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!

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 ;-)

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!!

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.

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!

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.

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.