It wasn’t until the day I arrived home from a trip to Pakistan that the upset stomach began. Miraculous in that I didn’t suffer the normal travelers stomach in all my time in Pakistan the price still had to be paid. The ensuing eight weeks of bogus belly gave ample time to reflect on a man I know……
Akbar Sayanni had introduced himself with a business card introducing him as a representative of a company representing itself as Communications Specialists and sure enough….it had his name penned in ink over the previous possessors name. He had come recommended as I had discreetly inquired of transportation means that might take me places public transport would not. Hence, I hired the moonlighting taxi service unbeknownst to the “communications specialists” owner of the car.
We had been far from Karachi that day traveling through the intense heat and it being the Holy Month of Ramadan food and beverage were forbidden during daylight hours. At journeys end I was invited to his house where he and I were served fried vegetables by his children as the wife was forbidden to enter the room while I was there . I had already noticed that Pakistani Muslims might break the rules and eat and drink during Ramadan days if they thought no one was looking and I was glad of that fact when one of the sons brought a pitcher of water. Nimbu Pani …or lime juice was what I craved as it not only killed a thirst, it killed parasites and I can only assume I was not that exalted a guest on which to waste such lavish luxury.
In Pakistan the only safe water is known as English water….meaning purified or imported bottled water and not necessarily normal Pakistani fare. Regardless, my over thirsted tongue was as thick as boot leather and so tossed caution aside to gratefully chug one tall glass of this “uniquely” flavored water under Akbars sympathetic eye. His sing song accent said…..
“ That’s Pakistani water ….. not English water you know .”
And I did know…and so did he
