Reflections on Pakistan (Part IV)

Houses in Pakistan are a lot different from America. They are flat roofed and if you have a decent income, they are usually big. When we entered my cousins’ house, it was quiet. After all it was around seven in the morning. Ali Bahi was walking ahead of me and had the honor of waking everyone up. We first went into Khala Zora’s bedroom. Her husband and she were awake but just sitting up in bed. They invited me in and we exchanged greetings. I took my seat on a pillow on the floor. Ali Bahi’s mom (I will use “Mami” to refer to Ali’s mom from now on for ease in writing) was next to me on the floor. Ali Bahi was on a couch to my left. I inspected my environment after having settled down. The room had a cozy feeling to it. I don’t mean the cozy feeling like in front of the fire place in a wooden floored house. It was unique. There were no windows and the predominant color emanating from the room was green. There was a small heater running off of gas right in front of me. I was advised to put my feet in front of it, to keep myself warm. In Pakistan, central heating is not common at all, and people usually have these gas heaters for each room.

After some chatting with Khala Zora and her husband, Usama Uncle, Khala Zora’s second oldest son came in to the room. I got up to greet him and we hugged as well. His parents introduced him as Abdullah. It was funny, I thought, that everyone knew my name but I was totally lost when it came to my family. After taking a seat next to Ali Bahi, Abdullah asked some routine questions. Abdullah was just a little younger than Ali Bahi. I sat there talking to him as well as the rest of the family, trying to get a better picture of who this long lost family of mine really was.

I brought up the story of what happened to me at the airport in Boston. When I was going through the security check process, I was “randomly selected” for a more thorough check. The security guard pulled me to the side. He came up really close, clearly invading my personal space. Looking down at me, he spoke: “Now this can be quick if you want it to be?” I knew he was trying to intimidate me and…it was working to some degree. “If you have any problems or you feel uncomfortable as I search you, we can relocate and the process may become longer. Do you want this to take longer?” I calmly responded with a no, trying hard to fight the anxiety that was building up. After padding me down, he let me go. I felt a little humiliated…and this was nothing. I wondered the level of humiliation that others must have felt in more serious situations. Just the way they try to frighten you, makes you seem guilty of a crime you didn’t commit. I felt nervous when I had done nothing wrong. How many innocent people must have been accused using this tactic? Living in America for Muslims is tough, and this reaffirmed my stance on the issue.

Anyway, this was the crux of what I related to my family. In retrospect, I don’t know exactly why I decided to share this with them. I suppose in order to get a feeling of family or being close to a people, I felt I had to share something. Since this story happened recently, I figured, why not use this. I gave them a piece of who I was through it, and their reaction to it gave me a piece of who they were. I already felt a little closer to everyone in the room.

After eating breakfast, I went to Ali Bahi’s house next door to take a nap. The plan for later that evening was for Abdullah to take me to the Abbotobad bazaar…

Reflections on Pakistan (Part III)

I was behind Sunny and his father, as I pushed my luggage trolley, walking through the crowd of people awaiting their loved ones. I was watching attentively for a face that I may recognize, and....there they were. Ali Bahi (Urdu term for brother) and his mother. I recognized him from his wedding movie which was sent to us in America. Ali Bahi was about thirty seven years old, which made him much older than me. When I looked at him, he had a wide smile on his face, which gave me the impression that he too had recognized me. Already, I couldn't help but feel the love that was radiating from his aura. Upon reaching him, we hugged. "Asalamu 'Alaykum!" (May peace be upon you), I said to him, which is the traditional Muslim greeting. He returned my salutation with a "Wa 'Alaykum Salaam" (And on you). I then turned my attention to his mother who seemed like a very nice old woman. Her kindness and motherhood could be detected from the first meeting. We also exchanged salutations. After engaging in some small talk, I realized I had forgot about Sunny and his dad. I looked to my right and found them standing next to some new faces. I introduced them to my family and they introduced me to theirs. The trip had officially begun as Sunny and I parted ways and I followed Ali Bahi and his mom out of the airport.

Ali Bahi had taken hold of the trolley and was pushing it for me. I, of course, had no choice in this since it was the courtesy embedded in the culture there. As we made our way across the parking lot to the car, I heard someone close by say something. I turned to check whether I was being addressed and to my surprise, I was. “Bahya, Allah kay naam pe madat kar de” (My brother, help me for the sake of God). It was a middle aged man, wearing raggedy clothing. His skin complexion was generally dark and he was just about my height if not shorter. He came closer and repeated his request. I was trying to figure out the right thing to do but the man demanded a response. Based on negative past experiences and the bad reputation of Pakistan's beggars I decided to say: “Nahin, maaf karna”(Sorry, I can't help you). I continued to follow Ali Bahi, and he followed behind me. Again, he said “Reham kar ke, pasa day de” (Have pity on me and spare some money). By this time, I began to ignore him but I felt his presence close behind. At that moment, Ali Bahi turned to see the man following me. In a swift move, Ali Bahi took a step toward the man so as to startle him and told him to get away and continued to push the trolley forward. We finally reached the car but the man had still not left my side. Realizing that ignoring him was not a comfortable alternative, I looked at him and apologized for not being able to help him. “You Ready?”, Ali Bahi said. Relieved that I could escape the uneasy situation, I quickly got in the car.

We were headed for Abbotobad, which is a city in Northern Pakistan. On the car ride their, I found myself asking many questions. Ali Bahi, on the other hand, was comfortable in his silence. I was sitting on the passengers side, which by the way is on the left side in Pakistan, and Ali Bahi's mom was in the back. My questioning may have been coming from my recently-developed policy of not being shy around my family, but forcing out a feeling of confidence didn't exactly do the trick. I suppose another reason for the questions was the new environment I was curious about.

In the back of my head, I knew that Fajr (morning prayer for a Muslim) time was approaching, but I was waiting for the right time to raise my concern. It was getting light out pretty quick and Fajr would be null by sunrise so I had to speak now. “Ali Bahi, I need to pray Fajr, so do you think we can stop somewhere?”, I finally asked. “You want to pray now?”, he asked turning his head towards me and then quickly back to the road ahead. “Do you want to pray in the car? We can stop if you want though?”, he continued. I felt uncomfortable asking him to stop because I didn't want to burden him. Then again, what excuse can their be when one is serving his Lord? Instead of juggling with it in my mind any longer, I took the easy way out. “I'll pray in the car. That's fine.”, I responded. It didn't feel right. I knew what I had wanted but I didn't have the courage to act. Already, I felt defeated. What if he thought I was too religious? And that's never desired even as religious person because to bring about any good, reputation matters. In any case, I prayed Fajr, and put those thoughts behind me.

We were traveling on Silk Road. It was named as such because the long road goes into China and silk is then purchased from Chinese merchants and brought back into Pakistan. It was quiet beautiful along the way with the sun coming up. There were trees along the side of the road that reminded me of the one from karate kid. There were also many Pakistanis dressed in traditional attire just standing on the side of the road. I asked Ali Bahi, what they were doing. “They have nothing better to do. There's a lot of free time in Pakistan”, he responded with a subtle laugh. The closer we got to Abbotobad, the more it seemed that we were going backwards in time. From the modern looking airport city to something that felt like it was out of a movie. Soon enough, we were at our destination. Ali Bahi's house was empty because he was living in Islamabad(capital of Pakistan) now a days. His house was next door to my Khala(mother's sister) Zora's house. We were going to have breakfast there. As we made our way to the house, I wondered what was to come next...

Reflections on Pakistan (Part II)

The time until landing was approaching quick. I remember thinking that I don’t want to by shy around my family. I was preparing myself to be myself. I couldn’t allow them to have so much power over me; the fact that they had not even taken an action, and I was spending my time fearing what they would think of me, was dumbfounding. Nonetheless, the anxiousness was drowned out by the excitement of exploring a new world. Landing into Pakistan was a thrilling experience but also a relief from the twenty-two hour long flight. We exited the airplane via a narrow staircase; this was something I wanted to do since I was a kid. I used to watch the tv glorify famous politicians as they came off of the plane waving to their supporters.

There were buses waiting to take the us from the run-way to the Islamabad Airport. When I got on the bus that’s when it hit me: I was in another world. Everyone on the bus was Pakistani. The small time I spent on the bus was something that stuck with me. There were no seats. Everyone was standing but of course there were supports to hold on to so the passengers wouldn’t fall on one another. Sunny and I were standing on one side and Sunny’s father was at a small distance to our left. Sunny’s father quickly made himself comfortable as he began to joke around with the other Pakistanis on the bus in our native tongue. Sunny and I smiled at each other watching the phenomena take place. It was interesting to see how the people in Pakistan were so comfortable talking to each other in contrast to how people in Massachusetts tend avoid having conversations with “strangers”. The word “strangers” and the negative vibes it carries in the context of American culture implies, to some degree, the existence of an individualistic ideology. In Pakistan, one wouldn’t really consider their fellow Pakistani a “stranger” (at least not in a negative sense); a good example of how much language can tell you about a people. Back to where we were, the bus pulled up to the airport and we entered together.

There were lines of people waiting to clear immigration. I remember Sunny and his father had to move to a separate line because they were U.S. citizens and I was still a permanent resident carrying around my green Pakistani passport. After immigration, we headed to the baggage claim. I remember inhaling the second hand smoke as people stood around the revolving belt. Sunny and I laughed about how it was already looking like Pakistan had some lax rules...

Reflections on Pakistan (Part I)

I remember feeling excited getting on the airplane. I hadn’t flown since I was six and I was now twenty-one years old. Just the take-off was so amazing a feeling. I recall looking below at the tiny gleaming lights in the distance and what a beautiful view of the city it was. It was then that I began to feel so very small; as though Allah (God) was showing me how easy it was for Him to take me from one world and put me into another which I was totally unfamiliar with. I could hardly believe that I was going to Pakistan, my home country. I hadn’t been there for fifteen years and all that I could remember of it now were fragmented memories of my extended family and childhood experiences. I saw the trip as an opportunity to discover my roots, to use it to understand what shaped my parents, as well as a chapter in my life where I would learn from the lessons of adjusting to a world foreign to mine. More importantly, Pakistan was my place of birth and origin. It was the land I had first opened my eyes in. Thus, it was an adventure see with a mature understanding what I had first seen upon entering this world.

I almost forgot to mention that I was traveling with one of my best friends, Sunny. He was actually going to Pakistan with his father. We had the chance of sitting together on the first flight, but that was because his father decided to trade seats with me. Sunny had the window seat, but I would lean over when I wanted to see the view below. On our way to London, we discussed topics that ranged from religion to investing in stocks to our expectations of what was to come in Pakistan. This continued until both of us became exhausted. It was great to talk to him because college life kept us distant, given that we go to different schools.

While traveling to Pakistan, there were many stops in different countries. The flight-route was from Boston to London, from London to Bahrain, and finally from Bahrain to Islamabad. The first foreign airport I stopped at was the London Heathrow Airport. I was left dazzled studying the people of that land, their speech, and their behavior. It felt like a movie seeing the airport employees speaking in their British accent and this time the people weren’t acting. My heart yearned to go out into London city to explore some more to witness for myself, how vast indeed Allah (God) has created this earth. Bahrain was also amazing. There, I saw all the Arabs dressed in traditional attire which included the checkered red cloth which some wear on their heads. It was interesting to see. This was a world where I was no longer a minority and a place where I felt I would be accepted easily. This too was a world my heart desired to explore. I yearned to leave the airport and run into the city to examine the people and their lifestyle. The airport was also beautiful in Bahrain with its mini-mall inside. I can distinctly remember passing by a small shop where I saw a set of colorful toy birds which were attached to the ceiling and were flying in repetitive circles. While in Bahrain, Sunny, his father, and I enjoyed halaal(analogous to kosher for the Jewish) grilled chicken burgers, which we purchased with the Bahraini currency we had recently bought. As the time to board the flight was nearing, we moved towards our gate of departure. This was the last flight that was to take us directly into Pakistan. I was exhausted from the jet lag but the thought of nearing my destination kept me wakeful as I boarded the plane…