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| This was a busy week. The operative word for the week is HOT. It started with me
giving a last minute talk at an Islamabad social science forum organised by someone
from Quaid-i-Azam University at the Voluntary Trust Organisation (VTO). Then back
to the village where I spent the first few days still in 'sadness position' (as my
friend says in English about the mourning period). I attended a lecture at the German
embassy given by another anthropologist. I met some Sikhs in Hassan Abdal at the
Sikh temple, Panja Sahib. I went out to the fields several times this week-- something
I do fairly often but this week due to the heat it was much more of a chore. I recorded
several more interviews on land disputes and disgruntlements with government agricultural
policy. I finished the week with an absolutely charming old man of about 100 who
told me tales of previous generations of Maliks who also couldn't seem to agree on
much. When I gave the talk at the Islamabad college I was invited to give a talk the following day at the VTO. This could be on any topic I chose so I thought I'd try the safest one-- using computers for qualitative data analysis. I don't know why I thought this was safe except that without knowing what kind of social scientists they were I didn't want to bore them with a lot of anthropology. Instead I bored them with a lot of Content Codes and searching/accessing/report writing capabilities the computer has. I spoke for about 40 minutes and they asked me questions on the topic for 20 minutes. Then they started asking what they really wanted to know-- how was life in a village. For many urban Pakistanis villages are enshrined in a lot of fuzzy romantic notions coupled with horror stories about wicked zamindars. So for the next 45 minutes I gave what were basically after dinner anecdotes which seemed to keep everyone amused. Hanging out with Baba Saftar has no doubt improved my story telling abilities. A few days later one of the Maliks and I attended a lecture at the German embassy given by Dr. Lukas Werth from Berlin. He was speaking about living sufism in the Punjab. It was an interesting but since I've spoken to Dr. Lukas (local terminology) many times I had heard most of it before. What I found most interesting was the Pakistanis' reaction to the lecture. They tried very hard to be polite (and were polite) but they obviously had some disagreement with Dr. Lukas. My Malik friend was impressed by the lecture and how in depth it was-- but was equally impressed with the people who disagreed. Panja Sahib is a Sikh temple in teh nearby city of Hassan Abdal. The story goes that Guru Nanek (the founder of the Sikh religion) came to Hassan Abdal and put his hand on a rock and it left a hand print. Now Sikhs come from all over the world ever April to perform a pilgrimmage in the Punjab and this is one of the stops. I am pleased to report that Guru Nanek and I have exactly the same size hands. While at the temple I met a Sikh from, of all places, Afghanistan. His family moved to Ghazni, in Afghanistan, a few generations ago. A pleasant surprise for me since he told me that in Ghazni there is no trouble. He said the trouble was mostly around Kabul. I'm not sure how much to trust this report since people can get used to just about any level of trouble (just listen to a New Yorker tell you it's a perfectly safe place to live). I have frequently heard stories about the Sikh presence in this area so it was nice to see my friends from the village actually in the presence of Sikhs and a Sikh temple. They were very respectful and curious. When we exited the tmple itself (which we were allowed to enter because I was with them-- normally Muslims aren't allowed in) my friends backed out the way they would for a Muslim saint or pir. Everything I have heard suggests to me that the Muslims in this area hold a profound respect for Guru Nanek as a bazourk man. It's wheat harvesting time so I like to get out to the fields as often as possible to watch what's going on. I'm afraid I'm not really acclimatised to this heat yet. If I go out after 11:00 in the morning I can only stay in direct sunlight for about 20-30 minutes before I get a headache and feel nautious (I hate to admit this weakness in light of the fact that the labourers are out there ALL day cutting the wheat with cmall hand scythes). Even when I go out before 11:00 I MUST have head cover or within 15 minutes I have a headache. The temperature in the shade is about 41/42 degrees which is not pleasant but certainly bearable. In direct sunlight I don't know what it is but bloody hot is about as accurate as any number. The harvesting is interesting to watch since I can now see why intercropping really is primarily a subsistence farming strategy. The wheat that has been intercropped is markedly less robust than the wheat that has been monocropped. All those people who argue against monocropping will just have to forgive me on this but if I were trying to make money at farming instead of just feeding my family then there's no way I would mix a fodder crop in among my cash crops. Among other things once the fodder crop has been harvested out (which happens progressively during the season) it leaves bare patches which are more suscetible to weeds-- which then rob the wheat of nutrients. Feel free to contradict me on this-- I'm not a farmer so I don't pretend to deserve the last word on this issue. I won't repeat the criticisms of government policy here. Suffice to say that I've never yet met a farmer in any country who liked what their government was doing for them (and I've met a lot of farmers from a lot of countries). Some of the complaints seem legitimate-- others less so. I spent the evening of the 30th at a nearby village with Sain Makkan. This is Baba Saftar's father. One of his ancestors was a student of Pir Mir Ali Shah from Golra Sharif (one of the biggest shrines in Pakistan). He says he is about 100 years old but doesn't have an exact figure. He told me tales about old saints and past Maliks. It was fascinating to spend an evening with someone who's had the better part of a century's practice at telling stories. Time may have slowed down his legs a bit but it doesn't seem to have touched his mind at all. Like his son he had a crowd gathered around to listen his tales and kept people enthralled from start to finish. He doesn't see so well so he asked what I looked like. For some reason my friend told him I had green eyes (which I don't). I think perhaps for Sain Makkan green eyes is what the English have and my friend thought he would prefer me to have green eyes. I didn't bother to contradict him since it doesn't matter what colour my eyes are. The serious heat is yet to come to northern Punjab so I can't hope for a break from the heat. I can only hope that I get better acclimatised. If I can manage to stay comfortable until noon and then after 4:30 then I'll be content. I don't mind siestas-- especially since the whole village is asleep in the heat of the afternoon there's not much for me to do at that time. I now have A LOT of work cut out for me with all the taped interviews I've amassed. Listening again helps me improve my language skills and comprehension of what people said to me-- but it takes a lot of time to listen to forty minutes of conversation (a lot more than 40 minutes). |
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