Time to set off from this jahil mosh pit into the endless overcrowded bazaar. If there is one note to keep in mind whilst walking along these grimy British built cobblestone roads, it’s this – no picture or video can capture what is front of me. You feel like an orientalist travelling ‘back in time’. Yes, I said it. Now sue me for reparations!
The grey canals - nalas - situated under the shops and houses are repulsive that not even a rat would jump in to end its life. Supari – desi crack cocaine – wrappers, masala crisp bags, animal dung and a dead rat lay on the side.
Street food vendors selling jelebi, samosas, biryani, you name it, without even a care in the world that flies are nested on top. The oil is dark yellow-black and smells as if a few days old. Joke. The huge karahi – wok – looks as if it’s never been cleaned. The concept of wearing gloves and keeping food covered is alien to them. I would not at all be surprised if the vendor replaced desi ghee with his own sweat to make it taste more zing.
The sight is off putting to any foreigner, coconut, or anyone with basic hygiene education. Rule #1 in Pakistan – You must NEVER eat street food and drink tap water under any circumstances, unless you’re pro at Russian roulette. You’ll most certainly end up with diarrhoea and food poisoning. Even eating washed tap water salad makes my stomach break dance.
This begs the question of how gora YouTube vloggers like Mark Weins visit so many countries and never get sick?! Either their immune system has levelled up because of frequent traveling or they don’t record how they are feeling hours later. I don’t think food safety has ever existed in PK, at least not in the old cities. Will we ever know? Nope.
Oh, and if you’re wondering how your stomach will react to clean homecooked food or high-quality restaurants, I suggest you embrace the gas and marathons you’ll be ‘running’. Get used to it.
The roads are cluttered with loud Yamaha motorcycles and bangers falling apart from the 1980s. The odd donkey cart here and there. It seems everyone is going to crash but they are such professional dangerous drivers, they don’t. Oh, and nobody cares about number plates. Some don’t have them on, some only on the front or back and others with the number plate MAFIA on the back.
Poor people with dusty faces begging for money since I stick out like a sore thumb. Some even send their kids on begging rounds and latch onto you until you start shouting at them.
I remember my first time in Madinah during secondary school, it was Jannah on earth. An experience forever etched in my mind that lasted years until Darul Kufr imprisoned me. Here’s one thing I’ll never forget. A niqabi came up to us next to Jannat Al-Baqi and asked for money. I assumed she was Iranian because there were flocks of them congregating in the same area like a pool of black ink along with ‘Ayatollahs’, because all Twelvers seem to do is cry for Karbala. Enough of Shia bashing.
The moment we gave her money she made a high-pitched eerie sound like a crying Willie the whale. Immediately a flood of women came running, screaming, and shouting in whatever butchered up dialect of Farsi. We had to pace it back inside the masjid like nothing happened. After that event I rarely give money out unless I know the lay of the land. Giving money to cleaners, the old and people selling items is fine, I guess.
Further we go into the bazaar and arrive at the main street. Here we have slight civilisation with branded shops such as Bata, which you could argue is the equivalent to a Clarkes or Hushpuppies. It makes me wonder why I don’t see many Western brands and that’s because Pakistan is one of the leaders in textiles after China and others. Anyhoo I’ve been told to purchase a pair of traditional Pashtun chappals which look very cool. However, do not be fooled. If you are used to trainers these will hurt!
On the pavements are assorted wooden stalls selling pakol hats, mixed dry fruit and nuts, sweet and salty savouries, lower quality kupre – clothes, fruits, sabzi – vegetables, and so on.
The coconut stand catches our eye, and we decide to have a taste. I was expecting a rush of miti – sweetness – from the coconut juice and flesh but it was minimal. Perhaps because it’s the wrong season, a bad selection, Sialkoti quality or as usual the best products are exported to the White Man’s land. I know this sounds like a terrible representation of Pakistan but trust me once we hit Lahore, you’ll want to build a house in Gulberg or DHA.
We give the stalls a skip and head to the mitai shop. I’d say there are over ten variations of barfi – milk based sweet – from pistachio, almond and hazelnut. There are gulab jamuns, biscuits, cakes, and whatever tickles your fancy. I was so eager to try but alas the mitai was way too soft and crumbly. The taste was also bland.
Now if there’s something that really catches my interest it’s military clothing and booting kuffar invaders out from Muslim lands. I spot a shop selling a pair of quality camos and purchase them for around 5-900 rupees which is extremely cheap.
See you in Part 2!
Very good writing!
Thanks!