Pakistan Journal Entry

 

October 20, 2003 - Indus Guest House - Islamabad, Pakistan Wow, what a ride! 26 hours after leaving Skardu I am finally back in Islamabad, and none the sooner. After spending a week trekking (the rest of the world's name for hiking) on the Baltoro Glacier we made our way back to the town of Skardu. We hired 11 Porters to help us carry our gear, consisting of camping supplies, camera gear, and food to name a few. These young men are so tough and durable, and have humbled me greatly. I used to think that I was somewhat strong, as far as enduring inclement conditions and hauling heavy loads go. I now know that I am not. They wear flimsy rubber shoes with no socks, a simple clothe outfit, sleep under a tarp wrapping themselves in a very thin blanket. Their loads weighed 70 pounds or more(compared to our 30 pounds or less), and they totally kicked our butts!! Granted they are used to the 11,000 to 14,500 foot elevations we were walking through, but their strength is nothing less than inspiring. Along the way we passed through many small villages, including Askole, Hushe and Chaltron to name a very few. The people in the villages have definitely had their experiences with foreigners, but were all very friendly. Living in simple homes, some made from dirt and sticks, they spend much of their time working the fields of mostly wheat and grain. We met the chief of Askole, his name is Asgard, and went to his home for tea. Everyone here drinks tea, and it is a social engagement. If you are asked to have a cup of tea, mainly sweet chai, it is considered offensive to refuse. Needless to say I have had enough Chai to last a lifetime by now! Asgard needed a pair of binoculars for locating his herd of sheep, goats and cows in the hills. I had a pair that Mike Lilygren gave to me, so I offered them to him as a gift. The appreciation that was returned to me was well worth the very small sacrifice on my part (thanks Mike!!). We visited Hushe, the village our cook Ali Kahn lives in. What a beautiful place, sitting directly under the mountain named Masherbrum. Everyone there knows Ali Kahn, therefore we were constantly approached with outstretched arms, and once again many more cups of Chai. Ali Kahn had us for dinner at his home with his family, a very large gesture. He even slaughtered a goat for the occasion, the prize male of his herd. The children are absolutely amazing, so innocent and happy. They mainly help their parents in the fields, but have time to play a game with a rock and a drawn out rectangular pattern in the dirt (somewhat like hopscotch). I never figured out the rules but they would laugh hysterically at the white man making an absolute fool of himself trying! The women here are very shy, and most of the time will not even look a man in his eyes, although occasionally I would catch some sneaking a peek. The Muslim teachings are so different than anything I am used to concerning the boundaries between male and female. It is hard to figure out and mostly hard to understand, but I must accept it as the way that it is. After 3 weeks in these remote areas we had to make our way back to Islamabad, via Skardu. Upon arrival I had to decide whether to wait on a plane, which I knew to be a risky wait considering past experiences. The plane schedules here are totally up to the pilots, and much of the time they simply either turn around in mid-flight or don't take off at all. I opted to continue in a forward direction towards Islamabad on a public bus. I figured it was much more of a sure thing than the plane, and was getting me closer to me final destination. The bus traveled along the infamous Karakorum Highway, which follows the Indus River for much of the way. It was packed with Pakistani men, most of whom chain smoked the whole way, even while sleeping!!! It smelled of spoiled milk, ripe Pakistani (and one very ripe American), cigarettes and a smell I can still not determine the origin of! I had a window seat, which at first I believed to be a good thing but after a few hours realized it was not. The single lane road, which is extremely curvy and of course has no guardrails, twists and turns along the Indus with a sheer drop into it's icy waters the WHOLE WAY ranging from between 200 to several hundred feet!! Thankfully at night I could not see the death defying chasm but in my mind I knew it was there. Sleeping was of course out of the question, not just from the bumpy ride on the rocky road or the smells emanating from the cabin, but also from the horn. Everytime the driver would round a sharp curve, which was the whole time, he would lie on his horn to signal to approaching traffic we were coming (everyone here honks their horns constantly, and I now believe it is a part of their religion to do so fearing the wrath of Allah himself if they do not). Many times I understood the reason as we would screech to a halt and come inches away from a head on collision with a car, van, bus or military convoy. When passing them we would sometimes have to back up to a suitable place and eek by one another. I could easily reach out and touch the passing vehicle. We stopped in a small village named Juglot (joogalo) to change one of our three flat tires. At the "restaurant" there I spoke (with the help of my guide Hassan) to the chapatti cook. Chapattis are a flat, round bread kind of like a tortilla that everyone eats here. He was 22 years old, and had been working there at the same little shack on the side of the Karakorum Highway since he was 13. He worked 14-18 hours a day, 7 days a week and makes 4000 rupees a month. Depending on the exchange rate that is about $70 US dollars! Another reminder of how extremely lucky we are in the States. We finally made it back after 26 hours of this, and my brain was absolutely fried from the experience. I now sit in the Indus Guest House in Islamabad waiting for Tuesday night and my departure from Pakistan. This trip has been amazing, and has opened my eyes to so many things. Before coming I had many inhibitions and insecurities about the conditions I would encounter, mainly our safety. All of them have proven to be totally unfounded, as everyone we have met along the way has proven to be friendly and kind, including the military (whose presence is everywhere). At every military or Police checkpoint (except for one) we had no problems at all. Most were excited at the fact that Americans were once again venturing into their country, for since September 11 there have been so few (which was made evident by the visitor logs at the various checkpoints). Our media back home has drilled into our heads that this place is dangerous and we should not come here, they could not be more inaccurate. The film that comes from this and more visits in the future will hopefully open some eyes, and hearts, to the real facts. Isn't that what documentary filmmaking is all about? I look forward to my return here, and to revisit the many friends I have made along the way. I also look forward to returning home, to the ones I love, and to the luxuries I have grown accustomed to (i.e. flush toilets, refrigeration, clean drinking water, good coffee, red wine, a driving experience without the constant honking of horns, showers, freedom, etc. etc. etc.) But, as always, it is in visiting extreme and different places that seems to keep me humble in life. Which is a very good thing.