Of Dasterkhwans, Pilgrims and Hospitality

The dictionary defines hospitality as a friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors or strangers.

Different people in the world practice hospitality differently. For some, a formal dinner with expensive china and exquisite food and service is considered the epitome of hospitality. However, in my book, it is the spontaneous and unfettered offer of food, shelter or companionship to others, particularly to strangers.

Historically, the mention of hospitality is found in ancient Greece where hospitality was considered a right and the host was expected to make sure the needs of the guests were met. On the other hand, the guest was also expected to abide by a set code of behaviour. The ritualized host-guest relationship was codified in the Homeric epics particularly in the Odyssey. Additionally, all religions emphasize the importance of hospitality in believers’ life.

Eastern societies take pride in being hospitable. The Arabs, Persians and Pakistanis are known for their hospitality. The epitome of hospitality is Abul Hassan, a character in one of the stories in the Alf Laila or Thousand and One Nights. Each evening he waits at the bridge over the River Tigris (Dajla in Arabic and Urdu) to see if he could find a traveler entering the city who was in need of food and shelter.

A search of literature on the subject puts Pashtun hospitality very much on top. Hospitality is part of the unwritten Pashtun code of Pashtunwali. In addition to extension of unrestrained hospitality, the code calls for granting asylum to whoever ask for it, to seek justice and to avenge an insult.

In the Pashtun hinterland a stranger appearing in a mosque at prayer times become the guest of the village. The concept of hospitality extends also to anyone who happens to pass through the village.

The famous squash wizard Hashim Khan and his family were dear friends. Once when I happen to visit Detroit, just 50 miles north of Toledo where I live, I called Hashim’s home to say hello. His wife answered the phone and invited me to lunch. I told her that I had come to Detroit for a medical symposium and would leave soon after the symposium ended. She said “How is it possible that you have come to our village and you will not have a meal with us?” It did not matter that they lived in a metropolitan city of 1.5 million, the concept of village and hospitality remained constant in their lives. After Eid prayers, while greeting people, Hashim would invite anyone he met, for lunch at his home. Hashim Khan and his family carried the village of Nawa Killi with them where ever they went.

I also saw a glimpse of Pashtun hospitality during Hajj in 1982.

The strangeness of such an offer during Hajj rituals was not lost on me. But then he was doing what he was programmed to do. To accept his invitation, we would have had to leave the noble sanctuary to go outside. He was willing to set aside the rituals to fulfill his obligation as
a Pashtun!

While performing the ritual of Sai’ that consists of making seven walks/runs between the hillocks of Safa and Marva, I took a break to drink from the waters of Zam Zam. There I saw an elderly bearded man at one of the water fountains. He looked like a peasant from the Pashtun hinterland. I greeted him with the usual Pashtun greeting ‘May You Never Be Tired’. His eyes lit up and he opened his arms and embraced me.

He was a farmer from a village near the town of Mardan in Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa. He had saved all his life to be able to make the pilgrimage. After few minutes, I begged his leave so I could continue with the ritual. Instead of opening his arms for a parting hug, he asked me to stay for tea. The strangeness of such an offer during Hajj rituals was not lost on me. But then he was doing what he was programmed to do. To accept his invitation, we would have had to leave the noble sanctuary to go outside. He was willing to set aside the rituals to fulfill his obligation as a Pashtun!

I thanked him and said “We will do that some other time, God willing.” We parted on that note.

As children, the importance of hospitality was instilled in us on a daily basis. Though ours was a lower-middle-class family, at every meal there was enough food made to accommodate a few extra people if some visitors happened to drop in at mealtime.

Ours was a traditional household. Meals were eaten on the carpeted floor around a dasterkhwan or a tablecloth. At the time, the specially made dasterkhwans were colorful with flower motifs and Urdu and Farsi couplets – ashaar – written along the edges. They were made by master chaapagars using wooden engraved blocks and indelible inks. A sample of the inscribed poetry is as follows:

Shukr ka moqaa hai, tohmat na rakh mehmaan par

Rizq yeh khata hai apnaa tere darterkhan par

(It is the moment of thankfulness.

Don’t begrudge your guest for he eats at your dasterkhwan what is destined for him.)

Or this Farsi couplet taken from a long poem in the 13th-century Persian poet Saadi Sherazi’s Bostan:

Awaim zameen, safara-e-aam ost

Ber een Khwan yaghma che dushman, che dost

(God has created this spread for everyone to enjoy

He does not differentiate between enemy and friend. You shouldn’t either.)

When there were guests at the dasterkhwan, a youngster would help the sitting people wash their hands. The youngster would pour water from a brass aftaba and catch the water in a brass chilimchi. A towel would follow for them to dry their hands.

Ours was a traditional household. Meals were eaten on the carpeted floor around a dasterkhwan or a tablecloth. At the time, the specially made dasterkhwans were colorful with flower motifs and Urdu and Farsi couplets written along the edges

During weddings or deaths, guests were fed sitting on the floors along long dasterkhwans. It was the civilized way of honoring guests. Then we discovered buffets that have now become a show of force among otherwise sane and sensible people. Once the people muscle their way to tables, they pile up their plates with food. Almost half of the food goes to waste.

In January of 1988 during our Team Indus River Expedition from Attock to Karachi, we ran into low river levels in Southern Punjab. At certain places the mighty Indus was merely ankle and knee deep. We were forced to shut off the boat engines and paddle our rafts through shallow water. At nightfall, we were forced to make an unscheduled night stop on the riverbank. The place we stopped was miles away from any village. We pitched our tents, gathered camel droppings to light a fire and settled down to spend the night with empty stomachs.

In the fading light, I saw an elderly man walking towards the river. We approached him and asked if there was a nearby village where we could buy some food or milk. He said that his village was the nearest, but it was across the river and then about a mile further. He invited us to go with him. We thanked him for his offer but decided to stay put.

While we were wiling away the evening by telling stories and recalling the events of the past three weeks, we saw the man emerge from the darkness. He was carrying a basket on his head. He put the basket down and said that it was all he could manage to bring us.

There was of stack freshly-baked flat bread and a large bowl of cooked vegetables. We ate to our heart’s content and thanked him profusely for his trouble. We offered him money, but he refused. He said that his religion teaches to help and feed the wayfarers. He was just following the teachings of his faith. We tried to convince him to accept our offer of money, but he was adamant. He begged for his leave, gathered the basket, the aluminum bowl and walked towards the riverbank. He would cross the river in his rowboat and then in the darkness of night walk a mile to reach his home.

Kindness, compassion and hospitality go hand in hand. These traits define a person and also a community. To be able to share kind words, a meal or show compassion to strangers are the ingredient of a gracious living. These elements are part of the persona of the likes of Mrs. Hashim Khan, the peasant from Mardan and the dirt farmer on the Indus.

Dr. Sayed Amjad Hussain is an emeritus professor of surgery and an emeritus professor of humanities at the University of Toledo, USA. His is also an op-ed columnist for the daily Toledo Blade and daily Aaj of Peshawar