flying from bahrain to karachi with love
i don’t use capitals. i am humble. i do not demand respect. i should earn it.
16th April 2014- i’m off of school for spring break and i have my ticket in my bag. flying out to Karachi. i’m freaking out. I’ve heard horror stories. i don’t even speak the language properly. i am a confused Bahraini-neither here nor there. before i even open my mouth- bam!!- they know this chick is not from Pakistan- she may look the part but for sure aint the real thing.
i’m upgraded to first class. i’m already liking this. i got leg room- i fit comfortably in a chair with have space for a half of me. i sleep through the flight. my flight is early- 45 minutes early- 5 o’clock.. i once again try to clean out remnants of panda eyes and reapply lip balm and kohl. they want me off the flight. i’m still half sleeping- disoriented and a little cranky. i’m up and walking in the airport towards immigration. i have forgotten to fill a form. five minutes later- i’m done.
i quickly message ybq ‘i’m here.’
after being attacked by the swarm of men asking me if i need help with my bag, i put on a ‘f off’ face and i walk through. i leave the airport and no ones there. i’m thinking- great!!! f&*(!!!.. I’ve flown all this way to be ditched! i get a message- he is on his way another 10 minutes. i take my bag and park myself next to this elderly couple who keep on glancing at me as i sit on my suitcase. i look at them. pause. they look at me. pause. look away. uncomfortable. humidity is kicking in. my hair is going from curly to afro.
i’m losing hope. 20 minutes have passed. i don’t know anyone in Karachi. i’m going to die. i notice this truck drive up and out jumps ybq. he did not ditch me. i notice there is a guard with a gun. his gun strap was decorated with beads and colors. we meet and he gives me a hug apologizing for keeping me waiting. i can see the guard from the corner of my eye holding on to the rail of the truck on the flat bed. he is riding the wave that is the truck. i’m in front with ybq.
…the farm house…
i’m walking under this umbrella of 100 year old fig trees. with every step, the sand crunches under my new gold threaded sandals. he walked in front of me with hands clasped behind. i sat on a four legged bed ‘char pai” where i could see green fields as far as the eye could see. the wind tousled my hair. as i walked the sand roads with cows and goats, i noticed that every man would turn away and stand on the side of the road. it was a sign of respect. i ate fresh curd with paratha and lady fingers- for breakfast!
the farm house was a maze of light, walkways and rooms. i had chai karak sittin on the front patio. this was going to be an awesome experience. i was never going to forget this.
how patriotic is this… the gate is a 5 meter aluminum sliding gate with the Pakistani flag painted. nice!!! i’m in one of many warehouses. bricked walls and columns hold a skeleton of wooden cross beams which are laced with a series of terracotta tiles dates 1856. i’m impressed. every wall and niche is an artwork, photographs, jeweled creations, fabric and awesomeness. a highly lacquered red baroque chair peaks from behind a what appears to be teak desk sizing a magnificent 3 m by 1.5 m. i love the two chandeliers that dangle on the sides of the desk.. and behind the infamous red chair… is a door.
i have many conversations in my head- some completely irrational and some that are more reasoning. i thought to myself…
this is where the magic happens. inspiration. creation.
this was the start of our collaboration. i obviously underestimated this dude…
this is the artist commune colony- Karachi
and now i’m here. sitting in this red chair, behind the desk, lighted by chandeliers infront of the door that goes somewhere.
day one- out!