I feel sorry for Pakistani kids who grew up abroad. I realised this when my nine-year-old cousin was doing a heritage project in school, about Pakistan. She had to talk about her ancestry and how she ended up in America. It was going to be a typical project.
She was going to narrate the cliché, sappy story of how her parents were looking for a better life for their children and thus migrated to America. Then, she would talk about how when she was three she visited her grandparents’ farm in Pakistan. Over there, she saw cows and hens and from that day she was very glad that she was living in America.
Ugh! The typical depiction of Pakistan!
It doesn’t anger me, it makes me sad. My cousin’s only memory of Pakistan is going to be how she got “food poisoning” when she visited Pakistan and has avoided the country like the plague ever since.
When I narrate my experiences of Pakistan to my cousins, they’re quite shocked at how my best memories are the ones where I’m deprived of the basic necessities of life.
I reminisce over how I had to wash my hair with Nestle water bottles after we ran out of water in the house. Or how my cousins and I had to be the entertainment at Surraya khala’s daughter’s wedding because the generator stopped working and the Water And Power Development Authority (WAPDA) decided not to give us electricity that night.
It’s this amusing day-to-day struggle that is part of the full Pakistani experience. And yes, I understand that our country is experiencing a major energy crisis but I’ve read enough articles bashing the Pakistani way of life.
So this one is for you ABCDs or BBCDs – the amazing adventures you’re missing out on, not being in Pakistan!
3. The desperateness
**Call me lame, but something I missed dearly when I came to America about a year ago was the constant ‘wrong number’ calls I would receive; **these cheapsters would refuse to budge even if you ignored them. Of course, inclusive of the ‘easy load bhai’ who just had to disclose your number to his jiggars (dear friends) who claimed to look at you with a “bhai ki nazar” (in a brotherly way).
Also, who can forget the Mehran cars, packed with 20 guys on every Saturday night? Top hits and latest releases of songs would be reverberating on the empty streets from their tiny speakers.
Yes, roll your eyes, you upper class socialite, but it’s these things that define the ultimate Pakistani experience.
e
