After getting some sleep my journal notes that I felt much better that morning although Mobashir did wake up very early in a state of fear. Apparantly a bat had fallen from the chimney on to his chest although we did not actually find anything. It was the usual cornflakes for breakfast before the men appeared for a chat. It was 9.15am and we were getting ready for our day's sightseeing in Lahore. The diary says the morning was fraught with hassle beginning from our taking a horse-drawn tanga from the top of Maluana's road. There was an almighty jam so the air was filled with fumes, dust and mud. A horse behind us was rearing up and trying to slip it reins.
After getting to the main PIA office on The Mall I managed to book a flight to Karachi quite easily. It cost RS 1000 Lahore Karachi. The main hassle I seem to have had was attempting to phone Gulf Air in Karachi to reconfirm my onward trip back to London. I had no luck at all getting through but, fortunately there was a Gulf Air office in Lahore and they dealt with the issue very quickly and efficiently.
My journal then says I was sitting in Falettis alone whilst the other three were outside eating their lunch. I believe I wanted some western food in order to try and get over my runs/dehydration. I had chicken soup followed by three lamb chops. It was like manna from heaven says my journal! I believe I ordered some tutti fruti ice cream to finish off with too. I enjoyed the meal so much that I decided to stay there to escape the feeling of being in a 'human zoo' at the Maulana's house. I enquired about their room rates which were RS 940 per night single. I was shown to a room with two beds, TV, mini bar and ceiling fan - I booked two nights then and there!
That afternoon we got to visit the Badshahi Mosque which was one of the cultural pearls of the entire trip. Since I had already been to the Jama Masjid in Delhi, India the style and scale were entirely familiar. I reported that the mosque was fabulous but that the fort (Quila) was disappointing since it was in a poor state of repair compared to the one in Delhi. We appartently sat down for a rest in the grounds of the fort since Qari Sahib had pulled a muscle.
Finally we went over to the Minar-e-Pakistan but the rain decided to come down quite heavily so we took cover under a tree. There were lots of 'weird boys' and men who appeared to be just gawping at Mobashir and myself as if we had just landed from Mars, says my diary. Mobashir said they were gawping at 'my skin'.'These people are gays,'said Mobashir.'They have it off with boys and men!' My journal says I didn't know what actual credence could be attributed to that explanation since Mobashir was only a 14 year old boy- but there might be something in it, says the journal.
I had been wondering how adolescent males go about expressing their sexuality given that all contact with non-familial females was impossible. Here's a link for what seems to go on in neighbouring Afghanistan.
Anyway, the rain stopped and Mobashir and I climbed right to the top of the Minar. Great care was needed on the wet marble surfaces. There was the usual crush of bodies you normally expect in tourist places too. Mobashir had bought some binoculars for RS10 which allowed us a good close up view of the surrounding landscape.
Then, for some reason, Mobashir wanted to open up about what was really happening at his school. It appeared that, at one time, the boys did receive pocket money and parcels but that Mohsin Shah had stopped that. I was told that the boys' parents did send money from the UK but that it wasn't being spent on the boys' welfare. I won't go on to say what they thought happened to it! Apparently Pir Sahib had been told about the problem but nothing was done about it! I was beginning to suspect that there would be another reality behind the 'facade that was being presented to me'
At first Mobashir had told me how much the boys like Shah Sahib and about how kind he was. That afternoon the truth came out about how the boys were beaten with a sharp-ended stick. Mobashir wanted to show me several healed scars on his arm which he informed me had been made by being beaten with the stick! I asked him if he would like to go home to Scotland and he said he was desperate to leave. The problem, he told me, was that nobody would actually believe his accusations. 'If I told Pir Mahroof, Moshsin Shah would only beat me up more and tell our parents lies,' said Mobashir.
I then asked him if he would like me to contact his parents upon my return to the UK. He told me they didn't speak or write English so I would have to ask someone at Pollard Park (Tahira) to do that. I wanted to so something to help the boys but he told me nothing could be done. That's the problem I have with all institutions such as the madrassah which are virtualy closed communities with no external accountability. Just recently in the UK there have been a series of allegations made about the mistreatment of Muslim boys at a mosque in Keighley, West Yorks. Additionally there have been isolated cases of sexual abuse of boys at evening classes in mosques in the UK.
There was nothing I could do. I then gave Mobashir RS 300 to split three ways between himself, Tabusam and Imran at his school. It appears that none of the boys had actually seen any money in a long, long time.
It appears we had gone back to the Maulana's house for a while and that Qari Sahib was asleep on the chair as was Mobashir on the bed. Three men apparently 'just walked in' and sat down on the setee-none of them are known to us. Mobashir later thought they had come in since they were curious about Pir Sahib's room being opened up when it normally wasn't.
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