9. Welcome to madness. Karachi

Here we are. Karachi, where our days come to an end. Well, it was nice to know you Callum, I loved you. Ali, a guy with pink glasses on his nose that was supposed to be our host just brought us to some dark street with strange people staring at us. A man with a gun is slowly walking towards us… hiding gun behind his belt…and… walking away? I’m taking my backpack pretending that I didn’t see anything. ”Its just for security, hehe”, Ali said. That’s how our Pakistani experience started. Pretty extreme I must say but it prepared us for what was coming- one big adrenaline trip;)

our guide and best man Ali!

We arrived to Karachi when the Eid al-Adha celebration started. Callum was quite excited to see the dead cows and goats and even though I didn’t share his enthusiasm I was still curious of  the coming days. Shahid, our main host (during 3 days we had a cay with almost all neighbourhood) was the big boss of the family and provided us the best first experience in Pakistan. Ali, our potencial kidnapper was a great man and our personal guide showing the best places in and around Karachi. It’s surprising how you can get on with someone despite all the cultural differences. We had lots of fun together and in the end we sealed our friendship by promising to find him some Western woman so he seemed very content.

Sunset on Clifton beach

The day before Qurbani sacrifice I was being transformed into Pakistani when I was taken to the cave of about 10 women who were ready to cover half of their body with henna. They managed to cover my arms as well and I would be happy enough to stay like this but they decided to decorate me with typical Pakistani outfit. Everything great if it wasn’t all pink. Anyway, I really appreciated their job and as Pakistani women are quite conservative and closed-minded I tried to explain them gently that I travel for fun and I don’t believe in Allah at all.

Cow stomachs after qurbani sacrifice

-“Its done”, I heard slowly opening my eyes. “What?”, I asked. “ The goat”. Did I just miss the most important part of the celebration? I went downstairs checking whats going on. Few men were taking off the goats skin and blood was everywhere in the hall. No apron, no gloves, nothing. Why not. Outside others were preparing to sacrifice next goat. “Sacrifice” means cutting animals throat. Only then its “halal”. The views were terrible but I was ready to taste what I’ve just seen. I expected a big dinner altogether but unfortunately I ended eating alone while all the men of the family celebrated the feast in the separated room. I disliked it but what could I do. As the conversation with females wasn’t really satifying (none of them could speak English and they were cooking for the whole day) I let the kids pull me wherever they wanted and take me to the roof where, dancing to some Pakistani songs, we became ‘forever friends’.

My little friends always ready to play 😉



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