Saturday 28 March 2009
Snow freak
Today, we spontaneously drove up to a snow-capped mountain. I was dressed in bright pink traditional clothes, with my pink sunglasses, long brown boots underneath my salwaar (baggy trousers) and no jacket. I was a sight, frankly! The city temperature was approximately 20 degrees, but the mountain, some 2000m high, the snow was about a foot deep. As much of a sight as I might have looked, damn, I’m glad I was wearing my boots!
Friday 6 March 2009
Deja vu?
I'm due to fly back on Sunday morning, but I was being taken to Islamabad on Saturday. It's Friday evening and I've just been told that the lift that provides access out of the village I'm staying in is being repaired tomorrow and so I'm not sure what to do there. I'm sure Nisara has a back-up plan that will save the day.
I'm beginning to get the feeling that Pakistan doesn't want me to leave... Seeing as I could be the Head of the Psychology department at the main university here and set up a children's centre, I'm thinking that it's not such a bad thing that I do stay... :-o
Let's see what happens over the next day or two ;-)
I'm beginning to get the feeling that Pakistan doesn't want me to leave... Seeing as I could be the Head of the Psychology department at the main university here and set up a children's centre, I'm thinking that it's not such a bad thing that I do stay... :-o
Let's see what happens over the next day or two ;-)
Thursday 5 March 2009
No, no, no, no, no
Just a quick message to those concerned about the recent madness in Lahore: I'm fine.
That, and I've just been informed that the charity want to fund a different project to the one I prioritised in my October report on the basis that cost-to-people benefiting ratio is more important that severity of need. Arggghhhhhh.... Not happy. I spoke to the main decision-maker and he was adamant that the financial argument was the main one for them. I expressed my concern with this criteria, but fear I got nowhere. Personally, I think it is more worthwhile funding a project for fewer people who do not get any water than one for more people whose system is in need of repair when the cost is essentally the same. Having seen the condition of the smaller village, I just do not know how they need is less.
Charity work can suck when the real-life aspect of assessing needs is overruled by theroretical arguments.
Pheh!
The long and short of it is that it may not be possible to start a project because I'm still arguing the toss on this one :-s
Wish me luck!!
That, and I've just been informed that the charity want to fund a different project to the one I prioritised in my October report on the basis that cost-to-people benefiting ratio is more important that severity of need. Arggghhhhhh.... Not happy. I spoke to the main decision-maker and he was adamant that the financial argument was the main one for them. I expressed my concern with this criteria, but fear I got nowhere. Personally, I think it is more worthwhile funding a project for fewer people who do not get any water than one for more people whose system is in need of repair when the cost is essentally the same. Having seen the condition of the smaller village, I just do not know how they need is less.
Charity work can suck when the real-life aspect of assessing needs is overruled by theroretical arguments.
Pheh!
The long and short of it is that it may not be possible to start a project because I'm still arguing the toss on this one :-s
Wish me luck!!
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Trapped!
The weather’s been horrific: rain like masses of mini buckets of water falling from the sky, wind so strong you could barely walk outside, and bitter, biting cold (remember, radiators and such likes do not exist here!). And to top it all off, there was no access into/out of the village via the lift because the wind was too strong and there was no electricity for the tv or computer/internet.
So, charity work was not going to be possible during these few days. This was actually a very big problem for the work because I am due to leave on Sunday. The days were instead filled with practicing more urdu (and learning bits of Hinko, Pasto and Parari dialects) and just observing conversation of others. I noticed that people were talking much more about the predicted earthquake, understandably (in fact, apparently, there was a tremor on Monday night, but I didn’t feel it). However, when asked directly about their feelings, the topic was either met with descriptions of not being bothered/it being fate or was dismissed as unimportant to discuss.
I also noticed that people were talking more about their general worries and were describing recent symptoms of anxiety often in conversation. For example, I met a woman who has been suffering with sudden bouts of crying and heart palpitations, a young woman of 21 whose throat felt like it was closing and concerns of death, and a young boy who has been unable to sleep recently. All f these cases were people who were aware of the prediction due to emerge this month and experienced great loss in the 2005 disaster. I’m not saying that anxieties, fears and worries do not exist in life without natural disasters, but I suspect that an imminent earthquake would bring many issues to the fore. I truly fear for them. I pray for these people, I really do.
So, charity work was not going to be possible during these few days. This was actually a very big problem for the work because I am due to leave on Sunday. The days were instead filled with practicing more urdu (and learning bits of Hinko, Pasto and Parari dialects) and just observing conversation of others. I noticed that people were talking much more about the predicted earthquake, understandably (in fact, apparently, there was a tremor on Monday night, but I didn’t feel it). However, when asked directly about their feelings, the topic was either met with descriptions of not being bothered/it being fate or was dismissed as unimportant to discuss.
I also noticed that people were talking more about their general worries and were describing recent symptoms of anxiety often in conversation. For example, I met a woman who has been suffering with sudden bouts of crying and heart palpitations, a young woman of 21 whose throat felt like it was closing and concerns of death, and a young boy who has been unable to sleep recently. All f these cases were people who were aware of the prediction due to emerge this month and experienced great loss in the 2005 disaster. I’m not saying that anxieties, fears and worries do not exist in life without natural disasters, but I suspect that an imminent earthquake would bring many issues to the fore. I truly fear for them. I pray for these people, I really do.
Saturday 28 February 2009
Snow freak
Today, we spontaneously drove up to a snow-capped mountain. I was dressed in bright pink traditional clothes, with my pink sunglasses, long brown boots underneath my salwaar (baggy trousers) and no jacket. I was a sight, frankly! The city temperature was approximately 20 degrees, but the mountain, some 2000m high, the snow was about a foot deep. As much of a sight as I might have looked, damn, I’m glad I was wearing my boots!
Friday 27 February 2009
Chilling prediction
Today I learnt that geologists predict that there will be another earthquake of similar magnitude as in 2005 (7.9 which incidentally was an estimate from Islamabad because the Reichter scale was, so this reading may even be an underestimate of the actual reading) in March or April this year. Honestly, when I heard this news, I felt sick. I can’t believe it. It is really hard to describe how I felt, but it was something along the lines of sadness for the people who live in the area who are likely to add to the trauma of 2005, helplessness that the people who live here just view it as their fate, and anger that people will die in much the same way as before because the country cannot afford to learn from its mistakes. There was also selfish anger, too, that I had made friends with people who may not actually be around in a couple of months.
It was very surreal to hear people talk about the earthquake like it was some kind of fairground attraction coming to a town near them. Some people even talked about how there is no point carrying out certain activities until after the earthquake.
Ultimately, the various thoughts local people had about the predication is a reflection of their inability to move anywhere safer, their coping style and, dare I say it, their love for their families and Kashmir.
I personally just don't get it.
It was very surreal to hear people talk about the earthquake like it was some kind of fairground attraction coming to a town near them. Some people even talked about how there is no point carrying out certain activities until after the earthquake.
Ultimately, the various thoughts local people had about the predication is a reflection of their inability to move anywhere safer, their coping style and, dare I say it, their love for their families and Kashmir.
I personally just don't get it.
Thursday 26 February 2009
Pattika and driving
Having deposited the GBPs in the bank, we now have to wait until Tuesday before it’s available in rupees. Shame – holiday until then ;-) We decided to go to one of the villages where Nisara had done some recent work teaching women how to grow vegetables for their own purposes and for income. The road to Pattika was winding and earthquake damaged meaning that the ~20km trip took about 1.5hours. The whole journey tracked the Neelum river and the landscape was amazing, with mountains everywhere, including snow-capped ones in the not-so-distant backdrop. Seeing such a snowy view seemed odd because I was slowly roasting in the car. But, that just shows how mountainous the area is and I guess, why it’s an earthquake-prone area. Pattika is more of a small town than a village and is really pretty, set on the rising slopes of the Neelum river. The houses were mostly multi-coloured and bright, and earthquake damage seemed less obvious here.
We ate lunch at the Marco Polo restaurant which is apparently Pattika’s finest. Now, one must remember than this is Pakistan so what is meant by “finest” is not quite the same as what we would imagine it to look like back home in the UK. The restaurant resembled something of a tin shack with what probably was meant to be the gardens. There were plastic chairs and tables everywhere and groups of men sitting around them. We went around to the back of the establishment to the ‘veranda garden’ which has the sorriest and unsafest looking children’s play area you will ever see and which led onto the incredibly fast-flowing Neelum river. As you can imagine, I wasn’t holding out much hope for the food given this setting. We ordered the ‘desi’ menu which consisted of 3 curries made from leaves of the spinach family, and fried and plain corn chapattis. Oh my goodness! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It was the most lovely food I’d tasted in a very long time. It wasn’t too greasy and it was all vegetarian which is the complete opposite to most Pakistani food. Lush, lush, lush!
After eating far too much that lunch time, we then climbed onto the rocks and boulders beside the river – it was very pleasant indeed, though somewhat strange given that we were dressed in traditional Pakistani clothes with completely inappropriate footwear over a very deep, choppy river where only 1 of us (me!) could actually swim. I’m beginning to think that poor safety is the theme of the trip :-o
And just to top it all off, I asked if I could drive the car back home, which I was obliged and when we reached the city, I tried to drive like a Pakistani and I got the car almost crushed between one of their rather large decorated trucks and a line of cars!? I screamed like a crazy woman at which point Nisara told me to stop being an idiot (for the screaming, not the driving, would you believe!) I pulled up shortly after this incident and handed the car back to the driver. In spite of all this, I somehow doubt that this will be the last time I try driving in Pakistan this trip.
We ate lunch at the Marco Polo restaurant which is apparently Pattika’s finest. Now, one must remember than this is Pakistan so what is meant by “finest” is not quite the same as what we would imagine it to look like back home in the UK. The restaurant resembled something of a tin shack with what probably was meant to be the gardens. There were plastic chairs and tables everywhere and groups of men sitting around them. We went around to the back of the establishment to the ‘veranda garden’ which has the sorriest and unsafest looking children’s play area you will ever see and which led onto the incredibly fast-flowing Neelum river. As you can imagine, I wasn’t holding out much hope for the food given this setting. We ordered the ‘desi’ menu which consisted of 3 curries made from leaves of the spinach family, and fried and plain corn chapattis. Oh my goodness! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It was the most lovely food I’d tasted in a very long time. It wasn’t too greasy and it was all vegetarian which is the complete opposite to most Pakistani food. Lush, lush, lush!
After eating far too much that lunch time, we then climbed onto the rocks and boulders beside the river – it was very pleasant indeed, though somewhat strange given that we were dressed in traditional Pakistani clothes with completely inappropriate footwear over a very deep, choppy river where only 1 of us (me!) could actually swim. I’m beginning to think that poor safety is the theme of the trip :-o
And just to top it all off, I asked if I could drive the car back home, which I was obliged and when we reached the city, I tried to drive like a Pakistani and I got the car almost crushed between one of their rather large decorated trucks and a line of cars!? I screamed like a crazy woman at which point Nisara told me to stop being an idiot (for the screaming, not the driving, would you believe!) I pulled up shortly after this incident and handed the car back to the driver. In spite of all this, I somehow doubt that this will be the last time I try driving in Pakistan this trip.
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Feeling the love
I had such a nice day today.
There were a few admin bits to do, but as always in Pakistan, things take a while and frankly, I was knackered due to the jetlag and also the late nights with Nisara.
Today was my first day to see Dhani and Muzaffarabad city again. It’s been only approx. 4 months since I was last here and I was surprised to see some changes here and there on different levels, which, given the resources and infrastructure of the country, suggested that perhaps change is inevitable, even in the most difficult of circumstances. On the individual family level, I noticed how various houses around Dhani had been improved upon; on a local level, Dhani now had a fruiterer selling fresh produce at the cable car lift so people did not have to travel into the city for the basics; some roads around the city were repaired making driving a lot more pleasant and possible for all types of vehicles; I hear that the transport system is being managed better in the mountains to provide better access to remote areas. It was nice to see/hear about these developments and I pray that it continues.
We had to visit 3 banks today, including mine to check that all's well with my account. My lovely bank manager was there, looking, dare I say it, a little dashing in his suit and tie. Now, I suspect a bit of this positive perception of him was related to the fact that he did just randomly give me 10000 rupees last trip, but actually, I noticed this time that he was really shy in a really endearing way eg he made fleeting eye contact and he always had this tiny smile on his lips which suited him. Oh my goodness - I think I fancy him a little bit!?! Not helped at all by the fact that he then changed my pounds into rupees using a good rate and without commission. Such a lovely, lovely man.
I met up with a few of the people I'd met previously which was nice and I got bought the only fizzy drink I really actually like: Miranda! It's an orange drink and it's lush.
I love Kashmir right now and I think Kashmir loves me back!
There were a few admin bits to do, but as always in Pakistan, things take a while and frankly, I was knackered due to the jetlag and also the late nights with Nisara.
Today was my first day to see Dhani and Muzaffarabad city again. It’s been only approx. 4 months since I was last here and I was surprised to see some changes here and there on different levels, which, given the resources and infrastructure of the country, suggested that perhaps change is inevitable, even in the most difficult of circumstances. On the individual family level, I noticed how various houses around Dhani had been improved upon; on a local level, Dhani now had a fruiterer selling fresh produce at the cable car lift so people did not have to travel into the city for the basics; some roads around the city were repaired making driving a lot more pleasant and possible for all types of vehicles; I hear that the transport system is being managed better in the mountains to provide better access to remote areas. It was nice to see/hear about these developments and I pray that it continues.
We had to visit 3 banks today, including mine to check that all's well with my account. My lovely bank manager was there, looking, dare I say it, a little dashing in his suit and tie. Now, I suspect a bit of this positive perception of him was related to the fact that he did just randomly give me 10000 rupees last trip, but actually, I noticed this time that he was really shy in a really endearing way eg he made fleeting eye contact and he always had this tiny smile on his lips which suited him. Oh my goodness - I think I fancy him a little bit!?! Not helped at all by the fact that he then changed my pounds into rupees using a good rate and without commission. Such a lovely, lovely man.
I met up with a few of the people I'd met previously which was nice and I got bought the only fizzy drink I really actually like: Miranda! It's an orange drink and it's lush.
I love Kashmir right now and I think Kashmir loves me back!
Tuesday 24 February 2009
Rain, rain, go to … Pakistan!?
Arghhhh... why?!??! It just won't stop and it's cold.
The house I'm staying in has a tin roof and, my goodness, you can hear the rain pelting down.
As Nisara and I catch up and plan the short trip, we sit inside the house and the sound of the rains's actually really nice.
Needless to say, these 2 days have been uneventful, but good for us.
The house I'm staying in has a tin roof and, my goodness, you can hear the rain pelting down.
As Nisara and I catch up and plan the short trip, we sit inside the house and the sound of the rains's actually really nice.
Needless to say, these 2 days have been uneventful, but good for us.
Sunday 22 February 2009
The return of The Shabnam… SURPRISE! Why isn’t Nisara laughing?!
The back drop: You might recall that my visit in September/October was to assess water supply needs in remote villages in Muzaffarabad. The undertone of that assessment was to be eventually involved in implementing whichever project the charity chose. I learnt that charity was looking to fund at least one of the projects and so I was trying to juggle revisiting Kashmir with work and a good time for the charity. Thankfully, it was possible to match the charity and my work needs about 3 weeks ago and so here I am for the next 2 weeks! (also, hence why I was not able to tell all about the trip what with tying things over before I left with work etc so sorry to those who’ve found out via Facebook and my emails).
So, the grand plan was to surprise, Nisara, the friend I stay with when I go Kashmir because, let’s be honest, we struck up a rather lovely friendship and I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Plus, it could mean I get to see the country a bit myself as I travel up from Islamabad to Muzaffarabad. For up to almost a week leading up to the trip, though, friends and family were just telling my that I was insane for even thinking up such a thing: “How can you travel up there alone?”, “The country’s very unstable” and “Nisara/no-one knows where you’ll be at all”, which, when you put it like that is kinda believable and I do sound completely nuts. Still, clearly I paid no attention to what might have been viewed as basic safety advice/common sense, and I made my way to Islamabad unannounced anyway.
The reality of my madness, however, became apparent pretty much the moment I made my way to Heathrow airport via its express train from Paddington station and they charged me £16.50 for the 15min journey!! Then, Heathrow were implementing some mad checking-in scheme for the PIA (you’re damn right I wasn’t doing BA again!) passengers where we were being filtered through 3 queues that pretty much started at the other end of Terminal 3 to the PIA desks. After then donating my excess baggage allowance to some crazy, overprotective family with overweight luggage and so essentially being seated with them on the plane, I was told (for the gazillionth time) that I was insane for trying to make it to Muzaffarabad myself. Just what I want to hear as the plane takes off and I have no way now of contacting Nisara to save my arse. Needless to say, sleep didn’t come all that easily on the plane :-s
The weather in Islamabad was pleasant which was a nice surprise because I thought it was going to be raining. The uncle I was sat next to on the plane suddenly upped the “I fear for your life” game and insisted on taking me to his house so I could be picked up by Nisara there. You might be pleased to know that my safety sense finally kicked in at this point and I politely declined, accepting only a lift to the Daewoo bus station.
The Lonely Planet guide to Pakistan said that there were plenty of buses going from the capital to various parts of the north, particularly Muree which is 1.5hrs away from Muzaffarabad. This was great only, it wasn’t true! There was no direct bus to Muzaffarabad or anywhere nearby, but I would have to do a 3-leg bus journey via Abbotabad or a combination of bus and taxi. It was 10.30am when I arrived at the bus station and the next bus wasn’t till 2.15pm to Muree and 1.45pm to Abbotabad and there was no way I was going to take a taxi on my own.
So, the big surprise to visit Nisara and her family was ruined by me calling Nisara and telling her that I was in fact in Islamabad – SURPRISE - and that I was stuck, thuis needing her help! As could have been predicted, her first comment about it was “You stupid girl! What are you thinking traveling on your own in Pakistan?” Once she got over the shock (which I still like to think was linked to a positive feeling) and anger, she just so happened to know that her brother-in-law was in Muree and would be able to pick me from the bus station. Phew! My hero! This did mean I had to wait in the bus station for 3 hours while I waited for him, on just a few hours sleep – a small price to pay, me thinks. You know, one of the best things about Muslim countries is that there’ll always be a prayer area which is curtained off which meant I basically moved into this area at the bus station and fell asleep for a bit.
The journey to Muzaffarabad felt like it took forever, but I think this is because I was excited to see Nisara and the rain, plus winding roads in the mountains, meant we had to drive quite slowly. We eventually got into Muzaffarabad at 7pm and as we approached Dhani Mie Sahiba, Nisara’s village, the rain started to hammer it down and they just started to load shed the electricity meaning it was pitch black. SURPRISE INDEED!
Despite this, it was really nice to be back and to see everyone. I can tell Nisara was really happy to see me because she didn't hit me!!
So, the grand plan was to surprise, Nisara, the friend I stay with when I go Kashmir because, let’s be honest, we struck up a rather lovely friendship and I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Plus, it could mean I get to see the country a bit myself as I travel up from Islamabad to Muzaffarabad. For up to almost a week leading up to the trip, though, friends and family were just telling my that I was insane for even thinking up such a thing: “How can you travel up there alone?”, “The country’s very unstable” and “Nisara/no-one knows where you’ll be at all”, which, when you put it like that is kinda believable and I do sound completely nuts. Still, clearly I paid no attention to what might have been viewed as basic safety advice/common sense, and I made my way to Islamabad unannounced anyway.
The reality of my madness, however, became apparent pretty much the moment I made my way to Heathrow airport via its express train from Paddington station and they charged me £16.50 for the 15min journey!! Then, Heathrow were implementing some mad checking-in scheme for the PIA (you’re damn right I wasn’t doing BA again!) passengers where we were being filtered through 3 queues that pretty much started at the other end of Terminal 3 to the PIA desks. After then donating my excess baggage allowance to some crazy, overprotective family with overweight luggage and so essentially being seated with them on the plane, I was told (for the gazillionth time) that I was insane for trying to make it to Muzaffarabad myself. Just what I want to hear as the plane takes off and I have no way now of contacting Nisara to save my arse. Needless to say, sleep didn’t come all that easily on the plane :-s
The weather in Islamabad was pleasant which was a nice surprise because I thought it was going to be raining. The uncle I was sat next to on the plane suddenly upped the “I fear for your life” game and insisted on taking me to his house so I could be picked up by Nisara there. You might be pleased to know that my safety sense finally kicked in at this point and I politely declined, accepting only a lift to the Daewoo bus station.
The Lonely Planet guide to Pakistan said that there were plenty of buses going from the capital to various parts of the north, particularly Muree which is 1.5hrs away from Muzaffarabad. This was great only, it wasn’t true! There was no direct bus to Muzaffarabad or anywhere nearby, but I would have to do a 3-leg bus journey via Abbotabad or a combination of bus and taxi. It was 10.30am when I arrived at the bus station and the next bus wasn’t till 2.15pm to Muree and 1.45pm to Abbotabad and there was no way I was going to take a taxi on my own.
So, the big surprise to visit Nisara and her family was ruined by me calling Nisara and telling her that I was in fact in Islamabad – SURPRISE - and that I was stuck, thuis needing her help! As could have been predicted, her first comment about it was “You stupid girl! What are you thinking traveling on your own in Pakistan?” Once she got over the shock (which I still like to think was linked to a positive feeling) and anger, she just so happened to know that her brother-in-law was in Muree and would be able to pick me from the bus station. Phew! My hero! This did mean I had to wait in the bus station for 3 hours while I waited for him, on just a few hours sleep – a small price to pay, me thinks. You know, one of the best things about Muslim countries is that there’ll always be a prayer area which is curtained off which meant I basically moved into this area at the bus station and fell asleep for a bit.
The journey to Muzaffarabad felt like it took forever, but I think this is because I was excited to see Nisara and the rain, plus winding roads in the mountains, meant we had to drive quite slowly. We eventually got into Muzaffarabad at 7pm and as we approached Dhani Mie Sahiba, Nisara’s village, the rain started to hammer it down and they just started to load shed the electricity meaning it was pitch black. SURPRISE INDEED!
Despite this, it was really nice to be back and to see everyone. I can tell Nisara was really happy to see me because she didn't hit me!!
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