Arrived 30 minutes late but surprisingly swift through immigration – one time that having kids is a bonus! Its much more organised with10 desks but you still have your photo taken, to check your records against all known terrorist suspects on the CIA’s or ISI Pakistan’s Intelligences Service hit list. None of us showed up so it was straight through to pick up our luggage.
Many memories of having my heel rammed with the front wheel of a luggage trolley filled me anticipation. Fortunately the only problem we had to face was someone making off with one of our suitcases! Giuseppe apprehended the culprit. Our suitcase was at the bottom of a pile. When asked why he had it he said, I have one just the same. Giuseppe’s reply, ‘but my name is on it’.
A slight panic as there are hundreds of people but no one we recognize… and finally Azhar pops out from nowhere. Azhar like so many of people that work for us, has been with the family for about 15 years, if not more. He has the dubious task of meeting family at the early morning 6am flights at the airport. Thankfully, everyone now checks flight arrival times before leaving the house and eliminating the 2,3 hour waits at arrivals that used to be the case. My brother, Nadir has gone to do sunrise prayers and turns up 10 mins later in the second car.
We arrive at Al-Noor C-196 KDA, welcomed by Mum and Uncle Mahmood and a tray of Chai! Yay, thanks to Kamal our khansama (cook) and Zulfiqar, the chottay, chottay means ‘the small one’ the lowest in the in house staff, who does all the washing up and laying and clearing tables and anything else like making a cup of tea, or bringing food up to your room.
Kamal is the cook and has been with the family easily, 20 years. He is originally from Bangladesh, and his family still live there. He sees them once every couple of years.
After tea and lots of the usually dithering and Chinese whispers, Mum, me, Bina and Nadir go to visit Daddy in hospital. The Aga Khan Hospital and Medical University was established about 20 years ago. It is one of the largest in South Asia with an excellent reputation, like most things with the Aga Khans name attached to it. It is not only a hospital and medical college but also has a nursing college, with dorms, clinics and sports physiotherapy centre. The grounds are beautiful with two lakes. Unfortunately there is an outbreak of dengue fever and the government has ordered all large manmade water holders, like ponds, lakes and hotel swimming pools to emptied, so we don’t get the full effect but it is still one of the most peaceful places you can be in Karachi.
My father is sitting up having breakfast. He looks haggard, tired, his hair is dirty and needs a cut and he has grey stubble. I have never seen him look quite so ill, but he is in good spirits and we chat for a while. He is going to be home tomorrow we hope. He has tubes and bandages all over him.
We go back home, Bina and I have our first true Pakistani breakfast, fried egg and toast eaten with lots of salt and pepper with your hands, the best way to eat a fried egg!
Off to bed for a few hours and we wake at 3pm for lunch?
Lunch is Gajr Pullao – that is Carrot Pullao, another favourite that has to be specially requested as it takes ages to make. It contains, finely sliced carrots that are fried with sultanas and cashew nuts and kept to one side. Pieces of chicken and onion are browned. Half cook the rice. Then layer the onions, rice and chicken and put it on a very low heat with the saucepan sealed. When cooked carefully mix it together then serve with the fried carrots, onions, cashew nuts, sultanas and sliced hard boiled egg. It is served along with Aloo Gosht, mainly for the gravy or saalan that comes with it, but the potato goes well with the chicken and rice, if you are meat fiend then add the meat from the curry too.
Heavenly!
We take the kids back in the afternoon to see him. Poor Aliyah was taken aback to see Dadda (granddad) lying in bed, with a half filled catheter attached to him, looking very ill. I wish he had sat up like this morning, he has no concept that it might be distressing for a 4 year old. And there is a strange man in the room? Who is this? His private nurse, of course, why didn’t we guess, someone at his beck and call 24/7. He is so much like our grandmother, his mother, who we called Amigee, was exactly the same.
We all head down to the gardens but we can’t stay out for long, because the moment the sun goes down the mosquitos come out to play and there are lots of them. Almost like a scene out of True Blood, its time for the blood sucking creatures to feed… no fangs, potentially as deadly but god do the bites itch!
Nadir and his family arrive, his wife Sameera, (our first cousin), Anisa almost 7, Noora, 4 and half, Hidayah, 4 months, plus the maid Aliya.
We all head into the waiting room as children are not allowed in hospital rooms. My Dad just sits in his wheelchair, quietly watching his brood. The kids are barefoot running amok round people who are waiting to hear about loved ones. The room is huge and carpeted and with the maid watching them off they run having a blast. The soles of their feet are charcoals black at the end of the evening. My father has barely said a word, he is tired and doesn’t say much at the best of times.
