|
||
| This week was mostly a mundane sort of week interrupted by a few very different sorts
of events. On the 6th and 7th I spent most of my time at a departing Haji's dhéra.
I finally managed to make it to the second tea shop in the village. There were 2
jirgas held in neighbouring villages. I spent some time in Pindi. I had an extraordinary
conversation/interview with an old man. Haj, the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, is extremely important for all Muslims. In the village those people who have performed Haj are regularly addressed as Haji Sahib or Haji followed by their name. The occasion of this Haji's fourth Haj was a big deal. The days before he left people began coming by to visit. On the surface this resembles the ordinary kinds of visits-- men come and sit in the dhéra and drink tea and perhaps eat some food. What made it unusual was the high volume of traffic. This added expense to the prospective Haji is not insignificant. I have no idea how much money this Haji spent on tea and food the last few days of his time in Pakistan but I would not be surprised if it was as much as he would normally spend in a month. I was lucky enough to be able to get a place in one of the cars taking him to the airport. I estimate he had 25-30 people at the airport to drop him off. They tell me that when he returns the occasion will be just as big. I couldn't help making the comparison with Paul Stirling's photographs of returning Hajis (see Stirling's Turkish Archives - NB Online link). Fifty years ago in central Turkey people gathered in large numbers to greet returning Hajis in the same way as Pakistan in 1999. It may sound hard to believe but I made my first visit to the second tea shop in the village this week. I had stuck my head in before but never had tea there and never sat and chatted. Although the village is small my time is not completely my own. I don't like to refuse people's invitations to come and sit with them and chat. Since my habitual tea shop is first geographically I have always been invited to sit there and drink my tea. This week I decided that this couldn't continue and made a roundabout route to the main road so that I arrived at the second tea shop first. Common opinion has it that the tea is not as good in this second tea shop but I have no complaints. There was a slightly different atmosphere which I found useful. Bhaloti Maliks were asked to sit on 2 jirga councils this week. One of the men asked is relatively young and not a head of household. He says that he was asked as the proxy of his elder brother. This is probably partly true. I think that the people in the area are also testing his ability on these things as well. They know him and he has a good reputation for fairness among poor people. He is also well educated and that is well known. It will be interesting to see whether he is asked with increasing frequency from now on. I had a visit from two anthropologists in the middle of the week. They have worked in a village further south in the barani area of Punjab. Their description of the village they worked in is quite different from Bhalot. They found Bhaloti zamindars far richer and more influential than anyone in the village they lived in. I have planned to go with them to their village next week to see this difference for myself. One of these anthropologists is a woman and so was invited to meet the Malik ladies. I later heard reports about how often the ladies go out-- they took my visitor up to the shrine at the top of the nearby mountain. This confirms what I've been told. Purdah, apparently does not mean that ladies get locked in the house and never see the world. These ladies go frequently into Pindi and other cities for shopping and visiting friends and relatives. I am increasingly curious about this 'parallel' world that I hear lots of stories about but never get to see. I find this very, very strange. I went to Pindi for a few days to continue speaking to the two anthropologists and have a short break from cold showers. While there I followed what is becoming my routine-- I visited the Bhaloti Maliks' Pindi barber and had a shave and heard more stories about my Maliks as well as other zamindars. The connection from village to city is very strong for the Maliks here. In order to understand them I find it vital to spend time in the city in the areas and with the people they frequent. When I returned to the village I was very warmly received by some people who have hitherto mostly ignored me (they have always been nice but not seemed very interested in what I was doing here). One of them wanted to give me a massage and as I was a little sore I thought it was a good idea. Punjabi massages are rough. Masseurs in this village do not seem to understand the word 'gently' in any language or in any tone of voice. Nevertheless once the torture is finished you do feel more relaxed. This massage had an added touch-- olive oil in my hair. I was told that the olive oil was not only good for my hair but good for my 'brain'. Perhaps. I started the last day of the week with an interview of a very old man in front of the tea shop (back to my old haunt). His age is at least 85 and perhaps as much as 95-100. People say he is the same age as the oldest Malik which may also be true but he was unable to confirm that. He was a soldier in the army under the British and served three years in Arabia (Busra, Baghdad, Palestine). There were definite language barriers between us. I asked my questions in my Urdu/Punjabi mix (increasingly more Urdu since the books I have teach Urdu and not local Punjabi so I am never sure what is the polite way to say things in Punjabi-- so to err on the safe side I use Urdu to have a better chance at being courteous) and then onlookers translated my questions into Punjabi. As I listened to the translation it became unmistakable how different pure Punjabi is from Urdu (and from what most people speak). The lingua franca of the village among young people includes much Urdu. The old men however have somehow escaped borrowing words from Urdu. Although I'm not a linguist it wouldn't take much to get me very interested in the difference between what this old man speaks and Urdu. Over the next few weeks I hope to have more conversations with this old man and hear more stories about the village through this century. I am fortunate that I have access to several old men who remember much of what went on in this village over the past ninety years. In the immediate future I will try to go with the other anthropologists to their village and at the end of this month I'm expecting a visit of two UKC anthropologists (who are coming for reasons unrelated to me but will come see me anyway). |
||
Return to Home Page |