No recent photos taken so I've reycled one from my December visit to Mohammad Kheil. If you look closely you'll notice that those bushes are actually being carried by camels. 

A Day in the Life

So what is my typical day like? You would be disappointed if you thought that I’m out there risking my life transporting supplies to the needy. The following is fairly typical example of my day:

- 7:00 am - Woke-up…got out of bed….
- 7:45 am – Driven to the office. Make instant coffee, start the gas heater in my office and turn on the computer.
- 7:50 am – Check the internet. Hhmm…, it appears that the e-mail delivery from Canada is out of service again, or something. Check websites for TSN and CBC…Canucks lose, Lemiuex retires and the Conservatives win. Stephen Harper said he's feeling upbeat and looking forward to rebuilding Canada.” I thought Pakistan had the earthquake?
- 8:00 am – issues to deal with today include budgets, payroll review, the next cash request, staff issues, and income taxes.
- 9:00 am – Samson, the office cook, brings me the standard breakfast of one fried egg on toast and coffee. I used to be a bit embarrassed when he called me boss; now I kind of like it.
- 11:00 am – Go to the bank. My service reps at the Standard Chartered Bank are a helpful and charming lot, perhaps the Pakistani equivalent of Keg waiters.
- noon – Lunch prepared by Samson. It isn’t as repetitive as breakfast, but it isn’t far off. Treats for dessert as Cecilio, our medical coordinator from the Philippines, has come to the end of his one-year term.
- 1:00 – 5:30 pm – chained to my desk. With Amsterdam being four hours behind this is when direct communication with head office occurs. I think Shahid my assistant is finding that as I get more tired I’m actually more fun to be around.
- 5:30 – 8:00 pm – finally get to the work that I thought that I would do at the beginning of the day.
- After work - walk home and pick-up something to eat on the way. Either read in my room or channel surf through the 80 cablevision channels. My theory used to be that if you surfed long enough you would eventually find something interesting. That theory has been destroyed in Pakistan.
- 11:00 pm – lights out.

Well, so much for saving the world. Still, I don’t understand why people think accountants are boring?

The other day we had 45 of these trucks rented and loaded with goods for Kashmir. 

An Important Permit

One of my favourite scenes in the movie Caddyshack was when Bill Murray’s character, Carl Spackler, recounts the time he allegedly caddied in Tibet for the Dalai Lama. Carl had vivid recollections:…“The flowing robes, the grace, bald, striking…big hitter, the Lama.” And how instead of paying a tip the Dalai Lama informed him that “when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." To which Carl added “So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.”

Well, I’m not expecting to have total consciousness upon death (at least I hope I don’t), but I have just attained a new status and all it took was filling out a bit of paperwork. It was the “Application for the Grant of a Permit For the Purchase, Possession, Transport or Consumption of Intoxicating Liquor By a Non-Muslim/Foreigner Or Tourist.” In short, I now have a Licence to Drink, or more importantly, the ability to acquire booze.

Alcohol is illegal in Pakistan. However, its consumption by non-muslims is tolerated if done discretely. Islamabad hasn’t exactly been party central so I haven’t really missed my normal consumption levels. However, as it only cost about $3 to get the special stamp in my passport I thought it was a good investment.

On the application I had to fill in my name, address, religion and even my father’s name. I’m not really sure what my parents' response would be if they were contacted for permission. Today one of our Christian staff took three of us to the Permits Office to get our approvals. It felt like being a teenager again, going with a bootlegger. Except this time our bootlegger was younger than the two 40ish and one 60ish year-olds in his company.

The permit is valid for six months, but is capped at either 6 one-quart bottles of spirits, 18 bottles of wine, or 96 bottles of beer (sounds like a song). One of my colleagues in hopes of having his quota increased had a doctor sign a form declaring him to be an alcoholic. He was not successful.

I don’t think I will be rushing out to make any acquisitions, but in an emergency setting its always good to prepared. Now I have my Licence to Drink…so I have that going for me, which is nice.

One of many camps for displaced people in Muzaffarabad 

Views of Kashmir on the return flight from Muzaffarabad to Islamabad 

Trip to Muzaffarabad

Two months to the day after my arrival in Pakistan I finally reached Kashmir. Traveling in a Squirrel helicopter, the 40-minute flight took me to a very different world. It was pretty cool flying in this 5-seat, French-made machine and probably the person who enjoyed it the most was our young military escort that was imposed on us. It was cloudy and at times rainy day, but the views of the deep valleys and snow-topped mountains were still impressive. On a few occasions we hit a bit of turbulence at which point being in a small helicopter was not quite so cool.

Muzaffarabad is a large place and a hive of activity, as a number of NGOs are using it as their Kashmir base. I’m sure things have been cleaned-up a lot since the earthquake, but there was still plenty of evidence of what had happened. While many of the buildings in town are still standing some have collapsed, some are just a big pile of rubble, some have been abandoned and others look like they should be. Even the bedroom I had in the MSF rented house had a few interesting wall cracks. Tent communities were found wherever there was room for them and if you didn’t know better you might have thought that you had stumbled across a boy scout’s jamboree.

Like a good accountant I went directly to the MSF office and met with the other financial and administrative types. The office certainly had more of an outpost feel to it than the relative comfort that I have in Islamabad. As a non-smoker I was clearly in the minority; the great irony of working with this medical aid organization. That evening after dinner I retired to my room and accompanied by a small gas heater and a good sleeping bag I managed to stay warm. There wasn’t snow in Muzaffarabad, but it was just about cold enough and patches of snow could be seen in the hills above.

The next morning I accompanied Azizi on a visit to one of the tent communities that MSF was supporting. The purpose was to see what additional supplies were required now that the site had been tested by the first significant poor weather. It was cold, damp and muddy and it was clear that all would need more blankets, tarps and plastic sheeting. Azizi went from tent to tent to survey their situation and to hand out receipts that could later be exchanged for the allocated goods. There wasn’t much for people to do, but the women occupied themselves with cooking and cleaning and the children, being children, found ways to entertain themselves, adapting to their less than ideal circumstances. Everybody looked like they could use a good wash and a change of clothes.

Later that morning I had to return to Islamabad. Joining me on the flight was the same cheerful soldier and two MSF expats, starting their 3-day rest and relaxation (R&R) break in Islamabad. They were both looking forward to sleeping on a real bed, eating some different food, and having hot showers. One of them was Stephanie, a nurse from Vancouver, who I first met in October at the MSF orientation course in Germany. When her name was put forward to our office in November as a candidate for Pakistan I strongly endorsed her. I don’t think she’s mad at me now. I understandably don’t get these R&R breaks because of my comfortable life in the capital. However, proving that a change is as good as a rest my trip to Muzaffarabad also provided me with a source of rejuvenation. It was a short visit to Kashmir this time, but it won’t be my last.

At the office with my MSF Canada Christmas goodies. Yes Mom, I know I need a haircut. 

The Holiday Season

For me, being in a Muslim country during the holiday season isn’t that big of a deal. I don’t mind avoiding the stress of figuring out what other people want for Christmas or even what I want, for that matter. I do sort of miss the eating, drinking and being merry aspect, however.

My Christmas Day in Islamabad was pretty much a non-event. Several of my colleagues had left town and those of us remaining were neither organized nor enthusiastic enough to coordinate anything. I slept-in, read for a while and then went for my second run in two months (after about ten minutes it became more like a stagger). In the afternoon I went to the office (I wasn’t alone) and put in around five-hours. My Christmas dinner consisted of chips and yogurt. At least I didn’t have my traditional post-Christmas dinner stomachache from over-eating.

New Years was slightly more eventful. Along with several members of our national staff we went to the neighboring city of Rawalpindi to eat in this tented restaurant. The highlight was listening to the singing of Imtiaz, who is one of our drivers. Imtiaz used to perform professionally in a stage show and on the radio, singing both folk and classical (which sounds pretty much the same to my western ear). He gave-up show business to became a driver not because the money was better, but due to the fact that he had started a family and his wife didn’t like him coming home late at night. Imtiaz is no Mick Jagger.

Just when I thought I had gotten through the Christmas season untouched a special parcel arrived. MSF Canada had sent a package to each of its overseas Expats and my goodies included:
- a Hockey News magazine (so there really is a Santa Claus);
- a Maclean’s magazine and a novel;
- 2 CDs – Barenaked Ladies Greatest Hits and Franz Ferdinand (I don’t who he/they are either, but I will soon find out);
- various candies, cookies, soaps, a bottle opener and a mini-frisbee.

These items had been donated by about a dozen individuals and companies. In addition, there were about 20 Christmas cards with hand-written messages from people from across Canada sending words of greetings, encouragement and thanks. It was a very thoughtful and appreciated gesture and even managed to touch a non-Christmas type like myself.