Pakistan taught me to...

One thing that struck me while on my trip was the notion of time.


Whereas the day flies in North America, it didn't go fast enough for me while in Pakistan. Many would argue had I had a good time, the time would go faster. But I disagree. Life was just different. Or was it me?


Sure, we were busy (when there wasn't loadshedding) but it reminded me of my teenage years - lying in the backyard, staring up at the sky and forming shapes of the clouds, wondering when time would hurry up so I could grow up and finally be free.


Its a funny concept. Liberation. But what does it really mean? Well in Pakistan, it could have meant having the basic enemities which majority of the population lacked. Or walking freely outside. Or speaking English without fear. Or going outside without worrying about what you were wearing. Its highly subjective. All I know was that Pakistani life was too slow for me and therefore, suffocating. Despite the hustle and bustle, the over-population, the conjestion and the 'in your face' factor, everyone in Pakistan was just TOO RELAXED.


Squeeze me?


It has been pointed out to me how fast I: walk, talk, eat, work, cook, clean, drive, read, react...ok, you get the picture. As far as I can remember, I have always been hurrying to get things done. I remember my father rushing me out of the house as if someone was going to steal our car, rushing me to eat as if my food would disappear, rushing me to fill out my university applications, as if these learning institutions would change their mind. If I took time to formulate an argument about why I wanted to extend my curfew to 8pm to 9pm, he would interject and tell me it was too late to defend myself. I was never fast enough.


In Pakistan, I found myself flying past Ruby on the stairs as she sauntered around conducting her errands. Or I would hurriedly set the table while my relatives lounged in the sitting room talking about nonsensical things while I waited at the dinnertable, by myself at 10pm. I almost tripped over Bucka (or Buckoo) trying to get into the car to go for a shopping trip. I could have sworn that the goats exhanged strange glances with each other while I piled into the car and ask them to drive out, even though the gate was still closed. I just couldn't slow down.


Looking back, I thought my trip would go faster if I went faster. Instead, I was a hyperactive, multi-tasking octopus, trying to get errands done, shopping done, visiting done, gift-giving done, banking done, sightseeing done, loadshedding over with, etc. Even when we were leaving the country, as the passport officer nonchalantly flipped through the blank pages of my passport, I steamed in my own impatience.


The ache to go home was overwhelming but a part of me was telling me to SLOW IT RIGHT DOWN. I was not going to get this experience back so I needed to block out the past and the future and just concentrate on the present. But my brain was wired to the fast paced life I had created for the last 40 years. Rewiring would require a lobotomy.



The irony is that I long for that time when I was a teenager again, lying in my backyard... but this time, wishing the opposite. To enjoy my youth, close my eyes and live in the moment...hindsight is 20/20.