Failed states don’t have municipal gardeners planting flowerbeds. (They were also in action early on Friday when Tahir-ul-Qadri’s followers vacated the Blue Area, tidying up verges, removing rubbish and replanting.)
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
The grass was green and thick. VIPs tucked into thick chicken curry set on white, fluffy rice in their air conditioned boxes. And below my vantage point – on the roof of the stand beside a commentary position – I could see a couple of thousand punters studying the form and cheering on their fancy.
Protests may have been gathering pace elsewhere in Pakistan over the atrocious Innocence of Muslims movie. But on Sunday, Lahore Race Club was a perfectly manicured, Jockey Club-policed oasis of sport.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
This smart directory was delivered to my door recently. Inside are listed the menus of 31 Islamabad restaurants. The concept is simple. Dial up a central phone number – or visit the website – place an order and wait for dinner. Not exactly revolutionary. But failed states tend not to have such services. Not even for qat deliveries.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
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Foreign Policy’s Failed States index is slightly more sensible this year, although it still rather resembles a random list of shitty countries. At least Pakistan is down to number 12, dropping below Guinea and the Central African Republic.
Maybe this year they have added the soft drinks index to their calculus. Broadly stated, this is based on the truism – well known to students of international diplomacy – that two countries that drink Vimto have never been to war with each other.
Basically, your standard failed state is defined by the availability of only two soft drinks – Coke and Fanta. Such is the ubiquity of Coca Cola that aid groups are even trying to work out how they can piggyback on its distribution systems to deliver medicine, vaccines or mosquito nets.
Anyway, when I potter down to my local shops there is a lot more on offer than Coke or Fanta. Living high on the hog, as I do, I have been able to buy cans of Tizer, fizzy Vimto and even Bass shandy (a terrible waste of a fine beer). Once again, conclusive evidence that Pakistan is not a failed state.
(Although maybe not as cool as Ethiopia, where I was served a fruit salad drizzled with Vimto.)
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
Went shopping in Rawalpindi. Didn’t buy anything. Too much choice. Well, too much choice if it’s rice you want. Have no idea what varieties these are, but they were all grown in Pakistan. Nice.
Every few days a cheerful chap in uniform riding a motorbike comes to my door. He rummages through his sack and pulls out an envelope addressed to me. OK, it’s usually nothing more exciting than a printout detailing exactly how poor I am. But once a week it’s my copy of The New Statesman and from time to time (including this morning) it’s a cardboard box from amazon. Big deal, I hear you say.
Well, in my experience of failed states – or even moderately dysfunctional ones – door-to-door postal services are a rarity. In Kenya, my post (or at least those bits of it that didn’t go missing) were delivered to a post office box on the other side of town. I checked it once every six weeks without fail. The houses weren’t even numbered – no point if there was no postie trudging up your street each morning. So I’ll never take door numbers and postmen for granted again.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
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In my admittedly limited experience, failed states tend not to go in for water features (Somalia’s coastline not being admissible as I’m fairly certain it was there when the country had a functioning government that stretched as far as the seafront of Mogadishu). So I always enjoy the fountains on the corner of E7 in Islamabad for their science fictionish depiction of shimmering globes propped up by shining fronds of steel – part palm tree, part flying saucer. Of course, this segment would work better if there were currently water issuing forth, but it’s the ambition that counts here.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
Posted in Postcards from Hell
The only thing to say to someone who’s reputation has just been besmirched by the British newspapers is “not to worry, it’s tomorrow’s fish and chip paper”. Of course, that’s useless advice now that the Internet gives us a continually updated newspaper archive. Anyway, in Pakistan it seems that today’s news is tomorrow’s samosa wrapper.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
I made the mistake of leaving these cherries out of the fridge so they went a bit soft. But the glorious thing is not the cherries themselves, but their packaging. Lined up in neat rows like chocolates in a box, how can you possible resist?
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
Posted in pakistan, Postcards from Hell
Baroness Warsi visited her ancestral village yesterday, the place that her father left 50 years ago in favour of England. She received a rock-star reception, with cheering, drumming and great cries of “zindabad”. But the best thing about it was the fistfuls of fragrant rose petals that showered her arrival. More great clouds of pink were thrown in the air as she took the podium to address the crowd. As the hot afternoon wore on, and more feet trampled the ground in front of the balcony where she stood, the crumpled petals sent up an intense scent lending proceedings a rather magical air.
Postcards from Hell is my ironically titled list of things that are cool about Pakistan, my new home, or which contradict the notion that the country is some sort of failed state
