Sept. 29
Today Tahera and I took a walk out to the main road. This is not the first time we’ve done that. Once we are out the gate, we have two choices. We can go through the bazaar, a motley collection of stalls, small shops and the occasional goat, sheep or chicken. Or we can go down Greens Ave., the more part of town with new houses, imposing gates and manicured lawns. We tend to take the former during the day and the latter in later afternoon early evening.
Once you get out of Chatta, you turn either left or right on Park Road and just walk to see what you can see. Park Road is a four lane paved highway with a grass divider in the middle. When you walk here you see many types of vehicles, from brand new four wheel drive SUV’s carrying army officers to wooden donkey carts carrying timber or grass! There are also bicycles, motorcycles and plenty of pedestrians. The most interesting vehicles on the road are the heavily decorated large trucks and small public vans. There have been whole books written about these trucks and taxis. In fact, my husband and a photographer friend of his are putting such a book together right now.
Roadside, one can see plenty of farmland. Narrow dirt lanes lead down to crumbling brick and mortar homes of two or three rooms. A dirty curtain might function as the only door. There are usually goats and maybe some sheep, definitely chickens and roosters. Occasionally we see a herd of water buffalo. In the heat of the day, these large creatures, the cattle of Pakistan, love to wallow in a mud hole to keep cool.
There are also some corporate type office buildings, schools with signboards and drug rehabilitation centers. Those are very big in Pakistan right now due to a large percentage of heroin addiction. People also smoke hashish, but that’s not considered a harmful drug here. And of course, just like in any other destitute country, every other man you see smokes or chews tobacco.
There are some very large and elegant estates in this area as well. One of them was one of the estates of ex-president Musharraf. It is reputed that he never even visited this particular home of his. It has since been sold to some wealthy buyer. These mansions are set well back from the highway, down long paved roads with their own guard houses and sentries at the gate. Believe or not, they are also called “farms”! This is supposedly to be inconspicuous, but everyone knows who owns these homes: higher ups in the government and military.
We stood on a small bridge overlooking a river and saw a herd of sheep grazing. A man was praying by his taxi near the riverbank. Tahera thought he was there to wash the car.
On the way home there was a particular poignant scene. There were some Pathan children cutting the tall grasses at the side of the road. They had small sickles in their hands, but the oldest couldn’t have been more than ten. He was the one with the bicycle. The children were trying to pile the grass on top of the bike, but it was a difficult task. They themselves were as dusty and ragged as the hay. There was one girl in a dirty brown dress and pants. She looked at me with a mixture of shyness and confusion. These children had the look of hunger and thirst in their eyes. The grass is either for sale or for their cattle. May God grant them some benefit for their efforts. Government statistics place Pakistan literacy rate at 40%-60%, but those in the know say it’s more like 6%. When I see children like this at the roadside in the midday heat, I’m more inclined to believe the last figure.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Dinner is Served!
Sept 27th Dinner is Served!
Note: this entry was written by an American friend of mine who does not have a blog of her own, but wanted to reach an English speaking audience. Please give her your feedback and I’ll pass it on.
To spice or not to spice: That is the question. If you are serving Pakistanis, heavy spices and lots of oil are de riguer. But to my American palate certain foods should be eaten as they were meant to be: salt, pepper, garlic and onion, maybe some paprika or basil. I’ve already made concessions by adding a hunk of fresh ginger to my vegetable soup! Very good, by the way. The answer to the dilemma of muliticultural palates lies in making accommodations, or setting aside my own separate mashed potatoes, and soup sans masala, (Indian spice mix). Then I let Zaynab, our house keeper, tamper with the rest of my creations to suit everyone else’s palate.
This vegetable soup is a story in itself. I have been trying to think of ways to be thrifty in the kitchen by making something out of whatever I might find, like kitchen sink eggs. Hence, the mashed potatoes, which were the main course two night’s back.
All Ramadan, I’d been fasting and thinking of food, certainly not the objective of fasting, but it happens. Around here, I have to be careful about what I ask for. When I first arrived, I made fruit salad with yogurt and mentioned we liked to eat it at home during Ramadan. Now, every day, without fail, Zaynab presents me with a big bowl of it and we end up having to eat it until it turns too brown to be palatable!
Back to the veggie soup. On Saturday, I woke up and asked my husband if he had any money. He said,” zero.” I said, “Oh, I’m asking because I want to make vegetable soup and a meat bone and some veggies in small quantities would be nice.” Since the means were not readily available, I looked in the kitchen and found tomatoes, onions, garlic, and two old carrots. Thrifty homemaker that I am, I had saved the water from the boiled potatoes the day before. Full of minerals and flavor, its a good base for vegetable soup.
Everything I had went into the pot, skin and all for color and flavor. I added a big hunk of ginger and some large garlic cloves for flavor, salt, pepper, bay leaf and some zeera seeds I found with the bay leaf. They ended up adding a nice flavor. I boiled the whole thing and then left it to simmer for some hours, about 4-5. The end result was some sharply flavored consommé. My plan was to add the vegetables when I got them, hopefully next day.
Saturday proceeded uneventfully until my dear husband informed me we’d be having guests in about 15 minutes! I wasn’t even dressed and was worried about what to serve them. I prayed asr and hid out in my room till Zaynab ironed my clothes. Thank God for small favors!
The friend who came brought his wife and their five month old baby, a very cute, alert little girl who kept us entertained for hours. Her mom, a young woman, had lived in the States with her mother and brother while going to high school. We had quite a good conversation in English. Always a plus for me. I served her some crackers and the ever present fruit salad, using the same to break my fast.
Meanwhile, my dear husband walks in with a big bag of fresh fish. This had been bought exclusively for me. He and Zaynab both have a strong aversion to it, but he knows I like it and it is relatively cheap here. I also recalled that the man who was visiting also liked fish and fortunately his wife did too. She even gave Zaynab and I a tip on how to spice it with ready-made fish masala. Zaynab trotted off dutifully to the market to get some. Still no veggies, mind you.
I washed and cleaned the fish. Hubby translated the masala package directions which called for ½ hour marinating. No time for that. Zaynab came bustling back from a second trip to the market and I graciously let her take over, opting to hold the baby instead. Then my husband came in to ask what we’d eat with the fish and how about the soup! I gave him a doleful look and told him it wasn’t fit for company. He said, “We can’t just have fish” and told Z. to go back to the market for two plates of ready-made curry. What a night for her!
Dinner was served. The male guest and I ate the bony fish with zest. Some lemon cut the spice of the masala for me. His wife picked delicately at her plate and Zaynab and my husband ate curry. The baby gummed tiny bits of bread with delight. Everyone was happy and relatively well fed.
This morning, before I got up, Zaynab was sent to Abpara Market for vegetables! She came home with quite a variety of squash, peas, beans, potatoes and other stuff for future meals. I was happy and proud of her. The way the market works here, is seller chooses and packs the bag, so he wants to give you a large quantity and always seems to throw in some stuff of poor quality along with the rest. If you try to choose the produce yourself, he’ll get annoyed.
So, I happily cut and chopped, boiled and simmered the veggies and then added the consommé, which had improved in flavor overnight. Since I was fasting, I had to wait to taste the results. I was very pleased. A perfect American vegetable soup using no meat at all, even for flavor. The fresh veggies, ginger, onions and coriander had melded into a beautiful mixture of flavors. Trouble is, American vegetable soup is not popular in Pakistan, unless you developed a liking for it at British boarding school, as my husband seems to have done.
So, I’ve greedily set aside at least two days worth of soup for myself and the rest will be spiced and served to our guests tonight, who happen to be all male. In fact, as I write this, the chauffeur of one of these men is in the our kitchen, cooking up a chicken! Will wonders never cease?
Note: this entry was written by an American friend of mine who does not have a blog of her own, but wanted to reach an English speaking audience. Please give her your feedback and I’ll pass it on.
To spice or not to spice: That is the question. If you are serving Pakistanis, heavy spices and lots of oil are de riguer. But to my American palate certain foods should be eaten as they were meant to be: salt, pepper, garlic and onion, maybe some paprika or basil. I’ve already made concessions by adding a hunk of fresh ginger to my vegetable soup! Very good, by the way. The answer to the dilemma of muliticultural palates lies in making accommodations, or setting aside my own separate mashed potatoes, and soup sans masala, (Indian spice mix). Then I let Zaynab, our house keeper, tamper with the rest of my creations to suit everyone else’s palate.
This vegetable soup is a story in itself. I have been trying to think of ways to be thrifty in the kitchen by making something out of whatever I might find, like kitchen sink eggs. Hence, the mashed potatoes, which were the main course two night’s back.
All Ramadan, I’d been fasting and thinking of food, certainly not the objective of fasting, but it happens. Around here, I have to be careful about what I ask for. When I first arrived, I made fruit salad with yogurt and mentioned we liked to eat it at home during Ramadan. Now, every day, without fail, Zaynab presents me with a big bowl of it and we end up having to eat it until it turns too brown to be palatable!
Back to the veggie soup. On Saturday, I woke up and asked my husband if he had any money. He said,” zero.” I said, “Oh, I’m asking because I want to make vegetable soup and a meat bone and some veggies in small quantities would be nice.” Since the means were not readily available, I looked in the kitchen and found tomatoes, onions, garlic, and two old carrots. Thrifty homemaker that I am, I had saved the water from the boiled potatoes the day before. Full of minerals and flavor, its a good base for vegetable soup.
Everything I had went into the pot, skin and all for color and flavor. I added a big hunk of ginger and some large garlic cloves for flavor, salt, pepper, bay leaf and some zeera seeds I found with the bay leaf. They ended up adding a nice flavor. I boiled the whole thing and then left it to simmer for some hours, about 4-5. The end result was some sharply flavored consommé. My plan was to add the vegetables when I got them, hopefully next day.
Saturday proceeded uneventfully until my dear husband informed me we’d be having guests in about 15 minutes! I wasn’t even dressed and was worried about what to serve them. I prayed asr and hid out in my room till Zaynab ironed my clothes. Thank God for small favors!
The friend who came brought his wife and their five month old baby, a very cute, alert little girl who kept us entertained for hours. Her mom, a young woman, had lived in the States with her mother and brother while going to high school. We had quite a good conversation in English. Always a plus for me. I served her some crackers and the ever present fruit salad, using the same to break my fast.
Meanwhile, my dear husband walks in with a big bag of fresh fish. This had been bought exclusively for me. He and Zaynab both have a strong aversion to it, but he knows I like it and it is relatively cheap here. I also recalled that the man who was visiting also liked fish and fortunately his wife did too. She even gave Zaynab and I a tip on how to spice it with ready-made fish masala. Zaynab trotted off dutifully to the market to get some. Still no veggies, mind you.
I washed and cleaned the fish. Hubby translated the masala package directions which called for ½ hour marinating. No time for that. Zaynab came bustling back from a second trip to the market and I graciously let her take over, opting to hold the baby instead. Then my husband came in to ask what we’d eat with the fish and how about the soup! I gave him a doleful look and told him it wasn’t fit for company. He said, “We can’t just have fish” and told Z. to go back to the market for two plates of ready-made curry. What a night for her!
Dinner was served. The male guest and I ate the bony fish with zest. Some lemon cut the spice of the masala for me. His wife picked delicately at her plate and Zaynab and my husband ate curry. The baby gummed tiny bits of bread with delight. Everyone was happy and relatively well fed.
This morning, before I got up, Zaynab was sent to Abpara Market for vegetables! She came home with quite a variety of squash, peas, beans, potatoes and other stuff for future meals. I was happy and proud of her. The way the market works here, is seller chooses and packs the bag, so he wants to give you a large quantity and always seems to throw in some stuff of poor quality along with the rest. If you try to choose the produce yourself, he’ll get annoyed.
So, I happily cut and chopped, boiled and simmered the veggies and then added the consommé, which had improved in flavor overnight. Since I was fasting, I had to wait to taste the results. I was very pleased. A perfect American vegetable soup using no meat at all, even for flavor. The fresh veggies, ginger, onions and coriander had melded into a beautiful mixture of flavors. Trouble is, American vegetable soup is not popular in Pakistan, unless you developed a liking for it at British boarding school, as my husband seems to have done.
So, I’ve greedily set aside at least two days worth of soup for myself and the rest will be spiced and served to our guests tonight, who happen to be all male. In fact, as I write this, the chauffeur of one of these men is in the our kitchen, cooking up a chicken! Will wonders never cease?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Islamabad nights
Sept. 26
If someone asked me what we do for fun here in Pakistan, what would I say? The pace of life is entirely different than back home.
Evenings, we sit on the roof and watch the rain. We watch the storm clouds gather in the sky, observe the lightning, wait for the thunder and try to determine how far way the storm is. Our rooftop seats are piled up bricks, four bricks to a seat, just the right height for tea and conversation.
We watch the moon is all its phases of brightness, shining in its glory as it waxes, beaming its holy rays in our direction. We marvel at its halo when masked by the clouds.
An hour before sunset, we bring the charpoy, small table and chair outside to the veranda to enjoy the cooling air. We catch a breeze or two and watch the kites launch from neighboring rooftops, enjoying their dips and rises.
If a storm develops, we move the furniture closer to the house, or back inside, and watch the rain soak the new grass we are struggling to grow. We watch the water flow from the drainpipes and cascade as a waterfall down the steps that lead to the roof.
In the morning, just after fajr, it’s the birds’ playtime. We watch them swoop down on our grass, picking up whatever scraps they might find. We witness their morning conferences on the telephone wires just above our gate. We admire the bird who chooses to stay behind when others fly away. He’s the one who serenades us back to sleep.
We also watch Diana, our adopted street cat. I named her after the Roman goddess who loved to hunt, and hunt she does! She chases and catches frogs and large bugs, then lets them go in a wonderful game of cat and mouse. She amuses us as she holds a creature and bats it with her claws, grasping and releasing it to run for its life, only to be caught and toyed with again. She will only put it in her mouth if challenged by a larger cat, or if she is actually hungry after the milk and scraps we’ve already fed her.
The pace of life is different here in Pakistan. Somehow there is time to unwind, reflect and observe, time to experience the open book of Allah’s universe and offer a prayer of acknowledgement and appreciation.
If someone asked me what we do for fun here in Pakistan, what would I say? The pace of life is entirely different than back home.
Evenings, we sit on the roof and watch the rain. We watch the storm clouds gather in the sky, observe the lightning, wait for the thunder and try to determine how far way the storm is. Our rooftop seats are piled up bricks, four bricks to a seat, just the right height for tea and conversation.
We watch the moon is all its phases of brightness, shining in its glory as it waxes, beaming its holy rays in our direction. We marvel at its halo when masked by the clouds.
An hour before sunset, we bring the charpoy, small table and chair outside to the veranda to enjoy the cooling air. We catch a breeze or two and watch the kites launch from neighboring rooftops, enjoying their dips and rises.
If a storm develops, we move the furniture closer to the house, or back inside, and watch the rain soak the new grass we are struggling to grow. We watch the water flow from the drainpipes and cascade as a waterfall down the steps that lead to the roof.
In the morning, just after fajr, it’s the birds’ playtime. We watch them swoop down on our grass, picking up whatever scraps they might find. We witness their morning conferences on the telephone wires just above our gate. We admire the bird who chooses to stay behind when others fly away. He’s the one who serenades us back to sleep.
We also watch Diana, our adopted street cat. I named her after the Roman goddess who loved to hunt, and hunt she does! She chases and catches frogs and large bugs, then lets them go in a wonderful game of cat and mouse. She amuses us as she holds a creature and bats it with her claws, grasping and releasing it to run for its life, only to be caught and toyed with again. She will only put it in her mouth if challenged by a larger cat, or if she is actually hungry after the milk and scraps we’ve already fed her.
The pace of life is different here in Pakistan. Somehow there is time to unwind, reflect and observe, time to experience the open book of Allah’s universe and offer a prayer of acknowledgement and appreciation.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Of Music and Movies
Sept. 20, 2010
It’s hard to believe I’ve been here a month and two days already. I was able to fast the six days of Shawwal after Ramadan and continue in the same elevated spirits as during Ramadan. Now there is the resolve to fast on Mondays and/or Thursdays and/or on the 13/14/15th of the month, as the Prophet(pbuh) did. Inshallah!
The nights have gotten much cooler. Soon it will be time for blankets and quilts. I’m already wishing I’d brought my winter pajamas! But we do have hot water and that is a blessing. When I return in January, I will know what to bring: CEREAL, herb tea, something to make coffee in, potholders, my warm cashmere shawl (chador), among other things. And dvd’s, lots of them, especially movies from the 80’s and 90’s. Tahera loves them and Asad and I have been enjoying them with her. So far, we’ve watched Thelma and Louise and Dances with Wolves. She loved them both. The first was great because she has never seen women in roles like that (i.e. bank robbers and killers on the run). She thoroughly enjoyed the chase scenes and the scenes where men are shown as fools and the women are the heroes. Asad did a lot of explaining for Dances with Wolves but I know she enjoyed the story line, scenery and Native American lifestyle. We also watched Avatar, but Asad and I were both very surprised to find out she had already seen it on cable four or five times! In Pakistan! That was a surprise.
We are doing some cultural exchange. Tahera has already asked someone to get a bunch of Bollywood dvds to show me. I’m also acquiring a taste for Indian music. Asad likes the classic ghazals recorded in the 50’s and 60’s. There are modern remakes of the same. Ghazals are a genre of poetry. They are love songs that can be appreciated on more than one level. The singer is usually yearning for his lost love, or beloved. The Beloved can be a woman or man, or it can be a yearning for Allah (SWT). The lyrics are heart-rendingly beautiful and sad. I’ll include a sample at the end of this entry.
And then, there are the ever popular qawwalis of Nusrat. Last night we listened to a fascinating fusion of sixties rock sounds and jazz played on classical Indian instruments and electric guitars. These were absolutely wonderful, intricate masterpieces of music. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting on our charpoy, outside in our courtyard, drinking tea, eating nuts and dates and listening to this magical music.
Now that Ramadan and the heat are over, we take walks in the village. Tahera and I go to the corner grocery, the phone card store and the fruit and vegetable stalls to get daily essentials like milk, bread, eggs and cell phone cards. Chatta Backtawer is essentially a village with just a few stores and stalls along one or two streets in town. The rest of the area are houses. I have noticed one school so far, two masjids and one shrine. In the early evening there is often a means’ volleyball game going on at one end of town, or a cricket game
When you walk the dirt paths or streets, it’s not uncommon to run into chicken and goats. Yesterday Tahera and I discovered a herd of water buffalo at one end of town. They were grazing behind one of the old homes and a boy was herding them. Asad tells me these buffalo are considered cattle here and are the main source of milk and other dairy products. Behind the homes on that end of town is a vast area of land with rock formations and a river. We have identified it as a potential place to walk one day, as it is very scenic.
I have been treated to some surprise evening excursions lately. These were Tahera’s ideas to entertain me. She is a sweetheart. She usually has to talk Asad into joining us, as he’d often rather stay home than take public transportation and taxis are expensive. But lately he’s been persuaded and we went to two prime places: Margalla National Park and Lake View Park. In both places, Asad was pleasantly surprised to see how much these areas had changed in the last 30 years, when he’d last visited them as a young man. Back then, they were places of natural beauty and relative solitude. Now they are public vacation spots with carnival rides, food stalls and picnic areas. Still beautiful, but commercially developed. With no admission fees, they are popular recreational places for families in Islamabad and Rawalpindi. There is a sprinkling of tourists, but just a few.
Margalla National Park is up in the hills and we took a taxi there. We went in the early evening after maghrib. This park offers wonderful panoramic views of Islamabad. The city fans out to the east and west from a central sector called the Blue Area. Since it was dark, all the lights were twinkling and it was a pretty sight. No less pretty was the sight of the nine days moon as seen through the pine trees that abound through the park. We walked some paved and dirt areas and told ourselves we’d come back during the day.
There were many attractions in the park as well. Near the parking area, we saw a trained monkey. As his owner told a story of visiting the in-laws, the monkey acted it out, complete with gestures and facial expressions. As one point, he monkey sat on a small chairs, crossed his legs, clasped his hands on his knees, and swung one foot back and forth, just like a proper son in law. It was fun to watch, especially since the monkey himself looked healthy and well taken care of.
An older man sat playing the rabab, a classical Indian string instrument. We stopped to listen and gave him a few coins. There was also a man sketching portraits. The most interesting display to me was a man selling paan. He had set up a stand consisting of a large chest, or pan box, with all its accoutrements. He himself was dressed in green with a special hat. He had dolls on exhibit dressed in native costume, doing common activities, like spinning wool, riding horses and reading Quran. The funny thing was these were American dolls, both Barbies and baby dolls, dressed as classic Pakistani characters. I really liked the spirit of enterprise this guy showed. It looked like he was doing a pretty good business, too, as people were lined up to buy his product, a cone of pan filled with various ingredients. Tahera and Asad enjoyed these but I have never developed a taste for paan, a combination of a leaf, covered with a paste and filled with various herbs.
Lake View Park is another example of a scenic place that has recently been developed into a major recreation area. When Asad last went there, about 35 years ago, it was just a lake, named Rawal Lake and a dam which had been built to supply clean water to Rawalpindi, the twin city of Islamabad. That is a story in itself, as the dam was built without machinery, using only donkeys and manpower. A wealthy contractor from the tribal areas commissioned the project and actually built a village to house the laborers and their families. It is sort of like what Henry Ford did in Dearborn.
When we got to the site, we found it had been re-named Lake View Park. There is a wonderful stone boardwalk and promenade leading down to the lake. It is lined on either side with restaurants, snack stands, carnival rides, an aviary and an ATV race track, of all things. There are beautiful trees, shrubs and flowers lining the walkways. Down by the lake, there is a well-designed rotunda with plenty of seating areas and trash cans, a rare sight in Pakistan. There are gazebos and other structures looking out over the lake as well. It was evening, with a bright moon shining in the sky and reflecting in the water and music playing in the background, quite a lovely evening.
Here is the translation of a ghazal sung by Makesh and translated for me by Asad:
I gave my heart for you to keep.
You set it on fire.
Fate gave me love
And you put my heart in agony.
The beetle, who loves the rose
And hovers over it,
Cries all the time.
The rose is always smiling.
The pain the world is so afraid of,
The heartache they so fear
You, with your first glance,
You buried it all in my heart.
So I kept you in my heart
And lit the lamp of hope
One blow of fate
Extinguished it.
I think that serves as a good example of the romantic soul of Pakistan. One may hear the athan blaring from a hundred microphones five times a day, but the soul of the people has been captured by ishq. And what will convey the true meaning of ishq? Ask your own heart and then let me know!
It’s hard to believe I’ve been here a month and two days already. I was able to fast the six days of Shawwal after Ramadan and continue in the same elevated spirits as during Ramadan. Now there is the resolve to fast on Mondays and/or Thursdays and/or on the 13/14/15th of the month, as the Prophet(pbuh) did. Inshallah!
The nights have gotten much cooler. Soon it will be time for blankets and quilts. I’m already wishing I’d brought my winter pajamas! But we do have hot water and that is a blessing. When I return in January, I will know what to bring: CEREAL, herb tea, something to make coffee in, potholders, my warm cashmere shawl (chador), among other things. And dvd’s, lots of them, especially movies from the 80’s and 90’s. Tahera loves them and Asad and I have been enjoying them with her. So far, we’ve watched Thelma and Louise and Dances with Wolves. She loved them both. The first was great because she has never seen women in roles like that (i.e. bank robbers and killers on the run). She thoroughly enjoyed the chase scenes and the scenes where men are shown as fools and the women are the heroes. Asad did a lot of explaining for Dances with Wolves but I know she enjoyed the story line, scenery and Native American lifestyle. We also watched Avatar, but Asad and I were both very surprised to find out she had already seen it on cable four or five times! In Pakistan! That was a surprise.
We are doing some cultural exchange. Tahera has already asked someone to get a bunch of Bollywood dvds to show me. I’m also acquiring a taste for Indian music. Asad likes the classic ghazals recorded in the 50’s and 60’s. There are modern remakes of the same. Ghazals are a genre of poetry. They are love songs that can be appreciated on more than one level. The singer is usually yearning for his lost love, or beloved. The Beloved can be a woman or man, or it can be a yearning for Allah (SWT). The lyrics are heart-rendingly beautiful and sad. I’ll include a sample at the end of this entry.
And then, there are the ever popular qawwalis of Nusrat. Last night we listened to a fascinating fusion of sixties rock sounds and jazz played on classical Indian instruments and electric guitars. These were absolutely wonderful, intricate masterpieces of music. I thoroughly enjoyed sitting on our charpoy, outside in our courtyard, drinking tea, eating nuts and dates and listening to this magical music.
Now that Ramadan and the heat are over, we take walks in the village. Tahera and I go to the corner grocery, the phone card store and the fruit and vegetable stalls to get daily essentials like milk, bread, eggs and cell phone cards. Chatta Backtawer is essentially a village with just a few stores and stalls along one or two streets in town. The rest of the area are houses. I have noticed one school so far, two masjids and one shrine. In the early evening there is often a means’ volleyball game going on at one end of town, or a cricket game
When you walk the dirt paths or streets, it’s not uncommon to run into chicken and goats. Yesterday Tahera and I discovered a herd of water buffalo at one end of town. They were grazing behind one of the old homes and a boy was herding them. Asad tells me these buffalo are considered cattle here and are the main source of milk and other dairy products. Behind the homes on that end of town is a vast area of land with rock formations and a river. We have identified it as a potential place to walk one day, as it is very scenic.
I have been treated to some surprise evening excursions lately. These were Tahera’s ideas to entertain me. She is a sweetheart. She usually has to talk Asad into joining us, as he’d often rather stay home than take public transportation and taxis are expensive. But lately he’s been persuaded and we went to two prime places: Margalla National Park and Lake View Park. In both places, Asad was pleasantly surprised to see how much these areas had changed in the last 30 years, when he’d last visited them as a young man. Back then, they were places of natural beauty and relative solitude. Now they are public vacation spots with carnival rides, food stalls and picnic areas. Still beautiful, but commercially developed. With no admission fees, they are popular recreational places for families in Islamabad and Rawalpindi. There is a sprinkling of tourists, but just a few.
Margalla National Park is up in the hills and we took a taxi there. We went in the early evening after maghrib. This park offers wonderful panoramic views of Islamabad. The city fans out to the east and west from a central sector called the Blue Area. Since it was dark, all the lights were twinkling and it was a pretty sight. No less pretty was the sight of the nine days moon as seen through the pine trees that abound through the park. We walked some paved and dirt areas and told ourselves we’d come back during the day.
There were many attractions in the park as well. Near the parking area, we saw a trained monkey. As his owner told a story of visiting the in-laws, the monkey acted it out, complete with gestures and facial expressions. As one point, he monkey sat on a small chairs, crossed his legs, clasped his hands on his knees, and swung one foot back and forth, just like a proper son in law. It was fun to watch, especially since the monkey himself looked healthy and well taken care of.
An older man sat playing the rabab, a classical Indian string instrument. We stopped to listen and gave him a few coins. There was also a man sketching portraits. The most interesting display to me was a man selling paan. He had set up a stand consisting of a large chest, or pan box, with all its accoutrements. He himself was dressed in green with a special hat. He had dolls on exhibit dressed in native costume, doing common activities, like spinning wool, riding horses and reading Quran. The funny thing was these were American dolls, both Barbies and baby dolls, dressed as classic Pakistani characters. I really liked the spirit of enterprise this guy showed. It looked like he was doing a pretty good business, too, as people were lined up to buy his product, a cone of pan filled with various ingredients. Tahera and Asad enjoyed these but I have never developed a taste for paan, a combination of a leaf, covered with a paste and filled with various herbs.
Lake View Park is another example of a scenic place that has recently been developed into a major recreation area. When Asad last went there, about 35 years ago, it was just a lake, named Rawal Lake and a dam which had been built to supply clean water to Rawalpindi, the twin city of Islamabad. That is a story in itself, as the dam was built without machinery, using only donkeys and manpower. A wealthy contractor from the tribal areas commissioned the project and actually built a village to house the laborers and their families. It is sort of like what Henry Ford did in Dearborn.
When we got to the site, we found it had been re-named Lake View Park. There is a wonderful stone boardwalk and promenade leading down to the lake. It is lined on either side with restaurants, snack stands, carnival rides, an aviary and an ATV race track, of all things. There are beautiful trees, shrubs and flowers lining the walkways. Down by the lake, there is a well-designed rotunda with plenty of seating areas and trash cans, a rare sight in Pakistan. There are gazebos and other structures looking out over the lake as well. It was evening, with a bright moon shining in the sky and reflecting in the water and music playing in the background, quite a lovely evening.
Here is the translation of a ghazal sung by Makesh and translated for me by Asad:
I gave my heart for you to keep.
You set it on fire.
Fate gave me love
And you put my heart in agony.
The beetle, who loves the rose
And hovers over it,
Cries all the time.
The rose is always smiling.
The pain the world is so afraid of,
The heartache they so fear
You, with your first glance,
You buried it all in my heart.
So I kept you in my heart
And lit the lamp of hope
One blow of fate
Extinguished it.
I think that serves as a good example of the romantic soul of Pakistan. One may hear the athan blaring from a hundred microphones five times a day, but the soul of the people has been captured by ishq. And what will convey the true meaning of ishq? Ask your own heart and then let me know!
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sept. 10th, Pakistan
Sept. 10, 2010
After many days of trying cell phone connections, our local i.t. guy has got us a PTCL USB to borrow. Sometimes it actually works, but not too often. For 1200 rs a month I can get 50 hours worth of user time. I need to be outside to get a connection. When you get disconnected, you must start a new hour to reconnect My best bet for reaching home is still the phone. At one rupee a minute (less than one cent) that’s a pretty good deal. I had wanted to keep updating anyone who wanted to know about me through my blog, but it may be harder than I thought. Getting anything done online takes hours or even days to accomplish. But a word on the young man we rely on to help us old folk in these matters. Amjadjan Khan is 23 years old and owns his own cell phone business in Gharibabad. He supplies cell phone and internet service to that entire sector of the city. He’s also a frequent contributor to YouTube, so check him out!
In a few hours, my friends and family back home will be celebrating Eid. Eid Mubarak you guys! I certainly miss you. Eid here will not be till Saturday, Sept 11th. It is my first Eid in a Muslim country but it doesn’t seem exciting yet.
On the 27th I went to Faisal Mosque, the largest and most beautiful masjid in Islamabad. On the eve of the 27th, it reminds one of Canton Mosque: People, food , clothes and prayers, not necessarily in that order. Of course, it is much larger than a masjid in the U.S. Faisal Masjid is actually a beautiful complex of buildings. There is the masjid itself and then inner and outer courtyards, with fountains, plazas and service areas for wudu, book stores and gift shops. The interior and exterior designs are sleek, sophisticated and modern with white beams, grids, latticework that let in the light and create reflected patterns on the walls. The grids and latticework create a feeling of lightness and space.
After walking through the outer courtyards, the inner masjid is reached by a series of staircases. Inside, one immediately notices a large mural by Sadiqain, a famous artist and calligrapher. It says, All men are brothers. The lower level of the masjid is the men’s area. There are two balconies for the women. Alhamdulilah, both were well ventilated with air conditioners and fans.
Faisal Masjid is in the best section of Islamabad. Most of those who come here are from the more well off sectors of society. They were well dressed but not too gaudy, since they were here for Tarawih prayers. The two young women sitting next to me were very fashionable in red and silver silwar chameeses. Their makeup was discreet. Besides the local families, there were tourists and other visitors.
Faisal Mosque has its name from King Faisal of Saudi Arabia who gifted the masjid to the people of Pakistan at the World Islamic Summit held in Pakistan in 1979.
The 27th-29th nights are marathon prayer nights there, with each rakat (prayer cycle) lasting a half hour and a new reciter for each two rakats. I could only do two at that pace The rest of the time I listened, people watched and wandered in the outer courtyards where people prayed picnicked and watched their kids run around. Asad and I shared some kheer bought from a vendor and then took the shuttle bus provided back to the main street to get a taxi to go home.
This year is the first time in Pakistan’s history that Peshawar will be celebrating Eid with the rest of the country. They are usually a day or two ahead in the Northwestern provinces. They are with everyone else this year because they want to celebrate it on 9/11. So Ramadan has been a full 30 days this year. May Allah (SWT) accept our fasting, our prayers and our deeds. Ameen.
After many days of trying cell phone connections, our local i.t. guy has got us a PTCL USB to borrow. Sometimes it actually works, but not too often. For 1200 rs a month I can get 50 hours worth of user time. I need to be outside to get a connection. When you get disconnected, you must start a new hour to reconnect My best bet for reaching home is still the phone. At one rupee a minute (less than one cent) that’s a pretty good deal. I had wanted to keep updating anyone who wanted to know about me through my blog, but it may be harder than I thought. Getting anything done online takes hours or even days to accomplish. But a word on the young man we rely on to help us old folk in these matters. Amjadjan Khan is 23 years old and owns his own cell phone business in Gharibabad. He supplies cell phone and internet service to that entire sector of the city. He’s also a frequent contributor to YouTube, so check him out!
In a few hours, my friends and family back home will be celebrating Eid. Eid Mubarak you guys! I certainly miss you. Eid here will not be till Saturday, Sept 11th. It is my first Eid in a Muslim country but it doesn’t seem exciting yet.
On the 27th I went to Faisal Mosque, the largest and most beautiful masjid in Islamabad. On the eve of the 27th, it reminds one of Canton Mosque: People, food , clothes and prayers, not necessarily in that order. Of course, it is much larger than a masjid in the U.S. Faisal Masjid is actually a beautiful complex of buildings. There is the masjid itself and then inner and outer courtyards, with fountains, plazas and service areas for wudu, book stores and gift shops. The interior and exterior designs are sleek, sophisticated and modern with white beams, grids, latticework that let in the light and create reflected patterns on the walls. The grids and latticework create a feeling of lightness and space.
After walking through the outer courtyards, the inner masjid is reached by a series of staircases. Inside, one immediately notices a large mural by Sadiqain, a famous artist and calligrapher. It says, All men are brothers. The lower level of the masjid is the men’s area. There are two balconies for the women. Alhamdulilah, both were well ventilated with air conditioners and fans.
Faisal Masjid is in the best section of Islamabad. Most of those who come here are from the more well off sectors of society. They were well dressed but not too gaudy, since they were here for Tarawih prayers. The two young women sitting next to me were very fashionable in red and silver silwar chameeses. Their makeup was discreet. Besides the local families, there were tourists and other visitors.
Faisal Mosque has its name from King Faisal of Saudi Arabia who gifted the masjid to the people of Pakistan at the World Islamic Summit held in Pakistan in 1979.
The 27th-29th nights are marathon prayer nights there, with each rakat (prayer cycle) lasting a half hour and a new reciter for each two rakats. I could only do two at that pace The rest of the time I listened, people watched and wandered in the outer courtyards where people prayed picnicked and watched their kids run around. Asad and I shared some kheer bought from a vendor and then took the shuttle bus provided back to the main street to get a taxi to go home.
This year is the first time in Pakistan’s history that Peshawar will be celebrating Eid with the rest of the country. They are usually a day or two ahead in the Northwestern provinces. They are with everyone else this year because they want to celebrate it on 9/11. So Ramadan has been a full 30 days this year. May Allah (SWT) accept our fasting, our prayers and our deeds. Ameen.
Life in Pakistan
September 3, 2010
I’ve been trying to do itikaf (seclusion) for the last ten days of Ramadan. It’s a modified version. Basically I stay inside during the day and read Quran, make extra salat, etc. At night I go to the verandah or the roof to catch a breeze or two. It is exceedingly hot here. People warned me, but you don’t know until you experience it yourself. I am learning the real meaning of fasting this year by experiencing the heat and other limitations.
Asad has rented a beautiful home here. It has seven rooms, a verandah and a flat roof, which comes in very handy in this kind of weather. There is an abundance of marble in Pakistan, so all the floors and even the kitchen countertop are made of marble. So is the verandah, which has a nice pattern of tiles. Our kitchen came with a six burner gas stove. We purchased a used refrigerator and that allowed us to move out the military cantonment and into our home. There are ceiling fans in every room. We have not purchased an air conditioner due to the expense. With the doors open for circulation, the fans do a decent job, especially if you don’t move much! Of course, one can count on at least two power outages for load shifting and any number of other ones during the day or night. That’s when you really feel the heat. I expect I’m losing several pounds due to sweat. I put salt in my water at suhoor time to help prevent dehydration. I am much more interested in water than in food when I break my fast. We have fruit chat (salad) and pakoras most of the time. We may or may not eat dinner later. Sometimes we just save that for suhoor, which comes at about 3:15 AM. Prayer is at 4:15, so we are fasting from 4:15 to about 6:45, fourteen hours a day.
I’ve met a few people, Asad’s close friends and associates. Tahera is one of his nieces. She’s about 28 years old. She lives with us and is doing her itikaf here also. However, her itikaf is ten times more serious and structured than mine. She is basically sequestered in the room for ten days, reading Quran, doing her prayers and tasbih, dua, darud,(various types of devotion). She will finish the Quran several times this way. We leave her food at the door for iftar and suhoor. She will see or talk to nobody during this time, except Allah (SWT).
Tahera has been a God-send to me. She is the only other woman around, for one thing, and she has tried to make things easy for me. She purchased cloth to make me two silwar chamises,(Pakistani clothing) took my samples to the tailor and had the whole thing, including my Eid clothes done in a few days. She also provided bed sheets and bought a quilt when we didn’t have one.
Asad is Tahera’s guardian. Her father, a well known imam, passed away a few years ago. They had been very close and she was grief stricken. She had been married twice but both marriages ended badly, and she lost her only child and her sister as well. She has two brothers who are busy with lives of their own and have no room in their households
She had been working as a maid and living with her employer, but now she lives with us and takes care of the cooking, cleaning and laundry. Asad is trying to help her get an I.D. card, something essential in Pakistan to having any rights at all. However, many people, especially the poor, don’t have these cards. During Ramadan, the agency that prints the cards has been on strike because the government hasn’t paid them, so the cards of thousands of people are on hold. Once Tahera gets her card, she will probably get a job at the airport as a cleaner or a porter. That would be a big step up for her.
God was so kind to have blessed me with a fourth daughter here in Pakistan, same name and age as my Tahera back home!
This is a new home in an established village called Chatta Baktower. But the name is being changed to Park View town, probably to attract a certain crowd. It is a very nice location because it is not in the city, neither Rawalpindi, nor Islamabad, but is a suburb of both. There is a wonderful farm house behind us, where an extended family lives. Their buildings are painted a cheerful red and white checkerboard design. They have a beautiful green lawn and many thriving plants, including grove of orange trees. The other houses around are not as nice, kind of ramshackle. However, real estate developers are buying the land in this area and building wonderful homes for those who can afford them. Just one block over, on Greens Avenue, all the homes are new and elegant. They are owned by doctors and professors, as stated on the name plates. Many of these people have new cars as well.
One thing I like very much about these homes, and the one we are renting as well, is the gated entrances. Each home has a large gate that opens on to the driveway and a smaller one to walk through. These gates are made of metal and are beautifully designed with grillwork, flowers and other motifs. The gates and walls in front of the homes allow for privacy when sitting outside in the evenings. We do that almost every night, eating our meals, drinking tea and entertaining guests.
The flat roof is also a very nice feature. In August and early September, that was the coolest spot to be in the evening. It also affords a nice view of the village and the surrounding towns. On the horizon are the Margalla Hills. They enclose Islamabad to the northeast. The stars and moon, sitare and chand in Urdu are also more beautiful from the roof.
Life can be very comfortable in Pakistan for those with money. There is a great divide between rich and poor, with a slowly growing tiny middle class. Unemployment is very high and most people live hand to mouth, not knowing where their next meal is coming from. It takes 500 rupees to buy a few days’ food for one person, about $4.00.
I’ve been trying to do itikaf (seclusion) for the last ten days of Ramadan. It’s a modified version. Basically I stay inside during the day and read Quran, make extra salat, etc. At night I go to the verandah or the roof to catch a breeze or two. It is exceedingly hot here. People warned me, but you don’t know until you experience it yourself. I am learning the real meaning of fasting this year by experiencing the heat and other limitations.
Asad has rented a beautiful home here. It has seven rooms, a verandah and a flat roof, which comes in very handy in this kind of weather. There is an abundance of marble in Pakistan, so all the floors and even the kitchen countertop are made of marble. So is the verandah, which has a nice pattern of tiles. Our kitchen came with a six burner gas stove. We purchased a used refrigerator and that allowed us to move out the military cantonment and into our home. There are ceiling fans in every room. We have not purchased an air conditioner due to the expense. With the doors open for circulation, the fans do a decent job, especially if you don’t move much! Of course, one can count on at least two power outages for load shifting and any number of other ones during the day or night. That’s when you really feel the heat. I expect I’m losing several pounds due to sweat. I put salt in my water at suhoor time to help prevent dehydration. I am much more interested in water than in food when I break my fast. We have fruit chat (salad) and pakoras most of the time. We may or may not eat dinner later. Sometimes we just save that for suhoor, which comes at about 3:15 AM. Prayer is at 4:15, so we are fasting from 4:15 to about 6:45, fourteen hours a day.
I’ve met a few people, Asad’s close friends and associates. Tahera is one of his nieces. She’s about 28 years old. She lives with us and is doing her itikaf here also. However, her itikaf is ten times more serious and structured than mine. She is basically sequestered in the room for ten days, reading Quran, doing her prayers and tasbih, dua, darud,(various types of devotion). She will finish the Quran several times this way. We leave her food at the door for iftar and suhoor. She will see or talk to nobody during this time, except Allah (SWT).
Tahera has been a God-send to me. She is the only other woman around, for one thing, and she has tried to make things easy for me. She purchased cloth to make me two silwar chamises,(Pakistani clothing) took my samples to the tailor and had the whole thing, including my Eid clothes done in a few days. She also provided bed sheets and bought a quilt when we didn’t have one.
Asad is Tahera’s guardian. Her father, a well known imam, passed away a few years ago. They had been very close and she was grief stricken. She had been married twice but both marriages ended badly, and she lost her only child and her sister as well. She has two brothers who are busy with lives of their own and have no room in their households
She had been working as a maid and living with her employer, but now she lives with us and takes care of the cooking, cleaning and laundry. Asad is trying to help her get an I.D. card, something essential in Pakistan to having any rights at all. However, many people, especially the poor, don’t have these cards. During Ramadan, the agency that prints the cards has been on strike because the government hasn’t paid them, so the cards of thousands of people are on hold. Once Tahera gets her card, she will probably get a job at the airport as a cleaner or a porter. That would be a big step up for her.
God was so kind to have blessed me with a fourth daughter here in Pakistan, same name and age as my Tahera back home!
This is a new home in an established village called Chatta Baktower. But the name is being changed to Park View town, probably to attract a certain crowd. It is a very nice location because it is not in the city, neither Rawalpindi, nor Islamabad, but is a suburb of both. There is a wonderful farm house behind us, where an extended family lives. Their buildings are painted a cheerful red and white checkerboard design. They have a beautiful green lawn and many thriving plants, including grove of orange trees. The other houses around are not as nice, kind of ramshackle. However, real estate developers are buying the land in this area and building wonderful homes for those who can afford them. Just one block over, on Greens Avenue, all the homes are new and elegant. They are owned by doctors and professors, as stated on the name plates. Many of these people have new cars as well.
One thing I like very much about these homes, and the one we are renting as well, is the gated entrances. Each home has a large gate that opens on to the driveway and a smaller one to walk through. These gates are made of metal and are beautifully designed with grillwork, flowers and other motifs. The gates and walls in front of the homes allow for privacy when sitting outside in the evenings. We do that almost every night, eating our meals, drinking tea and entertaining guests.
The flat roof is also a very nice feature. In August and early September, that was the coolest spot to be in the evening. It also affords a nice view of the village and the surrounding towns. On the horizon are the Margalla Hills. They enclose Islamabad to the northeast. The stars and moon, sitare and chand in Urdu are also more beautiful from the roof.
Life can be very comfortable in Pakistan for those with money. There is a great divide between rich and poor, with a slowly growing tiny middle class. Unemployment is very high and most people live hand to mouth, not knowing where their next meal is coming from. It takes 500 rupees to buy a few days’ food for one person, about $4.00.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
August 27, 2010
West Ridge Cantonment, Rawalpindi, Pakistan
Asalamu alaykum and Ramadan Kareem to all. I hope things are well with you and your families. I am having a wonderful experience here in Pakistan. Every day brings something new. Since I arrived last week, my husband and I having been trying to figure out the best way to distribute the zakat monies all of you have donated for flood relief. Alhamdulilah, I am happy to inform you that the bulk of the money was distributed today directly to eight needy families, seven in Rawalpindi and one in Haripur.
I’ve learned that many areas of the country were affected by the flood and the usual August monsoons as well. For example, in a very poor section of Rawalpindi called Lai, the water and sewer system is basically an open drain. Every seven years or so, it overflows, completely polluting the city water supply. This year, the water came up as high as the first floor shops and homes. People were ordered to evacuate their homes, but were given no assistance in finding shelter.
After a bit of research, we found out it would be both risky and nearly impossible to go directly to an area like Nowshera, which had gotten a lot of media coverage. Other areas of the country much closer to where I’m now staying have been equally affected by natural disaster and the general plight of the poor. Unemployment rates are sky high and the prices of everything from food to furniture are high when you consider the average person’s living. One lady we met was a widow raising three children on her salary of 7,000 rupees (rs) a month, which is about $83.00. The cost of basic sustenance food per person per day is about 130 rs and that is plain vegetable curry with no meat or even an egg and about 4 rotis.
We had some local friends direct us to some of the families hardest hit when the sewer overflowed into their neighborhood a month ago. We found several families living in tents on top of the mud and rubble of the city. One group of three sisters and their mom had about 20 children between them, most of them girls. Their husbands work as porters in the local market which was also flooded of course. The youngest sister had been set to get married, but most of her dowry was washed away by the flood. We gave 75,000 rs to this group.
Among their neighbors four widows, one with school age children and none with livable homes. They were given 55,000, 45,000 and 35,000 rs, depending on their immediate needs.
The balance of the donation monies is being given to two other destitute families in Haripur and Gharibabad district in Rawalpindi who will get 35,000 and 45,000 repectively. One of man is a widower with three children and the other supports and extended family and is the only wage earner for them. He is going to open business as a denter (someone who removes dents from car fenders, etc.) with the money he received.
If the amounts given seem large to you, please keep the exchange rate in mind. It fluctuates daily but seems to stay between 85.20 and 84.05 rs per dollar. The total amount distributed was 374,000 rs, or $4,400.
West Ridge Cantonment, Rawalpindi, Pakistan
Asalamu alaykum and Ramadan Kareem to all. I hope things are well with you and your families. I am having a wonderful experience here in Pakistan. Every day brings something new. Since I arrived last week, my husband and I having been trying to figure out the best way to distribute the zakat monies all of you have donated for flood relief. Alhamdulilah, I am happy to inform you that the bulk of the money was distributed today directly to eight needy families, seven in Rawalpindi and one in Haripur.
I’ve learned that many areas of the country were affected by the flood and the usual August monsoons as well. For example, in a very poor section of Rawalpindi called Lai, the water and sewer system is basically an open drain. Every seven years or so, it overflows, completely polluting the city water supply. This year, the water came up as high as the first floor shops and homes. People were ordered to evacuate their homes, but were given no assistance in finding shelter.
After a bit of research, we found out it would be both risky and nearly impossible to go directly to an area like Nowshera, which had gotten a lot of media coverage. Other areas of the country much closer to where I’m now staying have been equally affected by natural disaster and the general plight of the poor. Unemployment rates are sky high and the prices of everything from food to furniture are high when you consider the average person’s living. One lady we met was a widow raising three children on her salary of 7,000 rupees (rs) a month, which is about $83.00. The cost of basic sustenance food per person per day is about 130 rs and that is plain vegetable curry with no meat or even an egg and about 4 rotis.
We had some local friends direct us to some of the families hardest hit when the sewer overflowed into their neighborhood a month ago. We found several families living in tents on top of the mud and rubble of the city. One group of three sisters and their mom had about 20 children between them, most of them girls. Their husbands work as porters in the local market which was also flooded of course. The youngest sister had been set to get married, but most of her dowry was washed away by the flood. We gave 75,000 rs to this group.
Among their neighbors four widows, one with school age children and none with livable homes. They were given 55,000, 45,000 and 35,000 rs, depending on their immediate needs.
The balance of the donation monies is being given to two other destitute families in Haripur and Gharibabad district in Rawalpindi who will get 35,000 and 45,000 repectively. One of man is a widower with three children and the other supports and extended family and is the only wage earner for them. He is going to open business as a denter (someone who removes dents from car fenders, etc.) with the money he received.
If the amounts given seem large to you, please keep the exchange rate in mind. It fluctuates daily but seems to stay between 85.20 and 84.05 rs per dollar. The total amount distributed was 374,000 rs, or $4,400.
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