On the surface, Ramadan is perceived as an entire month where people refrain from eating and drinking between sunrise and sunset. I have learnt over the last year that there is a lot more to Ramadan than that, and thought that the only way I could discover how much was to experience it first-hand. So at the beginning of Ramadan (late August), I made a decision to really partake in this Ramadan, to fast and to set a personal goal to avoid getting irritated and to be more patient with people. At the other end of that journey, I wanted to summarise some of my observations.

The Good

• Fasting (refraining from drinking, eating, smoking, among other things) was not so hard, and it becomes routine after a while. I fasted for 26 of the 28 days (2 days I was sick and had to keep hydrated and take medicine).

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  Delicious food

• A sense of community, of oneness, can be seen. Everyone is going through the same ritual, regardless of their level of wealth. In a country as split as Pakistan, that's unique.
• The breaking of the fast after sunset (called iftar) brings people together. I observed at a friend's place last night the family gathering around the time of iftar and chatting. With family members leading different lives at different paces, it's wonderful to see a family come together like that.

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  Iftar

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  Iftar

• Life slows down during Ramadan. Work hours are shortened, since people are able to work less due to fasting. I had time to nap in the afternoons, read the paper and online news subscriptions and spend time with friends, which I really appreciated.
• One of my goals for the month was to challenge myself to be more patient and less irritable. If I'm tired, hungry and thirsty and can manage to not snap at the people around me, I can surely continue to do so for the rest of the year.
• Perhaps most significant to me, and what I see at the core of Ramadan, is the concept of self-awareness. It's about trying to be a better person, and getting into a routine in order to ensure that for the rest of the year. (Many people here attend prayers, tarawih, every night, and make an effort to pray five times a day, when they may usually not bother to.)

The Bad

• I saw many people take advantage of the fact that they were fasting to not do any work. Government offices and banks closed at 1pm (while most offices were open for another two hours). The general attitude is that no work happens during Ramadan, because people are fasting. From my understanding, the point of Ramadan is to appreciate what a blessing food is, and to persevere through such difficulties without complaining. Complaining that you don't have energy to work means that you've not been able to overcome those bodily needs. (Granted, one does get tired in the afternoons and it does impact your ability to concentrate. The point is to overcome it and not complain and make excuses.)
• For many, fasting and refraining from excess ends as soon as sunset (maghrib) comes. After that, people go wild shopping and eating, which businesses happily support (for example with the iftar deals in cafes and restaurants). This seems contrary to the intentions for the month, of appreciating what you have and what you need, not what you want.
• Now that Ramadan has ended, life will return to normal for many. The routine built up during the month will sadly dwindle for most. I've heard of people refraining from drinking [alcohol] during Ramadan, only to break it out now that the month is over, which makes no sense to me. (This is not a moral judgement on whether alcohol is wrong, more just a comment on the reasoning for not doing something for the month, only to celebrate once it's over. It comes down to intention.) (I've seen a similar blog post on these three points on the DAWN Blog. Check it out.)

The Ugly

• A stampede took place as women and children rushed to collect the rations being distributed by a generous businessman (who has been doing it for a few years apparently), with 20 being killed and more injured. The businessman was arrested for "negligence and unintentional killing", when in fact a whole host of factors played into the situation: the inability of the police to manage crowds; inflation increasing food prices, making it more difficult for the poor to purchase the staples of their diet; price fixing on flour and sugar; and at a higher level, the inability of the government to provide for the poor. In this situation, the businessman dishing out rations has become the scapegoat for an entire system that isn't providing for the people that need it the most. I found this despicable and characteristic of a system that is conditioned to pass the blame on to others and hope it gets lost within the layers of bureaucracy.

With all this said, fasting and partaking in Ramadan in a Muslim country has been quite an experience, and from this vantage point, I would intend to do it again next year.

Eid Mubarak!

As a result, life has pretty much come to a standstill. The board meeting scheduled for this evening has been cancelled, and the apartment inspections organised after having the board meeting cancelled were themselves cancelled.

I can't complain, though. The rain is a welcome change to the oppressive heat here in Karachi.

Despite late planning on my behalf, we managed to cobble together a whirlwind trip to Lahore, Islamabad and the Federally Administered Northern Areas (FANA) of Pakistan, accompanied by our driver, Najam, and guide, Aslam. With the intense memories and smells of the trip starting to fade, I felt now was as good a time as any to jot down some thoughts on our experiences up north.

One part of Pakistani culture that I love is the sheer warmth and hospitality of the people. From the day my parents arrived in Lahore, we were welcomed like family by an AIESEC member, Rida, and her mother. An off-hand comment at breakfast about wanting to visit a village resulted in a day-long trip around the Sheikhupura district (outside of Lahore) by a local landlord (the husband of a family friend's daughter, if I'm not mistaken – it always works like this here), visiting farms, villages and local communities.

Eventually, we were greeted by such incredible sights as this, taken at the Gilgit Serena Hotel:

As we made our way up the Karokaram Highway, we approached the snow-capped mountains, until we were surrounded by them in the Hunza Valley, a place I like to call paradise:

Remarkably, there was full mobile reception in all the towns we visited, which shows you how deep mobile coverage is in Pakistan.

Wandering through the towns of the Hunza Valley, we visited Altit Fort, currently being restored:

… meandered through the lanes of the adjacent old settlement:

… climbed up to "Eagle's Nest" and beheld one of the most breathtaking views I've seen:

… and met some of the locals:

What struck me was the slow pace of life, the fresh air and the serenity in the area – a world away from my life in Karachi and I'm certain from the image my parents had of Pakistan before coming.

Some of my other favourite photos:

Shangrila Resort, Skardu

Visiting a village in Skardu

From the Shigar Fort Residence, Shigar

Kids who couldn't help be curious about the gore (foreigners) walking around

I have few words to sum up the trip, but I hope that now, when my parents hear "Pakistan", they think of the warm people they met, the incredible views and natural beauty, that these memories balance what they see in the news, to show that there is another side to Pakistan.
I only wish more people had the chance to see this country!

Today (9th December, 2008), Eid ul-Azha is celebrated in Pakistan. This religious celebration has a reputation of being a "bloodbath", where animals are slaughtered en-masse. Through various talks I've had with people, the Roof Cafe held at our AIESEC MC/intern apartments and my experiences today, I've come to learn a lot more about the festival.

The act of sacrificing domestic animals (cow, goat, sheep, camel) is meant to replicate Abraham's (Ibrahim in the Quran) sacrifice of Ishmael to God. However, the festival is also about bringing families and communities together, and of charity (zakat – one of the five "pillars" of Islam). For example, the meat from the animals is divided into three parts: 1/3 for the immediate family, 1/3 for relatives and neighbours, 1/3 for the poor. As I was fortunate to witness today (due to the hospitality of an AIESEC member's family here in Karachi), people come and go throughout the day, spending time together and distributing the food.

While the streets do literally run with blood, there's also a strong sense of community, which I appreciate. The strength of my stomach has also been put to the test (and pulled through), and I have a new-found appreciation of the amount of effort it takes to put meat on the table.

There's also a nice feeling, knowing that the people in the shanty town/slum we passed in Gulistan-e-Jauhar probably had their first meal in a while involving meat. I only wish the charity seen on this day continued throughout the year.

I've spared putting the gory photos here, but for more photos (gore alert), have a look at the Facebook album.

Eid Mubarak!

I got sick of not doing exercise, so I've started walking in the evenings in Zamzama Park. It's a lovely view, a little oasis in sprawling Karachi.

On our way to a meeting, I spotted what looks remarkably like a Eucalyptus tree. (Trees are a rare sight in Karachi, let alone a Eucalyptus!)

We're trying to cook more in the MC/intern houses, in an effort to stay away from take-away food. Above is Pandy (an intern from China) cooking one night.

Tabinda stuffing her face one morning at Dunkin' Donuts.

Anna, Joan, Tabinda, Katya and myself at the ZabFM studios on Saturday, after an interview. Lots of fun!

The MC team's new favourite lunchtime spot – New Cafe Subhani in Saddar. Delicious Iranian and Afghani food. Mmm!

The energy and passion in these young people was incredible, and I've stepped out of it feeling reinvigorated and motivated even more to make the most of my term here as President of AIESEC Pakistan.

While I've been itching to leave for months, what has made it so hard is that I simply don't know when I'll be back. It could be as little as a few months, a year, or …?

I'm going to miss this beautiful city I have called home all my life:

More than that, I'm going to miss my family and friends. I will keep in touch, but nothing compares to sitting with someone and just being able to talk – not email, not IM, not Skype and not Facebook.

Know that I am grateful to those that have shaped my life, in both foundation-rocking and subtle ways, and every shade in between. All I can say is "I'll see you, some day", hoping, clinging to the faith that our paths will cross again.

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…

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!