The Charm of Village Life

Ishtiaq Ahmed

Gujar Khan: I have lived in the UK since 1967 having travelled there with my father as a young novice 11-year-old, from the 6th class. I wasn’t an outstanding student but wasn’t too bad either, perhaps a bit mischievous at times.
However, my memories of village life have remained with me ever fresh. It is perhaps this that has continued to pull me back to Pakistan on a regular basis, at least once or twice and sometime thrice a year.
The UK has always been a place where I studied, worked, raised my family and have a house which I refer to my home It is also a place that helped me to support my family in Pakistan, contribute in some ways to the development of the British Muslims and British Pakistanis, make a bit of a name for myself, and a place where I have many dear friends. But with Pakistan and particularly my village, I have a natural affinity. This is where I feel at home. Friends often ask me, “What is the thing that attracts me to Pakistan? “.
Implied in the question are many reservations that overseas Pakistanis have about returning to Pakistan given its ever-present instability, dysfunctional law and order, economy in perpetual crisis with layers of systemic corruption and where dishonesty has become an art form.

People are wanting to leave the country in droves even by taking perilous journeys for opportunities elsewhere. Hence, what is it that keeps me pulling back to Pakistan?
The answer to the question has to be somewhere in my childhood, being forced to leave my mother, grandmother, aunties, uncles, cousins and my friends.

It was not that I never looked forward to going to the UK. In fact, for different reasons, it was a dream that had come true but still there was something that I couldn’t let go about my village, my friends and my family that has stayed with me ever since.

Therefore, every time the tyres of the plane touch the tarmac of Islamabad airport, I feel I have arrived at my spiritual home. A strange feeling after so many years of living as a proud Britisher, but, nonetheless, I get a very real feeling of peace and comfort every time I set foot on the grounds of Pakistan, the country of my birth.

In Pakistan, I have bought a small four-bedroom house in my local town but it is the village where I find spiritual peace and comfort, reconnecting with my childhood and good old days.
This morning a dearest friend asked me to write about the quality of village life and what gives it the charm that I allude to?

The question was asked after I shared a small social media post about me having a traditional ‘pratha’ with ‘Makhan’ breakfast. This also attracted a question about the quality of food and hygiene standards.
To the first question, I must say it is the slow pace of life, the joy of meeting old friends, walking along ‘paths’ which I once treaded in childhood, open and lush spaces, the smell of nature and homely cooked food. To the second question, I must say, when in village, I have no real concern about the quality of food and the hygiene that goes with it.
Having grown up in a family which attached high value on what we eat and how we eat. Traditionally, in my and other families in the village, everything we ate was home or locally produced. We understood the produce and the source.

My grandfather, “May Almighty” bless his soul, a retired army sergeant had acquired sizable land which he cultivated to grow wheat, lentil, barely, corn, mustard seeds, and even home grown chillies, coriander, and small items of vegetables.

I remember my grandmother having a small garden plot next to our family ‘tandoor’ where she planted courgettes, green peas, green chillies, coriander and an assortment of seasonal vegetables for her kitchen.

These may not have been plenty but these were most definitely carefully nurtured and organic.
My grandmother also was very particular about high hygiene standards for all the household utensils from crockery, to pots for storing water, milk, yogurt, and ‘makhan (cheez)’ etc. She regimentally set high standards for hygiene, something that my mother carried forward. This tradition is still being carried forward by the present generations of family members.
My family was not rich but certainly we were comfortable. My grandfather had acquired sufficient land which comfortably provided for the family needs from wheat to other essential produce.

The family had milk buffaloes, cows, goats and oxen. All the dairy products from milk to ghee were homemade. The family had a small flock of chickens which gave a regular supply of eggs and occasional meat for the family guests. In short, everything we consumed was either home or produced locally.
Maybe to a lesser extent, these traditions are very much part of the village life and long these may stay.

Unfortunately, the successive governments have failed to support this way of life. The result is for everyone to see: the nation once self-sufficient and proud is now seen wanting to feed itself. Returning to the issue of hygiene, my grandmother and then my mother stipulated, often taking these tasks themselves, that utensils and each pot had to be individually washed, rinsed and left to dry in the natural sun.

My mother used to take exception to utensils and pots being washed and dried with clothes. She believed that clothes gather and leave germs on crockery and pots etc.

One of the things that I have learned about village life was that people had very few possessions but they loved and cared for their animals- milk buffaloes, goats, cows, oxen and chickens. This was their survival lifeline which was supplemented by produce from the land. Their livestock was their pride and means of survival. For many families, this continues to be the case.
I find many of the traditional values and knowledge around food, its source and its benefits are still very much there in most traditional families.
For me the charm of village life is its simplicity, its originality, clean environment, and breathtaking greenery, but more importantly my family and my school friends.