Village life

So, I was thinking the other day that reading my blog must be a little bit like reading a postcard (especially the last entry). I really don’t like getting postcards – my dislike was founded last year when I got one from a friend whilst I was going through dissertation struggles over the summer – it wasn’t great reading about her holiday on the beach in Mallorca when I was stuck in the house from dawn to dusk over a hot computer. So, I’ve decided instead of always writing about myself I will interview some people so that you guys can get more of an idea of what life is like for Pakistanis.

The first girl I interviewed is about my age, but has had a completely different life to me. She grew up in a village in Hunza. I won’t mention her name to protect her anonymity, but we’ll call her Ayesha.

I was very interested to find out what life was like growing up in a village in mountainous Pakistan (particularly because I’ve just been watching ‘Lark Rise to Candleford’ – talk about nostalgia for an idyllic and lost rural past).

And one thing I clearly gathered from her was that things have changed in her village a lot since her childhood and traditions are being lost. This was exemplified by a lively argument between her and a few other women from Hunza during my interview about the exact nature of some of the festivals. This was only twenty something years ago. Even then the village was opening to the modern world – the KKH was open and foreigners were not unusual.

So, let me take you back to a village twenty-something years ago in the Northern Areas. Agriculture is the main source of income – her family was in agriculture, and had fields, goats, sheep and cows. It was the family that looked after the fields – there was no tradition of employing labour except when doing big works. There were no tractors, but things were done by hand, and with oxes. Animals lived in the houses with the families in many cases. Ayesha remembers enjoying giving the oxes food like dough and chapatti in the house – it made the ox very happy!

Now, oxes are no longer used at all now because of threshers. It seemed like she has mixed views regarding the influence of the modern world in her village. Beautiful traditions are being lost, but at the same time it must have been hard work. Apparently cows were used for threshing – someone had to hold a dustbin and run after the cow to catch its urine. Funny, but actually very hard work, and such a waste of time.

But in other respects this was clearly not your typical traditional rural and timeless Pakistani village (if there is such a place). Education, even twenty-something years ago was concerned of paramount importance, and a significant proportion of people’s income was invested in education. Now, three of her sisters have Masters degrees. And there were relatively liberal views – girls were not stopped from working, and there was a more relaxed attitude towards gender than in much of Pakistan – it is traditional with people from this area when they meet to kiss each others hands – very surprising for a country where it is unusual for men and women to even shake each others hands.

There were two major festivals that she told me about – Tahum and Cheneer, and both were based around the agricultural cycle. Tahum celebrated the beginning of spring. People cleaned their house and made traditional food, which was shared within the village, particularly among the elders. They went to the Jammat Khana early in the morning to pray. The Jammat Khana is the Ismaili mosque and centre of village life.

Cheneer was celebrated before the harvesting of the crops. There were slight arguments about what actually happened, but it seems that in the morning they first went to the Jammat Khana, and then went to the field and cut five pieces of wheat. Some of the wheat was tied on to the ceiling on a pillar. All the family members came together to grind the other bits of wheat and it was then put in some milk, which the elders drank.

Weddings are the other festival of great importance in the village. The nature of weddings varies from village to village, even within Hunza, and it seems like weddings are very simple in this village. Very unusually, the girls do not take a dowry with them to their new home, only a few items from their father’s house, and a few clothes. As part of the ceremony the bridegroom brings some suits of clothes for the bride. The bride is dressed very simply compared to other Pakistani weddings – there is no gold, and little make up. The actually wedding ceremony takes place at the Jammat Khana, where it sounds like it is similar to the Christian wedding – prayers are said, verses from the Qu’ran are read, jewellery is exchanged (although it doesn’t have to be rings) and the bride and groom are asked the ‘I do’s’.

On the seventh day after the wedding the bride returns to her father’s house with some chapattis, and this is when she can take implements and one piece of furniture from her father’s home to her new home.

Everyone in this village is Ismaili, and Ayesha is clearly proud to be an Ismaili. Women are able to go to the Jammat Khana to pray, and in the village they often go daily. Inside the Jammat Khana people pray and learn from the Imams, but it also a place where community affairs can be discussed. Ismailism is very tolerant; the Aga Khan is really respected and he interprets the Qu’ran and provides guidance on how to live as an Ismaili. Key messages that Ayesha told me are to respect your culture, make bridges with other communities, respect diversity and pluralism, fasting is not only a matter of not eating, but your whole life should be fasting from sin and evil. The main thing is to respect human beings – first of all, people are human.