Back to Pakistan A Fifty Year Journey By Leslie Noyes Mass

Back to Pakistan A Fifty Year Journey By Leslie Noyes Mass

 

Back to Pakistan A Fifty-Year Journey

By Leslie Noyes Mass


C H A P T E R 1

 

Arrival in Pakistan, 1962

27 September 1962

Lahore Pakistan

Dear George,

. . . After thirty hours in the air. . . Finally, we reached Karachi. Airport

Reminds me of Harrisburg. . . Small and dusty—a stark contrast to our stop-ins

Rome We were met by a group of reporters and some important Americans.

And Pakistanis. After some milky sweet tea and an interview, they finally let us go.

For cleaning at a nearby rest house. I stood in the shower with all my clothes on.

On and then lay down for what I thought was an all-day snooze. In less than a minute

The hour they woke me up for lunch and briefed me on the next leg of our journey,

Lahore. Two hours later I was shaking hands again. . . More reporters, people

 

Grabbing my sleeve and slipping a marigold garland over my head, bear-

Fighting over my suitcase. . . And then a long crazy ride from the airport ahead

 

In the heart of the city and just off Peace Corps Headquarters Mall Road. . . . gave

The city is full of people, animals and horse-drawn carriages called tongas.

Buses, motor scooters, taxis, honking horns, and confusion. Motor traffic, chaos

 

Interestingly, directed to the left, but no one pays much attention, and every

It looks like someone is driving in the middle of the road.

 

The Peace Corps office is located in a former residence, surrounded by a fence.

High walls that open to rough lawns, dirt paths, and pottery

Orange flowers. Behind the offices are several rooms with rope beds.

 

Charpees and cement floored closet with said toilet and shower head.

I am told that Peace Corps volunteers are volunteers. It looks uninviting and disappointing.

 

Another volunteer and I spent the night somewhere with a Pakistani family.

Neighborhoods in Lahore are a crowded maze of narrow streets, shops, and more

Open canals—filled with bicycles, hawkers, beggars, and food stalls. We tried

To stayed with Afzal, our host, when he took us to his house, but he at least walked.

Ten paces ahead of us. Some small children followed us and several women,

Covered in completely black burqas, bumping into us on purpose? Afzal

Missed it all. Many men were sitting in front of the shops or at the doors.

They just looked at us—curiously silent. Their eyes penetrated and made me.

feel naked.

Afzal's family was welcoming but his bathroom was another surprise: a

A porcelain footplate is attached to a corner of their flat roof with a drain pipe.

Down in the street. Next to the footplate was a small earthen pot of water. no

Paper no flush. No shower. The temporary room facilities of Aman Corps have started.

look better.

The aroma on the street is an exotic mix of incense, grilled food, dust

Kerosene, sweat, and the most intoxicating flower I've ever smelled—evening

Jasmine, I think. Even at night, the air is heavy and wet and hot. I can not breathe

Deep enough to fill my lungs with oxygen.

Tomorrow Aman Corps is sending me to Sheikhupura.

Forty miles from Lahore I think I shall be alone and I have no quarters yet.

My job isn't defined, and I'm really nervous about what I'm supposed to do

We will go for further training at the Academy for Village Development.

In Peshawar in another month—but for now, I will be sent straight to the village.

I have been issued a thermos bottle, a thin mattress, a blanket, a sheet, and a pillow.

All bound with leather straps and called busters — and instructions about it

reach my village.

It's exciting to finally be here, but I wish you were here too. I miss you. They

Tell me that this letter will take two weeks to reach you and I will have to wait.

Two more weeks for your reply. A whole month!! Egdus!! Write soon. L

At the University of Minnesota in 1962, we were given a curriculum.

Explaining the Peace Corps training program for Pakistan. He explained to us.

Duties:

 

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