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...