Keeping my finances in perspective

At the 'Sunday Bazaar'--Karachi

As I’m finishing up my taxes here in my comfortable Montana home, it’s easy to complain about how much Uncle Sam wrests from me each year. It’s easy to look at my Adjusted Gross Income and wish the number was a little bigger or that I had spent less of it in the previous year.

But I’m quickly reminded of the sugar cane merchant I met in Karachi nearly two weeks ago.

He was calmly slicing chunks of cane, two or three inches long, over and over again. He would pile them into open plastic bags on the table in front of him.

I asked how long he’s been doing this work–about a decade.

I asked how much money he makes. He said on a good month he’ll make 5,000 Rupees.

That’s about $55.

The Streets of Pakistan

The streets of Pakistan have a certain anything-goes attitude. A two-lane road may just as easily be a six lane road depending on the time of day. Lane changes are announced by a series of honks or a lucky backfire. Speed seems entirely unregulated. So does jaywalking and might I say Pakistani pedestrians are the bravest jaywalking souls on this earth—sprinting into the mess with conviction.

Also, the standards for how one gets around are on a different level than the U.S.A. The teeming millions of Karachi (between 18 and 20 million) can be seen hanging onto the outside of buses or lounging on their roofs. Karachi-ites also climb onto motorcycles by twos and threes.

In fact, as our group was heading back to our Hotel one day after a trip to the beach we placed a friendly wager. We split into who thought we would first see (a): four people on a motorcycle or (b): a donkey cart. Seems ridiculous, right? Well we saw two sets of 4-guys-on-a-motorcycle in less than a minute. So we bumped it up to five people on a motorcycle…then saw that almost immediately. But it was all a matter of when we started the wager. Two or three minutes later we saw several donkey carts back to back.

Still, the general public must think it’s all pretty safe. I mean, it’s not like they were wearing seat belts or helmets or anything.  The number of helmets in the first picture in this post seems such a novelty.

Of diplomats and jet-lag

The U.S. Journalist delegation inside the Faisal Mosque, Pakistan's National Mosque

I’d say we have barely had time to think. But the truth is we have been spending all of our time thinking, learning–adjusting. Our days have consisted of moving from one high-profile meeting to another, from off the record meetings with top military officials of both nations and U.S. Ambassador Cameron Munter to candid discussions with NGOs and think tanks. It has been our mission to understand the Pakistani condition and to understand the U.S. relationship. Considering this week has been the first time the two governments have re-opened formal negotiations since last November’s NATO airstrike that killed 24 Pakistani soldiers, it’s couldn’t be a more relevant time for our goal.

I knew Pakistan would be a wholly-different culture, but this has been full-on culture shock. We’re staying in the Islamabad Marriott Hotel–which was attacked by a suicide bomber in 2008. the blast killed about 70 people. Getting into the building now requires driving through an obstacle course of road-blocks and passing through TSA style check points.

A tall blast-wall wraps around the hotel topped by razor wire. Armed guards and razor wire seem a feature of almost every developed home.

It’s an odd juxtaposition to the kindness of the people, a kindness that rarely reveals the difficulty and struggle of daily life here.

After our few days in the capitol city of Islamabad, we fly to Karachi this afternoon, but not before we pay a visit to Imran Kahn’s house.

Driving by an anti-American rally

A few hours in Japan

Our flight to Pakistan has been a whirlwind of long flights and small tastes of foreign cultures.

We landed in the Tokyo airport yesterday at 1 or 1:30 in the afternoon. Our flight left for Bangkok at 6-ish.

After getting through security and customs and the riding of Japanese public transit–A couple of the other fellows and I had about an hour or two to wander nearby Narita-town. We walked adorably narrow streets and made our way to a cool little temple.

I’m just heading out in Bangkok for the day. I can’t believe I’m writing that.

At least I’ll always have a small bit of proof that I was in Japan–if only for a fleeting moment:

Our friends from Pakistan

Ok, try to picture this: you’re a journalist from Pakistan. You’re daily reporting duties sometimes include covering the deaths of innocent civilians from suicide bombers. You receive personal death threats for your work from the Taliban and other extremist groups. You have colleagues, friends, who have been killed for their stories with impunity. The Pakistani Government is your biggest advertiser and blackmails your organization with pulling financial support for coverage that’s too critical of the establishment.

And your first impression of the United States of America is Oahu.

With one exception, the Pakistani journalists on my exchange program have never been to the U.S. before. They are men and women of the highest journalistic pedigree. Most have one or several master’s degrees. There’s a PhD-candidate in there. They work under more difficult circumstances than I could ever dream of, yet are filled with kindness, sincerity and deep conviction.

“I can imagine no more beautiful city than Honolulu,” said Shabbir Ahmad, a producer with the Geo TV Network in Islamabad.

Don’t get me wrong, I was freaking out too. I haven’t been to Hawaii since I was in 4th grade.  I soaked up every last beautiful minute in paradise, from our half-island tour to a long-overdue reunion with my old High School buddy, Matt Pollard.

But watching Imrana Saghar, a reporter with the Daily Express in Multan, was watching an entirely different kind of joy. She had never been outside of her home country before this excursion. When she got to the beach at Waikiki, she threw aside her jacket and let the advancing surf drench her head to toe.

As I watched, she wrote into the sand, “Make our wish.”

The Pakistanis are now in Washington D.C. with other legs to come in New York City and Columbia, Missouri.

I’ll have the chance to ask Imrana about her wish when I see her again in just under two weeks—in Honolulu again.

I’m writing this now from my hotel in Bangkok.

Hawaii finished (for now)–To Japan!

Most of the Pakistan-U.S. Journalists Exchange in Oahu

I’m just getting ready to turn in after two unforgettable days in Honolulu. It’s been so humbling to enjoy paradise with these driven, world-class journalists from both Pakistan and the United States.

There’s much I look forward to sharing from the Hawaiian leg of our journey. I’ll write some of it up from the plane ride to Japan.

That takes me across the date line, so I’ll catch up in a few days!