Once loaded (much like mustard sardines are packed into tins that are much too small for them) we were soon to be on our way. Unforunately, as we made our first official count, we weren’t sure exactly what our number was supposed to be. Sometimes the count came out at 39 and other times at 40. We decided that it sounded close enough and departed. While the counting was happening, Jeff, being a bit of a busy body (he could never sit in one place while others wasted his time) decided that he was going to buy our first taste of Pakistani naan. Naan is a delicious, doughy flatbread meant to be used to scoop up other more liquidy foods. The people of Paksitan do not use silverware, they just always have naan, chipatti, or brata available. This naan was especially tastey (and oily) and was the last real memory I had before arriving in Manserah (a 2.5 hour drive from Islamabad).
I really wanted to see Pakistan, but try as I might, I simply could not keep my eyes open. Luckily, I was sitting next to one of my newer friends from South Carolina (Chris) who happened to have shoulders the size of throw pillows. In some sub-level I must have decided that his shoulder looked really comfortable, at least more comfortable than the metal bar in front of my face.
I will speak in depth later about what road transportation in Pakistan is like. For now, let’s just say that there are no discernable laws and if you do not have a horn, you might as well not drive…because you will die! I will also elude to the sensation of traveling by vehicle. Your insides move from side to side so suddenly that you’re afraid to throw up becuase you might lose a dislodged intestine, kidney, or lung. I don’t know if my guts have ever moved from side to side inside of my body like they did in Pakistan. Passing is a full contact sport and requires much courage and seemingly a lack of common sense. All I remember from our drive is three feelings: Feeling number 1: the aforementioned feeling; Feeling number 2: my legs falling asleep but not being able to do a darn thing about it; Feeling number 3: my face bouncing off Chris’s shoulder and into the metal bar. These were all equally uncomfortable but there wasn’t a darn thing I could do about them so I slept.
At last we pulled into Manserah where the headquarters of our NGO (non-government organization) were located. For the sake of confidentiality I will never mention the American organization nor the International organization that we were working with on my blog.
Those of you who referenced my last post were introduced to the mindset of our team. Compound all of that with a short night sleep and finally arriving at a destination where people knew something. Here we were–40 American men in northern Pakistan ready to make a difference with visions of helicopter rides to the top of some remote mountain. (In reality, the mindset was certainly that of serving the people of Pakistan. It wasn’t like we were all there trying to prove ourselves or be especially impatient. We wanted to be a part of making a difference/saving lives/serving these people/building shelters that might help these people through the winter. We realized that we were there for a short time and that it was getting colder and colder in Pakistan.)
Before I continue, I feel the need to bring you up to speed on how so many men heard about this opportunity and ended up in Pakistan. This will help you understand why our first moments in Manserah were difficult moments.
Shortly after the earthquake destroyed much of northern Pakistan, an individual who acted as a representative for one of the organizations that we worked with sent out an email that was entitled, “Come Before Winter”. This was an emotional appeal sent because the need was so great in Pakistan and so few people even knew about it. Later, we found out that this email was sent enmasse to churches all over America without the organizations that we were working with being in the know about it’s existance. Thus, no one was prepared for an overwhelming response. On the bright side, the email worked and got 40 of us to Pakistan in the first of three waves. On the not so bright side–no one in Pakistan was ready for us!
Back to the story:
A representative met us at the gate of our headquarters with the following words, “Men, thanks for coming. You have two hours to get settled here…orientation will begin promptly at 1:00pm. Oh, and get comfortable because most likely you won’t be leaving for a day or two.”
We all understood the first sentence but none of us knew how to process the second. We had all read the “Come before Winter” and knew that we were in a race against the clock for people’s lives. What we couldn’t understand (because we didn’t know the above information) was why they weren’t ready for us. It seemed like a perfectly good way to waste time and potential for all of us to stay put for “a day or two”.
I think that God wanted all of us to know that we were their because of Him and that we were on His timeline and not ours or any other American timeline.
Luckily, Jeff, Justin, Ben and I were all the type that adapted quickly to information like this and decided to spend our next couple of hours becoming assimilated to the culture of Manserah. We all figured that if this was going to be our home for the next day or two, we might as well figure out where everything was.
We quickly stowed our gear and left the compound in search for a propane stove and a cup of chai–not necessarily in that order. Did I mention that none of us spoke a lick of Urdu or Kohistani?
