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Tag: Pakistan

The forgotten tourist hot-spot, Swat Valley and NW Pakistan

“So when did you last see a tourist”? I asked the man, a resident of Battagram, a Pashtun town in NW Pakistan. “Ummm….” he pondered, eyes to the sky, deep in thought, “15…..17,18 years ago, when I was at school”. His answer probably explains the slack jawed gawping from just about everybody l passed in the street. Needless to say, those who managed to stop staring were incredibly friendly. A few days earlier in the small Swat Valley town of…

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Want to know the meaning of hospitality? Come to Pakistan

A simple list of the things I was given by locals in one day of walking on the streets of Multan in the Punjab, Pakistan will give you a very clear insight into the generosity at the heart of its culture. 1 Orange 1 Fruit juice 1 Bag of pickles 2 Cups of tea (several more refused due to risk of overdose) 1 Gigantic poppadom 1 Chicken Biryani 1 Bottle of Coke 1 Veggie Samosa (obliged to turn down a…

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A truck is never just a truck in Pakistan

The art of commercial vehicle decoration in Pakistan Other than for little boys and peculiar breeds of adult nerds, the appeal of commercial vehicles to the general public rarely transcends the mundane in the West and on the occasions they are customised there is little chance of the owner risking the dents and scratches of commercial use or letting any of the proletariat getting their greasy paws all over the immaculate bodywork, unless it was a trusted mechanic. For Pakistanis…

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Buffalo arse on the road to enlightenment.

Buffalo arse formed the most vivid memory of the traffic jam. It was this that was responsible for much of the predicament, along with the dozens of dark, dusty grey creatures they were attached to of course, ambling at a stately plod over the dusty, potholed tarmac on the outskirts of Larkana, Pakistan. Sitting in the back of an auto rickshaw conveniently gives you an almost perfect eye level view of this feature of the animal. When confronted with such…

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Raving in the name of Allah

The first, deep resonant boom of the bass drum echoed around the courtyard, the cue for the men to begin to stand. The second boom commenced a slow deliberate beat, soon all were standing, swaying, letting the rhythm gently guide their motion. Little by little the beat picked up pace, the dancers responding to its energy until it morphed into an insistent roll and the movements became more agitated. The beat dropped into the breakdown, the piercing, discordant wail of…

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