I was sitting in the (strictly men only) barber shop the other day waiting for Shams to have his 4-monthly hair cut under extreme protest and found myself in the same conversation I have with just about every Pakistani here who wants to know what the hell a white girl is doing in a country like this.

I quite like these conversations because I have taken it on as one of my missions in life to make Pakistanis appreciate Pakistan a bit more. The conversation usually goes like this: “Do you work in the UN?” to which I reply “no”. “Are you a teacher?” to which I again reply “no”. “Ahh your husband is from Pakistan” … “yes, thats right”. “What does he do?”. That is where I usually get stuck. My feminist side wants to shout “Judge me by ME, not by what my husband does!!”. My loyal wife side wants to create an instantly appealing kind of job that my husband does so that everyone will immediately thing he is as great as I KNOW he is. My truthful side usually mutters something about hotels and shops (which is the truth), knowing that it is an unsatisfactory answer and the poor Pakistani I am talking to was hoping for me to say he was a high court judge or something equally spectacular. Part of that of course stems from the fact that they were hoping I would be married to some bigshot that would make them instantly rich (in a land ruled by corruption that is a common dream) I always qualify it by telling them that he is a great man, but the disappointment is always evident on their faces.

The next thing they ask is why I dont live in Australia. Now that one takes some pretty fancy Urdu to explain, and Allah only knows whether any of them ever really understand what I am talking about, but this is where my mission kicks in. I usually answer that we choose to live in Pakistan, as strange as it is, because we believe this is a better life for us and our children than Australia can offer. That really gets them stumped. To the average Pakistani, the ultimate dream is to escape as far as they can away from this country, which is a symbol to them of poverty, hunger and hopelessness. The idea of someone coming from the mythical jannat that is the West to this hell-hole is confounding to say the very least. “WHY? Australia is so BEUOOOOTIFUUL! There is so much money! They are so good at cricket!!!!”

Of course my “better life” explanation is never enough. How could it possibly be better? This barber was certainly not satisfied. Sure, Pakistan might be dirty, poor, disorganized and seem hopeless, but even then it offers so much that Australia cannot. Everything is so comfortable in Australia that it never pushes you. It is a nafsi life where you live and die and never really get the whole point of pushing yourself to be better. It is hard to see the blessings because they are EVERYWHERE. There is nobody to give charity to, there is nobody to give zakat to, there is nobody to even give the other 2/3 of your baqra to on Eid (well actually you cant even HAVE a baqra – its illegal).  As a muslim what kind of life is that?

“Look” I said, pointing to all the Quranic quotes covering the walls of the little barber shop. “No matter how bad Pakistan may seem, Allah is always near. In Australia everything SEEMS heavenly, but Allah’s name is nowhere to be seen”.

By this point in the conversation the barbers had all stopped what they were doing to listen to this bizarre female trying to talk about Islam – because no matter who you talk to, religious talk is ALWAYS listened to intently.

Shams finished his haircut and was dragging me out the door for his promised treat, but I finished by telling these simple guys that the west might look clean on the outside, but the heart is empty, whereas Pakistan is dirty on the outside, but there is still a grain of truth left in even the most hardened of hearts and that is enough to give the whole of Pakistan hope.

Feeling pretty happy that I was able to spread my message a little further, I started to leave and the barber (like just about everyone I have ever had this conversation with) leaned in out of earshot of the others in the shop and quietly asked…

“can you help me get a visa for Australia then…?

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