Karachi
At the beginning of 1993 Yasmin, Azzam and I returned to Australia for a visit. We arrived in Australia in January after an eventful plane flight where Yasmin went missing in Karachi. The plane had a stopover at Karachi Airport in Pakistan and the passengers were bundled into buses and taken to a hotel for 20 hours because of a delay in the departure of our adjoining flight.
Once we were provided with the key to our ground level hotel room and we had made ourselves comfortable, I then gave the children a shower and left them to watch the television whilst I tried to take one, but was hampered in my efforts by my skirt. I was unable to undo the zipper because it had broken in Damascus and my sister in law Shehood had sewn me into it so all I could manage was to put my head and shoulders under the water. The weather was stifling and humid and the room had no air conditioner, only a fan. Whilst I was in the bathroom the children had opened the door to the room that led onto a paved area next to a well manicured lawn. Yasmin decided to wander off but Azzam stayed behind and when I found her missing I panicked and kept yelling out her name and asked everyone I met had they seen her, but there was a language barrier and they didn't understand what I was saying. I left Azzam in the room with the door locked and ran down a path that led to tourist shops in which I began looking for her whilst still calling out her name. Finally she appeared from a shop that sold crystals and she was quite unconcerned or unaware of the upset she had caused. I grabbed her, cuddled her and then told her to never ever go walkabout on her own again. She was five years old.
Azzam was not impressed to be left by himself but I had to make a choice and leaving him safely in the room for a few minutes whilst I searched for Yasmin was the best decision I could make at that time.
I was never so happy as when the children and I boarded the plane at Karachi airport, although there were still a few more dramas to overcome before that moment.
Dinner was served in the hotel restaurant and they offered a buffet style meal. I had asked the waitress about the meals I had chosen for the children and she had assured me they were not made with chilli or hot curry.
The thought of a peaceful enjoyable meal was a welcoming relief from the days emotionally draining emergency, until I heard an almighty scream coming from Azzam as he started to run around the restaurant yelling for water. I begged the waitress to bring a jug and chased Azzam until he finally stopped and guzzled as much water as his poor little 4 year old body could handle. That was the end of that meal and we returned to our room and I fed Yasmin unappetising leftover crushed biscuits.
Finally, the bus arrived to take us back to Karachi airport to catch another flight, which was again delayed. It was late at night so the children fell asleep on an airport lounge. After an hour or so we were told our plane was ready to depart and if we could proceed towards the departure gate with our tickets. I desperately tried to wake Azzam up but to no avail. Yasmin woke and could walk but I had our bags to carry and could not lift Azzam as well. There were no staff to help or trolleys and if it hadn't been for a Filipino angel we would not have made that flight. She offered to carry Azzam on her shoulder onto the bus that drove across the tarmac to the awaiting aeroplane and then up the stairs and into the planes cabin where she laid him down in his seat and he stayed asleep until Singapore. I thanked her with all my heart and asked her why she had no baggage. She told me she was working as a servant in a wealthy home in Beirut, Lebanon to support her family back home, but her visa ran out and she was picked up without any of her belongings by the immigration police and sent back to her country with a one way ticket.
We changed planes at Singapore and I knew I was in the company of fellow Australians. There was a difference in the behaviour of passengers on planes filled with predominately Arabic people or Australians. Arabic people were noisier, more friendlier and tended to play with my children. Azzam was offered a Toblerone chocolate on the plane from Damascus and he ended up covered in it. At Karachi airport he started banging the glass window in the passengers lounge and crying to go outside to play with the aeroplanes. I'm sure part of that not so unusual behaviour was a sugar high. Australians tended to keep to themselves and not interfere with the peace and quiet of others, unlike the Arabic women who would ask me anything and everything and nothing was out of bounds. Personally, I like a mixture of both cultures.
page 34
Once we were provided with the key to our ground level hotel room and we had made ourselves comfortable, I then gave the children a shower and left them to watch the television whilst I tried to take one, but was hampered in my efforts by my skirt. I was unable to undo the zipper because it had broken in Damascus and my sister in law Shehood had sewn me into it so all I could manage was to put my head and shoulders under the water. The weather was stifling and humid and the room had no air conditioner, only a fan. Whilst I was in the bathroom the children had opened the door to the room that led onto a paved area next to a well manicured lawn. Yasmin decided to wander off but Azzam stayed behind and when I found her missing I panicked and kept yelling out her name and asked everyone I met had they seen her, but there was a language barrier and they didn't understand what I was saying. I left Azzam in the room with the door locked and ran down a path that led to tourist shops in which I began looking for her whilst still calling out her name. Finally she appeared from a shop that sold crystals and she was quite unconcerned or unaware of the upset she had caused. I grabbed her, cuddled her and then told her to never ever go walkabout on her own again. She was five years old.
Azzam was not impressed to be left by himself but I had to make a choice and leaving him safely in the room for a few minutes whilst I searched for Yasmin was the best decision I could make at that time.
I was never so happy as when the children and I boarded the plane at Karachi airport, although there were still a few more dramas to overcome before that moment.
Dinner was served in the hotel restaurant and they offered a buffet style meal. I had asked the waitress about the meals I had chosen for the children and she had assured me they were not made with chilli or hot curry.
The thought of a peaceful enjoyable meal was a welcoming relief from the days emotionally draining emergency, until I heard an almighty scream coming from Azzam as he started to run around the restaurant yelling for water. I begged the waitress to bring a jug and chased Azzam until he finally stopped and guzzled as much water as his poor little 4 year old body could handle. That was the end of that meal and we returned to our room and I fed Yasmin unappetising leftover crushed biscuits.
Finally, the bus arrived to take us back to Karachi airport to catch another flight, which was again delayed. It was late at night so the children fell asleep on an airport lounge. After an hour or so we were told our plane was ready to depart and if we could proceed towards the departure gate with our tickets. I desperately tried to wake Azzam up but to no avail. Yasmin woke and could walk but I had our bags to carry and could not lift Azzam as well. There were no staff to help or trolleys and if it hadn't been for a Filipino angel we would not have made that flight. She offered to carry Azzam on her shoulder onto the bus that drove across the tarmac to the awaiting aeroplane and then up the stairs and into the planes cabin where she laid him down in his seat and he stayed asleep until Singapore. I thanked her with all my heart and asked her why she had no baggage. She told me she was working as a servant in a wealthy home in Beirut, Lebanon to support her family back home, but her visa ran out and she was picked up without any of her belongings by the immigration police and sent back to her country with a one way ticket.
We changed planes at Singapore and I knew I was in the company of fellow Australians. There was a difference in the behaviour of passengers on planes filled with predominately Arabic people or Australians. Arabic people were noisier, more friendlier and tended to play with my children. Azzam was offered a Toblerone chocolate on the plane from Damascus and he ended up covered in it. At Karachi airport he started banging the glass window in the passengers lounge and crying to go outside to play with the aeroplanes. I'm sure part of that not so unusual behaviour was a sugar high. Australians tended to keep to themselves and not interfere with the peace and quiet of others, unlike the Arabic women who would ask me anything and everything and nothing was out of bounds. Personally, I like a mixture of both cultures.
page 34
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