Back to Detroit, Back to Myself

Six years have passed since I last posted in Pakistan.  Or to be precise since I last posted then removed the posts.  I remember having terrifying thoughts that my posts would be found by one of the rogue terrorist groups that I read about in the newspapers every morning over breakfast.  I imagined that they would come find me in my guesthouse and find some creative way to do what terrorists do-cause terror.  In hindsight it seems laughable but the reality of terror is unpredictable.  

I recall leaving the country with both relief and a deep yearning to return as quickly as possible. Something captured my heart about the people of Pakistan-I felt the safest I had ever felt while being in a notoriously dangerous country.  Poetically, six years has passed but not much has changed.  I live in Detroit (the city, not the suburbs!), a notoriously dangerous city, and am surrounded by a community of very safe people in my apartment building.

In between Pakistan and Detroit, I lived life.  

It seems fitting to end this journey back where I started, but somewhere completely new.  And that somewhere is me.  

Home Setup Checklist

Checklist for Setting up Home

Kitchen

Large Dish soap

Large dishwasher detergent

Cleaning gloves

Sink disposal cleaners

Several sponges

Long-wand dish scrubber

Multi-pack paper towels

Multi-pack sponges

Mop

Broom and dust pan

Dusters

Kitchen garbage bags

Saran wrap

Alum foil

Parchment paper

Small plastic bags

Large plastic bags

Bottled water

Several kitchen towels

Fridge clip magnets

Chalkboard (?)

Kitchen equipment checklist

Whisk

Cutting boards

Wine glasses

Measuring spoons

Measuring cups

Liquid measuring cup

Several sharp knives

Tongs

Baster

Grater

Regular can opener

Wooden spoons

General kitchen supplies

Mustard

Mayo

Eggs

Olives

Capers

Minced garlic

Hot sauce

Siriacha

Ketchup

Salad dressing

Spice packs

Baking soda

Coffee

Coffee filters

Paper dinner napkins

tupperware

Bathroom(s)

Large toilet paper

Plunger

Bowl cleaner wand

Bowl cleaner detergent

Shower scrub brush

Shower scrub liquid or detergent

Windex cleaner tissues

Multipurpose tissue cleaners

Small bathroom garbage bags

Box(es) of Kleenex tissue

Bedroom(s)

Glass water bottle

Coasters

Office Area

Cork board/dry erase board

Calendar desk pad

Small calendar for fridge

Living Room

Candles

Air freshener (from bath & body works)

Laundry

Large Laundry detergent

Large fabric softener

Dryer sheets

Delicate wash cleaner

Drying rack

Bleach

The Almost Marriage

The Almost Marriage

“Broken engagement”.  I hated that term.  “There is nothing ‘broken’ about me,” I would scowl to myself as I reflected upon the realization that, in fact, after ending my engagement I felt more whole.  

The engagement had been tumultuous to say the least.  Mostly, I felt confused.  Isn’t this what I wanted?  Hadn’t I already committed myself to the relationship by moving cross-country for him?  I recall throwing my engagement ring across the room screaming that I didn’t want to be someone’s wife, as if by being married I would forever be playing second fiddle. Gone were the cozy feelings of a home that I desperately tried to create.  

Ending my engagement felt like a strange “in between a relationship breakup and a divorce.  There was no legal paperwork, no lawyers, no alimony.  But there was an entangled life together and a half-planned wedding. 

The “not wedding”?  Ex-fiance sounded harsh.  The almost husband. The almost mother-, father-, brother-, and sister-in-law.  The almost life.  My almost divorce.  

Personal Security

Personal security is obviously an issue in Pakistan.  I've been challenging myself to not let these issues define and color my experience too much while I'm in Pakistan because the reality is a constant undercurrent.  These concerns are not just evident for visitors.  Pakistanis will shake their heads and ask if I think things will get better.  One can only hope.

I've been keeping a low profile.  Most of the time I do not cover my head (not all Pakistanti women do) but always a scarf with me.  However, I do cover my head during car rides.

Low profile 

It feels very different and sometimes unsettling to be in a place where my mobility is so limited.  I'm used to exploring new places by foot, wandering the side streets and adventuring to tucked away cafes.  I haven't walked down any street.  Not one.  Door-to-door service for every place you go seems somewhat of a celebrity life.  As does constantly arranging your driver to pick you up here at this time and take you there.  Until you realize that you're somewhat under house arrest at each place you go.

View of my street from the car

The concept of having a private driver is certainly not unique to Pakistan as this would also be a preferable  and affordable arrangement in other more peaceful middle-income countries.  However, feeling wary of a 10-minute walk to the market by myself during daylight hours is palpably different.

Driver.

The extra psychological effort required to keep any security concern in realistic check is evident. I've been advised not to go to the brand-new shiny shopping mall with stores, a cinema, and a TGIFridays.  A landmark screaming of of the West.  Each car that pulls up to the McDonalds must pass through a security check-point.  All major roads have occasional policed checkpoints where passing cars slow down to swerve through the concrete roadblocks.

We never go out to a restaurant for lunch at the office, always ordering take-out to eat at the office.    The lovely patio garden, balcony with a view, and chirping birds of my guesthouse seem to peacefully co-exisit with the barbed wire wall around the building and two beret-wearing rifle-slinging security guards guarding the thick metal gate of the driveway.    

Security guards and gated entryway

When I was discussing weekend plans with my colleague, I suggested the major city sites that I wanted to see.  But wait.  A popular city landmark.  On Saturday afternoon.  Fuggedaboutit.  These places will be crowded on the weekends, he reminded me, and suggested we go during the week instead.  So we made a plan to visit all the popular places during the weekdays after work when they are less crowded and by proxy, safer.

Reality bites.  But comfort always awaits at the end of each day.  I retreat to my room, nestle under the blankets, cuddle up with my iPhone and fall asleep.

Plaque outside my room.  Not all the rooms have it.  Not sure why but I'm grateful.

Shopping

After work last Friday, I went shopping with the girls, which was much needed girl time and retail therapy after my first week adjustment to Pakistan living. My colleague was looking for fabric for a tunic to wear to our other colleague's wedding reception.  She wanted fabric that would match a purple shawl, a family heirloom that her mother had embroidered by hand.  

Choosing from many colorful fabric choices

After the fabric store, we went to one of their favorite clothing stores, Khaadi, where I bought a royal blue tunic topic and nearly a dozen scarves.  The word, khadi, is the term for hand-woven cloth mostly spun from cotton.  

The shalwar kameez is the traditional women's dress style consisting of baggy pajama-like trousers with a long tunic.  This is accessorized with a dupatta, a long scarf that is worn over the shoulder or draped over the shoulders like a cape.  I've noticed that professional women in Pakistan generally don't cover their heads but most have some type of shawl accessory.  Most professional women dress like this Khaadi model.

Khaadi model in a shalwar kameez with a dupatta.

In casual settings, women often wear leggings and sometimes jeans as bottoms with a tunic-style top.  My colleague explained that fashion trends for shorter above-the-knee tunics and longer ankle-length tunics rotate.  Now, she explained, the shorter tunics are the trendy item.

Traditional dress for men is a kurta, a long tunic shirt.  The taqiyah is the cap that some men wear like the man in the picture below.  Muslim men wear this cap to emulate the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) who wore one.  But in professional settings, men are more likely to wear western-style clothing. 

Khaadi male model in a kurta and taqiyah.

Successful shopping outing.

Paisley print Khaadi shopping bags

First Impressions

My flight to Pakistan involving an overnight layover in Abu Dhabi, the capitol and one of the seven emirates of the United Arab Emirates.  The layover was very brief only allowing time to check into the hotel next to the airport and get at least some sleep before my early flight to Islamabad.  Small details hinted at the area's opulence in a Muslim country.

I didn't see one non-luxury class car waiting outside the airport nor in the parking garage I walked through to get to my hotel.

White Lexuses outside Abu Dhabi Airport

In the airport, I picked up a "Time Out: Abu Dhabi" magazine, which ran a cover story of "Are you paying too much in rent?" From the story I learned that not only is rent pricey, it is common practice to pay rent annually.  This dismal situation is further burdened by the fact that landlords can legally increase the rent whenever they like.  A rental price cap was removed 4 months ago, and since then rent has increased by 16%.  This article also introduced me to Sharia Law, the Islamic religious legal code.  According to the article, in the UAE, Sharia Law does not allow unmarried couples to live together and is punishable by a prison sentence.  Sharia Law systems differ by country and are nuanced enough for a much longer discussion later.

First Images

News Anchors in Abu Dhabi (Note: the man in the lower left is signing in sign language)

Qibla, or direction of prayer, glued to bedside table

Water nozzle in the bathroom for washing feet and head for daily prayer

Religion, health, and governance seem to be the key themes for this trip.  While I'm here my project is working on a strategy to engage ulama, Islamic religious leaders, in a program that aims to create more public demand for maternal and child health services and hold the government accountable for the provision of quality services.  No easy task, but more on this later.

Back in the saddle, in Islamabad, Pakistan

It's hard to believe that a full two years has past since I last posted in this blog.  My last post was just a couple of weeks before I was accepted to graduate school.  Ever since then nearly all my extracurricular energies and even creative output like poetry have been devoted to this ambition. When your love poems are about statistical distributions, then you know you're ingrained in your science.

When I finalized my plans to go to Islamabad, Pakistan for a month for a health communication project as part of a global health grant I received as a graduate student, I figured I would dust off the 'ol "Discovering A Dream" blog.  I started this blog in the fall of 2008 when I set out to teach English for a year in Hanoi, Vietnam.  This is (almost) my longest time abroad since then (minus a 5-week South American backpacking adventure two summers ago).  Embarking on this new project in Pakistan made me reflect on my past significant international endeavors.

Reflecting back on my past trips made me laugh:

....at what an inexperienced and innocent traveler I was...

 First blog post in 2008 about first trip to Asia.  All my luggage was poorly packed.  Such an amateur.

"My first steps.  Walking through five airports in 24 hours.  Detroit. Chicago. Los Angeles. Taipei. Hanoi.  All the time praying that my overweight suitcase will make all my connecting flights while trudging through airport security lugging a briefcase, fleece coat, and my overstuffed backpack dangling a pair of tennis shoes, umbrella, bike helmet, water bottle, and a portable backpack.  Yes, I agree with the flight attendant, all I am missing is a tent."

...at how much communication technologies change....

Study abroad email circa 2007 citing AOL Instant Messanger as "essential contact information".

"Bonjour!  Thanks to everyone for all the good wishes of bon voyage! and support as I Frenchify my life.   Here is some essential contact information:

 Email: ebaughma@umich.edu  AIM Screenname: peachesb12"

...at embarrassing cultural mishaps....

 How many shades of red did I turn when someone explained what I had accidentally done?

"Today I unknowingly wrote the Vietnamese equivalent of "pussy" on the board.  My students roared with  laughter."

Reflecting also made me cry:

....when reading about some touching memories that I had forgotten...

 Teaching my Vietnamese friend how to swim on our trip to Da Nang.

"I had brought along an extra bathing suit for Van as she did not own one.  She had only been to the beach once before, two years ago.  This time we were at Lang Co Beach, which had been voted best beach 2009 in Vietnam.  It's no doubt as to why.  A stretch of beach alcove between mountains, white sand and gentle waves.  The shore still unspoiled by tourism.  

'Emily, can you teach me to swim? Emily, I want to swim in one day, is it true?'  Standing thigh deep in waves I racked my brain for a beginning point.  I showed her how to tread water with her arms to keep aloaft in the water and guided her through an elementary freestyle stroke.  Like a 7-year-old  learning to ride a bike without training wheels, I guided her through the salty water, then periodically let her go."  

Remembering my Vietnamese dan bau instrument lessons and how beautifully the blind student played.

"For my first lesson I arrive early and walk in the small practice room where a young Vietnamese boy delicately plucks the string.  He wears dark glasses.  After his lesson is over and he exits the room, I clarify with my teacher Mr. Binh.  Not knowing the Vietnamese word for blind person, I try, 'Anh ay la nguoi khong xem?'  He is a person who can't see?  'Yes', Mr. Binh says."

The moment when I was able to locate my distant Polish relatives in a small village outside Krakow.

"I sat at the kitchen table with the woman’s elderly mother, who had a striking resemblance to my own Polish grandmother.  After graciously accepting some tea, I sat in silence and witnessed the woman make phone calls in Polish wondering whom she was speaking with and what they were discussing.  Nearly an hour later, she looked at me with a huge grin.  She now had two phones in her hand, and was having two simultaneous conversations.  She was talking in Polish and handed me one of the receivers.  I heard a voice say in English, “Hello, I am Maria’s son.  My mother has told me that she has found your relatives.  Write down your phone number and she will have them contact you with the help of a translator.”  I was ecstatic."

Global Health

I think I remain the same dreamer as my blog title alludes to, although now my dreams are more sophisticated and focused.  And now, here I am, typing this from the lovely courtyard at my guesthouse in Islamabad, Pakistan.

View of Margala Hills, the scenic backdrop of Islamabad