Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
my middle finger
it's been a while since i've written anything at all, and i can't really say why. has alot happened? sure. alot and nothing at all. let me begin with the war that is occuring in my backyard.
for a week now schools have been closed because they have received bomb threats. this is not new, and when i was much younger, we'd still wake up in the morning and haul our asses to school because we never did take these warnings seriously. partly because schools never shut down. but since tuesday october 20th 2009, schools remained closed all over the country. it was then i knew, this was sort of a big deal (this was after bombs went of at the Islamic University in Islamabad and killed four female students and injured 13 others). the roads remained somewhat empty and the city took on this vacant, haunted, look. so what did i do? i told my friends (who i had not seen in a very long time) that we needed to hang out and go for brunch. because i am, as much as i may hate it, a karachite. what that means is, i am densitized to bomb threats, shootings, beggary, and most physical and sexual crimes. if i were to be fearful, if i were to consider the perils that living in this city brings, i would never leave my premises. in fact, let's be honest: even your home is not safe in karachi. often homes are broken into and people are left tied up and beaten, if not fatally wounded. so, let's cut the crap, shall we? you toughen up and you live with the notion that everyday something vile could occur. you go for coffee; you visit a friend. you do so because that is your version of showing every terrorist out there the middle finger. you're not scaring me. you're not getting to me. and you will not bring me down...
...oh but they did, you see. when you close down an education institute, you are making a disgustingly illiterate population more ignorant. and sure, schools open starting tomorrow (27th october 2009) but at what cost? in order for any education institute to be opened in pakistan, authorities have issued changes that must be implemented within 2 weeks. what are these changes, you ask? well firstly, the boundary walls must be atleast 8 feet high. they must then be topped by barbed wire. there must be flood lights that will be kept on all night so any person entering the premises (which of course they should not be, as schools do not operate past 5pm) can be easily seen and identified. there must be cctv cameras installed in and outside the school premises, and a control room set up with a trained professional to oversee the recordings. there must be an army ranger perched at a high point, so he can see cars, drivers and students easily. there will be police officers sanctioned all around the building. and of course these officers and the army ranger will be carrying and using weapons (when necessary). there may be metal detectors if necessary, and it is advised that the school gate be made of iron.
i'm sorry. the last time i checked i worked at a high school. however, this may as well be a correctional facility. students are supposed to want to study in an environment where their every move is being monitored? really? does this make for a conducive academic environment? a second home? does it matter what i think or how i feel? no. this has been decided, and any educational institute not meeting with these new regulations will not be allowed to open its doors.
so what do we do? well, as karachites we do what we do best. we pretend nothing's wrong. we may talk about the changes (and i certainly plan on asking my students how they feel!) and then we get on with our work. because, these are our lives. the perpetual fear, the constant unsafety, and the ease with which lives are lost or taken, is nothing short of the norm in this great islamic republic.
but we continue. even if all we are doing is going through the motions, do not be fooled into thinking there is no laughter and no joy. we have learnt to joke about the most degrading and apalling of situations, to take a heavy and serious conversation and then speak in jest. because when we laugh, and when smile, that too ladies and gentleman and people of all sexes, is us showing our middle fingers to the world.
and when i go to school from tomorrow, and when i teach these students all i know, and when i motivate them and guide them, that is my protest and that is my rebellion. and when i ask them how they feel, and when i give them a safe zone which should be their basic human right, well that's me saying FUCK YOU. you will not stop me from being the best at what i do. and you will not stifle me. and if i'm going to go down, you bet your ass it ain't gonna be silently.
for a week now schools have been closed because they have received bomb threats. this is not new, and when i was much younger, we'd still wake up in the morning and haul our asses to school because we never did take these warnings seriously. partly because schools never shut down. but since tuesday october 20th 2009, schools remained closed all over the country. it was then i knew, this was sort of a big deal (this was after bombs went of at the Islamic University in Islamabad and killed four female students and injured 13 others). the roads remained somewhat empty and the city took on this vacant, haunted, look. so what did i do? i told my friends (who i had not seen in a very long time) that we needed to hang out and go for brunch. because i am, as much as i may hate it, a karachite. what that means is, i am densitized to bomb threats, shootings, beggary, and most physical and sexual crimes. if i were to be fearful, if i were to consider the perils that living in this city brings, i would never leave my premises. in fact, let's be honest: even your home is not safe in karachi. often homes are broken into and people are left tied up and beaten, if not fatally wounded. so, let's cut the crap, shall we? you toughen up and you live with the notion that everyday something vile could occur. you go for coffee; you visit a friend. you do so because that is your version of showing every terrorist out there the middle finger. you're not scaring me. you're not getting to me. and you will not bring me down...
...oh but they did, you see. when you close down an education institute, you are making a disgustingly illiterate population more ignorant. and sure, schools open starting tomorrow (27th october 2009) but at what cost? in order for any education institute to be opened in pakistan, authorities have issued changes that must be implemented within 2 weeks. what are these changes, you ask? well firstly, the boundary walls must be atleast 8 feet high. they must then be topped by barbed wire. there must be flood lights that will be kept on all night so any person entering the premises (which of course they should not be, as schools do not operate past 5pm) can be easily seen and identified. there must be cctv cameras installed in and outside the school premises, and a control room set up with a trained professional to oversee the recordings. there must be an army ranger perched at a high point, so he can see cars, drivers and students easily. there will be police officers sanctioned all around the building. and of course these officers and the army ranger will be carrying and using weapons (when necessary). there may be metal detectors if necessary, and it is advised that the school gate be made of iron.
i'm sorry. the last time i checked i worked at a high school. however, this may as well be a correctional facility. students are supposed to want to study in an environment where their every move is being monitored? really? does this make for a conducive academic environment? a second home? does it matter what i think or how i feel? no. this has been decided, and any educational institute not meeting with these new regulations will not be allowed to open its doors.
so what do we do? well, as karachites we do what we do best. we pretend nothing's wrong. we may talk about the changes (and i certainly plan on asking my students how they feel!) and then we get on with our work. because, these are our lives. the perpetual fear, the constant unsafety, and the ease with which lives are lost or taken, is nothing short of the norm in this great islamic republic.
but we continue. even if all we are doing is going through the motions, do not be fooled into thinking there is no laughter and no joy. we have learnt to joke about the most degrading and apalling of situations, to take a heavy and serious conversation and then speak in jest. because when we laugh, and when smile, that too ladies and gentleman and people of all sexes, is us showing our middle fingers to the world.
and when i go to school from tomorrow, and when i teach these students all i know, and when i motivate them and guide them, that is my protest and that is my rebellion. and when i ask them how they feel, and when i give them a safe zone which should be their basic human right, well that's me saying FUCK YOU. you will not stop me from being the best at what i do. and you will not stifle me. and if i'm going to go down, you bet your ass it ain't gonna be silently.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
brown people get sunburn too!
despite copious amounts of sunblock, my back, arms, and chest, are in a terrible state:
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
the kindness of strangers
a wonderful thing about being a solo traveller is that you must depend on the kindness of strangers.
and it is beautiful thing when you find this kindness and experience it.
and it is beautiful thing when you find this kindness and experience it.
going solo
so this is my last night at patong beach, phuket. while i am not ready (or wanting) to head back to work, i think i am ready to leave this place. don't get me wrong, i had an amazing time, but i would like to leave before things get boring. you know when a concert ends with the best song of the evening? well i sort of want to leave on that high.
i never thought i'd travel alone and not be nostalgic and terrified the entire time. but here i am, one week later, in a country where people barely know any english, and i did things i've never done before. i went snorkeling, white water rafting, elephant trekking and atv-ing. i haggled like crazy and made sure things that were selling for 2000 baht, i bought for 100 baht. that's right, 100! i went canoeing and as i thought, i was terrible at it!
i never thought i'd travel alone, but here i am and 7 days later, i've seen things and places i never knew existed. i visited the 'james bond island'; i saw fish that were magenta, some turquoise and some rainbow coloured! i saw maya bay (where The Beach was shot), and i stepped on sand that was almost as white as snow. i swam in water which was very deep, but so clear you could see the ocean floor.
i have travelled with strangers, and befriended a few. i took a ride on a stranger's motor-bike, because i trusted my street skills (thank you karachi). i learnt that even people who travel can be ignorant and rude and unaware of any culture other than their own. i have discovered that people across the world can be lecherous and vile, and that when you travel as a single woman, either people will be very kind to you, or they will flirt with you and try and take advantage of your being alone.
and i know now that i am equipped to handle this situation, and most situations.
i am independant in a whole other way.
i am different in an entirely new way.
but now, it is time to head back to a reality that i hope will not be mine for too long.
since i know i can be somewhere new with no one familiar around me, it is time i plan my sweet escape.
i never thought i'd travel alone and not be nostalgic and terrified the entire time. but here i am, one week later, in a country where people barely know any english, and i did things i've never done before. i went snorkeling, white water rafting, elephant trekking and atv-ing. i haggled like crazy and made sure things that were selling for 2000 baht, i bought for 100 baht. that's right, 100! i went canoeing and as i thought, i was terrible at it!
i never thought i'd travel alone, but here i am and 7 days later, i've seen things and places i never knew existed. i visited the 'james bond island'; i saw fish that were magenta, some turquoise and some rainbow coloured! i saw maya bay (where The Beach was shot), and i stepped on sand that was almost as white as snow. i swam in water which was very deep, but so clear you could see the ocean floor.
i have travelled with strangers, and befriended a few. i took a ride on a stranger's motor-bike, because i trusted my street skills (thank you karachi). i learnt that even people who travel can be ignorant and rude and unaware of any culture other than their own. i have discovered that people across the world can be lecherous and vile, and that when you travel as a single woman, either people will be very kind to you, or they will flirt with you and try and take advantage of your being alone.
and i know now that i am equipped to handle this situation, and most situations.
i am independant in a whole other way.
i am different in an entirely new way.
but now, it is time to head back to a reality that i hope will not be mine for too long.
since i know i can be somewhere new with no one familiar around me, it is time i plan my sweet escape.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
the little things in life that make a big difference
my short trip to Dubai involved enjoying the little things in life that make a very big difference, and these are the things Karachi lacks. This included good coffee, veggie burgers, horror movies & nachos in cinema, huge bookstores and all the shopping you can handle! not to mention some amazing company.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
citizen again!
People of all sexes and genders,
I finally received my passport today! This was because of my father primarily, and the friends he has in the FIA (Federal Investigation Agency - Pakistan). I have never, in all my life, been so happy to see my green, entirely useless, passport (useless because I need a visa for almost every country in the world, and doubly useless because I have a valid visa for none)!
Joy number 1098 of owning a passport that boasts the Islamic Republic of Pakistan: you are likely to be rejected, refused, denied, dissapointed, regretful and resentful - for most of your life.
But it is here! And I am a citizen again (whatever that means)!
And I have realized that you must do what you can, with what you have.
I finally received my passport today! This was because of my father primarily, and the friends he has in the FIA (Federal Investigation Agency - Pakistan). I have never, in all my life, been so happy to see my green, entirely useless, passport (useless because I need a visa for almost every country in the world, and doubly useless because I have a valid visa for none)!
Joy number 1098 of owning a passport that boasts the Islamic Republic of Pakistan: you are likely to be rejected, refused, denied, dissapointed, regretful and resentful - for most of your life.
But it is here! And I am a citizen again (whatever that means)!
And I have realized that you must do what you can, with what you have.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
responses
responses to my letter published in The News on 20th July 2009.
UK visa woes
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I can relate completely to M Murad’s letter “UK visa woes” and want to share my own dreadful entanglement with the UK visa process. I have applied for a British visa but meanwhile I came upon a great opportunity to travel to India and Afghanistan on a student exchange programme. I have repeatedly written emails at addresses provided by the Gerry’s call centre to express my urgent need for the return of my passport. Mysteriously slow to respond at first, I was eventually told what to do and mailed a visa application withdrawal form to the visa section of the British High Commission on July 8 but as yet I have not received my passport. Retrieval of one’s passport should be a simple matter. However, I hope some steps are taken soon to address the numerous complaints of visa applicants and take the necessary corrective measures.
M Dost Khan, Islamabad
*****
This is with reference to the letter by M Murad published in your newspaper on July 18 titled “UK visa woes”. I applied for my student visa on March 5 and was supposed to travel to the UK for summer school at the LSE on July 4. After numerous emails, faxes and a couriered letter to the British High Commission in Abu Dhabi I was told (after more than seven weeks had passed) that there were some biometric errors with my application — something which Ms Murad also faced. Eleven weeks have passed, I had to bare extra financial cost in the form of cancellation charges for residence at the LSE and still there is no clue of where my passport is. I completed my undergraduate studies at the University of Toronto and I have to say that I never got such shoddy treatment from the Canadian High Commission. Now all I get from Abu Dhabi is that my application is with the High Commission in Islamabad, and Islamabad staff say my application is still with Abu Dhabi staff. I am literally sick of this and want to seek forgiveness for actually applying to a university in the UK and considering it as a destination for higher education. All I want is for the British High Commission in Islamabad to simply return my passport and forgive me for ever applying!
Qazi Hassan Manzoor, Lahore
UK visa woes
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I can relate completely to M Murad’s letter “UK visa woes” and want to share my own dreadful entanglement with the UK visa process. I have applied for a British visa but meanwhile I came upon a great opportunity to travel to India and Afghanistan on a student exchange programme. I have repeatedly written emails at addresses provided by the Gerry’s call centre to express my urgent need for the return of my passport. Mysteriously slow to respond at first, I was eventually told what to do and mailed a visa application withdrawal form to the visa section of the British High Commission on July 8 but as yet I have not received my passport. Retrieval of one’s passport should be a simple matter. However, I hope some steps are taken soon to address the numerous complaints of visa applicants and take the necessary corrective measures.
M Dost Khan, Islamabad
*****
This is with reference to the letter by M Murad published in your newspaper on July 18 titled “UK visa woes”. I applied for my student visa on March 5 and was supposed to travel to the UK for summer school at the LSE on July 4. After numerous emails, faxes and a couriered letter to the British High Commission in Abu Dhabi I was told (after more than seven weeks had passed) that there were some biometric errors with my application — something which Ms Murad also faced. Eleven weeks have passed, I had to bare extra financial cost in the form of cancellation charges for residence at the LSE and still there is no clue of where my passport is. I completed my undergraduate studies at the University of Toronto and I have to say that I never got such shoddy treatment from the Canadian High Commission. Now all I get from Abu Dhabi is that my application is with the High Commission in Islamabad, and Islamabad staff say my application is still with Abu Dhabi staff. I am literally sick of this and want to seek forgiveness for actually applying to a university in the UK and considering it as a destination for higher education. All I want is for the British High Commission in Islamabad to simply return my passport and forgive me for ever applying!
Qazi Hassan Manzoor, Lahore
Sunday, July 19, 2009
incompetence & visa applications do not mix
The News, Pakistan, 19th July 2009
you can click on the image to enlarge it and read it, or check it out at:
http://www.thenews.com.pk/daily_detail.asp?id=188729
Saturday, July 18, 2009
it's a great day for an exorcism
today i wrote another short story.
it is a gloomy story, but that makes sense, since the monsoon rains have hit Karachi. thus, it has been dark since last night, and gloomy for the past 10 months of my life.
work with what you're given, i believe. so i did.
and now i have a tale of what was once heartache and the loss of power. but now, i have used the pain and transformed it into my story.
so, it has become a tale where i am in charge, and where the power is mine.
and you can't take that from me.
it is a gloomy story, but that makes sense, since the monsoon rains have hit Karachi. thus, it has been dark since last night, and gloomy for the past 10 months of my life.
work with what you're given, i believe. so i did.
and now i have a tale of what was once heartache and the loss of power. but now, i have used the pain and transformed it into my story.
so, it has become a tale where i am in charge, and where the power is mine.
and you can't take that from me.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
stories will be told
i have now completed 3 short stories, and have ideas for 2 more, which i hope to work on very soon. the stories i have already written contain some semblance of hope; those that have yet to make it to the printed word are dark and macabre.
i look forward to writing them.
i look forward to writing them.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
preface
as a preface to my last post entitled 'double standards', i would like to mention that i was not bashing at anyone, but rather at how things work. my family loves me dearly. however, what this love means and entails, that i am learning and discovering everyday.
as one would, with any love, really.
as one would, with any love, really.
double standards (the censored version)
pakistan is a great place to visit if you want to learn more about double standards. usually these pertain to the complexities and intricacies of gender, race, class, sex and sexualities. however, double standards are not limited to just those realms.
my own educated, privileged, and ‘western’* household is a fantastic example of these double standards. let me elaborate via an anecdote.
a few weeks ago my father had a few of my friends over for dinner. all but one of these friends work abroad. my father told them how wise they were for leaving a country that is slowly falling apart. moreover how brilliant they were for obtaining those jobs and smarter still, because in 5 years of working in that particular country they could apply for citizenship and a passport. having a foreign passport is a dream come true for most pakistanis: it allows for you to be treated as (almost) human at most airports (and not a convicted felon which is the norm), and it gains you entry into countries you may as well forget about if you hold a pakistani passport.
but, i digress. so anyway, here my friends were being praised as i sat flabbergasted, for when i have mentioned working abroad, i have been told in various ways that i am abandoning the family and shunning responsibilities (as if living/working abroad is a life without responsiblities and stress). but to make the sitiation worse, my father then turned to my one friend who works in pakistan and said, “you should get a job in london! you should leave! this city is going to the dogs…”
of course, once again these words of wisdom did not apply to me, which is hysterical almost, because as a woman i am in far more danger than any man in this country (or any other?).
but what is danger anymore?
i have grown up having had parts of my body touched and grabbed when i knew it was wrong. but how could it be? i was in public, everyone saw and no one did anything. surely it was a mistake right? a mistake every single time. i mean, i was only 10.
and then 12. and 14. and 16. and now 24. and nothing really changed much at all. nothing really does in this country. except that things get worse. that’s a change though, i suppose?
and yet despite the perpetual imminent danger, and the constant impending doom and disaster that lurks within each house and outside of it, i must stay. because that’s what families do - they stick together, through thick and thin, right?
Wrong.
this is not a life i carved out for myself.
this is not at all where i want to be. or who i want to be.
* i am having huge problems with the term 'western' and all that it is believed to encompass.
my own educated, privileged, and ‘western’* household is a fantastic example of these double standards. let me elaborate via an anecdote.
a few weeks ago my father had a few of my friends over for dinner. all but one of these friends work abroad. my father told them how wise they were for leaving a country that is slowly falling apart. moreover how brilliant they were for obtaining those jobs and smarter still, because in 5 years of working in that particular country they could apply for citizenship and a passport. having a foreign passport is a dream come true for most pakistanis: it allows for you to be treated as (almost) human at most airports (and not a convicted felon which is the norm), and it gains you entry into countries you may as well forget about if you hold a pakistani passport.
but, i digress. so anyway, here my friends were being praised as i sat flabbergasted, for when i have mentioned working abroad, i have been told in various ways that i am abandoning the family and shunning responsibilities (as if living/working abroad is a life without responsiblities and stress). but to make the sitiation worse, my father then turned to my one friend who works in pakistan and said, “you should get a job in london! you should leave! this city is going to the dogs…”
of course, once again these words of wisdom did not apply to me, which is hysterical almost, because as a woman i am in far more danger than any man in this country (or any other?).
but what is danger anymore?
i have grown up having had parts of my body touched and grabbed when i knew it was wrong. but how could it be? i was in public, everyone saw and no one did anything. surely it was a mistake right? a mistake every single time. i mean, i was only 10.
and then 12. and 14. and 16. and now 24. and nothing really changed much at all. nothing really does in this country. except that things get worse. that’s a change though, i suppose?
and yet despite the perpetual imminent danger, and the constant impending doom and disaster that lurks within each house and outside of it, i must stay. because that’s what families do - they stick together, through thick and thin, right?
Wrong.
this is not a life i carved out for myself.
this is not at all where i want to be. or who i want to be.
* i am having huge problems with the term 'western' and all that it is believed to encompass.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
please
please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please .......
Friday, June 26, 2009
it's the end of the world as we know it
i have had some rough moments in my life, and i have often (secretly) mocked people who have been upset at the death of a celebrity, but when i received a call from one of my best friends telling me to turn on the tv at 4am the morning of 26th june (that was the time in pakistan), my heart ached. michael jackson was my idol; he could do no wrong. this month i had tickets to seem him live, a dream i never thought would come true - and i was right, sadly enough.
michael, may you rest in peace. you will not be forgotten. you are missed and loved. music is not the same without you, performances are not the same without you.
it's the end of the world as we know it.
August 29th 1958 - 25th June 2009
michael, may you rest in peace. you will not be forgotten. you are missed and loved. music is not the same without you, performances are not the same without you.
it's the end of the world as we know it.
August 29th 1958 - 25th June 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
and you can quote me on that
Adam Tobias Jensen, 25th June 2009, 2:15 AM
"good lord
aside from the time i threatened to cut your finger off with pliers ive been nothing but supportive of you."
"good lord
aside from the time i threatened to cut your finger off with pliers ive been nothing but supportive of you."
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
the beach
for the first time in years i went to the beach, a place most other karachites will flock to. i was instantly reminded of why i had not been in a while, but that is a whole other story...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
tangled up
today, i was supposed to be out with my friends. i was, for a while anyway. then something came over me. it could have been that i hadn't eaten the entire day, it could have been that i am still suffering from that quarterlife crisis, it could be that my heart still yearns for you, but in any case, it was the reason i left abruptly, no doubt upsetting my friends. the truth was i missed you, uncontrollably. most days i wake up knowing you are no longer mine, and it hurts, but i manage to deal with it. sometimes though, i miss you and i ache for you, and those days, well those days, i don't think getting out of bed is a wise idea. instead, i wish the bed would swallow me whole. today, i called you, because i have not heard your voice since 20th jan 2009. and that's all i wanted. because despite all we've been through, despite the fact that we no longer talk, or communicate with each other in any way, despite that fact that you shattered my heart in a way no has and can, i feel no one knows me like you. and no one loves me the way you do...
or did...
you will not read this. you rarely miss me. and you probably don't long for me the way i continue to long for you. because i was always far more in love than you, far more vulnerable than you.
i was, and still am, tangled up in you.
or did...
you will not read this. you rarely miss me. and you probably don't long for me the way i continue to long for you. because i was always far more in love than you, far more vulnerable than you.
i was, and still am, tangled up in you.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
the woman with no face
a week ago i saw a woman with no face.
today, i saw her again.
she sits outside Abdullah Shah Ghazi's mazar (or the shrine of Abdullah Shah Ghazi), leaning aginst a wall, she sits with a small plastic bucket (for want of a better word), begging for money. she can not do much else, considering as i said, she has no face.
let me explain: she is more than likely the victim or should i say (unfortunate? fortunate?) survivor of an acid attack. acid attacks are fairly common in pakistan, and most often the victim (who does not always survive) is a woman. these attacks are common when a woman has been termed loose, is believed to be an adulterer, or crosses her in-laws in some way. the perpetrators can be the woman (or girl's) father, brother, husband, even the husband's family. despite the prevalence of these incidences, acid continues to be sold cheaply and can be bought from almost anywhere (as it is also used to remove stains from floors etc).
when i usually learn about the survivors (whom i would call unfortunate survivors, for the world is not kind to people who are a mess physically, nor are their own families) i am upset because i can not imagine the 'life' that exists thereafter. this woman was different. sure she had a socket where her left eye should have been, and a bulging blind right eye. sure she had a nose that disappeared at the tip, to be met with a mouth that lacked lips. sure the skin on her face was decaying and diseased, but this is not what made my stomach churn.
what made me uneasy is that she sits there, with no idea of her surroundings. it makes me uneasy that she may be attacked (again); it makes me extremely uneasy that i do not understand how she eats, that she can not see what she eats. how does she bathe? where does she bathe? does someone pick her up in the evenings, only to drop her off at this same wretched place, each morn? does she belong to one of pakistan's notorious beggar camps? and if she doesn't, would that be worse?
somehow yes... the idea of never knowing where you're going, scares me. and yes metaphorically i have been there (and i am still there). but i still have my sight, even if occaisionally i lose sight. this woman, without the sense of sight, can she have metaphorical sight? do the two co-exist?
and is it horrible of me to think surviving some incidents and experiences, aren't moments that one should be grateful for?
today, i saw her again.
she sits outside Abdullah Shah Ghazi's mazar (or the shrine of Abdullah Shah Ghazi), leaning aginst a wall, she sits with a small plastic bucket (for want of a better word), begging for money. she can not do much else, considering as i said, she has no face.
let me explain: she is more than likely the victim or should i say (unfortunate? fortunate?) survivor of an acid attack. acid attacks are fairly common in pakistan, and most often the victim (who does not always survive) is a woman. these attacks are common when a woman has been termed loose, is believed to be an adulterer, or crosses her in-laws in some way. the perpetrators can be the woman (or girl's) father, brother, husband, even the husband's family. despite the prevalence of these incidences, acid continues to be sold cheaply and can be bought from almost anywhere (as it is also used to remove stains from floors etc).
when i usually learn about the survivors (whom i would call unfortunate survivors, for the world is not kind to people who are a mess physically, nor are their own families) i am upset because i can not imagine the 'life' that exists thereafter. this woman was different. sure she had a socket where her left eye should have been, and a bulging blind right eye. sure she had a nose that disappeared at the tip, to be met with a mouth that lacked lips. sure the skin on her face was decaying and diseased, but this is not what made my stomach churn.
what made me uneasy is that she sits there, with no idea of her surroundings. it makes me uneasy that she may be attacked (again); it makes me extremely uneasy that i do not understand how she eats, that she can not see what she eats. how does she bathe? where does she bathe? does someone pick her up in the evenings, only to drop her off at this same wretched place, each morn? does she belong to one of pakistan's notorious beggar camps? and if she doesn't, would that be worse?
somehow yes... the idea of never knowing where you're going, scares me. and yes metaphorically i have been there (and i am still there). but i still have my sight, even if occaisionally i lose sight. this woman, without the sense of sight, can she have metaphorical sight? do the two co-exist?
and is it horrible of me to think surviving some incidents and experiences, aren't moments that one should be grateful for?
Sunday, June 7, 2009
thoughts on 'the outsider'
i don't want to say i loved the book, because ideas of love have no room in Camus's ' The Outsider.' intead i'll say this: there were moments when i felt i was peering into a mirror and catching glimpses of myself, and then there were other moments when i felt the protagonist, 'the outsider' himself, was the insider to me. for we connected.
for the past year or so, i have found myself as someone who is quickly able to detach from people, places and things. this was not always so. in fact, connections were very important to me once. and while they are still important to me now, i don't seek a connection everywhere, with everyone. i'm perfectly alright knowing that i have few friends, and even fewer close friends, because these connections are not easy to form, and can not be forged. once i needed many friends, now i create filters that screen out people who i think do not, and can not, understand me. and even when after all those filters someone gets through, i have barricaded myself using my experiences and my woe, my heartache and my heartbreak.
you can only get in so far.
but i digress. the book was eye-opening in that you have a protagonist who refuses to lie. Camus writes that lying is not only not telling the truth, but sometimes also telling more than the truth. how true. how truthful.
each day, i am finding it increasingly difficult to lie to myself, to pretend i want to be certain places with certain people (read the previous blog entry for more on that). i was taught lying was sometimes necessary to prevent people's feelings from being hurt, but what about what it does to me? it ensures i have to walk around being someone else. and i am no actress. really, i am not. moreover, it baffles me and boggles my mind. when i am invited out, i must conjure up some fantastic story as to why i can not attend, when the truth is, i don't want to be there. and since when did what we want, and what we need, no longer matter?
since when did the truth behind who we are and where we want to be, no longer suffice?
since when?
and since when have i been a reluctant follower?
for the past year or so, i have found myself as someone who is quickly able to detach from people, places and things. this was not always so. in fact, connections were very important to me once. and while they are still important to me now, i don't seek a connection everywhere, with everyone. i'm perfectly alright knowing that i have few friends, and even fewer close friends, because these connections are not easy to form, and can not be forged. once i needed many friends, now i create filters that screen out people who i think do not, and can not, understand me. and even when after all those filters someone gets through, i have barricaded myself using my experiences and my woe, my heartache and my heartbreak.
you can only get in so far.
but i digress. the book was eye-opening in that you have a protagonist who refuses to lie. Camus writes that lying is not only not telling the truth, but sometimes also telling more than the truth. how true. how truthful.
each day, i am finding it increasingly difficult to lie to myself, to pretend i want to be certain places with certain people (read the previous blog entry for more on that). i was taught lying was sometimes necessary to prevent people's feelings from being hurt, but what about what it does to me? it ensures i have to walk around being someone else. and i am no actress. really, i am not. moreover, it baffles me and boggles my mind. when i am invited out, i must conjure up some fantastic story as to why i can not attend, when the truth is, i don't want to be there. and since when did what we want, and what we need, no longer matter?
since when did the truth behind who we are and where we want to be, no longer suffice?
since when?
and since when have i been a reluctant follower?
Friday, June 5, 2009
what i hate about brown
there's a lot of things actually. and i don't know if it has to do with south asian culture, or purely pakistani culture, so for all intensive purposes, brown here refers to pakistani(s).
in no particular order:
i am irked when i am told to respect elders. when they enter a room, you must stand up with respect and offer your seat. i have no problem with this. my problem lies in the fact that you are not allowed to question the ways of elders, or the thoughts they may have. you are definitely not supposed to question when they ask you to do something. the idea is, with years under their belt, they should be revered. the belief is that age presupposes knowledge and authority. this is absolutely ludicrous. there are plenty of old people out there who do not know what they're talking about. moreover, if gender presupposed authority (and i'm sure that would mean being male presupposed authority), then women would be screaming and shounting and demanding their freedom(s). so why is age any different? should we add race to the mix too? what do you teach your children when you teach them to quietly listen to adults? how many children are exploited daily because they do not question what they are hearing, witnessing, and going through?
another popular lesson brown people learn early on in their lives is that things must be done out of a sense of obligation. more and more each day, my problem with this belief grows and grows. as someone who had many individuals show up to her mother's funeral (many of whom i had never met, and perhaps many of whom had never met my mother), i understood obligation at 16. it means showing your faces places, and making appearances, when you would much rather not. it means saving face and preventing people from thinking badly of you. you showed up to the funeral of a stranger, so you can not be an evil person... that is the line of thinking. it makes me seethe with rage when i think of people showing up to dinners, parties, funerals, anywhere near me, because they feel obligated to do so. this has affected me so drastically that i can not bring myself to go places unless i really, truly, want to. just this past december, one of my closest friends lost her father, and i was at her place everyday, helping her heal, because i wanted to be. when you ask me to do something, and i say yes without any hesitation, it's because i want to help, not because i feel compelled to since i was asked by a friend. when i go places it's because i know the company will be good for me, and i will do good for/to them. i don't care that it's a significant day- that is not reason enough for me to be present. why be fake? why pretend? why the farce? this however, does not sit well with my browner counterparts.
there's more where that came from, but i'll save it for another day. i had to get those two issues out, because they are every minute, pressing concerns. and well, no one here seems to get it.
shocking.
in no particular order:
i am irked when i am told to respect elders. when they enter a room, you must stand up with respect and offer your seat. i have no problem with this. my problem lies in the fact that you are not allowed to question the ways of elders, or the thoughts they may have. you are definitely not supposed to question when they ask you to do something. the idea is, with years under their belt, they should be revered. the belief is that age presupposes knowledge and authority. this is absolutely ludicrous. there are plenty of old people out there who do not know what they're talking about. moreover, if gender presupposed authority (and i'm sure that would mean being male presupposed authority), then women would be screaming and shounting and demanding their freedom(s). so why is age any different? should we add race to the mix too? what do you teach your children when you teach them to quietly listen to adults? how many children are exploited daily because they do not question what they are hearing, witnessing, and going through?
another popular lesson brown people learn early on in their lives is that things must be done out of a sense of obligation. more and more each day, my problem with this belief grows and grows. as someone who had many individuals show up to her mother's funeral (many of whom i had never met, and perhaps many of whom had never met my mother), i understood obligation at 16. it means showing your faces places, and making appearances, when you would much rather not. it means saving face and preventing people from thinking badly of you. you showed up to the funeral of a stranger, so you can not be an evil person... that is the line of thinking. it makes me seethe with rage when i think of people showing up to dinners, parties, funerals, anywhere near me, because they feel obligated to do so. this has affected me so drastically that i can not bring myself to go places unless i really, truly, want to. just this past december, one of my closest friends lost her father, and i was at her place everyday, helping her heal, because i wanted to be. when you ask me to do something, and i say yes without any hesitation, it's because i want to help, not because i feel compelled to since i was asked by a friend. when i go places it's because i know the company will be good for me, and i will do good for/to them. i don't care that it's a significant day- that is not reason enough for me to be present. why be fake? why pretend? why the farce? this however, does not sit well with my browner counterparts.
there's more where that came from, but i'll save it for another day. i had to get those two issues out, because they are every minute, pressing concerns. and well, no one here seems to get it.
shocking.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
the movies
i'm sure you've watched movies where a family has a huge falling out; where a young woman can't stand the ways of her parents, maybe her siblings. which leads to inevitably, a screaming match, where heated words are exchanged and doors are slammed. where feelings are hurt, and tears are shed. but at the end of the movie, the family comes together stronger than ever before. understanding each of its members as individuals and not just components, for the first time. i want that moment, but i do not want to have to speak the harsh words, to open my heart, to make evident what are my feelings and thoughts. i want that moment, while staying closed and some what cold, the whole time. the coldness and frigidity is why i can never have that moment.
i'm sure you've watched movies in which someone heartbroken and lonely does not even know they are on the path of self-discovery, and yet emerge at the end, almost brand new, and not needing validation from any external forces. or, they emerge at the end finding the true love of their life. i want the self discovery, and i want the real love. but i know my path to self discovery
can not possibly be in the rank, diseased and corrupted streets of this city that i have grown to detest more, and so true love too, can not be found or had here.
i am told this is my 'home.' i am told to love this place and i will see things brighter, better, less pathetic. it is not true. beggars crawl on your car at every traffic light. men mumble, sometimes loudly vocalize obsenities regarding you, your face, your body, because they can. because you are just a woman. people end sentences with religious words and phrases, expecting you to do the same, for there is no room for you in this Islamic Republic if you are not a Muslim (albeit a cheating, lying one). there is no water when you turn on your faucet often, because the country is drying up. there is no power, because there are too many homes and people to have to provide it to.
there is no happiness, no hope and no real living in this country. and every day you must deal with the bigger, more powerful issues like IDP's, prostitution, violence and crime. and yet everyday you must also deal with family issues, politics within your social circles, your lack of a love life.
they tell me i must live here, and for the most part it's true, for no other country wants me.
but i do not want to live here.
and i definitely do not want to die here.
i'm sure you've watched movies in which someone heartbroken and lonely does not even know they are on the path of self-discovery, and yet emerge at the end, almost brand new, and not needing validation from any external forces. or, they emerge at the end finding the true love of their life. i want the self discovery, and i want the real love. but i know my path to self discovery
can not possibly be in the rank, diseased and corrupted streets of this city that i have grown to detest more, and so true love too, can not be found or had here.
i am told this is my 'home.' i am told to love this place and i will see things brighter, better, less pathetic. it is not true. beggars crawl on your car at every traffic light. men mumble, sometimes loudly vocalize obsenities regarding you, your face, your body, because they can. because you are just a woman. people end sentences with religious words and phrases, expecting you to do the same, for there is no room for you in this Islamic Republic if you are not a Muslim (albeit a cheating, lying one). there is no water when you turn on your faucet often, because the country is drying up. there is no power, because there are too many homes and people to have to provide it to.
there is no happiness, no hope and no real living in this country. and every day you must deal with the bigger, more powerful issues like IDP's, prostitution, violence and crime. and yet everyday you must also deal with family issues, politics within your social circles, your lack of a love life.
they tell me i must live here, and for the most part it's true, for no other country wants me.
but i do not want to live here.
and i definitely do not want to die here.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
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