October 9, 2006
Posting from Pakistan
It’s been a while since we’ve been in touch and for
that, we apologize. Pakistan has been in the news a great deal
of late, yet again pointing out that life is never dull over here.
To give you a different picture of this country and its wonderful
people, we’ve each written a story of something we truly
appreciate about being here. Here are four perspectives on life
in Pakistan from one family whose lives are woven into one corner
of this country.
Peter (age 8)
I like jelabi (pronounced gel-ay-bee). It is orange
and has lots of sugar. You buy it at a bakery or a sweet shop.
It’s hard and shaped like a heart. It is very sweet and
that’s why I like it. Pakistan has lots of sweets and I
like lots of them. We buy a quarter kilo of jelabi at
the bakery. No one else in the family can eat as much jelabi
as me.
Nathan (age 13)
For the last year I have been here in Pakistan as a missionary,
but surprisingly I haven’t made many friends. My school
is full of rich kids and none of them have anything in common
with me. After a few months, though, I picked up some Urdu and
began to chat with different people. One such person was a guard
here at Forman named Robert. He didn’t speak much English,
and I had just enough Urdu to say hello. So after a while he began
to teach me Urdu (and a little Punjabi) and I taught him a little
English; thus began a beautiful friendship. Soon I learned more
and more Urdu and was able to communicate (just slightly) with
some of the other guards and soon made friends with them. This
friendship was proved on my thirteenth birthday.
That night my parents brought five kilograms of Pakistani sweets
and told me to hand them out to our house staff (it is a tradition
here that if any joyous occasion happens you celebrate by giving
to others and normally do so in the form of sweets). After our
cook left, my parents told me to go wait for the doorbell. So
I stood with my five kilograms of sweets and waited; well, sure
enough there goes the doorbell and standing in the front lawn
is the entire day shift of guards. I offered them some sweets.
They all granted me best wishes and a prosperous new year and
then Justin Masih (the supervisor) came up and told me “ache
minute” (one minute). He left with the day shift and then
came back with the entire night shift as well. Every one of them
had left their post to come wish me a happy birthday.
I returned to the house with a big smile on my face, I truly
was touched. Robert even gave me a beautiful new shirt and watch
and invited me to his birthday celebration. So now instead of
having one friend I have about 50!
Marianne (middle age)
I’ve written before about our house staff and the blessing
they have been to us. Here’s another story about them. We
have two gentlemen we employ ourselves and also have the services
of a driver employed by the church. Together, we call them the
Three Musketeers (a name they would never understand!). At the
suggestion of fellow missionaries, we arranged for them to have
medical check-ups and eye exams. You’d think we had offered
to fly them to Tahiti for a week. They were thrilled beyond words
and absolutely bouncing with excitement. They came back from the
appointments bragging about their blood pressure results and proudly
showing me the prescriptions for their eyeglasses. They had no
idea what the numbers meant on the prescription so I patiently
explained and arranged for them to take the time to go to the
optician. We gave them approximately 25 dollars for deposits for
their new spectacles and were amazed when they came back, each
with a new pair of glasses. They had negotiated to get three pairs
of glasses for 25 dollars! And now we have to convince them to
wear them; they have never had prescription glasses before, with
bifocals no less, and they are afraid they will wear out or break.
Every day we ask, “Where are your glasses?” They are
always carefully wrapped and in the cupboard, only to be removed
when the wearer thinks it is really necessary to see
properly or to show them off as prized possessions. We’ve
posted a picture of them on our Web site and you, too, can share
in their joy.
Robert (just as middle age as Marianne)
Shopping in the United States can be, well usually is, a dreary
affair. You wander through automatically opened doors and search
in studied solitude for your desired item. In most places, the
store’s help is rarely seen, and, in some places, employees
seem put out that you might expect them to break off a conversation
with a co-worker in order to sell you something.
Not so in Pakistan.
Oh sure, there are large, impersonal stores on the American model,
but much more common are whole blocks of tiny shops, all selling
pretty much the same thing. As you enter, you are not studiously
ignored, but greeted with gusto and traditional Muslim hospitality:
“Welcome, friend! Sit (comfortable chairs are squeezed in
front of the display counter)!” Then, everyone in the shop—customers
as well as employees—beams at you, shakes your hand, or
gives you a back-slapping embrace, as though you are the Prodigal
Son, back from the dead. After polite inquiries about your health,
and the health of your spouse, parents, children, and distant
cousins, shopkeepers invariably ask, “Will you drink a Coke?
Sprite? Sprite Zero?” Rejection of the offer of a cold drink
seems to genuinely hurt their feelings, so you drink, and chat.
Eventually, you get around to the purpose at hand. Today, the
purchase of a cell phone.
Every phone in the shop that vaguely fits your qualifications
is shown to you, along with testimonials to its wonders. You examine
the features, gravely evaluate each phone’s worth, and begin
to haggle over the price. After settling on a mutually agreeable
sum, the transaction is complete, and you are ready to leave.
At this point, it is not uncommon to have a small spiel from the
proprietor on his gratitude for your patronage, but at the phone
shop, I received an impassioned speech from the shopkeeper’s
father, who spoke little English.
“This shop,” he said, waving his hands, and emotion
in his dark brown eyes, “is yours! I give you my heart!”
What could I say? Emotion in my blue eyes, we had another round
of hugs, and more back slapping.
Now that’s shopping!
From all of us
We’ve moved into a new house and we hope we don’t
have to pack another box for two years. The new house was renovated
over the summer and offers more spacious rooms, better ventilation,
and a more secure location. The move has given us a psychological
boost as we feel we can finally make it “home.” We’re
still waiting for a phone line and therefore Internet service,
but all things in time!
Robert and Marianne are both teaching at Forman this fall: Robert
has two Christian studies classes and Marianne hopes to bring
light to the world of business communications. Robert will also
teach at Gujranwala Seminary and continue his work with the Presbyterian
Church of Pakistan. Marianne has a “to do” list that
would make your head spin, but she keeps juggling the demands
of her role in the president’s office with the human limitations
of time. Peter and Nathan have been in school since mid-August.
Nathan is the new president of the National Junior Honor Society,
and Peter has made it his personal quest to find a fossil in the
school play yard.
We all enjoyed a cool, wet month in Murree over the summer, studying
Urdu and escaping the heat of the Punjabi plains. We had time
to read and play lots of games as we watched the monsoon rains
and fog envelop the mountain where we lived. This fall, we hope
to explore more of Pakistan and are eager to welcome Marianne’s
mother for the Christmas holiday.
And yes, we’re safe, we’re healthy, we’re making
new friends, and we’re glad to be here. While events may
swirl around us, we continue to feel quite comfortable going to
the market, riding bicycles on campus, having dinner with friends,
and laughing at the ludicrous comments made on CNN about Pakistan.
Honestly, the media plays into fears and many of them are simply
unfounded. There are 160 million people in Pakistan riding their
motorbikes to work every day, buying vegetables and meat in the
market, washing their children’s clothes, and hoping for
a secure future for themselves and their families. Just like you.
These are the most gracious, hospitable people you can imagine;
we can learn much from them about what it means to show hospitality
and generosity. We’ll introduce more of them to you in the
next newsletter.
And we hope all is well with you and yours. We have had limited
email access for over three months so have not been the faithful
correspondents we should be. We hope for better in the coming
months and always enjoy hearing from you and connecting
with events in your lives. May God bless you! And thank you, again,
for the prayers, messages of concern, and updates. We appreciate
each one of them.
Marianne Vermeer, Robert Johnson, Nathan and Peter
The 2006 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
112 |
