An extraordinary and strange morning
Filed Under Curtain Rods | Posted on December 15, 2007
An extraordinary morning in Lahore where I’m writing a magazine feature about madrassahs (Islamic schools).
I’m trying to avoid the usual rubbish (you read plenty of it after the 7/7 bombings) about madrassahs being terrorist training camps and departments of Islamic brainwashing. The lofty aim is to paint a genuine picture of life in a madrassah as experienced by a young student.
I’m co-writing this project with a Pakistani author who has spent five years writing a book on the subject, so it should have some real insight (his not mine!) All the same, it’s been one of those days of contrast that only the sub-continent can provide.
In the morning I interviewed a corpulent mullah who is also a ‘peer’ (sufi or saint) and is treated as such by his followers. While he talked two grown men spent the two hours massaging his hands and feet and alternately handing him one of his two mobile phones or a glass of water. When they left the room they walked out backwards, half bowing as they went.
I also interviewed a classroom of female students but (and this must be the weirdest interview I’ve ever conducted) the entire 40-strong class was hidden from view behind a thick curtain. The Mullah himself teaches the girls from behind the same curtain, using a microphone.
The girls are forbidden from talking amongst each other so they have microphones of their own. These serve the dual purpose of enabling the girls to ask questions to the Mullah while also picking up on any idle (and illegal) chit-chat.
The funniest part came as I embraced the Mullah goodbye and – over his shoulder – espied three smiling, young faces peeking round the curtain to catch a glimpse of the foreigner, which kind of undermined the great charade – and reminded me that this life, while strange to us Westerners, might not be totally miserable.
After this, to lunch, where my Pakistani colleague took me a restaurant called Smoking Gun which was a perfect replica of a themed America steakhouse. The burgers (beef is an illicit pleasure if you live in a Hindu country) were perfectly char-grilled, the fries were crispy and the ’slaw crunchy too. All served on diner-style banquettes with paper place settings and ‘rude’ ‘Texan’ waiters dressed as cowboys in bell-bottomed denims, felt Stetson hats, big shiny buckles and pointy boots.
The contrast, and the blaring Country and Western music, was enough to make you dizzy.
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