We have arrived. From the modern motorway, which really looks kind of like the 401, we turned out to this tooty pooty dirt road where we shared road space with cows, bicycles, Tangas, wagons and all manner of shit. No really, shit. That's not a euphemism, there really was shit everywhere.
Along the side of the road we saw various manners of dhabas, mud huts, Charpais and other forms of housing, all covered with what my son excitedly calls "chocolate cupcakes". These chocolate cupcakes, for those who don't know, are made from cow dung (Atleast I hope it's cow dung but who knows) that are used as a fuel source for cooking. They are shared into patties and put on the houses to dry out in the sun, and are the single greatest contributor to the trademark gaon scent that permeates through the air.
We finally reach the gaon and go into Aymens family home, which is a haveli style ( open courtyard with rooms off the courtyard, and then a raised roof you can walk on and see below into the home). It's bustling, there is a tent going up in the middle for the valima, people everywhere, a full service kitchen dispatching chai trays with nibbles, to various parts of the house, a busy tandoor making dozens and dozens of fresh tandoori naans, huge daygs in which food is being prepared for the nights events. We sit down for a cup of chai which is not bad but tastes, well, different. It's got milkpak in it so I'm wondering what this new flavour is. Aymen is with me and takes a sip, first words out of her mouth, it tastes like goober. What is goober? Well, it's what those aforementioned chocolate cupcakes are made of. I decided at that moment I was not drinking chai the rest of the trip.
We decided to go for a walk in the village. This was actually a lot of fun. The road in the village is filled with village children, cows, goats and chickens (basically, live dinner). Cayden had a ball, feeding the goats, running after chickens. Within ten minutes he looked exactly like the rest of the gaon children. You couldn't tell his clothes were from Zara or that he was North American. With dirt on his face, shit on his shoes, snot running down his face due to all the dirt/allergies, he looked like he fit in just fine. Yay for me!
For those of you following the blog for the potty humor and shit stories. There will be a lot of that in this post. First, the kids were treated to the sight of a large cow shitting in front of them. Or in the words of Saifaan, "Aisha aunty, that cow did potty In front of everybody!". Oh yes he did. Maneuvering a toddler out of big piles of shit while trying to avoid carrying him as his shoes and clothes are already covered in big piles of shit and who knows what else was not fun. Probably not a good idea to wear a light colored outfit that you actually like.
Cayden decided that if there was a pile of shit in the road, he was going to step in it. I don't get it, I guess it's soft and squishy? All I can say is, if there was a single piece of shit on the road, my son stepped in it. Guess he takes after his dad after all.
We ended our walk in the kaith, outside of the village walls with big open fields of saag and other crops and beautiful picturesque landscapes. Don't really have anything negative to say here, it as beautiful, the sun was setting and we were all able to indulge our filmi alter egos and take beautiful shots in fields of flowers.
My funniest experience in the gaon was talking to Aymens chacha, who lives in the US and hasn't been to Pakistan in 37 years. When I asked him if the gaon was as he remembered, he said "this is the filthiest place on earth. It's just filthy. I left here 37 years ago and it has gotten worse". When people asked us what we thought of the gaon, and we told them it was very different, he told us to stop being diplomatic. Lol.
The next morning, my stomach is feeling a little queasy. I share this with Omar who smiles and pulls out his camera to share pictures of the food preparation process. Basically all the meat was skinned and feathered on site, with carcasses laid on sheets on the floor. Then, meat was butchered and butchered pieces were tossed into a Charpai that is lined with a bed sheet where it sits in the sun till the butchering Is done. No one is wearing gloves, and apron and judging from the pics, I'm not sure if they are adhering to hand washing protocol. Oh my lord. Where is Azhar and his bootleg amoxicillin when I need it? I'm also wishing I brought my own sheets as I'm not sure of the origin of the sheets on the bed I slept on last night. Luckily it wasn't a Charpai.
Omar was smart enough to shower before heading to the village. I on the other hand, am indebted to flush able wipes and anti perspirant. The "shower" consists of a communal stone walled area that comes up to mid chest, located in the front entrance to the haveli. I am not joking. Judging from the number of shirtless men wrapped in towels I see walking around in the early morning it seemed to be very popular. I tried to convince Omar but he wasn't having it. I was later told there are indoor shower facilities for women however at this point I figured I would just shower when I returned to civilization! Our bathroom did not have a lock on the door and so taking a shower just sounded like it would be a stressful experience.
We ran out of toilet paper shortly before leaving, which to my mind signified our time in the village had come to an end.
All in all, a different experience, fun in its own way bit can I say, I am very glad we were only there for 26 hours :)
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