The Lovely - Gul Rehman Chacha

The lovely Gul Rehman Chacha

Of all the men that work for us Gul Rehman or Gul Mur is the oldest in age and the length of time he has worked for the family.
Name: Gul Rehman or Gul Mur

Age:  Unknown. He doesn’t know how old he his, but he can take a guess from his memories of Partition.

He says that he remembers Partition so he guesses that he must have been 7 or 8 at the time – that’s all he tells me! My guess is 73

From: Abbottabad or Mansera

Abbottabad pronounced Aptabaad

I asked him a few questions about his past and his family but it's difficult to understand what he is saying as he speaks in Punjabi and very,very softly.

His memory of Partition in 1947, was sitting on the roof of his house underneath a walnut tree when the cry came out '‘the Hindus are coming the Hindus are coming’'. Everyone picked up whatever weapon they had to fight, swords, knives, axes, there weren’t that many guns around in those days. He was left at home with his mother while all the older kids went to fight.  He remembers a lot of Hindus living in the valley on one side of the mountain, there must have been a temple there too.

What do you think of Pakistan now?

''They have spread hate. Hindus and Muslims and Sikhs used to live together side by side - everyone minded their own business.''

 ''With 4 annas you could have roti and fill your stomach.''

I asked about his work and family.

His big brother worked for my grandfather's family in Amritsar before Partition, then joined the Navy. 

He came to Karachi when Zulfiqar Bhutto was Prime Minister, so that would have been in the early 70's.

More than 30 years on Gul Rehman still works for the Aga clan in various roles but now as the house duster and odd job man.  When we lived here in the 80's his younger brother Fareed worked in the house as the cook, so we didn't see much of him. Despite his age he still has to work, not sure why, as I am sure his three sons could support him. No one expects the job to be done super quickly or that efficiently but it gets done.

He was the 5^th of 9 children only a handful of them are still alive. He has three sons, one of them works for one of my Uncles in Dubai, another used to work for an Uncle in Riyadh but came back. His younger brother Fareed, also still works for us, but in the office.

Until two years ago he used to cycle to work, which would take an hour one way, in Karachi traffic. Its scary being in a car in Karachi traffic, but a biycle! Now he comes by a "Wagon", but he has moved further away and the journey takes an hour and a half one way.  His wife died several years ago but when he goes home he cooks for his single 27 year old, unemployed son.

The man is thick set and well built, but the most gentle being you would ever meet and I have never heard him complain about anything.

He sat for my photo like a model, keeping perfectly still. He has the most amazing face, deep lines from years in the sun, and the most gentle eyes.

Losing the car and the kindness of people

 Needing a change of cuisine I offer to cook a simply tomato sauce and pasta for supper. Mum and I drove to the shops that are just 5mins walk away. It was dark and it’s just not safe to walk.

I was worried about parking the car as its not easy, very little space and everyone double parks – much easier if the driver had been with us. The shops are alongside a major road but have a single car lane and a low kerb that seperates them. You can just turn in off the main road and park, which is what most people do. So I just park in the first space I see directly beneath a no parking sign. I don’t think anything of it as there are no parking signs the whole length of that stretch.

We head off to Time Medico and take our time getting pasta and wondering what we don’t really need but just fancy having. We walk out to a busy scene of people walking around, balloon sellers, beggars, the traffic zooming noisily, hectically along the main road.

The moment we walked out of the shop a young lad about 10 years, old possibly selling balloons, I couldn’t see, said ‘your car is over there’??

First thing you think, Who are you? How do you know where are car is?

And then Mum says ‘the car has gone!’.

All I can think is that has been knicked and all I can say is ‘but I locked it didn’t I’ repeatedly, like an idiot. I walk over to the space I thought we had parked in and sure enough the car wasn’t there.  The young lad keeps following us and pointing to the space beneath the flyer over and continues to say ‘your car is over there’! At this point I didn’t know where over there was and couldn’t see the car.

Then a rickshaw driver sitting quietly crossed legged in his parked vehicle suddenly says to us ‘your car is over there under the bridge’.

Everyone knows what has happened to the car but us!

Mum finally reveals that it must have been towed! Thank God it wasn’t stolen!

So Mum and I head toward the flyer over.

Two steps later another rickshaw driver says, ‘You car is under the bridge where you can read the words ‘bahadurabad’. Which of course we can’t see in the dark

Who doesn’t know where our car is?

Its pitch dark and we head towards the fly over, which is only a couple of hundred yards away. We walk along the side lane away from the main road and a random motorcyclist, driving on the wrong side of the road slows down alongside my mother to tells her ‘the police have taken your car but its over there’!

Excellent the whole neighbourhood knows where are car is!

I get on the phone to Tanvir sahib who works for us, luckily he is at the house and I ask him to meet us at the junction where the houses meet the main road.

In the meantime, some jerk walks past us then stops right in the middle of the pavement ahead of us. I have to sharply tell Mum, that we are not going to walk past him and begin walking back. Then seeing everyone else walking in the main road into oncoming traffic we decide to do the same. Luckily he knew he was sussed and he started moving away.

We turn into the lanes where all the houses are and past the guards and gates that are stationed at all the entrance roads into the housing area  and find a patch of light on the pavement and wait for Tanvir sahib to come to the rescue.

He arrives moments later and Mum decides to continue walking home with the shopping while I sort out the fine and get the car back.

I jump on the back of Tanvir sahibs bike – not side saddle – shock horror – and we tentatively cross this main road with the traffic coming from our right and nip under the flyover bridge.

Here is the Bahadurabad Traffic Police – a three roomed single story concrete building under a flyer over with a fork lift truck and driver having a blast picking up cars illegally parked at the nearby shops. I head toward the car, cover my head with my dupatta, thank god I wore one to the shops and wait in the dark.   Tanvir sahib comes out about 5 mins later and tells me to drive the car away! My fine Rs500 – less than £5.

I get home to find out that Mum had been asked by the guard at the end of the street, ‘Why are you walking? Where’s your car? 

Poorly Pater

Oh my God, the sun is on my skin and I'm not melting!

Finally got my father to sit out in the sun and try to capture some precious vitamin D.
Sitting in the sun just goes against everything he knows, but the knees are out and he's got my hat on!
And he is actually smiling!

The stereotype of men making bad patients and having low pain thresholds - my father was the source of that stereotype - god he is terrible.
When I told a friend's Mum about him she said
'When men are ill, they are hell' Spot on!

I'm still smiling!

The recovery for his kidney failure is one to two months. Its a very very slow process, which is hampered by the fact that he is very down about the permanent change in his lifestyle!

No red meat, no extra salt on everything and those heavy meals at 10.30 pm at night followed by a coca cola and chocolate, have come to a full stop; not forgetting that he now has to exercise - regularly, he is not quite sure which is the most traumatic.

His diet is such a delicate balance of protein, potassium and sodium foods and the range of vegetables he can eat is incredibly limited, which is hampered by the fact that there is no Sainsbury's Local with blueberries flown in from South Africa! Damn - only locally grown, seasonal vegetables.

He has to have dialysis twice a week until his kidneys are fully functional again but is remarkably better than when I first arrived 3 weeks ago.

Anisa, Aliyah, Dada and Noorah

My mother needs another medal for her perseverance and determination to get him to eat, walk and do what the doctors have advised him.

The photos were taken just a few days before all the kids left. He did come into the garden for short periods most days while the girls played and screamed a lot around him but it was the first time with the hat and knees, a photo opportunity not to be missed.

Anisa, Noorah, and tubs Hidayah

Who are you? 

Dar-ul-sukun - The House of Peace a brief intro

Home

 I have been going to Dar-ul-sukun for the past couple of weeks.
I talked to Sister Ruth and we decided that I would serve them best volunteering in the school. I have teaching experience and being brought up with Uncle Mahmood have plenty of experience with down syndrome.

The home has been in existence at this location since 1979. It was started by Sister Gertrude Lemmens and Dutch nun of the Order of the Sisters of Mercy. She took in all special children of any disability and she would also search the country for abandoned or neglected children and bring them back.
My she had some stories to tell!
There are now 197 children at this home, but they have a home in Quetta, one in Lahore and special homes for polio afflicted children and abandoned girls.

Here are just a couple of the children who live at Dar-ul-Sukun.

My Mum has sponsored Cookie since she was a baby. She is now 17 years  old and practically runs the place. She takes enormous responsibility for the school and is very close to Sister Ruth. She is absolutely lovely, bosses the other kids about and loves to wear bright colours and all things Harry Potter.

The lovely Cookie

Tour guide and know it all Rubina

This is Rubina, my tour guide on my first visit back. She talks 9 to the dozen, knows everyone and everything that goes on

Polly the lovely down syndrome girl that I met when she was just a baby. She is very cute and takes her job of cleaning up the classrooms ever so serious, storming around the place.

Hardworking Polly

And I haven't got a clue who this woman is because, Polly Rubina and Cookie just called her over to get her photo taken 

Don't remember who this is

Family outing - a walk to the corner shop

Al-Noor C-196

 Yay, we have finally made it! We are going to walk to the corner shop Time Medico.

It's about 4 pm in the afternoon so the heat of the sun has gone and the air is pretty fresh, not humid as it has been.

Its less than 5 minutes walk away but you would think it was the other side of town. Everyone was worried that my Mum shouldn't walk there but we have safety in numbers.

There are guards outside most of the houses and if you go frequently enough they give their salaam and they all watch out for you. They will have found out all about you, where you live, who you are related to etc, before you've got back home.

The cul-de-sac

Here come the crazy foreigners walking to the shop

 Its a lovely neighbourhood, very green and quiet in comparison with most of urban Karachi. The house is in a cul-de-sac which provides even more respite from the horrendous noise pollution.

Inside Time Medico its hectic as always. This place does a roaring trade. It started out as a pharmacy but has just grown and grown and you can get most imported foods here - Kellogs Frosties, filter coffee, a jar of olives.

We have parked Alessandro in the corner of the shop in his pushchair and he still gets the odd pinched cheek or one of the shop assistants trying to catch his attention and make him smile. They love kids here and Alessandro gets tons of attention, which he returns with a huge smile every time.

Vegetarians and anyone who can't stand the sight of blood - look away now

It was bakra or goat Eid here last week, or officially known as Eid Ul Azha, the celebrations after Haj.
At the end of the pilgrimmage a goat for every pilgrim was slaughtered or should I say sacrificed in the name of God. For many years every last animal was killed then thrown into a giant pit! Now thanks to refridgeration and air travel, the meat gets distributed to charities in parts of Africa, or so I'm told. As in all things Islamic every last act, how the animal is slaughtered, what you say before you slaughter it, how the meat is distributed, who is should be distributed to, its all in the book.

 Its the first time I have been in Pakistan for Bakra Eid for a very long time. Nothing much changes except I was actually able to watch the the sheep being slaughtered - saying that I did feel pretty nauseous watching my 4th or 5th in a row. As a total of 18 sheep are going to the slaughtered, 11 for our family, 6 for one Uncle in Saudi and 1 for another Uncle,  so I decide to go in for breakfast - the house record is actually 24! That was messy.

I have video footage of the day but a salesman at Jessops sold me not one but two camcorders that are not compatible with my Mac so I have to wait to edit and make a film of the day! I am sure you are all desperate to see the horrors!







Nadir has been up since 7 am as all the men go to the mosque for morning prayers, then begin the killing when they get back. My brother cuts the neck of his own sheep, the proper way to do it and a greater blessing. The modern way is to get the servant to bring the knife to you, while you are having breakfast, bless it and get the butcher to do the rest.


All the action is in the garage and the space soon fills up with all the guys who work for us or have worked for us. They sit outside waiting to be fed the meat and bread, then they all get given meat to take home to their families. 

There are three huge saucepans laid out on some industrial plastic. The meat is cut in a certain fashion and divided, into, meat for charities outside the home, meat for those you personally know are in need and finally for friends and family.

Years ago we would get dressed up in our finest, Eid outfits, grab a load of goats legs, shove them in the boot of the car and visit friends and relatives. Just outside their homes, we would leap out, freshen ourselves up, grab the tray, open the boot, shove a leg of meat on the tray and daintily cover it with a cloth. One leg down only 20 more to go! Sadly we would be given meat by our hosts, so the meat score remained even.

The sheep's skins gets sold to tanners and the money given to charity, so the skinning is a very skilled part of the whole process. I loved watching the butchers are work, with complete concentration and knives that they were frequently sharpening. 

The kids finally got up and I was pretty hesitant about showing Aliyah the gruesome scene, its nothing new for Anisa and Noorah. Aliyah watched non-plussed at the sheep's neck being cut wide open and the blood gushing out onto the concrete floor of the garage. Her every matter of fact observation was 'Why are they cutting the sheep's neck'- that was it, the why question rears its ugly head and it keeps bouncing back to you every time you think you have nailed the question,'but why????

Its now about 4pm in the afternoon and a lot of the work has been done. The girls are dressed up in their Eid best princess outfits and are a bit bored. So where do we find them? Sitting in a row with my brother watching.........

 This...
The final carcass having its intestines removed. The why questions keep coming form Aliyah.

Mehndi body art for Eid

Mehndi always looks gross out of the tube

Saima the henna artist

The patterns get darker for a few days 

Still bits of mehndi on my feet like bits of dried mud

Eid is soon and my sister-in-law and younger first cousin Sameera, asks if we would like mehndi on our hands and feet.


Saima here is our cleaner's sister, who works in a beeuty paarlur, doing mehndi most evenings, but has come to the house to do ours.


Years ago, you had to make your own mehndi paste from the powder and water, then dip a fine toothpick to pick up the henna. Now you just buy ready made henna cones that you simply snip off the end and off you go.
Everyone has different tips on how to make the mehndi come out darker on your skin - the darker the better. 
1. When its dried, don't wash it off with water, just scratch it off.
2. Or just wet the dried mehndi with cold coffee water.
3. Keep it on as long as possible or just wet it a bit and the list goes on....
Basically, the better the mehndi and the more heat your body gives off the darker the mehndi will be.


Scraping it off your hands is a pain when its dry. There's not much you can do when it's on your feet, so you leave a trail of tiny bits of mehndi everywhere you go for the rest of the day. 


I used to put it in my hair, its a great conditioner and leaves a bright burnished shine to your hair - but a complete bitch to rinse out dried bits of grit. 

If you are lucky you can still catch a few brave old souls who have bright orange mehndied hair or bright orange beards. 

My 3 year old niece, Aliyah isn’t really keen on having henna on her hands and feet - a bit weird and you have to sit so still. So we discuss what drawing she would like and where she would be happy for it to go. She likes fish and happy for the mehndi to go on her lower leg. So I draw the picture of the whale and fish from her Gap pajamas onto a piece of paper. Saima can't copy it, so I get a biro and draw the picture on Aliyah's leg and Saima paints over it with the mehndi. Luckily you can have 'express mehndi' for children that darkens instantly. Don't  you love progress - instant mehndi colour for kids!