The mother hens of Aabpara market.

Aabpara Market was all a twitter with the restoration of my intestinal fortitude. Danish upon laying eyes on me asked if everything was all right, I told him I ate some bad food and was sick the night before. He went into action immediately. First things (always) first…we drink tea. THEN we fix everything. He began to tell everyone around us (they are getting accustomed to me now) that I had stomach issues. The suggestions came pouring in…at least I think they were suggestions since it was all in Urdu and we have covered that I don’t speak Urdu. Danish and talked for a while and when he closed up shop we went next door to the vendor who sells nuts and herbs. I was given a bag of white and gray powder that looks like tiny little pieces of rice. Normally this would cause me some concern, strange men giving me bags of white powder just seems like an after school special waiting to happen. BUT, I know what this stuff is. I of course can’t remember the name of it right now but its something like isporgral or isporghal…whatever. The point is that I have been told several times from numerous people that when you gut begins to run in reverse this stuff (its sold over the counter too) mixed into yogurt will sort you out Ricky Tick.

Which coincidentally it did. The painful part to me was that the vendor would not let me pay him, it was a gift and he wished that I felt better soon. Translation was provided by Danish purchased the yogurt and bananas that I carried back to my hotel.  Danish and vendor felt it necessary that I not pay for my treatment since I was their guest (in Pakistan) and I was their friend. Good people I tell you. Really good people.

 

The next morning I ate the rest of the yogurt a banana and the powder stuff and off to work we went. Mr. Niaz and I traveled around shooting portraits and getting my visa application into the Afghan embassy on time. For lunch (my first solid meal since Saturday night mind you) Mr. Niaz insisted that we eat lunch at his home. As I wrote earlier I was worried about re-enacting my Technicolor yawn from the night before last but Mr. Niaz was several steps ahead of my fears. We ate plain rice, veggies, fresh yogurt and some grilled chicken. I could have eaten the whole spread on my own but knew it would not be graceful or polite. It was a good thing too; the sounds my body was making after I ate were orchestral at minimum. It sounded like diesel engine idling in there.

The food was great, I met Mr. Niaz kids and I didn’t pretend to be a sea cucumber, all was good.

Until some douche bag blew himself up in Rawalpindi (adjacent city) killing 8 people including a schoolgirl. His target and victim was a Lt. General in the Pakistani Army, mind you he was a Doctor and in charge of the Army Hospital in Pindi. He was not some infantry or artillery General or even a cabinet level guy but an Ophthalmologist recently given his post leading the military medical community.

I received a text and a phone call letting me know about the blast so off we went fighting traffic and dodging runaway donkeys. I couldn’t make up that part if I tried.

By the time we got there we were held back almost 100 yards so I couldn’t shoot very much, but I stayed to shoot what I could shoot and then headed back to meet Mr. Niaz.

 

By the time we made it back to Aabpara it was nearly time to meet up with Danish again who had promised to get me in with some guys who race and “stunt” motorcycles. I want you to know a few things about bikes in Pakistan before we go much further. Almost all of them are single cylinder 70-100cc bikes. A few are 125’s but only the cops seem to have anything bigger and they ride 500cc bikes. I have seen 4 (3 adults and one child) on a 70cc bike struggle along the road. Mr. Niaz told me he has seen both parents and 4 kids on one bike before.

Danish, Mr. Niaz and I drove off to meet up with a group of young guys (17-23) who race, hold wheelie competitions and go screaming down the highway laying flat along the seat to reduce drag. Naturally I photographed the fun. Thus begins a nightly occurrence for me until I leave…shoot this nutty bastics having fun and hanging out.  All of the stunts and tricks they were doing were doubled in danger by the fact that these guys don’t have helmets or any other protective gear and their chosen spot is alternating between going with and against traffic on a 4-lane highway. I am sure they chose it for a reason but as of yet I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe I will learn that tomorrow.

 

Its late, I am tired and it’s been a weird day.