Another Fine Mess

It's unfortunate I keep forgetting my camera when I go to Taxila, because I probably can't go there anymore. Just to refresh your memories, Taxila is the site of an ancient city, with ruins spread over several square kilometers. I've seen almost all the ruins, some of which are more impressive than others. What's really impressive is the sheer size of the place. Anyway, my boyfriend and I decided to see some of the sites we hadn't gotten to yet, and then have a picnic at Sirkap, an ancient planned city founded by the Greeks. I was also on a quest for a large carved Buddha head.

Taxila today is the center of a stone cutting industry, mainly focused on funerary ware, but with a smattering of reproductions of Taxila sculptures. At every site I'd been to, I'd been hounded by touts hawking fake coins and small sculptures, and I figured if I could find the source of the sculptures I might find some larger pieces.

Unfortunately, the touts ruined our picnic, staring unblinkingly at us while we chewed our cheese sandwiches and then pouncing once we'd swallowed the last bite. In spite of the fact that they were annoying as hell, they also volunteered the information that they had larger pieces back at their shops, so I put up with it, and we followed one guy through okra patches to his village.

He did have a lovely piece, and the bargaining commenced. As usual, I botched it, but because the man's grandfather entered the room and began yelling at him that he was pricing it too low. The scene became heated so I just paid up (the price was good for America, bad for Pakistan, I was okay with it). Grandpa snatched the money from his grandson's hand, took 2/3rds, and gave the rest back. As soon as he was gone, the disappointed youth tried desperately to sell us more, but one large Buddha was all I really needed. He said he had a shop in Islamabad so we exchanged cards and departed friends.

That night, the man called me twice, saying "his heart wanted" to see me, and I should come to his shop tomorrow morning. I said "no." The next morning one of my co-workers came upstairs to my office and told me that a man from Taxila was "bothering" them, and that he said he knew me. In a fury at having my work interrupted, I went downstairs and chucked the guy out, the scene enfolding much to the entertainment in front of my boss from Washington and several other Washington visitors. The Man from Taxila called me three times immediately afterwards. I didn't answer and finally got a male colleague to call him back and tell him to leave me alone.

Which is a long way of explaining why no new pictures of Taxila will be forthcoming.

Paranoia

Yesterday, my landlord's teenage son began asking me about US politics, whether Americans thought Bin Laden was a bad guy (yes), and whether we believed the Israelis or US government blew up the WTC. Clearly, he thought Bin Laden was okay and he told me he thought the Israelis dunnit. I didn't argue with him too much, because I doubted anything I could say would change his mind. Perhaps it was the lazy way out, but I kept thinking of an American guy I know who spent the first two days teaching computer science here trying to convince his class that the moon landing was not faked.

They didn't buy it.

There are apparently a good number of folks in the US who believe these zany conspiracy theories as well, but I'm no longer surprised when well educated 20-somethings I meet here are willing to believe any mad theory which suits their world view. It's gotten a bit disturbing, which might explain my sudden irrational paranoia about a new hire in our office, who acts very squirrelly around me and has now managed to get my address out of a colleague. I'm annoyed about the latter (Hello? Has NO ONE read the security manual???), and the problem is I can't argue that this guy doesn't fit the crazed terrorist profile because from everything I've seen and been reading lately, most of these terrorists aren't the poor and downtrodden -- they're the middle class and educated (see: "Understanding Terror Networks," by Marc Sageman for an interesting demographic study on just who these guys are). Okay, realistically, it's probably post traumatic stress from Afghanistan, and a few months from now I'll feel deeply ashamed that I ever thought anything so outrageous.

But for now I'm sticking with mad paranoia. Why not? Everyone else here does.