http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/ The largest Pakistani Bulletin board and portal en Tue, 24 Nov 2009 02:27:52 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.paklinks.com/gs/images/misc/rss.jpg http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/ http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/54751-karachi.html Sun, 10 May 2009 00:42:41 GMT [SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]Back in Karachi I was and there was no other place I would rather be when sick. I had diarrhoea and a pain in my leg. I had no explanation why I had either of them but I was not going to let them get in the way of fun. Karachi was a good place to be when needing to go to the toilet so regularly. There were plenty of public toilets here in restaurants and cafes. I had no timetable as such other than meeting friends and exploring the chic urban side of upmarket Karachi.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]Staying in Keamari was fun but not the nicest place to stay. It is not an affluent neighbourhood and one of the dirtiest I had ever seen. Residents would obviously throw their rubbish out onto the street. Some of it would eventually rot and others just slowly pile up. Cleanliness was a big part of Islam yet these people really had no idea. Did they really find it that much of a problem keeping clean? I had never really liked Keamari as I found it crowded and congested although I had a good friend there and his friend was amazingly clean. At times I felt we were walled in as tall buildings loomed over us. I remember mentioning to a friend of a friend back in 2002 I was staying in Keamari and he was mortified. “What are you doing in Keamari?” He was from Defence Housing Authority, where most of the well-to-do lived. Most rich people would generally avoid the poor areas. Pakistan’s elite had its own education system, healthy care and hospitals, residential areas too name but a few. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I decided to visit the Frere Hall, named after Sir Henry Bartle Edward Frere who lived from 1815-1884 and known for promoting economic development tin Karachi. I realised the security around here was tight because the US Consulate was close by. I had to walk around to access it and it was not a pleasant experience because it was very hot too. Construction started in 1863 and it was opened in 1865. Built in the Venetian Gothic style with yellowish Karachi limestone and red and grey sandstones. During the days of the British Raj it served as a town hall. The building and the gardens are well-preserved and one of the many Anglo influenced buildings in Karachi. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]Next on thelist was the Jehangir Khotari Parade in Clifton. The pier is over a quarter of a mile long and was opened in 1920. There is a pavilion and a bandstand. I walked down and saw that there were flowers everywhere. The parade has been cleaned up and a garden of flowers everywhere. The beach had been cleaned up too. There was much less litter. About time too, This was one of Karachi’s most popular recreational spots espcially in the summer. People would come here later afternoon to relax and feel the sea breeze. I was offered a camel and horse ride but was not in the mood for it. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I walked back to the main road and then decided to head to the Zam Zama Boulevard to check out what the hip crowd were up too. I was hungry so I jumped into a Subway sandwich shop. A group of young girls and guys met up, all dressed in the latest western clothes. They all hugged each other. In most areas of Karachi adolescents of the opposite gender hugging was frowned upon. Some of the girls wore clothes which would not be tolerated outside of the affluent suburbs of Clifton and Defence. Quite a few women drove up to the outlet and came in. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]The next few days I spent wandering around Karachi. I really enjoyed walking around modern shopping centres such as Park Towers, the Dolman centre or even the bazaars off Tariq Road. I enjoyed trying out the chic eateries in Defence and Clifton. Some of the cafes were nothing like you would expect to see in Pakistan. They were very arty-farty. The deco was very mod-con and minimalistic but based on a traditioal design. Occasionally I would spend the late afternoons at the Native Jetty bridge, locally known as “Netty Jetty” watching the people feed the fish in the river below. The brdige was built in the British times and linked Keamari with the city. People would come here and throw dough into the water to feed the fish for blessings. It was a ritual practised reguarly by some people. The Kites which soared over the city waiting to scavenge would descend and dive after the dough. Although Kites were birds of prey, they would eat anything. They would compete with the Gulls and Crows and even pirate food off them. They would most often eat the food on the wing, sometimes chased by others. They were magnificent flyers and to see them dive, swerve, chase with such agility as an experience. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I did not enjoy the evenings staying in Keamari as there was not much to do there and I felt as if I was walled in. Some people had built very tall houses and flats, blocking the sunlight and creating a claustrophobic walled atmosphere.[/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman] [/FONT][/SIZE] ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/54751-karachi.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/53571-back-karachi.html Thu, 09 Apr 2009 23:51:25 GMT The next morning I woke up quite early and realised I had a bad stomach. Not what I needed as I wanted to go back to Karachi by road and a bad stomach was going to be a complete hindrance. I had to book a flight back in the afternoon. It allowed me to spend some more time searching around... The next morning I woke up quite early and realised I had a bad stomach. Not what I needed as I wanted to go back to Karachi by road and a bad stomach was going to be a complete hindrance. I had to book a flight back in the afternoon. It allowed me to spend some more time searching around Gwadar. What had caused my stomach upset – was it the food last night or the fact that I drank water from the taps which could have had elements of seawater in it.
The flight back was another eye opener. To see the sands, cliffs and azure sea from above was just amazing. A gentle breeze appeared to be pushing the calm waters against the golden sands. We flew above the water. Any other country would have turned this into a tourists Mecca but I don’t know where Pakistan had gone wrong. The opening of the Coastal Highway and the idea to turn Gwadar into a duty-free port had boosted domestic tourism here.
It was not long before we were once again over Karachi. I did wonder where we would land after all below us were a sea of houses. I hired a taxi back to my friend’s house. I realised that my stomach was still very bad. I was not happy. I realised I would have to miss out on an off-road expedition to the Hingol National Park, organised by an outdoor club in Karachi. I had a bad stomach, aching bones and exhausted. I spent most of the day visiting the toilet. I decided not to take any risks by travelling too far as I wanted to improve and then explore Karachi. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/53571-back-karachi.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/51186-gwadar-koh-i-batil-pearl-continental.html Wed, 04 Feb 2009 00:42:42 GMT I left Turbat the next morning and headed back to Gwadar. The location of Gwadar was considered to be of great importance as it connected heavily populated South Asia, oil-rich Middle East and resource-laden Central Asia as well as giving China an overland and much quicker link via a friendly... I left Turbat the next morning and headed back to Gwadar. The location of Gwadar was considered to be of great importance as it connected heavily populated South Asia, oil-rich Middle East and resource-laden Central Asia as well as giving China an overland and much quicker link via a friendly Pakistan with the Middle Eastern market. If the area stabilises politically then goods would pass from Central Asia through Afghanistan and then through the Balochistan province of Pakistan into Gwadar. China shared a border with Pakistan in the extreme north and it would take 2-3 days to transport goods from there to Gwadar and which would be linked to the Middle East. The government leased out Gwadar to PSA Singapore for 25 years and gave it a status of tax free port for 40 years.
The Bronze Age people lived in oases within this region of Mekran. It was also a part of the Gedrosia region of the Achaemenid Empire of Persia. Alexander the Great, admiral Naearchus led a fleet along the Mekran coast and recorded that the area was dry and mountainous and inhabited by fish-eaters. Around 303BC the region came under local rule.
In 711 the Muslim army led by Muhammad Bin Qasim captured Gwadar. Both the Mughals and Safavids vied for Gwadar. In 1581 the Portuguese captured, sacked and burnt Gwadar followed by two centuries of Baloch rule. Ottoman Admiral Sidi Al Reis visited in the 1550’s and mentioned that the own was Baloch in his book “Merat ul Memalik” “The Mirror of the Countries”. In 1783 the Khan of Kalat granted suzerainty of Gwadar to Taimur Sultan the defeated ruler of Muscat. When he re-took Muscat he appointed a governor over Gwadar. In 1958 Gwadar was transferred to Pakistan and made a part of Balochistan province.
There were plans to build more rail and roads to Gwadar which would also lessen the reliance on the over-burdened and politically volatile city of Karachi. Gwadar was also quite close to the Straits of Hormuz. Its strategic location had also encouraged China to finance projects within Pakistan too.
There were quite a few hotels and a 5-star hotel, Pearl Continental. Gwadar had seen a big upsurge in visitors since the Mekran Coastal Highway opened and made it more accessible.
Gwadar at this moment in time was nothing but a shanty town and progress was slow. The native people were quite poor and would be re-housed when development starts. Most of them earned their living through fishing. There were a lot of prawns here which were exported as they fetched a high price.
Wandering around the town I saw nothing that I was impressed by but many new bank branches had opened as well as many property dealers. On the outskirts of the current town many plots were marked. Locals took advantage of the current situation by selling their properties and moving to other towns. If Gwadar was going to be a success the area would transform and I wondered how much of the natural beauty would remain.
There were many African origin people here who had been brought over as slaves. Now they spoke Balochi, Mekrani and Urdu.
I hired a taxi to the Pearl Continental hotel, the only 5-star hotel within the region. This hotel was situated on a cliff Koh-I-Batil which over looked the port, the city and the deep blue waters of the Arabian ocean. The view was amazing. This jewel could be a tourist paradise but it was only recently that a road was built connecting it with the Indus plains, the most populated parts of Pakistan. I also took a trip to the harbour and watched fishermen bring in hauls. The birdlife was plentiful too including Gulls, Terns, Cormorant, Herons, Crows and an Osprey.
I had been invited to the PC Gwadar for dinner by Rizwan from Turbat’s uncle. Mr Haseeb was a property dealer in Gwadar. We drove back up to the hotel where we waited in the lounge for three other guests. The PC Gwadar was immaculate and serene. The washroom, lounge and what I could see of the restaurant were of a modern standard.
I was very hungry and I had not eaten since breakfast. The guests were in no rush to arrive and I started to feel tired and losing concentration.
They took quite a while arriving and I was worried my hotel may close if we were too late. For starters they ordered cheesy bread sticks and the main course consisted of local fish, lentils, mixed vegetables and a meat dish. I was very keen on the fish and bread sticks but the others I did not care for. I could not have more than my share otherwise it would look very bad in front of the other guests who were older although being an outsider I would not have attracted any criticism for being greedy but I did not want to risk it. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/51186-gwadar-koh-i-batil-pearl-continental.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50733-punnu-fort-koh-i-murad-turbat.html Thu, 22 Jan 2009 01:21:43 GMT [SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]It was time to meet another friend who I had got to know online through a Baloch forum, Rizwan. We were sat with a group of Saeed’s friends drinking tea when Rizwan arrived. Rizwan shook hands with those present and sat down. What surprised me was when Rizwan looked to his right and greeted each individual present asking how they were etc. I had not seen this in the other ethnic groups in Pakistan. I wonder if this same manner would be used if there were more than fifty people present?
Rizwan was not happy with the hotel I was staying at and decided I should stay with him. I met Rizwan’s father who was a doctor and who had travelled to Europe and we ended up debating regional politics and issues, international politics and issues and identity. I had to refrain on some of my views as I could be a little blunt and I did not want to appear disrespectful. At night I was happy that I had more comfortable surroundings. It would enable me to make up for last night.
As I was at Rizwan’s house the following morning bad news broke through. Two simultaneous bomb blasts in Lahore had killed up to 40 people and injured over a 100. Footage was released showing one to be the work of a suicide bomber who had rammed into the gate of the FIA building. Lahore was probably just under 2 days travel from here by public transport.
We decided to visit Punnu’s fort which may have been up to 8000 years old. Punnu was a local prince who was port of the Sassi Punnu romance which was famous in Sindh and Mekran. The fort was like a mud peak surrounded by an oasis of fields and palm trees. The fort looked like it would have been small and possibly made of mud. There were vantage points where one could see quite a distance across the Turbat plains to the Mekran mountain ranges. Archaeologists had discovered bones and graves here.
It was quite a hot day and we had run out of water. Luckily we managed to spot a house and get some cool refreshing water. We passed the Kech River, a tributary of the Dasht River in Iran. Its blue-green water contrasted beautifully with the sandy brown landscape. Some of the bridges crossing the river had been damaged because of the summer 2007 floods. Heavy rain and a dam bursting caused chaos. The water had risen quite high engulfing some of the house here too.
Next on the list was Koh-I-Murad, the mountain of desire, a shrine of the Zikri community. Zikri’s are an off-shoot of Islam found predominantly in the Mekran and whose followers prefer to perform Zikr, remembrance of Allah. Zikris do not perform the prescribed 5 times a day prayers and the Hajj. In place of prayer they form the Zikr and instead of Hajj they visit the Koh-I-Murad on the 27th night of Ramadan.
Zikris believe in Syed Muhammad Jaunpuri who lived from 1443 to 1504 and claimed to be the Mehdi, a Muslim leader who would come towards the end of time. Zikri’s have long been criticised and many scholars from the Jamat Islami and Jamiat Ulema Islami have demanded they are labelled non-Muslim and their gatherings on the 27th night of Ramadan be stopped. Both parties have made gains in Balochistan in the last 10 years but most of it in the northern belt which is ethnic Pashtun. The Zikri’s have been under considerable pressure especially since the Iranian Revolution, the Taliban and increase in Afghan militancy and President Zia’s Islamisation programme in Pakistan
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman] [/FONT][/SIZE] ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50733-punnu-fort-koh-i-murad-turbat.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50522-gwadar-turbat.html Fri, 16 Jan 2009 00:32:12 GMT We arrived at 1.15am and it was very dark. I had not heard from my contact and I felt a bit vulnerable. I stood by the bus waiting as all the passengers descended. Two men approached me and said something inaudible. I asked them to repeat and he said you are to come with us. I was shocked as... We arrived at 1.15am and it was very dark. I had not heard from my contact and I felt a bit vulnerable. I stood by the bus waiting as all the passengers descended. Two men approached me and said something inaudible. I asked them to repeat and he said you are to come with us. I was shocked as they looked like they were on drugs. Their eyes were red and their teeth brown. Their clothes were far from clean. I asked who sent you but I got no name. They were not aggressive but not the sort of men I would follow in the middle of the night. I phoned my contact and only then did he confirm these men were safe and he had sent them.
I followed them into a house which was the transport company’s office and they said we don’t have anywhere comfortable for you to stay and if you need a hotel we could try finding one but it is late and they may not be open. I was given a charpahee, foam mattress and a thin blanket. It was not the most comfortable or cleanest place but it was better than nothing. I slept outside in the veranda. I was still wary about them but not enough to stop me sleeping.
I woke up about 7am and realised I was safe and my bag was still there. I was given a breakfast of tea and a paratha. It had been a total of 24 hours since I had last eaten. I was very hungry but wanted to move on to Turbat a town just under 3 hours north.
The bus I boarded crept through the arid mountainous landscape. Surprisingly there were some ponds on the way and they obviously supported some waterside vegetation. I doubted these were permanent but one hosted a flock of Coots. The locals would not hunt them because they found the meat tasteless. One of the locals pointed out some of the destruction caused by the floods in summer 2007.
The bus pulled over. All I could make out was the word “puncture”. It was surprising how English words had penetrated areas which may contain very few English speakers even as a learned language in school or elsewhere. Within 20 minutes we were ready to roll but after thirty minutes it pulled over again. This time it was taking longer to fix. My contact from Turbat named Saeed phoned and asked where I was. He decided to pick me up as we were not very far from the town. There was no way of knowing how long it would take them to fix the tyre. It was a good thing that mobile phone reception was available in the area. A few years ago there was no mobile reception here. Now a couple of companies operated and not just in the main towns too. I would have been lost without a mobile here considering what time we reached Gwadar last night.
The supposed 3 hour maximum journey to Turbat from Gwadar had taken over 5 hours in total. Travelling to places was time consuming and the bus drivers did not seem to care what times their passengers reached.
Turbat is a small city. It is the administrative capital of the Turbat district which is quite large but with a small population. The Mekran mountain ranges could be seen not far from the city reminding us of the wilderness here. The town was not overcrowded and there were quite a few hotels here. The hotels were quite cheap and of a low standard.
Turbat felt like a frontier town and in reality it was. It was in the south-west corner of Pakistan and fairly close to Iran. Some of the people living here were both Iranian and Pakistani dual nationals. They were allowed to enter certain portions of Iran with no problem. It was not surprising really as those across the Iranian border were also Baloch.
Turbat was quite famous for the quality its dates. Dates were one of the speciality crops in the region. There were a lot of date trees around in this dustbowl valley.
I got a call and it was from Saeed, one of my contacts. Saeed was someone I had known online for around 4 years. I was last planning to meet him in November 2004 when I had visited Quetta. I had booked a flight to Turbat but then it had been cancelled and the next flight was 4 days later.
It was strange meeting Saeed after so many years. In a way I could not believe 3 years and 4 months had passed since I last tried to visit. Time flies by for sure.
Turbat was a small town but the administrative centre for the Kech district. The district was big but population sparse. It was hard to etch a living in this terrain but the hardy Baloch tribes succeeded.
Turbat has been ruled by the Gichki tribes since ancient times. Turbat was the capital of the Mekran state until it was dissolved.
It was time to find a hotel. The first hotel was full although there was a double room which was empty. I turned it down because of the dusty smell that came from there. However, this smell as quite common over Turbat. The second hotel was better. I had settled in and decided to freshen up by shaving and having a bath. I got a nasty surprise. The toilet flush was nt working and when I lifted the lid I felt sick. The smell spread. I complained and was given a new room. However, it was a double and they expected me to pay that too. I told them them I have paid for that room and should pay no extra cost as it was not my fault their service was poor. The manager disagreed so I decided to walk out leaving him gob-smacked. “You can keep the money!” I retorted.
I did find a third hotel and decided this was the place for me. It was a bit more basic but at least the toilet was clean. I had a bath. I changed into western clothes. As we toured the city of Turbat I realised one thing – the people did not constantly stare as in some areas of Pakistan even though this area probably such a small number of tourists and a very small number being foreign. I know I looked totally out of place but I had rather stupidly left my other traditional dress in Karachi.
Saeed took me to the Gerdoshia Institute. It was where he worked on a local branch of a national radio station part time. The building also contained a basic IT suite with some old computers. It was not the most technologically advanced but it was a start and progress was taking place. I felt very humbled how in a neglected and poor part of the country people did feel the urge to push themselves forward.
I had almost forgotten I had eaten and we ate at a local place – fish was quite popular here. The fish dish was nice. We ate two fish dishes – one fried and the other cooked and seasoned with local herbs and spices. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50522-gwadar-turbat.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50384-way-gwadar.html Mon, 12 Jan 2009 23:00:31 GMT There were a number of changes at the airport I had noticed. Firstly smoking had been banned in the main lounge and a new non-smoking section was set up. Strange thing was everyone was obeying it. Another change I noticed was that in the toilets air dryers were installed for the hands and glass... There were a number of changes at the airport I had noticed. Firstly smoking had been banned in the main lounge and a new non-smoking section was set up. Strange thing was everyone was obeying it. Another change I noticed was that in the toilets air dryers were installed for the hands and glass sinks in the shape of a salad bowl.
Flying to Karachi was exciting as below we could see the vast Punjab plains and then the rugged hills of Sindh before descending on Karachi. From above Karachi just looked and is a sprawling metropolis. I met a friend for Biryani which the people in Karachi made very well and then made my way to Keamari, a residential area in Karachi. Keamari was not the best of places to live in fact it was quite filthy. However, it was safer than most other areas of Karachi.
After resting, the next day I made my way to the Mazar of the Quaid-i-Azam, the father of the nation, Mr Muhammad Ali Jinnah. The mausoleum is the national mausoleum in the country and centred in the heart of the city. It is made of white marble with curved Moorish arches and copper grills resting on an elevated 54 metre square platform. The cool inner sanctum contains a four-tiered chandelier gifted by China. Spotlights at night light up the mausoleum and can be seen for miles. Liaqat Ali Khan, the first Prime Minister of Pakistan and Fatima Jinnah, the Quaid’s sister are also buried here. It was an amazing structure indeed looking very pure. How it looked so clean must have been a miracle as Karachi’s pollution levels were higher than most areas. And surprisingly enough the area was peaceful and clam even though it was in the very heart of one of the busiest cities in the world.
Next on the list was The National museum of Pakistan which had an absolutely fascinating and large collection of coins from different eras, sculptures, rare manuscripts of the Quran, items related to Pakistan’s cultural heritage, Islamic art, miniature paintings, an ethnographic gallery depicting different ethnicities within Pakistan and galleries displaying artefacts from Gandharan times, Mughal rule, British rule and even the Indus civilisation.
I sorted out my ticket for Gwadar leaving the following day at 12 noon. The bus station I was going from was on the far north of Karachi. I got there rather early just to make sure I would get a seat but it was not until 1.45pm that the bus would leave. As I waited I realised that a lot of the passengers had African features. These people were known as Mekranis and they lived along the Mekran coast. They were bought here as slaves but eventually attaining freedom and starting their own communities. They spoke Balochi and Mekrani and looked amazing in shalwar kameez.
The bus finally came and we left slowly edging out of Karachi and then into hilly terrain near the Hub Valley. This was the start of Balochistan. Balochistan is Pakistan’s largest, driest, poorest and the least populated province.
The bus made its way through an arid mountainous desert with glimpses of the blue waters of the Arabian ocean to the left at times. Eventually we entered the Hingol National Park an eclectic mix of habitats for wildlife. It is Pakistan’s largest national Park and comprises of marine life, beaches, sand dunes, desert, sand mountains, mud volcanoes, a river and an estuary. Animals include dolphins, crocodiles, sea birds, waterfowl, partridges, falcons, eagles, vultures, larks, wolves, leopards, ibex, urial, chinkara as well as a unique mix of rodents and reptiles some of which are very rare. We passed the Hingol River which had flooded last year considerably displacing the Mugger crocodiles from their zone. Mugger crocodiles could at times attack humans and more so livestock of the already impoverished locals who most often led a nomadic lifestyle. The bus twisted and turned upwards around the hairpin bends. The journey was spectacular. Some of the mountains look like they had been carved out as there appeared to be statues and even buildings. There were strange mountain formations. As we climbed up we could see the deep blue waters of the Arabian ocean right next below. I managed to spot three Sindh Ibex staring down at us curiously. We must have looked a real site a bus stacked with big containers at the top. The containers were used for smuggling cheap diesel which came from Iran and ended up in Karachi and other areas of Sindh. The Mekran highway must have been smugglers dreams come true. It connected Karachi a busy metropolis with Iran, where a number of goods were cheaper. The borders guard were easy to bribe on both sides. It also gave the chance for the transport companies who operated here to make some real money as the buses were expensive and the government did not subsidise services to encourage people to use public transport.
We passed a sand formation on a mountain which looked like a woman raising her hand to the sky and was named “the Princess of Hope”.
The bus twisted and turned. To the right we had mountains of sand and to the left we had cliffs, dunes and a glorious deep blue sea. We saw a number of trucks which had looked like they had come to and end on various spots on the road. Some had lost control and crashed, others had look like they had punctured or had other tyre problems.
It was getting dark and we had just reached Ormara where we dropped off some passengers on the outskirts of the town. The bus was not going as fast as it could have been and I was beginning to think that we may get there when it is dark. I would have nowhere to stay if we got there after 12 midnight. Gwadar was a small town and I doubted the hotels would be open after 12 noon. I contacted a friend of mine from Turbat, which was 3 hours from Gwadar and told him of my fear. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/50384-way-gwadar.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/49470-journey-pakistan-march-2008-hurdles.html Fri, 19 Dec 2008 17:45:45 GMT www.sarhay2.wordpress.com (http://www.sarhay2.wordpress.com) I can’t believe I was finally in Pakistan again after a two month delay and a nightmare plane journey. It was warm and sunny and as loud as it always is with vehicles aggressively sounding the horn. It was a bit of a shock as it... www.sarhay2.wordpress.com

I can’t believe I was finally in Pakistan again after a two month delay and a nightmare plane journey. It was warm and sunny and as loud as it always is with vehicles aggressively sounding the horn. It was a bit of a shock as it always is but still the start of a long holiday with many places to explore.
My trip had been delayed because of the political unrest following Ms Benazir Bhutto’s death and the growing numbers of Pakistanis who wanted the current President Mr Pervez Musharaf out. Ms Bhutto, the leader of the Pakistan People’s Party, had returned to Pakistan following a self-imposed exile. This prompted another leader Mr Nawaz Sharif, the leader of the Pakistan Muslim League Nawaz to return after he had been deported by Musharaf. Opposition to Musharaf and his tailor-made Muslim League Quaid Party was growing. It was all ignited by Musharraf’s attack on the judiciary which was resisted by the Chief Justice who then was arrested with other senior members. The lawyers and other judiciary workers protested resulting in harsh police crackdowns. Musharaf was alienating his support within the middle classes.
There was an emergency declared by Musharaf to target extremists who were fighting the army in the north west regions and who had managed to take over some areas but in reality it was the lawyers movement that suffered the brunt of it. The media was gagged too as their reporting was seen to be damaging to Musharaf and allies. They accused it of being biased and sensationalising the issues of the lawyer’s movement and terrorism. Ironically it was Musharaf who first encouraged media freedom.
The murder of Ms Bhutto delayed the much anticipated elections for about 6 weeks. There were lots of dark clouds – militancy and suicide bombing had become a routine matter, the potential of election rigging and also the wheat shortage, electricity shortage and rise in petrol prices were all making their mark on the public. The prospects did not look very good for the near future too.
The plane journey was the worst I had encountered. The food had made me sick and I vomited at least 5 times if not more. Air Blue was making me feel Blue. Our stop to refuel in Trabzon in turkey was a welcome break. At dawn we circled over snow-capped peaks and a large expanse of water. It was a surreal experience leaving the plane for a short break in crisp cold Trabzon as a winter dawn broke with the blue sea gently swishing in the background.
Relations visited and I went to the houses of those relations who had lost loves ones recently and the elderly who could not get out and about.
The next few days I spent getting used to the climate and shopping for things that I would need.
I had decided to fly to Karachi but near the airport one of the roads was blocked and I worried I would be late. I was flying by Shaheen Air and the ticket cost me 5600 Rupees single. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/49470-journey-pakistan-march-2008-hurdles.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/37998-visit-pakistan-summer-2006-part-2.html Fri, 22 Feb 2008 23:20:51 GMT [FONT=Times New Roman][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I woke up and thought what shall I do today? I felt I must go somewhere. I had no idea where to start. I decided it must be the Kaghan Valley. The Kaghan Valley started at Balakot, a town demolished by the recent earthquake at an altitude of about 800m. That was higher than most places in England. The highest point in the Kaghan Valley was the Malika Parbat which rose to 5200m and was visible at the Lake Saiful Mulk in the north. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]On the G T Road I boarded one of the many buses that plied from Peshawar to Rawalpindi and then back. The bus was playing a DVD of a Pashtu singer and with some hideously fat women as dancers. How they had so much stamina I do not know but as much as I cringed watching it, I had to admit it was enjoyable. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]My stop came, the town of Hassan Abdal, the gateway to the Northern Areas and the Hazara division. The journey to Abbottabad was quite pleasant. The mountains to the north were the Himalayan foothills. The road rose slowly and then entered a beautiful pine clad valley. Abbottabad was a city named after a British Military officer, James Abbott. It was the British who developed this area and established a large army garrison here. It is by far one of the cleaner cities in Pakistan and quite green. It still has a very British feel with igreen gardens beautifully laid out and sloping roofs. The weather was much cooler here and rains were more plentiful. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]It was Friday and prayer time was coming up. I was in a dilemma as I had a bag with me but did not know where to put it for the prayer. I prayed my Friday prayer’s with the Imam even in England except on rare occasions. I decided to eat instead and went to the Red Onion restaurant. I ordered my food half in English and half in Urdu. Another waiter watched me from a distance. Eventually he came towards me and said “I love to speak English!” I said “OK, that’s great!” He then repeated this statement to me two more times. I did not know what to say so I asked him his name, age and where he was from. He then said “England is a very beautiful country!” I asked if he had been there or whether he had relatives there. He answer was negative but he pointed out he had me there. I replied “I have moved to Pakistan forever!” He asked for my passport so he could go to live there. I laughed and said “it would take you another five years to weigh as much as I do. Not one to give up he wanted my phone numbers and address so he could write to me. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I looked around and I realised I was not the only one missing Friday prayer’s. There were some very western influenced people here. The men were suited and booted and quite a lot of the women did not even bother covering their shortly cut hair. Why the international media portrayed Pakistan as a conservative backwater I never really understood. I was guessing a lot of the people sat in here today had military connections so they generally could behave as they liked more or less. The children called their parents “Mommy” and “Daddy”. Their dress sense was western too and they could probably access western media through the number of satellite and cable channels broad cast here and not to forget the internet. The British left their mark on Pakistan in a very big way. The elite groups and high societies would socialise with each other in a very non-Islamic and more of a western way. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]I ate and decided to move on. I prayed by myself and then boarded a bus to Mansera. The road twisted and turned but within 45 minutes we arrived at Mansera. Mansera was a smaller city than Abbottabad and had more of a Pakistani feel. Before we entered the start of the city I awakened myself to the horrendous tragedy which hit Pakistan last October. The earthquake which may have killed over 100,000 people in these beautiful and serene Himalayan valleys were showing their scars. On the outsides of the city there were tents and porta-cabins established by voluntary groups and countries in order to help in this awful tragedy. We drove through Mansera and suddenly the sky darkened and it rained. I had to buy an umbrella in the bus station. It almost lashed us and the buildings furiously. I asked for buses to Balakot and the Kaghan Valley. I was told that I could get to Balakot but not ahead because of landslides. The earthquake had weakened the environment here and whenever it rained it caused a hue problem. Stones, boulders, soil, trees and remnants of buildings demolished by the earthquake would find their way down to the road in either slow or extremely fast speeds. I had to turn back. [/FONT][/SIZE]
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[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3]It was still raining in Abbottabad and I decided to book a hotel room. I found one for 300 ruppees. Per night. It had a clean bed, decent enough bath room and running water s I accepted it. I had stayed at this hotel a number of times since 1998 and then it was just 100 ruppees a night. I mentioned this to the receptionist but he said the cost of living had risen. I as an outsider could only feel the crunch now. I wondered how the locals felt. I walked around the cantonment for the rest of the evening and when I got back I realised I had a blister. I popped it. [/SIZE][/FONT]
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[SIZE=3][FONT=Times New Roman]The next day I decided to visit Thandiani, an old British hill station at 2700m above sea level. I hired a taxi for the occasion as I knew as soon as I saw a bird of the feathered variety I would need to note it. We left the city and then rose up and up. It was a 1500 metre climb and took less than an hour usually. The forest became thicker and thicker and at some points it was very dense. The moist climate supported quite a large variety of insects and birds. There were quite a lot of butterflies of various colours flitting gaily around the flowers and shrubs. Thandiani was fairly busy and a crowd of young children escaping the heat from the Punjab flocked around the Rhesus Money packs which scavenged fro scraps on the town edge. I decided to go for a hike in the forest with my driver. We descended into the forest which was dark. It was extremely silent except for the birds in the trees which flitted above. The ground was wet but not soggy. We had not travelled that far down when the taxi driver, Sajjad said do not go further as it is very dangerous. Sajjad said not even the locals ventured into the forest. I ignored him and the trees just pulled me in. Sajjad’s pleading broke the silence “It is very dangerous here as there are animals here which will eat humans, please do not go any further.” I knew that there were Common Leopards and Black Bears here and I felt that somewhere in these trees there must be a leopard resting. I wanted to see it but did not know how too. I felt that we were being watched by someone, by something and I wanted to see it too. I regretted that Sajjad had tagged along with me but then if something was to have happened to me at least I had his company right? I did not feel that safe in this forest which was thick and dark but I surely did want to explain more of it. I decided to ignore Sajjad and carried on. He followed me and after another 15 minutes he again asked me not to go further. I decided to listen to him this time around as he was more scared than I was. Or maybe he knew of the danger’s that occurred here and did not want to be entangled in something which could be deadly. I looked up and realised we had to hike back up and it would be tiring. We went back to Abbottabad and ate there. We stopped at an Afghan restaurant and ate Kabuli rice. I was very hungry. After dinner I decided to go back to my village to plan the next journey. [/FONT][/SIZE] ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/37998-visit-pakistan-summer-2006-part-2.html http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/37571-june-13-2006-off-pakistan.html Sun, 10 Feb 2008 01:36:22 GMT Once again I was off to Pakistan. Nothing is ever ready on time. We were still packing minutes before I left the house. As I made my way to my seat I realised a middle aged Pakistani woman was sat there and I politely pointed out that I was given this seat. I called the air stewardess... Once again I was off to Pakistan.
Nothing is ever ready on time. We were still packing minutes before I left the house.
As I made my way to my seat I realised a middle aged Pakistani woman was sat there and I politely pointed out that I was given this seat. I called the air stewardess who told the lady to move quite firmly but still she would not budge. The air stewardess explained that we must sit in the seats we were given and not just anywhere regardless of where our family was seated. I did claim my seat eventually and sat next to the young guy who i realised was not right. Someone else came and the young guy was moved to another seat.

I asked the guy if he knew the woman ahe he said "she is my mum". I smiled and thought 'thank god I did not call her an old bat or worse'. His name was Asad and he was travelling to Gujar Khan. He took a copy of the The Mirror, a tabloid newspaper, from me but declined the broadsheets I had with me. We made small talk.

The first 5 hours passed slowly but before long we were ready to land. Suddenly, a hand touched me and an old lady said in Pashtu "can you help me get my things down from the compartment?". i agreed and added "how did you know I spoke Pashtu?" She said "I heard you speak it on your mobile before that flight took off" I grimaced as I realised she may have heard some rather loose banter with a friend. Pashtu was once a secret code language that none really understood. There were so few of us in the UK. It was the language that no-one really understood but things had changed and we had to be careful what we said lest something undesireable slipped out.


When she got her stuff the old lady pushed past me and told me to hurry up. I was shocked as she charged passed me and pushed me against a seat. She would have been good in a rugby scrum.

I got my luggage fairly quickly and passed through the customs who asked if I had alcohol. I laughed and walked off.

Dawn was breaking and once again I heard the hustle and bustle of life in Pakistan. The sky soon filled up with Black kites waiting to scavenge or rob other birds of their food. The beggars rushed up to me and my cousin tried to give them some ruppees. "No, we dont want ruppees, we want pounds!" they exclaimed insulted. Even beggars have standards.

We were just about to head on to the motorway when a police van tried to pull us over. Our driver did not slow down let alone stop. The police van could not make it onto the motorway because they could be be booked by the motorway police. Our driver did not want to stop as like the Black Kites, the Pakistani police were also scavengers and robbers.

The motorway was a pleasant journey. It was going to be extended from Islamabad to Peshawar but so far only went to Burhan, a town near Hassan Abdal. Work on the motorway had started many years ago. Progress was slow. The road was clean and devoid of traffic. It cut through rugged forested hills which were surprisingly green. This side of the Margalla hills was consideredtobe quite barren and deforested but the opening of the motorway showed a different side.


Not far from home we stopped for tea. As soon as I got out, heads turned. I was wearing western clothes and had obviously arrived from somewhere. I had to put up withall the staring faces andit was very uncomfortable. They were assessing me and it did not feel nice. In Pakistan people will just stare ar you directly while in the west people would walk past you as if you were not there.



Once home I met my aunties and cousins who had a thousand and one questionsto askme even though uit hadonly been 18 months since i last saw them. Then i realised I needed to sleep for a while. I lay in the bed and thought to myself that it's so hot and sweaty. I ignored the noise outside and eventually nodded off. ]]> thejoke http://www.paklinks.com/gs/blogs/thejoke/37571-june-13-2006-off-pakistan.html