I had the pleasure of seeing the World Press Photo 2008 exhibition in Sydney this afternoon. Every year I find myself transfixed by these photos, appreciating them more as I learn about photography through my own activities.
I was astounded at how many people were at the exhibition, but even more surprised by people's reactions and behaviour to the photos. I can only describe it as being 'detached'.
There were photos that held me, enthralled, that moved me, that sent shivers up my spine.
Yet, when I sat down to look around, people would look at these photos, read the accompanying comments and then move on, with no sign of impact. Are the events these photos depict, in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Ukraine, Kenya, Nigeria… are they all so far away from the reality here? Are people that detached that these photos aren't able to move them? It's a feeling I haven't quite been able to shake…
The other night, after dinner with a friend in Newtown, I had the pleasure of being re-acquainted with the wonder that is Gould's books in Newtown.
There is something about this store, the old books, the musty smell. Or perhaps the row upon row upon wall upon wall upon stack upon stack of books that are littered everywhere. Whatever it is, it appeals to my inner bookworm.
After a good half hour of wandering around and browsing, I walked out armed with 4 books; books that I most likely won't read in the next month, and will have to cart back to Pakistan, but pleased with my purchases nevertheless!
Something peculiar happened last night on my way back from the AIESEC office. Our rickshaw-wallah (driver) pulled over (in peak hour traffic in one of the busier areas of Karachi) to help push another's rickshaw… using his foot. And he proceeded to do so for another few kilometres.
It's something so small, but it really made my day.
It's a sunny Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting on the MC Mansion rooftop, having had halwa puri for breakfast, read the newspaper and now enjoying a great book. Around me I can hear the sound incessant honking of cars and trucks, the azaan (call to prayer) for Asr and the sound of boys cheering in their game of street cricket.
It's hard to believe that two weeks ago, Karachi was ablaze - cars and buildings burning, people on the streets, danger in the air.
For the past week, I've been struggling to put into words the thoughts that have been flying around my head, thoughts that have popped up reading reports on the deteriorating situation, the riots, seeing this country described as a "failed state" and a "pre-9/11 Afghanistan". All the while, my head is screaming from the negativity I see. I have tried to write how the Pakistan seen in the media is not accurate, to explain the riots and the reactions to the assassination, but the words just don't come out right.
So I'm going to show the other side of Pakistan, the Pakistan I am growing to love, through the lens of my camera.
Badshahi Masjid, Lahore:
Bhai drinking milk - Old City, Lahore:
Chai-wallah - Regal Chowk, Lahore:
A relucant smile:
Making a wish - Old City, Lahore:
This is Pakistan, not the one you see in the news.
Taken near Nur Jahan's tomb, Lahore.
… when you can play around the corner at Nur Jahan's tomb?
For some reason, I awoke this morning (yesterday morning now) around 5.30am, in time to hear the adhan (call to prayer) for Fajr (morning prayer time). It is an eerie, yet soothing sound.
It is still surreal hearing the call to prayer, despite the fact that I've been here almost two months. Every time I hear it, I have to stop what I'm doing and just absorb the sounds. Incredible.
(If there's been any doubts, yes, I'm still around - just busy with travel and work!)
I had the pleasure of experiencing Sufism at a superficial level in the past few days. After coming back to Lahore to spend Eid and Christmas, KLepo (from the AIESEC Pakistan team) and I went to a Sufi chanting night at the Shah Jamal Shrine in Lahore:
The night involved dancing and shouting by, accompanied by the beating of huge drums by two brothers (one known as "The Master"). As tourists, we sat there and absorbed everything that was going on. It is said that people that follow "the Sufi Way" see music and dance as a way of becoming closer to Allah.
At the shrine, we were welcomed warmly by the local people partaking in the chanting. Chai (or variant thereof with butter) was distributed, as were sweets, and I was struck by the warmness of the people there. One downside, in my view, was that many people used the session as an excuse to get high on hash.
Last night the owner of the hostel I'm staying at (the Regal Internet Hotel - recommended), invited some Sufi musicians to come play for us after dinner:
This was a much more intimate experience, as we got to see the musicians up close and really see the passion they put into their music.
This experience only adds to my changing perspective on Islam and Pakistan, challenging the views that have been drilled in by the media for so long. I only wish that more people could see this side of Islam, and Pakistan.
It's been three weeks now, and I'm still loving Pakistan, warts and all. It's 2am, and I'm not in the right frame of mind to write a long, rambling post, but I thought I'd jot down some observations from the past few weeks.
- There are people who are outraged by what is happening in this country. There are those who are not happy, but accept the situation. Then there are those who are numb, who are indifferent to what is happening around them. I find this array of attitudes difficult to deal with.
- Many people shy away from talking about the state of emergency and politics. Yet, some of the most amazing conversations I have had here have revolved around the emergency and the political situation. I crave to understand how Pakistan arrived at this situation, and why people feel the way they do.
- It's incredibly easy to label actions as black and white, but the reality is closer to grey…
- I have had incredible conversations about the role of women in Islam, which has opened my eyes.
- I miss the hugs of my friends back home. Personal contact is not common here, and I miss the warmth a simple hug conveys.
- The more I travel, the more I find myself acting like a chameleon. I tend to integrate quite easily, losing myself in the culture and forgetting about those back home. I'm not sure if this is good or bad.
- We eat. A lot. Most activities revolve around food, which keeps me happy!
- We lose power in the apartment ("MC mansion") every few days, and the water has run out a few times, but you get used to it.
- I feel quite sheltered. I live in a posh area of Karachi (Zamzama) and can afford to buy nice food. I am surrounded by people from all corners of the globe, who are open and welcoming. I also live with locals who can speak Urdu. The summation of this is that I haven't had to push myself to meet new people, to speak to locals and learn the language, which is different to my previous experiences in travelling. I'm looking forward to my trip to India for that reason - pushing my own boundaries.
Some snapshots of the past week:
