving. If Eid falls on a work day, people typically take annual leave for the morning at least and visiting relatives doesn't happen so readily – not in my experience anyway. I suspect the differences in Eid celebrations are a combination of the UK not being a Muslim country and family being more friendly in Pakistan. I must say, it's worth emigrating to a Muslim country just for Eid.
That said, Muslim hospitality became a bit of a burden. Every household you visited offered food… and sadly, the same food: kheer (rice pudding), chana chaat (chickpea/veg mix), fruit chaat (spicy fruit salad) and mitaai (Indian sweets). So, as the day went by, it became harder to eat people's offerings. But, it's really rude not to eat anything. Given that hardly anyone drank mineral water, I was stuck with the heavier foods. Needless to say, Day 2 was managed a lot better.
And lo-and-behold, that Kashmiri look I was apparently pulling off so well did result in a few interested parties, including a young man who is studying to become a molbie (religious figure)! Thanks, but no thanks!!
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