It's been a gradual process of getting to know each other: the school, the job and the City. This is just the first year of a two year contract. I am settled in the Spiderweb, Tariq Road. The school is coming along with Mrs V (or Appa) back. She runs a tight ship, and the section is cohesive and united although we, the staff, are still a little standoffish with each other.
One Ramadhan has gone, and I enjoy the invites to peoples houses for iftar, or the evening breaking of the fast. I am also learning Urdu under a tutor, who comes to the Spiderweb. His name is Hubert and he is a Christian. He's a very young man, barely out of college. He teaches me expressions like:
Kitne ka hai? (How much is it?)
But then we usually end up chatting and arguing about religion.
I am not a Christian, although I have been actively searching and researching Christianity in the UK. I visited many churches of different denominations and read some pretty hefty tomes about theology.
I have met a few Christians here as well. One or two teachers in the school are.They're not pushy or irritating at all.
I visit St. Andrew's Church in Zaibunissa Street on St Andrew's Day in November. Inside it is cool and there is an atmosphere of anticipation as I and a few others sit and wait for something to happen. An azaan sounds from a nearby mosque then fades away with its last declaration. Then there is the sound of bagpipes as a piper walks mournfully up the central aisle.
Nearby the school is a Baptist church headed by Pastor Coleman. The building is tucked behind a wall down a side street off Khalid bin Waleed Road. There's a tank there for the full baptism - I witness one when I am invited one day. The baptee is in jeans and old clothes and ducked completely under. I think they expected me to join him.
Hubert and I go to Saint Patrick's Church one day, and to the seminary. Hubert wants me to make that shove towards being accepted and to accept Jesus as saviour. Many have tried before but I am usually pretty resistant. We wander through the seminary and enter what we think is wyet another empty room it is so quiet.
Inside a girl is laying full-length on a table and five or six men and women are standing around and placing their hands on her. This is some form of healing, apparently. Hubert is mesmerised. When they all stand, girl included, they stare at us both. Hubert gazes at me as if in a daze, beckons me to come and then leaves with the men and women and girl closing the door gently after. Just like Ali (See my 'Man in the Moon' post) Hubert vanishes and I never ever see him again.
Some people just disappear.
I am left to tackle Urdu on my own.
One Ramadhan has gone, and I enjoy the invites to peoples houses for iftar, or the evening breaking of the fast. I am also learning Urdu under a tutor, who comes to the Spiderweb. His name is Hubert and he is a Christian. He's a very young man, barely out of college. He teaches me expressions like:
Kitne ka hai? (How much is it?)
But then we usually end up chatting and arguing about religion.
I am not a Christian, although I have been actively searching and researching Christianity in the UK. I visited many churches of different denominations and read some pretty hefty tomes about theology.
I have met a few Christians here as well. One or two teachers in the school are.They're not pushy or irritating at all.
I visit St. Andrew's Church in Zaibunissa Street on St Andrew's Day in November. Inside it is cool and there is an atmosphere of anticipation as I and a few others sit and wait for something to happen. An azaan sounds from a nearby mosque then fades away with its last declaration. Then there is the sound of bagpipes as a piper walks mournfully up the central aisle.
St Andrew's Church, Karachi
Nearby the school is a Baptist church headed by Pastor Coleman. The building is tucked behind a wall down a side street off Khalid bin Waleed Road. There's a tank there for the full baptism - I witness one when I am invited one day. The baptee is in jeans and old clothes and ducked completely under. I think they expected me to join him.
Hubert and I go to Saint Patrick's Church one day, and to the seminary. Hubert wants me to make that shove towards being accepted and to accept Jesus as saviour. Many have tried before but I am usually pretty resistant. We wander through the seminary and enter what we think is wyet another empty room it is so quiet.
Inside a girl is laying full-length on a table and five or six men and women are standing around and placing their hands on her. This is some form of healing, apparently. Hubert is mesmerised. When they all stand, girl included, they stare at us both. Hubert gazes at me as if in a daze, beckons me to come and then leaves with the men and women and girl closing the door gently after. Just like Ali (See my 'Man in the Moon' post) Hubert vanishes and I never ever see him again.
Some people just disappear.
I am left to tackle Urdu on my own.
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