First day at work

Today is the big day, first day at work. We’re going to start doing what we came for. But what exactly would that be? I don’t know yet.
As you know, I came to Pakistan for “Karachi, my love!” but nearly decided for “HAQ – your right” instead. I had asked my project manager earlier if there was a way for me to do both, to somehow join HAQ while still doing my own project, and apparently there was: Because it had become clear that we would only be two interns (as the girls from Nicaragua and Nigeria couldn’t join us for some last minute problems, I think visa issues or something) now the AIESECers had even more devotion to adapt to us two and please us, so they helped me arrange the two projects in my timetable and with the NGOs.
Btw, have you ever had 30 people offering their help, letting you know that they will do whatever they can and be there for you, in case you have any questions or problems? That you shouldn’t hesitate to contact them, if you need anything? No? Well, we do whenever we meet new people, even more when we’re on an AIESEC event like the one yesterday , where we were treated like celebrities. Everybody, including random strangers whose name we forgot the minute we heard them, wanted to take pictures with us, especially with the tall white Vivian…

Now I will be going to the War Against Rape office three days a week, while 3 days a week I work on my blog for Peace Niche from home.
Last night we decided with Faria that I would start with HAQ, so Vivian and I could go to work together at our first day. It took us a while to find the place this morning, although Faria had been there before, so we drove around the block for a few minutes, before in a small, dirty street they eventually dropped us off and we entered a building, in which all doors were immensely secured. Up the stairs and there we were, infront of a door with a big sign on it: “War Against Rape since 1989”.
When we knocked and they let us in, a man and a woman were reading the newspapers (searching them for any articles on women rights, rape cases and anything else related to WAR’s work; to stay up to date, they start all working days like this, they explained to us later). They welcomed us and briefly introduced us to their work, before the coordinator came and introduced us to WAR’s work on a deeper level. It turned out there had been a misunderstanding and the coordinator thought I was the girl from Nicaragua, but we cleared that up quickly and I sent her my CV, so she could assign me more suited work.

The first day we had to get familiar with the issues WAR deals with every day, so everything we did (and everything we could do as freshly arrived) was reading booklets and WAR’s own publications which include many, many case studies on rape cases, law commentaries and general discussions about the situation and single aspects of it. Some publications of WAR’s are online, on their homepage http://www.war.org.pk, in case you want to check them out.
For lunch, the office workers ordered Pulao for us, a traditional Pakistani rice and chicken dish, after talking traditional dishes with us, explaining how they were differently prepared and eventually recommending this one for not being too spicy. They all had brought their home-made lunch, but it was lovely to eat all together, the 6 office workers and us two interns. Sharing really is a big thing in Pakistan, and again you could tell – they didn’t just share their food with each other, but also made us try everything they had brought and shared their rutis with us.

Office hours at War Against Rape are 9:30am-5:30pm, so when by 9:25 Vivian and I still weren’t sure who was going to come and pick us up, while office workers started packing their stuff together to get on their 2-hours bus ride home, we started to get nervous and I borrowed a phone to call Faria – just to be surprised.

We weren’t picked up by Faria, as we thought, but by Dhanak.  Dhanak, my project manager, the girl who had convinced me to choose “Karachi, my love!” (her project, as you can guess) over HAQ, the girl who I had been talking to on whatsapp and facebook for weeks now; who I apparently have a lot in common with – I mean, how big is the chance to find someone in Pakistan who did rowing in the same semi-professional extent that you did yourself? –  and who gave me valuable advice concerning clothes and packing; the girl whose name means rainbow, as Faria told us, who, according to last year’s intern from Mexico, looks Mexican (which I am, partly) and who I have been compared to so many times now by common friends, without having met her in person… until now 😉

After work the three of us went to Espresso, a normal coffee shop, where we met with Faria before going home and continuing our girls chat there. Spontaniously, our friends Usman and Sufian invited us to go for Sheesha, which Vivian and I happily accepted. They took us to Sattar Buksh (yes, it is supposed to sound like Starbucks), a place with a nice outside sitting area and really good berry smoothies,
but when the guys curiously asked if we had Sheesha in Europe and how it was different, we had to disappoint them and all curious readers: it’s really just the same.
Sorry. I mean, it was still good, but just not new to us and the fun we had was more because of the people we went with and the stuff we talked about 😉

I nearly forgot to mention: Usman is a selfie addict.

So we had a discussion about how selfies were so 2011 but then decided to also give his arguments some credit and just try it. It was quite fun, I have to admit. But then, again, there are different kinds of selfies and not all of them are as cool as ours, right?

Welcome to Pakistan??!

I would’ve never imagined to have so much trouble entering a country like Pakistan as a German/EU citizen…
So here’s the story of my arrival and first day in Pakistan:

At Istanbul Ataturk Airport I was supposed to meet Vivian, the other German intern who would take the same connection flight to Karachi; but well, let’s say once she had found me (dressed in my bright green hoodie, so she’d recognize me) at the gate, she had to wait a while for me to wake up. (Sorry for that, Vivian, hope waiting alone wasn’t too boring.)
We didn’t sit next to each other in the plane but we both had some serious sleep deficit, anyway, so guess what I did? And that was the problem!
Because I slept during the whole flight, they didn’t give me any food 😦 and they didn’t give me that form, that little piece of paper you need to fill out to enter the country.

So when we arrived and reached the passport control and I didn’t have it, apparently they were thinking I had sneaked into the country illegally or something. It was specially weird, because at 5am there were maaaany men at the airport (either traditionally dressed or in uniform) and just one lonely queue particularly for women and children at the passport control – but as they were all very Pakistani-looking, we queued behind some Turkish men instead.
Vivian, of course, could present her filled out form, but because of me, we were sent from one officer to the next, until one random guy offered his help  – he even gave Vivian his phone number! She is very eqe-catching here in Pakistan, being 1,80m tall and quite white, so no wonder she had a first admirer in less than 15 minutes! 😀 He led us to a desk and jumped the queue for us, where the officer checked all my papers, flight ticket, passport, visa, invitation letter etc. in a quite Germanly accurate way; but he didn’t seem very convinced, not even after ringing the AIESEC Vice President for Incoming Exchange out of bed, who assured him everything was all right.

Eventually, they let us go, but more than an hour had passed and we were afraid the AIESECers supposed to pick us up, had left again – but luckily they hadn’t. They were both male, of course, as no decent woman is on the street at that time of the day, right? (I know my mum will love to read this last sentence, so I’ll just say hi to her: hola mami, espero que estés bien)

We drove directly to our first host family, Faria’s family, where we were greeted warmly by the whole family and got our first introduction into Pakistani culture. Like, did you know that in Pakistani houses they have a room specially for guests, like a second living room but used only for the purpose of receiving guests? It’s also supposed to be the most fancy room in the house.

The rest of the day was all about getting that sleep we so desperately needed, eating delicious homemade

Pakistani food (the grandma here is a great cook! she made it extra non-spicy at first) and chatting with the family members, whose English is very good. In the evening, when Faria came back from uni, we went kurta shopping in a mall in a shop called Khaadi, which is supposed to be the nicest place to buy kurtas in Karachi. While Vivian’s is too short – because, let’s face it, how many Pakistani girls are really tall? – mine was actually a little too big, I keep stepping on it when going upstairs. Still, I don’t feel as tiny as in Germany, I fit in rather neatly here 😉