Brad and Lily in Dubai-India-Pakistan: July 26--in Sialkot

I have to say, if you haven’t been to Pakistan and you think you know what hospitality is, you don’t. Today I was reminded so many times what amazing hosts sister Javed and her family and friends are.

We started by going to church. I woke up early and finished my talk. Church starts at 10 so we were picked up a little after 9. Nosheen helped Lily put on the fancy Pakistan dress that she’d bought for Lily in Lahore. Not only had Nosheen bought it, but she had stayed up late to stitch on the sleeves so that Lily could wear it to church.

The church in Sialkot is located in the cantonment (“cantt”) area of Sialkot. A cantt area is an area in a military zone. In Pakistan most cantt areas have been built out and include non-military stuff. There are numerous such areas in Pakistan that are technically within a military base, but have grown to include extensive residential or commercial areas. Sialkot is very close to the border with India, so security in the cantt is unusually strict. And it so happens that my Pakistan visa has a stamp on it that says “NOT VALID FOR RESTRICTED OR CANTT AREAS” —probably put there by the Pakistan government as a result of my well-know nunchucks skills, bow hunting skills, and computer hacking skills. So once I got my visa (and googled the word “cantt” since I had no idea what that meant), I told Nosheen about the stamp. She said that typically it’s no big deal to go through the cantt areas, but that her branch members had told her that you should get an authorization letter to avoid problems. One of the members was kind enough to do that. And it’s a good thing too, because on the way to church today we got stopped. Actually, passed through our entrance gate lane with no problem, but as we were driving off, the officer at the neighboring gate caught a glimpse of Lily and yelled at the officer in our lane to pull us over. He shouted at us to stop, and we did. The driver took my paperwork, went over to the nearby building, and waited for 10 minutes for them to inspect our papers. We were a little nervous (I can tell the Pakistanis never like to interact with the military, and it doesn't sound like much fun to me either), but we got permission and everything was fine.

Once I got to sacrament meeting, I think my talk went well. I spoke about temple marriage and how hard it is for Pakistanis to go to Hong Kong to be sealed. I compared it to the “Honeymoon Trail” that LDS couples used to travel so they could be sealed in the St. George temple. Hopefully people were listening. There were perhaps 30 people there. I was very sad that sister Javed’s family didn’t show up to hear it, though. Her older brother, Junaid, had told me that he would show up, and sister Javed had told me that they were going to come as well. I mentioned to President Waheed that I was a little disappointed that they hadn’t showed up. He said matter-of-factly that they all had to prepare dinner for us. He had made the trip down from Lahore (that’s a long drive!) to hear me speak and to have dinner with the Javeds afterward. After the meetings were over, we took pictures of some of the primary kids and printed out copies for them.

After church we went to the Javeds' for a fancy meal. Lily and I and some of the family ate in the front bedroom, which has a rug and therefore kind of serves as a living room when needed. They had set up a pillow for me to sit on. No one else had one. Lily and I, President Waheed, and Brother and sister Sohail from the branch presidency (who had translated for me during my talk) were there as well. Sister Javed was there and so was David Anil and sister Javed’s older brother. However, the members of the family who’d cooked the meal were nowhere in sight. The meal was very yummy—rice, daal (a tasty lentil concoction), spicy chicken, mint sauce, and a couple things I’m not sure what they were. It was really good, and the conversation was good as well.

We took some pictures of the family and printed them out. That’s always a huge hit. We played the “Count Battle” game on my phone, which was also fun. And we just visited and hung out. Some neighbor girls showed up. I guess they know the Javeds fairly well—they had come over to ogle us a bit the first day we were there. I took their pictures and printed them out and gave to them. They were very nice and had brought me three plastic ball-point pens as a gift. They asked if we could come visit their house, and sister Javed asked me if it was okay. I said sure, why not, we can go over for a few minutes.

When we showed up everyone in the house was thrilled and embraced us. The house was small and made of brick, which were bare on the inside. It adjoined the neighboring houses, as is the norm in this neighborhood. I asked them about the house, and apparently they rent it. Two of the daughters seem really smart and spoke amazing English (at least by Pakistani standards). The dad is gone, working in Dubai (I’ve heard repeatedly that’s the best career path available to people in Pakistan today). There was a grandma and several other people who were maybe family or maybe friends. The group pulled together chairs and beds for people to sit on. There was a lot of kid-jostling about who would get a seat and who wouldn’t, but it was obvious that everyone there was thrilled to be. There was a white board in the house that said, “Welcome Sister Lilly.” One of the daughters apologized for not knowing my name so she could put it on the board. The girls excitedly presented Lily with neatly wrapped presents in pink boxes that contained plastic bangles, earrings and hair baubles. Lily said thank you and that she was glad she had come. They said, “We’ve been waiting for you for two days.” We took pictures of the family and promised to give them those prints tomorrow. They were so kind and solicitous when we were in their home.

Nosheen’s cousin can’t drive us around anymore, so we got a driver with a tiny little van. Of course Nosheen won’t let me pay him. I really like him. He’s a Muslim but often comes in with us to whatever we’re doing. He’s a really nice guy. Today he told Nosheen that he and she needed to be careful to take care of us non-Pakistanis and protect us from harm. They’re extremely protective of us.

About sundown we went onto the roof to play cricket. Yeah, cricket on their roof. They explained the rules to me, sort of. It was a hoot and everyone had a great time. It reminded me of when I was in Japan and people would play a sport just for fun, without worrying about scoring or winning. After that we danced together in Nosheen’s living room—to music on my phone and to music on Nosheen’s brother’s phone. It was a hoot.

Later the power went out—no shock there. When we drove home the power was still out, and although there aren’t traffic lights or many street lights, the driving seemed even crazier than it normally is because we could see even less than normal.

I think I mentioned this before, but here we are always treated like royalty. No one lets me carry my own bags. No one eats until I do. The one fan always has to point at me. I am the one who sits on the family’s one sitting pillow. I have to sit in the front seat of the van because the AC is better there. And on and on. It’s often uncomfortable for me, but I can tell that it’s very important to them to treat me as an honored guest. They literally call me that all the time. And Nosheen and her family will do anything for our comfort.

After dinner the driver brought me, Lily, Nosheen, her brother Jumshed, and David back to the hotel. We brought a little food that her mom had prepared, and we sat around and visited for a while. It was really fun. After we’d chatted together for a while, they needed to go. I had a bag that I’d promised one of Jumshed’s friends to bring back to the US, and I asked them if they would just take it back to their house that night. Nosheen revealed what I hadn’t known—that the three of them were riding back on the family’s motorbike that night. The hired driver had gone home, and in order for them to be with us in the room, the three of them needed to go back on the motorcyle. This is exactly the type of behind-the-scenes generosity that happened all the time in Pakistan.

I also learned something similar about our upcoming ride to the airport. A member in the ward had offered to drive us to Lahore for free. But Nosheen had decided to pay for the driver instead, because then we could have air conditioning. I never learned these sorts of things unless I happened to ask questions about them. I’m sure there were many similar sacrifices that happened that I will never know about. I was constantly humbled and amazed by what they gave up for us.