Future...?

That’s the way with stories, you tell them as you will. My reality is different from yours, as your reality is different from mine. Experiences, nature, and nurture shape who we are. Perceiving similar situations in different ways is human nature, neither wrong nor right, just different. The information I write in this blog is MY perception, not yours, not that of the people who live here, the people who visit here, or anyone else’s. It is unfair, to claim that another’s perceptions are wrong, or to ask for many specific examples during a general discussion- examples are limitless, as they are added to others and transformed in our mind, feelings are added, taken away, mixed in... Having said this, I hope those of you who take the time to read this blog are enjoying it, and maybe even learning something. But always remember, that what one sees or what one hears, what one feels or how one reacts is an individual process, and no one has the right to negate this or your perceptions regarding.

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I am leaving Pakistan in a month and a half.

This is terrifying.

First, I have become very accustomed to the ‘Pakistani way of life’ where the words ‘responsibility’ and ‘competition’, among others hold completely different meanings. Interestingly, I was told yesterday that the difference between our (us gori’s) mentality and the Pakistani mentality is that when we want things, we do them ourselves. We alone take responsibility for ourselves, our wishes, but also for our actions. This is of course a huge assumption, but I will further discuss it because the actual idea was submitted to me from a Pakistani. If you think about it, this makes a huge difference in the course of one’s life, or in the way one lives. Even about the way one thinks about goals or challenges or the pride one feels during times of self prosperity.

This Pakistani mentality might be easy to explain ( …that is, if I am correct in my assumptions). Many, and probably most, live in extended family units. There is always someone there for you, someone to help you, someone to rely on. Individuality, especially for women, is often delegated to a familial status or role. Even as a child, where Westerners have babysitters for nights out, Pakistanis have aunts, cousins or mothers. If you are one of the unlucky ones and aren’t sent to school early on, you could live to be 5 or even 7 years old with very little contact to non-family members. This, in my opinion, makes a startling difference.

The thing I fear most is that I have in some way given in to this Pakistani way of thought. I notice myself depending more and more on those around me, on the family we have become, or those Pakistanis who have helped me in the past, instead of depending solely on myself. I want to make a side note here- of course, since I broke my foot, I needed extra help with everything, and therefore depended on those around me a great deal more than normally. But when I am referring to dependence in this post, I mean that I have become dependent in other ways, regardless of the foot situation. Europe will be a rude awakening. I guess one would call this ‘reverse culture shock’ something I have often experienced when returning to the United States, a country where I may have grown up, but whose ideals, normative culture and mentality differ so much from mine. Europe has always been my safe haven, a place where I feel comfortable, where I feel at home.

As of yet, I have very little idea of what I will do once I return ‘home’, or even where I will go…? Berlin, Vienna, Amsterdam, London…? The options are in some ways limitless, thanks to the glory of ‘fortress Europe’ and the almost grail-like Schengan passport that I hold in such high regard. I do however think that I will remain in Europe for some time. Africa and South East Asia may be calling my name, but they aren’t calling that loudly yet. Give it a year, or three, or five...

The ‘where’ also greatly depends on the ‘what’. What will I do? Actually, what do I WANT to do? The confusion and panic is spreading so rapidly around my soul that I have made multiple layers of ‘back- up plans’. Go back to school? Study what? Do yet another internship, but where? Find a proper job, but how, and am I even really ready?...

Currently I am looking for any interesting opportunities (this is a hint to any of you out there reading this….). Having written many applications, and received very few responses, I can only hope that once my current internship at Punjab’s UNDP shows up on my CV, the course will run more smoothly…

At the moment I am in immersed in the application and lobbying process of the European Commission’s in-service training programme. This would be best case scenario, and I hope that everyone crosses fingers, toes, eyes (thanks Em.) and any other appendage imaginable…in hopes that I am selected. Some of the roles and goals of the Commission’s Directorate Generals’ make me drool. Especially those regarding Immigration and Gender, these two fields being the ones I have spent the most time working with.

While thinking about the longer term future, I am also thinking about the shorter term future. Stefi and I are planning to take the land rout back to Europe. There is train leaving from Quetta in Baluchistan to Iran on the 1st and 15th of each month. We intend to catch this train, probably on Feb 1. We will travel through Iran, stopping in the likes of Ishafan, and Tehran (and probably others) per bus and train only…no cheating. The only cheaters exception may be a flight from Tehran to Demascus or Beirut…as traveling through Iraq is absolutely not an option (see BBC’s article on Wednesday’s bombing in Baghdad…). From Syria, on to Lebanon (or vice versa), and then through Turkey…this trip will be amazing. A last adventure before immanent return. We expect to take at least a month (or probably 1-1.5 weeks in each country).

Exhaustion and yet also refreshment will greet us upon arrival in Europe, and so will the probable realization that we still don’t know what to do or where to go…

I hate to make this the longest post in history, but there is one more thing I must mention. The most important thing. The thing that has kept me here for so long, and pulled for my return:

The people I have met in Pakistan will create the biggest hole in my heart. The realization that I may never see these people again breaks me...Pakistan has taught me love and even hate, it has taught me never to trust, but yet to find trust in unusual places. The country has introduced me to a level of kindness I have never before seen, opposing, it has also introduced me to hate, the likes of which I have never experienced, based on prejudice, propaganda and often upon religion. These combinations have created a colourful, and often exciting swirl of experiences to place in my cache, ones which I can draw back upon and learn from at any time.

In one and a half months, the journey begins…I will keep updating until then, and hope to make future posts a bit less boring, a bit more ‘future-positive’...

Eid Mubarak

On Eid we were welcomed into the home of a Pashtun family living in Lahore. The house, though modest, is clean, comfortable and well kempt with its concrete walls, many balconies and old city mentality. After many 'Salams' and 'Eid Mubaraks' (or Eid greetings) we were led (I hopped, grunted and was finally carried) up the narrow steps to the balcony where the slaughtering was to occur. The open air, with sunshine filtering through Lahore's ever-dusty winter sky, made for an almost romantic and rather settling experience. Each member of the family (usually male) who earns money and can afford it is obliged to buy, and slaughter an animal. Although it is becoming more common to hire a slaughterer as it is not necessary to slaughter the animal yourself. The types of male animals that fall under the catagory of Halal, and are suitable to sacrifice include the Goat, the Sheep, the Cow and the Camel. The cow and the camel are usually reserved for extended families as the cow can be divided into seven parts, and the camel into eleven, while the goat and the sheep are divided into three each.

The six animals whose lives were to end that morning to commemorate prophet Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son in the name of Allah were calm as ever, enjoying their last meals, and entertaining the children. Even as the first animal was laid down, prayed over and finally slaughtered, I was surprised to notice that the demeanor of the remaining animals had not changed in the least. One by one, the blood flowed from their severed necks, following the strict Islamic rules concerning halal meat, the animals were skinned, the meat was seperated and finally sent down to the women whose responsibility it was to divide the edible into three equal shares. These shares are distributed among family members, friends and the poor. It was interesting to note that very soon after the slaughtering had begun, doorbells throughout Pakistan began to ring in unison, beggers and the poor expected their rightful share.

As I was given my first morsal of the recently sacrificed goat, I learned an important life lesson: I don't really like goat.

Eid is a three day celebration, and although most animals are slaughtered on the first morning of eid, the smell of death hung heavy in the air throughput Lahore for the remaining days. Even now, I can conjure up this smell from memory. Maybe it will never leave me.

Between the three of us goras we took aroung 150 photos of this morning. I will spare you, your stomachs, and the hole these may burn into your memories and will only post the most "tasteful" of the bunch.

A special thanks goes to Safder and his wonderful family for inviting us into such a personal and special celebration. I know we will never forget this experience.

The little ones, watching.

Sheep. Much happier than I would be at that point...

Did you want some Chai with that death...?

Sheep; 5 minutes later.