Pakistan is famous for being a terrorist’s training ground but for Sara, it’s a place that holds memories, many that are bitter sweet, those of joy, happiness and sadness. The country is full of contradictions, in the year 2010 people still living in small mud brick homes, and yet, the modern world intrudes with each boasting large satellite dishes and mobile phone towers on the village edge. It’s where women wear the Burqas’ in public and yet, at home are infatuated with makeup. It’s a country with booming beauty and fashion industry that thrives behind doors.
As Sara disembarked from the plane onto the Karachi Tarmac, the polluted air hit her fast, the sounds of people speaking in Urdu and trying to find her way, amongst the colorful clothing worn by the women.
As Sara waited in Custom’s line, she could recognize the different ethnic groups of the Pakistani people, the fair and taller people, from the northern parts of Pakistan, were known as “Pataans”, then the Urdu speaking who had darker complexions waited patiently. She could hear the different accents in the crowd. This was a skill she had learnt from her husband, recognizing the difference races and dialects amongst Pakistanis.
Karachi is known as the city of lights, it’s the most cosmopolitan city in Pakistan. It has the most ethnically diverse population. Karachi is like the LA of Pakistan, where people come to make a fortune and start a new life. Over the past twenty years, it’s also become the target for terrorists.
Sara moved through to the luggage carousel where she collected her bags and made her way outside the airport. Because of security concerns, only passengers and airport staff are allowed in the airport. Sara could feel her heart beating as though it were the only sound in the world; her hands were shaking .She stopped and tried to calm her nerves. She said one quick prayer before stepping outside.
Her niece was the first person she saw, and then there was another. Suddenly she surrounded by her relatives, with greetings and hugs. As they began to disband and walk towards the awaiting cars, she saw him, so handsome. He still had the same affect on her.
He smiled and nodded at her. That was her greeting. Sara could feel the anger rise in her belly but knew that the rules of engagement in the Pakistani world were different- no scenes. She wasn’t in her hometown, Melbourne. She was in foreign country, surrounded by her in-laws.
They walked to the cars, there were three and everyone seemed to jump into the seats and on each others’ laps. She noticed that no one wore a seat belt and the she looked out the window, to a see a reminder of the West. She felt somewhat reassured, the big golden arches loomed above her- McDonalds had arrived in Karachi.
As soon as they drove out from the airport, her brother in-law began to entertain her with the family news for which Sara responded with the right amount of questions and sound effects of concern. Sara looked out the window, and watched the city pass by the high-rise buildings, traffic and people enjoying the evening. They drove on a highway past a newish looking Nandos restaurant, mansions with guards patrolling the property, the people walking along the streets going home from a night out, and many billboards advertising beauty products. Sara smiled when she the “fair and lovely” ad, it was a cream that was designed to lighten complexions. While westerners were burning themselves in summer for a tan, lightening cream for the complexion seemed to be an obsession with Pakistani.
A week ago, she’d been watching the news; the Australian government had recommended it citizens to avoid travelling to Pakistan in the wake of Benazir Bhutto’s death. Sara had wanted to stay in her home, away from the troubles of another politics and country, but she’d been summoned to Karachi. There were many questions that required answers, some of which she knew and others were dependent upon emotions and guilt.
When they met at university both were young and seeking a life different from their childhood. Jamal had grown up in rural Pakistan where women were mothers and wives with little expectation. She was from Melbourne and a two working parent household, where career was not an option but a natural path in life. Maybe it’s the attraction of the opposites, or maybe people running away to become someone else, their love had blossomed quickly. Like many of the girls in her social group, Sara had very little romance experience and when she fell for Jamal, she fell hard. Her wedding was quickly arranged by her parents and his, before she had any real time to adapt to change, she had moved into her marital home. A small flat in Footscary owned by her father and she began life as a married woman, all at the tender age of nineteen.
Nineteen is not young for marriage in Pakistan, it’s the ideal age. In Australia, it’s young. Her family friends were not surprised but her friends from high school and university were shocked, the most common question her friends asked where “why and are you pregnant?” Sara would blush and laugh at the questions knowing all too well, that she had little option. Unlike her friends, Sara had no chance of dating and meeting Jamal, every time they did meet before marriage, her heart would pound and she would spend most of the time looking around making sure she didn’t get caught. Always on the lookout for the lone aunty accidently catching her out and reporting it to her mother.
Were she and Jamal ready for marriage? The first few years were like how any other couple would date or live together. Even though she’d grown up in Melbourne, she’d never been along the great ocean road, spent week-ends away in the country or stayed out past one am. 
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