Memories of Pakistan
Looking back at our years in Pakistan, I am filled with memories—mostly pleasant memories. Pakistan is a friendly place, a relaxed place. Oh, yes, it may be hot, dusty, and lack many conveniences that we are so used to here. But the people are very friendly and the atmosphere is peaceful...
Most of the time.
During our first four years in Pakistan several Mujahedeen parties were located in Peshawar and were constantly struggling for power. The frequent bombings became common place. But they were not targeting us, so we could ignore them. Our kids still chuckle about the night we were woken up by a bomb close to our house. We were sleeping on the ceramic floor because it was cooler than the bed. Lois sat up and asked, "What was that, are the kids okay?" When I told her it was a bomb, she replied, "Oh, just a bomb" and went back to sleep. So, yes, it was a peaceful atmosphere most of the time. Honestly, we felt no fear. The Lord had given us the verse from 2 Tim 1:7, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind”, and we lived by it.
Due to the lack of resources and commodities, the Pakistani people have become very resourceful. They sometimes make use of their resourcefulness in dishonest ways, but mostly they just find ways of getting by when they lack what most of us think are necessities. I can recall seeing them transport enormous loads in a very small vehicle. The most people I saw on one motorcycle was seven, but three or four on a 90 cc motorcycle is not uncommon. The most popular car is a tiny Suzuki. Yet I have seen a full size refrigerator being transported in the back seat of a Suzuki. Well, most of it was inside the car. They had to remove the two back doors, and the refrigerator stuck out both sides, but they made it.
Another neat trick I had to watch several times before I figured out how to do it. When a large bicycle tube is damaged, they can cut out the damaged section then glue the two ends together to make a smaller tube. When they do this, first they pull the two ends to be glued together with a section of broom handle in the middle, then glue them together. Once they are fastened together, they then remove the broom handle from inside the tube. I had to watch very carefully to see how they did it.
One of the most tiring things we faced constantly in Pakistan was dishonesty. We were always on guard trying to figure out what was true and what was deception. Like the time our friends bought a brand new digital camera, still in the original wrapping. When they got it home and opened it, they found someone's wedding photos on the memory card. One friend we called Dandelion, because his name literally meant Lion Flower, worked very hard at lying, though he wasn't very good at it. One day he told me the sad story of how the Russians had killed his wife and children. We felt bad for him. But a few weeks later he asked for some supplies because his wife and children had arrived from Afghanistan.
Similar stories formed the "cases" for refugees who were applying to the UN for refugee status in hopes of going to the USA. There were people who specialized in writing a "case", for a fee, that likely had very little basis in facts. Mothers with small children were accepted as refugees if their husbands had been killed. But once they reached America, miraculously their husbands were found (resurrected?) so they petitioned for the husband to join them. We heard of one situation where a lady became pregnant while her husband was supposedly dead. So as not to lose her chance of getting to America, she had to leave the new baby with her "dead" husband.
Yet in spite of rampant dishonesty, there were other aspects of society that surpassed anything we see here. Most shops were store-front shops about the size of a single car garage. They were usually staffed by one man at a counter near the entrance. They had a wooden drawer in which they kept their money, not sorted into denominations but just all mixed together. If we went into a shop and asked for something they didn't have, the shopkeeper would say, "just a moment", and he would go down the street to another shop to find what we needed. He didn't lock his cash drawer, and no one tried shoplifting while he was gone. In another section of town there were small carts on the sidewalk where merchants sold toys, clothing, or cheap jewelry. At night they left the carts there with their merchandise and covered it with a blanket. There was no guard and apparently no one stole from them during the night. Try that in any big city in the USA, or even in Bend.
Another aspect of Pakistani life actually makes it easier to adjust in America when seemingly more politicians are becoming dishonest. In Pakistan it was assumed that if you were in politics, or even a rich man, you were somehow corrupt. No one was surprised. Since Pakistan was founded in 1947, no president yet has served out his full five year term without being jailed for corruption, and one was assassinated. The list of government officials who have been killed while in office is very long.
As a result of rampant political corruption, the people kind of shrug their shoulders, letting the government do their thing while they carry on as normal. A prime example was the failed attempt to introduce daylight-savings time. Shops and businesses that opened at 8 AM before daylight-savings time instead opened at 9 AM in what they dubbed "government time".
But in spite of all its irregularities, deceptions, and uncertainties, Pakistan was nice. It became our home. When coming back to Pakistan after being away we felt like we were coming home. We had friends there—friends that would not hesitate to stop everything they were doing to care for you. Even total strangers acted as though you were their most cherished friend. The missionary community would meet on Sunday evening, and different missionaries took their turn delivering the message. On a few occasions, the meeting started before the speaker showed up. Then his wife would show up and say, "We have a guest". If a guest arrived at your house, honoring and serving that guest took priority over any other plan you may have had. People, not schedules, were important. Spending time with people was normal. Scarcely a day would pass when we either had guests or were guests in another home. It was a natural outworking of Acts 2:46:
"Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts." (NIV)
There was seldom an occasion that could not be turned into a cordial social visit. Even a trip to the open air butcher shop on a muddy street, where the butcher held the knife with his foot and moved a chunk of meat past the knife to cut it, was not complete until we had shared a cup of hot delicious chai with the shop keeper. The occasion was more important than the business transaction. That's why we loved Pakistan.