Attock Diaries

Abdul Rehman awkwardly held the two brand new clutches I had brought to Attock. The ‘phulkari’ embroidery on them had been done by the girls a few months back – it was one of my favorites, and we’d gone through a few design iterations with a new bagmaker in Lahore to get it to its final shape.

 

He turned around the strapless clutch in his hand a couple times, then looked at me with a lopsided smile. “Iss ko pakray gaa kaisay?” (How do you hold this?). I couldn’t help giggling; the design was definitely too trendy for Abdul Rehman’s taste.

At the school that evening, I saw some new faces—something that always makes me happy. Habiba, a middle-aged woman I had spoken to and enrolled in BLISS last September, looked at some of the sample bags I had brought with me. The blue and white basket-style Multani bag caught her eye. “Give this to me as a gift”, she beamed, expectantly.

“Well Habiba, this is a sample, but the money from selling the bags will come back to you.” I explained.

“I don’t want the money, you can keep that if you give me the bag.” She replied. A few other girls giggled.

“What do you do with the money you get every month?” I asked.

She frowned. “It gets spent on the children. Their books, school fees…”

“Isn’t that better than owning a handbag?” I asked.

She paused for a second to think about that, then offered: “My kids will use the bag too!”

I suppose women everywhere like pretty things. Especially pretty things they have had a role in creating.

At the other school, Fariba and Fatima, two of the most outgoing girls, asked me again how long I was in Pakistan for. I explained that I was here to stay now. I had quit my job in the US.

They looked shocked for a second. “Have you found a new job here yet?” asked Fatima.

“This is my job! My work with you, this class, the handbags..” I replied.

They considered that for a moment, and then broke into smiles. “Acha kiya aap nay! (You did the right thing!)” said Fatima.

The reassurance, albeit from a 14-year old, felt comforting.

Waiting. Waiting For The World To Help

The city of Attock in northern Punjab – home to the Barakat school where BLISS is operating – had thankfully been spared the havoc wreaked by the floods in other parts of the country. The cities of Nowshera and Swat in Khyber Pakhtoonkhwa had been hit the worst. Houses, crops, livestock, and in some cases, people, had been swept away. In a shop in Karachi, I heard first-hand the story of a man whose elderly mother had been carried away by the treacherous flood waters as he watched helplessly.

Photo courtesy of The Big Picture

A few hundred Afghans from Swat and Nowshera were now seeking refuge with relatives and friends in Attock.  Those that barely got by themselves were trying to house 5, 10, in some cases 15 more people in their homes. I had seen hundreds of heartbreaking images of the victims before reaching Attock, but meeting them and hearing their stories took the pain to another level.

The water had come suddenly and with force. In Nowshera, it stood at deeper than 25 feet at one point. The locals had fled their

I Choose School

Pay Day

The day started with a scare – as we drove to Attock from Islamabad once more, I suddenly noticed a frog perched comfortably between my arm and my handbag. What followed is hard to describe but approximately half a second later, I had dashed out the car door, and was waiting on the street-side for the driver to rid the car of the slimy creature.

Back in Attock, accompanied by Farah and Afeefa, the school teachers, I met with 2 families in their homes. Together, they represented the two extremes I had seen among the Turkmen when it came to levels of conservativeness.

The first was home to Zulfia, a 15-year old girl who lived with her brother and sister-in-law. The brother was a friendly 30-something year old, who welcomed us inside with a big smile.

Back In Attock!

A bumpy ride through pouring rain and crazy-as-ever traffic in Rawalpindi and I was on my way to Attock. 9 months had passed since I was there last. Shazia, the school principal, told me the girls were beside themselves with excitement that ‘Saba Madam’ was finally visiting again. My feelings exactly, I had thought.

As we reached the checkpoint at Kamra – the gateway to the city of Attock – I noticed barbed wire, hordes of military personnel, and sandbag fortifications where there had been none before. As an explanation for this, my mind flashed back to the suicide attack on the military base in Kamra in October 2009, that killed 7 people and wounded a dozen. The road had now been closed to civilians. A 15km dirt-road detour north of Kamra got us to Attock through a place called Haji Shah.

My first stop was the Barakat school in People’s Colony where we had kicked off the pilot last October. I had barely greeted the familiar chowkidaar (guard) at the gate, when I saw a slender man in white shalwar qameez, a large smile on his face, walking very briskly towards me – Abdul Rehman! He greeted me with a nod of the head and continued to beam: “Saba! Kaisa hai aap?” (Saba, how are you?). I had grown to ignore the way he mixed up the genders when he spoke Urdu. Closely behind him was an equally excited Shazia. We exchanged hugs and continued to her office, where, despite my repeated instructions that no elaborate lunches should be served like last time, there were signs of one in the making.

Abdul Rehman

Over lunch, Shazia shared some bad news. The devastating floods in the north had swept away her grandparents’ and extended