Our last day in Pakistan. Lily was in a good mood all day today, because she’s ready to go home. I’m ready to BE home, I guess, but not ready to leave Pakistan. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more loved or appreciated than I do here. The people are so kind and so interesting. Through the day I felt tears coming to my eyes more than once as I thought about leaving.
This morning Nosheen did henna on Lily’s hand and foot. All the Pakistanis wanted Lily to get both hands done, because that’s the way it’s always done in Pakistan and I think that to them it looks a little bit weird to only have one hand done. But she only wanted one hand and one foot, so that’s what she got. Nosheen did a great job (she does it all the time at her salon), and Lily was SO happy when it was done.
Our cab driver is getting closer and closer to us. He seems like a really good guy. Today he asked me to pray for him. Apparently his business is going well, and as a result his neighbors are getting jealous and hostile. That’s not the first time I’ve heard of that phenomenon here. Nosheen’s neighbors were the same way when her family got the money to rebuild their roof and house. That’s too bad. The driver speaks a little bit of English—certainly a lot more than my Urdu. Today he asked, "how much time you come back?” I said I don't know, and he responded, "I wait you.” He was really sincere, and it was actually pretty touching.
Jumshed was riding the motorcycle along our van today and Lily wanted to ride with him—like all the girls do here. He was willing, but I said no. I’m not generally risk-averse, but riding on those roads, with no helmet, with no riding experience, on the day before we’re to leave—that was too chancy even for me.
A couple days ago when I got my shalwar kameez, the shoes they’d purchased were too small. So today we had to go shopping for shoes. We found some at the shop where Jumshed works sometimes. Nosheen told me to pick two pairs, and I thought the shopkeeper was giving them as a gift, so I did. Then I thought to ask Nosheen whether he was paying or she was. She was. Dangit. If I’d known that then I would never have taken two. Of course there was no chance of convincing her not to pay.
We had lunch at a branch member’s house. It was delicious Pakistani food. We sat around and visited for a while, too. Their house was pretty nice—they even had a generator to make sure the fan wouldn’t give out if the power did. The family was really, really eager to get a piece of the Americans. They took us to all their family members to introduce us (all of whom lived in adjoining homes). They took a LOT of pictures of us, including some of him presenting me with some business stuff. (Hopefully I won’t appear on some Asian website as huckster for some product I’ve never heard of.) They gave us several gifts. And everyone taught Lily a few lines of an Urdu song, which made her the center of attention for quite a while. The home had a 30-gallon aquarium, which seemed like a real extravagance in Pakistan. They asked us to come up on the roof for a confidential conversation, and they asked what so many other Pakistanis did—“how can we get a visa to the US?” Unfortunately the answer is almost certainly “You can’t.” But I told them that I’m not an expert, that I’ve heard it’s very difficult, and that I’ll send them information when I get back to the US. It’s sad and a little bit surprising to me that there’s basically no avenue whatsoever for these people to come to the US, no matter how hard-working or good they are.
Afterward we visited the Sialkot library. It was pretty humble. There was a security guard and a sign-in sheet, but the library itself was just old, random books and bundles of newspapers. My friends told me that everything in the library had been written by Muhammad Iqbal, a famous poet from Sialkot. The guard apparently tells people that when they arrive at the library, but it’s obviously not true. I don’t think he wrote the entire 1962 Encyclopedia Brittanica, or the British book from the 1950s entitled “How to Retire in England on a Pension,” or the shelf of books on marketing in the US.
Today, driving through the cantt, Lily decided it would be prudent to duck down as we passed through the checkpoint. Seems to me that would be more suspicious than just playing it cool, but it worked. Or anyway they didn’t stop us.
In late afternoon we got back to Nosheen’s house. We had time to exchange some goodbye gifts. Everyone was really appreciative of the little things I had brought—pictures of the temple, a special frame for a photo of their dad, a headlamp, a fridge magnet, journals, sidewalk chalk, and a few other trinkets. I told Nosheen about the laptop we’d brought and how we were giving it to them so they could use it with the new phone I was leaving there. They were so happy. I think it will give them an opportunity to learn some really useful computer skills that most people just can’t do. And Skype to us once we get home! We also received some additional gifts—a jacket that David Anil had made and a few other things. The neighbor kids also showed up with some small gifts for us, and they were really kind. We had a big dance-fest and just enjoyed our last time together.
I had a very serious talk with Junaid about Nosheen. The only place for us to meet was in the front room, with the curtain closed. It was absolutely sweltering. I told him that I appreciated how hard he was working and that Heavenly Father would help him with the heavy responsibility he has. I told him that since their dad died he’s like her father now, and I told him how important Nosheen was to me too—that I feel like her father in many ways. I told him that family is the most important thing, and that being together forever is the most important thing for a family. I asked him if he would allow Nosheen to marry a member of the church. He agreed. I was so happy! I gave him a little pin of the Mesa temple to remember the commitment that he had given me, and I hugged him. He asked me again to help him find work in Dubai and I told him I’d do what I could, though of course that isn’t much. The whole time we were having our talk, there was a crazy dance party going on outside the door, and once in the while someone would stick their head in and we’d have to shoo them away.
Then we had to leave. The plan was that we’d go to the hotel for dinner about 8:00 and be on the road to Lahore at 9:00. We didn’t get out of there until about 8:30, and dinner (which was yummy) took longer than we thought, so we were about an hour late getting on the road. Truthfully, the ride was hard. Nosheen’s mom and two older brothers joined us, along with Nosheen and David. With all of us in the vehicle, it was VERY jammed. Everyone wanted me to sit up front as the honored guest, but I said that I wanted Nosheen to ride up front because she gets motion sickness.
The way I learned about Nosheen’s motion sickness reinforced to me how self-effacing she is. At dinner, Nosheen mentioned that she had forgotten her medicine. I asked what medicine, and when she hesitated a little bit I told her that she didn’t have to tell me. She explained that it was for motion sickness and I told her I could sympathize because I sometimes have that problem. I told her she should just sit up front and it would be better, but she refused. I insisted. She said she could just sit by the window and throw up out the window if she needed to so no one was disturbed. Finally, after I insisted some more, she reluctantly agreed to ride in the front. Everyone else objected to me not being in the seat of honor, but I said that was the way it was going to be. I have to admit that the middle seat—with four people jammed in it—was a lot less comfortable than the front seat. But it was worth it.
As we rode, I was right behind Nosheen and she and I talked a bit over the front seat. David and I were next to each other, and we talked some too. I was impressed and honored that Elizabeth (Nosheen’s mom) and Junaid both rode along in that uncomfortable car—three hours each way—just to be with us a little bit longer before we left. When we arrived at the airport, I saw that my sunglasses had dropped to the floor during the ride and one of the lenses had broken. David saw that and he immediately took his sunglasses off his head and handed them to me. It was such a genuine and selfless gesture that there was no way I could refuse. What a perfect final illustration of how I was treated in Pakistan. Those sunglasses aren’t expensive, but I’ll treasure them as long as they last.
Otherwise, the airport was just painful. It’s the only time in my life I’ve seen Nosheen frown. And she couldn’t stop. She was just so sad. Lily was crying and expressed to me several times during the evening that this was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be. I embraced everyone. I tried to give a tip to the driver, but he refused me again and again. Finally I gave up and just hugged him again. Nosheen held me and sobbed. I shoved my leftover rupees into her purse. Then it was time to go. We gathered up our bags. Trying to keep a brave face, I showed our passports and tickets to get into the terminal. Our adventure was over.
Doing Lily's henna
More henna
The finished product
Me, Junaid, and Nosheen
David and Lily
Just bein' awesome.
More awesomeness
Riding around
At the airport
