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+ "Frustrations" 9 September, Faisalabad
Our nerves are frayed. We're tired, sick, grumpy. We snap at each other for no reason at all. After 29 days on the road, we're hitting too many bumps. It's to be expected. We have all worked in Third World dictatorships, fledgling democracies, and failed nation states, but familiarity does not make this less frustrating. Martin is exasperated by the lack of straight answers and the inability to communicate with people. Our fixers speak rudimentary English and questions like "Did you reach him?" sometimes get answers like "Make a left." Yesterday at lunch our conversation seemed right out of the Mad Hatter's Tea Party in Alice in Wonderland. But worse. At one point we asked where we were going to meet the next interviewee and if it had been set up. The fixer answers that his mother died in 1992. How did that happen?
We are all tired of having to sip tea at every house and office we visit. Our social graces are evaporating. It's not that we want to be rude, but it's hard to stomach another sweet cup of tea from a dubious water source after you just had one minutes ago in another office. Nobody will take "no" for an answer. "It's a tradition." And we are tired of the Elite Punjab Police trailing in front of us and behind us with ominous submachine guns. We come up with all sorts of plans to shake them, but they always find us in the end. There are so many of them. They escort us to the bank and to the airline agency. Everyone in Faisalabad can track our whereabouts just by following these goons. I'd feel safer attracting less attention. I think I am the most frustrated of the team. The hindrance of being a woman is grating on me daily. What bothers me most is how men treat me ... if I am not being undressed by steely eyes, I am treated as if I am invisible.
I feel so rebellious. I want to get rid of this shalwar and bloody scarf, and walk about in jeans and a tight t-shirt. I want to be able to sit where I want and shake hands with whomever I want and ask questions when I want. I'm also losing my drive. I might as well be sitting in my hotel room writing dispatches. I realize that I'm being culturally insensitive. I suppose I am simply frustrated. I haven't found a way to do my Western job in a place that has different expectations for women.
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home - introduction - mapping the journey photograph ©afp/corbis
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