Walking is a dangerous hobby

Newsweek, The Economist, Forbes, The Huffington Post, former CIA officials (you name it, you got it) have at one time or the other referred to Pakistan as one of the most dangerous places on Earth. It upsets you, but it is true to some extent. Rampant terrorism, religious extremism, shockingly high pollution levels and misogynistic men all live among us. The comedy, though, is the fact that some of the more privileged ones – the ones who never have to walk on the streets, who get in chauffer-driven cars and then go to air-conditioned destinations – by no means realise the other dangers that the less fortunate in our country face every day. Me? I’ve found that when you are abroad you find a slapstick Charlie Chaplin-style movie taking place when you finally get to walk, feeling free and happy – something almost impossible for a woman in Pakistan. Karimabad in the Hunza valley, it seems to me (I could be wrong), may be the only place where a woman can do that with zero trouble. People only smile and vigorously offer you tea till your caffeine tolerance shatters, but your hip is safe. However, when you leave this ‘dangerous country’ hilarious things happen sometimes. Never in Pakistan have I faced problems like the ones I speak about next.

Some years ago, while working in a slum in Kampala, Uganda, I was advised to always walk toward the traffic so that no one hits me from behind. I was told that people “drive like crazy people”. So by walking against the flow of traffic, I was told, one can see them coming and jump off the road to save themselves.

I arrive in Kathmandu to learn to climb better, but on the second day a motorcycle, again, hits me from behind

I was also told to make sure you have a super strong bag, the strap of which should be worn cross-shoulder: so that no one on a motorbike snatches it (apparently a common occurrence in the slums of Kampala). Advice taken, off I went, feeling liberated and content. There is nothing like being able to walk to get your own groceries, one of the simple joys of life that I don’t get to experience often at home.

Anyway, all advice went wrong and then pure comedy ensued. If you walk towards traffic with your bag on the other side, they still grab it, I discovered. If you have a strong strap (an army-standard bag that I’ve owned for years) and are wearing it cross body, they can’t take it, sure. But the entertainment then is that you get dragged along for a couple of minutes as the strap refuses to give way. And you get yourself a nasty contact burn on the neck because the strong strap won’t break. I personally prefer that a thief just takes the bag – rather than being almost strangled to death for the sake of a little money. But the whole incident was so funny (or strange, if you will) that I started laughing and so did the aspiring thief, before he rode off, really fast. I don’t feel any anger though. It was just too funny to warrant any rage.

A year later, in Tanzania, I was walking on a designated sidewalk when a motorcyclist decided he didn’t want to deal with the road traffic and chose the easy way out. My back, then, suffered some more because everyone is in such a hurry these days.

Now in Kathmandu the comedy continues. I arrive here to learn to climb better, but on the second day, a motorcycle, again, hits me from behind. I forgot the Uganda advice, you see. But honestly, there seems to be no real direction in the city centre. Motorcyclists chaotically just go where they want.

So, you come here looking for adventure, nature and trekking. People express infinite shock that a woman from Pakistan is here to learn to climb better and keep reminding her that it’s a dangerous thing to do: “Don’t hurt your face on a pitch!” But oh well, that’s how the comedy works – maybe it is divine comedy?

Now, Pakistan may be considered one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Rock climbing with mountain guides much more accomplished than yourself or travelling alone in a foreign country may all be considered a death wish by some.

But I have found that climbing is not dangerous, travelling alone is not dangerous, even Pakistan (on a certain level for some of us) is not dangerous. Motorcyclists everywhere, though…they seem to make everything dangerous.

Oh, and a stray dog tried to bite me last night. Plus, when you get in the elevator here, it always plays a Celine Dion song. That to me is scarier than any terrorist. One can only laugh now…