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...