Thursday, November 19, 2009

Ishkoman, I’m Coming – Day 3: Eid Mubarak

Eid-al Fitr is Pakistani Halloween. Everyone dresses up in their new Shalwar Kimeez, the traditional Pakistani duds, and children's shouts of "trick or treat" sounds more like "tea and fruit." It is the day after the last day of the month of Ramadan ("Ramazan" in Urdu) for which all Muslims fast during the day and only eat at night and in the early morning before the sun comes up. When you can eat at natural times again, it's only natural to have a celebration.

We took a walking tour of the entirety of Shonas and stopped at about 8 houses for 18 cups of tea and even more homemade cream, biscuits, egg-noodles in a sweet milk soup, almonds, apples.


At Ayub's family's house, we were greeted by "the Mullah," Ayub's brother and all-around nice guy who had a reputation for the hottest dancing feet on this side of the valley. He had a beard sans-moustache and he wore Chitrali Cap, also known by its Afghan name "Pawkul" popularized by anti-soviet resistance fighter Ahmed Shah Masoud.

He sat down, Murad said something in dialect, probably Khowar, then everyone laughed and had a hearty round of high-fives, except for Mullah who chuckled and wore a smile of embarrassment on his beard-faced face.

"I just said that he looks like a Taliban and that the foreigners must be terrified," Murad expounded in between sounds of stifled laughter. To be honest, he looks more Mennonite than he does Taliban.

Mullah, deep in thought:

As we walked from house to house, we were greeted on the streets by many a stranger who just wanted to tap my heart, shake hands and say "Eid mubarak" - Happy Eid.

It is the feeling of the genuineness of your reception that makes Eid-al Fitr so special. People do really just want to take a friend into their house for 10 minutes and give them a biscuit as they schmooze over a cup of chai. At Mahboob's house, we sat outside on a set of patio furniture that looked like it had been stolen from my grandparents' old duplex in Queens - chipped white paint, rusted iron, wicker-pattern chairs. His 4 year old daughter came up to me and started speaking to me, first in dialect (Khowar, Shina?), then in Urdu. I used my minimal Urdu to ask her name "Apka nam kya heh?" then tell her my name "Mera nam Jono heh." We became fast friends. Murad was talking to Mahboob while his daughter would run off somewhere then bring back something to show me, then speak to me in Urdu, none of which I understood. First she handed me an apple, then she disappeared and brought back a cat. I don't think I was supposed to eat the cat, but I was gracious for the apple.


We made it to Wazir's house by sundown. He had offered to host us the night before but was beat to the punch by the comic king Jageer. Wazir looks like Pakistani Elvis, an occasionally wore aviator sunglasses - he was the coolest kid in Shonas, especially while wearing sexy eyewear.

The façade of his cool came crashing down as he met us at the door of his house. With a pout, he said "I've been waiting all day for you guys! I had all these eggs hardboiled for you!" 2 things: 1) In hearing that we would spend the night at his place, he had assumed that we would be with him all day as well. 2) He prepared about 10 hardboiled eggs to "egg fight" with.

There were 3 local boys, Wazir, Wazir's son, Wazir's brother Abdul, Matt, Murad, Jageer, and Myself. An egg fight, as explained by Wazir is: "I don't even like it, I think it is stupid. But I will fight you with my egg." You find an egg you like, and you tap your opponent's egg until one of them cracks, the one whose egg does not crack is the winner. He shrugged off eggfights like it was a child's game, but he put on his game face and smashed eggs at a near-olympic level.

It was a boy's night out: we ate dinner with our hands, had eggfights, played cards, played with guns, sang and danced and played sitar into the night. The card game "Big 2" was a big hit.

Intoxicated on competition (eggs and cards), Wazir began to talk. He told us how Abdul used to fight and drink alcohol until a priest convinced him to be a better Muslim. Before, Abdul looked like Daniel Day-Lewis from "Gangs of New York," now he looks Amish. He made us promise that we'd go fishing with him the next day. He told us that I looked like the old Chitrali man who used to come to his village to fix broken cups.

Wazir with an old picture of Abdul:
Abdul now, in the background:

Wazir showing his guns:


Eid Mubarak everyone, peace on earth.

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