SO THIS IS NIGER

The Sands of Time Flow Slowly in Balochistan

Balochistan is Pakistan’s largest, driest, and least populated province. The border of this barren region is just a 45-minute drive from my place in Karachi. If you are heading westwards along the shoreline you would reach Iran. Both countries share a considerable Baloch population.

Balochistan is one of the most backward regions in the world, still ruled by feudalism and tribal elders. Literacy is very low, and few schools can be found in the interior of the province. On the other hand, the territory has huge reserves of natural gas, oil and coal. The world’s largest copper resources are currently being evaluated by Australian geologists; and last, but not least, Balochistan has miles of miles of a pristine maritime coast stretching from the Persian Gulf to the Arabian Sea.

*More about recent developments in Balochistan written by Irfan Hussein can be found here

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It is off to Balochistan for us this last weekend before Christmas. We are a party of eight: Heiko and Nadya, Guenther and Aida and their son Carlos, and the three of us. It is going to be a multilingual weekend; between us and our hosts at the Hubco Power plant we share at least half a dozen different languages.

We depart an hour behind schedule on Saturday morning. Our group is unusually quiet on this chilly morning as we load our ten seater bus with our overnight bags, sports gear and a couple of beer cases. Everyone is still a little hung-over from Friday night’s Christmas Party, but we are all impatient to reach our destination, hungry for the salty wind and the aquamarine blue winter sea in Balochistan.

We all moan and curse the heavy traffic of Karachi’s vast urban sprawl, but gradually the diesel-fume spewing trucks thin along Hawksbay Road and we all sigh with pleasure when Heiko swings off the main road onto an unmarked narrow potholed track. We cross over the boundary into Balochistan a short while later.

Ahead of us the stunning panorama of the desert and the ridged hills, that sudden emptiness makes the noise and pollution, the crime and commotion of the city bearable, if such a short drive later, such beauty exists. Balochistan’s great red rocks, usually concealed from view by clouds of smog and dust, are piercing the wide blue sky.

The Baloch desert unfolds through our windshields: soil the colour of dirty yellow coastal sand gives way to the dull brown of the desert.

The back road, although rutted, dusty and at times without tarmac, is almost devoid of traffic now. A whole new panorama of the most dazzling views opens up to our tired eyes.

The flat desert floor between the hills is sparsely populated with a few tiny villages. Giant cacti and acacia bushes are giving shelter to an amazing variety of bird species. We even see a porcupine by the roadside - albeit a flat one. Here and there a few camels wander along the road side with their turbaned riders.
 
A tiny lemon yellow mosque with four rudimentary turrets marking its corners next to an abandoned chicken farm amazes us. The chicken farm is totally deserted; there is no one in sight, not even a chicken.

Our destination, the Hubco power plant is a secret getaway. Its giant chimney on the horizon reassures us that we are heading in the right direction in the desert landscape. The expansive flatness, endless sky and solitude feel like heaven compared to the noise and filth of Karachi.

Shortly before we cross the Hub River we are passing another chicken farm. Someone has rigged up a crude signboard. “No Admission without Permission”, Henning reads aloud. “I wonder, who can read this anyway, given that the literacy rate is 30%, and those three in ten who can read, don’t read English.”

The Hub River bed is almost dry because it has been dammed further up but nonetheless there is enough water here to feed a plantation of citrus trees. A little further along, we pass another signboard. This time it is of a better quality. Painted on white background it proclaims that here the Government of Pakistan is running a Coconut Research Station. Indeed, there must have been some efforts a few years ago to grow coconuts, but apparently without much success. There are a sorry lot of coconut trees growing on one side of the road – most of them are looking very sick and other must have died long ago. Greyish-black, they reach into the sky as if to beg for rain.

“What a sorry lot of trees”, I say. Seems it is another failed project, just as the multitudes of chicken farms, which must have been abandoned ages ago. I am waiting for Nadya’s (the only Pakistani in our group) response, but she says nothing at all.

Finally, we reach Hubco. Here you won't find fast-food joints, tacky souvenir shops or even a single traffic light behind the heavily guarded plant, but Hubco has ample lodging for invited guests, a mess hall, a big swimming pool, tennis and squash courts, manicured lawns with flowery borders, native and Australian trees, and the prettiest mosque I have seen in all of Pakistan.

The cook at the mess prepares fried eggs (sunny side up - but swimming in too much oil) and tea for breakfast. “Where’s the bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and kidneys?” Henning says longingly. He must have remembered the English cooked breakfasts from holidays long ago when we spent glorious days in Darjeeling during our kids’ school holidays. “Well, Pakistan is not India”, I say. “There is plenty of fresh toast, butter and imported marmalade”, so longing won’t make them appear.” However, shortly afterwards I cannot help myself, and, despite my riposte, I am asking the cook for a chilli-onion omelette, knowing that everyone on the subcontinent can produce a  fluffy specimen; even in the middle of nowhere. I wash it down with copious amounts of milky-sweet, hot Lipton tea. 

After breakfast we gingerly dip our toes into the pool and quickly decide against a swim except for Heiko and Guenther, who are brave enough to give it a try for about two minutes. Soon the guys decide that playing a round of tennis court may be a better opportunity to fill the gap between breakfast and lunch.

Lunch is not much to write home about but we are all heading to the beach in the afternoon. Aside from our group, made up mostly by us and our host Jose and two other foreign experts from the plant there is no sign of human activity for miles. The perfect white sand, the slopping of the waves, the deep blue sky that feels close enough to touch - it is ours alone.
.

Henning and Jose are taking turns at flying a giant kite, but for me relaxing doesn’t get any better than finding a solitary spot to dig my toes into the warm sand on the power plant’s unspoiled beaches.

The sea is too cold for swimming, but after a while, I start walking on the hard-packed sand along the water’s edge, collecting shells and unusual pebbles. I discover a small dead turtle, but no living one decides to come and lay her eggs today. I stay close to the water’s edge, too afraid to step onto turtle nesting areas. The rocky beach and the shallow pools draws various local shorebird species, including cormorants, sea gulls and terns. It feels and looks like Australia and all of a sudden I am feeling terribly homesick.

But Jose does not give me much chance to dwell on such thoughts.  As the sun begins to set, he drives us over to his sunset rock.
A freshly dug canal stops us from driving right up to the edge of this monolith, but the evening is cool and the short walk and the climb up the rock is easier than it looked from the distance.

As the sun dips behind the sea, the colour of the sky shifts to brilliant shades of red, pink and orange. With the changing light of the early dawn an entirely different landscape emerges. The dirty brown desert floor turns into a brilliant ochre landscape.
The last rays of the setting sun makes the power plant sparkle in tones of copper and gold.

Only minutes later the twilight quickly fades into darkness.


“Let’s go,” Jose says, “It’s time for a cool beer at the pub and a piece of steak on the BBQ.”

Posted by: Lewana at December 24, 2005 20:27 | link | comments (9)
the sands of time flow slowly in

The Fine Art Of Doing Nothing

Yesterday my son arrived in Karachi to spend the Christmas holidays with us. We sit on our roof top terrace drinking coffee and chatting. The weather is sunny, the air balmy and the view over the glittering expanse of the Arabian Sea towards the Oyster Rocks and the entry of Karachi’s harbour is stunning.

As if to welcome Henning the latest brain-child of the city planners has its first trial run. The new fountain next to that little island sprays highly polluted seawater hundreds of feet into the air. It looks pretty enough on the photo but I am glad the vapour from the fountain - a mixture of toxic chemicals - is blown away from us towards the port.

A massive container ship is leaving the port crammed full of locally made goods — bed sheets and bathrobes, towels, leather goods, molasses, rice and seafood — heading to countries around the world.

On the outer berth near the horizon container ships are waiting for high tide to be guided by tug boats into the harbour. A few dhows are fishing near the Oyster rocks, and dozens of Indian kites are sailing the updrafts over the beach, wheeling in circles on the outlook for anything dead or decaying down below. The pigeons on the rooftops are doing what everyone has a real knack for (in this country): they are breeding.

President Pervez Musharraf has been in town for the last few days. His visit has triggered a clean-up effort along the shoreline. This is the first time in two years that a bulldozer scraped away the filthy top layer of black and oily sand. It looks neat from up here, yet I wish someone would think seriously about restoration of the coastal area but an understanding of environmental concerns is probably still thirty years away.

If you look at the area right below us you may probably understand. This patch is a designated “park” but it serves as a rubbish tip for the neighbouring high-rises. When there is enough rubbish to warrant it, they set it on fire.

"The view from my tower is one of the reasons why I spend a lot of time up here," I say to Henning. "One would hope," he says, "that there is a little more to do here than simply that."

“Tomorrow we will investigate the city”, I say to him when the tortuous and unmelodious chant of the mullah announces the time for the midday prayers.

“Come on, let’s improve on the fine art of doing nothing”, I say.

Posted by: Lewana at December 16, 2005 08:17 | link | comments (11)
karachi, the fine art of doing nothing

Math Advents Calendar -2-

Brainteaser 2. December – Touching Circles

If the three big circles in the picture below have a radius of 1 , what radius has the smallest circle?

 

The exact radius needs to be found..

Possible Answers:

1)

2)

3) 0.0628

4) 0.06225

5)

6)

7)

8)

9)

10) 0.6278

Come on mo'timers - anyone with a brain for math here?

Posted by: Lewana at December 06, 2005 15:25 | link | comments (25)
math advents calendar

Math and Christmas

Would you have ever thought that Math and Christmas could have something in common?  Apperently they do. Yesterday I came across an interesting version of a Virtual Advents Calendar. Every day up to Christmas Eve you can open a virtual door and you'll find a mathematical question or puzzle. If you solve all the assignments and enter your correct results at the Mathekalender 2005 you can even win great prizes. 

Unfortunately there is only a German version. However, I have translated the first brain teaser and I hope you’ll like the challenge. The assignments are quite tricky – at least to someone like me who is mathematically challenged.

The German site is sponsored by multinational companies. There are great prices to be won both in a student section as well as in a section for adults. Unfortunately you can only win if you live in Germany , Austria or Switzerland . (Some relatives there may help here) Depending on your feedback I’ll be happy to translate further assignments each day up to the 24th of December.

Of course, any mo'timer can take part. If you do not have any German, just read my English translation, then go to the German site, sign in and enter the right result.

An online book with the answers will be available in the New Year. 

Have fun!

Here goes

Brainteaser 1. December – Whimsical Elves

It is a well known fact, that all over the world Father Christmas is a very busy person in December. Fortunately there is an overabundance of elves with their magical powers to give him a hand. However, if you know a little about elves you’ll find that they not always the endearing creatures you may remember as Snap, Crackle, and Pop from the Rice Krispies cereal packets.

 

If you grew up in Northern Europe or read some German fairy tales you’ll know that they can be mischievous pranksters.

 

These days they are behaving a little better – perhaps because Harry Potter gave Dobby a sock, but they can be still real moody. Father Christmas knows only to well that they only work well if he manages to keep them in the best of humours.

 

This year Father Christmas has hired three elves. Their names are Egbert, Egfried und Edmond. The three elves have known each other forever, but that doesn’t mean that they at the best of terms with each other at all times.

 

Here is the situation:

• Egmont does not really like Egfried. He is in good spirits if Egfried is in a bad mood, und becomes cranky if Egfried is in good spirits.
• Egbert is the worst of the three elves. Even if he happens to be in a good mood this is enough reason for him to become cranky at the drop of a hat.
• Egbert’s mood infects Egfried, in case Egmont is in a good mood.
• Egmont’s good mood infects Egbert, but only if he happens to be in a bad mood at that very moment.
• If Egmont is in a bad mood then Egfried gets into a good mood.
• If Egmont is in a bad mood then Egbert follows suit.

What you can say about elves in general, applies naturally also to these three. Although one elf can briefly be in a good mood, nevertheless two elves are never in a good mood at the same time. Two elves never change their mood at the same time, even though the conditions for a reversal of their mood swings may apply. We never know which of the three elves will change his mood and therefore we have to consider the new mood situation for all three elves.  However, if a certain situation arises repeatedly, then the elves always behave the same way as in the first occurring situation.Since elves abhor manual labour, the message that they are to help Santa Claus, causes bad mood with all three. The question now is whether Santa Claus can rely on their help. How will the cooperation of the elves look like?

 

Here are potential solutions:

1.      Egbert works but takes a lot of breaks, the other two do not work at all, or Egfried works with Egbert’s infrequent support.

2.      Only Egfried works or Egmont works and gets occasional help.

3.      All of them work together; and no one takes a break. Father Christmas is thrilled.

4.      Egbert works all by himself, but during his breaks Egmont and Egfried work together.

5.      Only Egfried works, or Egfried and Egmont work non-stop and Egbert only works here and there.

6.      Only Egfried or Egmont work, each one entirely on his own without further help.

7.      Egfried and Egbert work predominantly, Egmont looks on in with a bad mood.

8.      Egmont and Egbert stop work at the exact same moment.

9.      Father Christmas gets no help whatsoever

10.    The three elves work all together and for a long time, during their breaks they play cards.

Posted by: Lewana at December 03, 2005 08:04 | link | comments (2)
math advents calendar

WHEN DISASTER STRUCK

If you haven’t yet planned your holiday trip for next year read about Verena’s adventure in Pakistan’s High Mountains.Of course, winter has set in for now and has covered all the misery with a deep blanket of snow, but next spring you could have a once in a life time trekking adventure, too. 
 
WHEN DISASTER STRUCK


A shared love and fascination for mountains brought me together with my Swiss colleague, Julius Anderegg, for a trip to one of Pakistan’s most beautiful mountain sites, namely Fairy Meadows, situated at the foot of Nanga Parbat. Little did we know at the outset of our trip what kind of adventure was awaiting us and that we would become close witnesses to the worst natural disaster Pakistan has ever experienced.

After an early rise on Saturday, October 8, a twin-prop Fokker brought us to Gilgit. The flight, a memorable experience in itself, presented us with the first view on the famous killer mountain. Shortly after landing we felt the earth tremble beneath our feet. Only much later we should find out, that Pakistan had been struck by its most devastating earth quake ever. Little acquainted with such natural disasters, we thought that we had just experienced one of the usual regional tremors and proceeded by car to the Raikot Bridge, south of Gilgit. On our way we saw dust clouds rising from the adjoining valley, probably triggered by the earth quake. Then we took a jeep to Tato village, luckily, along the undamaged gravel road, but even in perfect conditions this is a hair-raising ride, as any little driving mistake would leave you a few hundred yards down the valley.

From Tato we hiked up to Fairy Meadows and immediately had a great view on the imposing Nanga Parbat which towers at 8125 meters. This mountain, even though only the ninth-highest in the world, presents the steepest vertical rise on the planet and has been the most deadliest one for those attempting its ascent. Having claimed the life of many of the most outstanding German mountaineers attempting to conquer the summit, it had been baptised the German mountain of destiny. But we were not that ambitious and were quite content with a number of hikes in its surroundings amidst beautiful autumn coloured forests. However, we could put to our acclaim having reached the base camp, which was a seven hour hike. Walking over the loose stones of the Raikot Glacier was quite a challenge too.

What makes a trip to Fairy Meadows such a treat is the whole atmosphere and ambience of the place. It is run by a friendly and helpful team of locals under the able supervision of Aziz who, despite fasting during the ongoing Ramzan, also volunteered to be our mountain guide. We were lodged in traditionally built wooden huts providing us a splendid view on Nanga Parbat, even from our beds. A Quetta stove provided us with a welcome opportunity to take a hot shower as well as heated up a common room for meals, discussions and some reading. A natural respect for each others religion was self-understood. We Christians from five European countries were served our usual and always delicious daily meals, but at the same time, we happily joined in every evening for Iftar dinner. All guests shared a common interest for mountains and nature and discussions were evoked quite naturally. With great interest we listened to how one of the guests had managed to be the second Irish woman to conquer Mount Everest.

While we were enjoying one of the most beautiful places of the world, tragedy had struck not far from us. Little did we know about it till Julius turned on his satellite phone on Sunday afternoon to receive a frantic call from his daughter in Switzerland. Only through this channel had we come to know about the intensity of the quake and the devastation caused by it. But we decided to stay on, as we saw no opportunity to get back to Islamabad the first few days after the quake, as the Karakorum Highway was blocked and people were fighting in front of the PIA office for the few seats available on Fokker flights out of Gilgit.

To top it all, curfew had been imposed in Gilgit, so that when we came down from the mountain on Saturday, October 15, we could only go back by road. This turned out to be a real adventure. As our promised car wasn’t there we decided to proceed in our jeep to Besham, where we wanted to spend the night. We soon found out, that for the first half of our journey a jeep was the only suitable means of transport.

Until Chilas, unaffected by the earth quake, we were not facing any problems. Soon after Chilas we had a flat tyre, the repair of which was delayed due to the prayer break. Dusk was fast approaching and it started raining. By the time we arrived at Dasu it was already 7 p.m. and we decided it was too dangerous to go on, as the area between Dasu and Besham is particularly prone to landslides. Another driver had turned around after only a few kilometres because his car’s bonnet was smashed by a big rock. So we settled into a shabby truckers´ hotel and I decided to use my sleeping bag as I didn’t quite trust the cleanliness of the hotel sheets!

The next morning we set out at 7 a.m. hoping to be in Besham by 10 a.m. Actually it took us nearly seven hours to get there as we encountered three massive landslides on the way. Two of these were removed by bare hands of fellow passengers while the FWO was working on the last one. This one, shortly before Patan, we crossed by foot, as we were told that the removal of the rocks might take 2-3 (Pakistani!) hours. Abandoning our jeep we hopped on to a small bus at the other side of the landslide. In Besham it turned out that the PTDC hotel, where we planned to spend the night, was closed,  as it was severely damaged by the earth quake. To our astonishment we did find a car waiting for us and it took us another seven hours to get back to Islamabad. We crossed areas which were badly affected by the quake. The situation was particularly bad around Batgram and even its hospital had been severely damaged, judging from the numerous tents outside the building. In Batgram there was also a large presence of the army, none though north of Besham. Men were waiting patiently in line to be handed out relief goods. A lot of houses, nearly all on a small hill top, had collapsed and even where they were still standing, you could see tents next to them. This was a clear indication, that these buildings were no longer considered safe to live in. On the main road of Diamir they still hadn’t removed a big boulder, which had come down the hill destroying several houses in its path. Most of the mosques seemed unaffected, because they were built in a solid way. Unfortunately this can not be said for the schools which nearly all collapsed and buried the poor children under their rubble. Luckily, with the help of helicopters, the aid is also reaching far flung areas. Help is needed urgently in this part of Pakistan as winter is already setting in. Therefore I wonder, if it would not be a better idea to donate good high quality sleeping bags to the distressed people instead of just warm blankets. From my own experience I am amazed at the warmth they provide, even at temperatures below 0°c.

In my opinion the people in the quake affected areas need all the help they can get to survive under the prevailing grim winter conditions. But what is needed in the long run, is proper job opportunities. Despite all the difficulties I was facing during my three trips up to the mountains with flights being cancelled due to bad weather, roads blocked by landslides and a car journey which even under normal conditions takes two days from Islamabad to your final destination, I am still very much in favour to promote tourism in this part of Pakistan. But please opt for the right kind of tourism. Don’t put five star hotels on top of mountains or destroy nature by building roads in areas which are the delight of genuine hikers. Foreign tourists enjoy your unspoilt nature and want to have some physical exercise. The underdeveloped opportunities are vast for all kind of activities be it hiking, rafting, para-gliding, fishing or hunting, to name a few only. Let’s hope that an improved security situation and a safer mode of transport to the mountains up North will enable Pakistan to exploit these opportunities to its full potential.

Posted by: Lewana at December 02, 2005 12:50 | link | comments
gräfin von roedern, when disaster struck