1987
EASTER, 1987
Postcard from Skardu, Pakistan near Afghanistan
Flew up here next to peaks of Himalaya 25,000 feet high poked above flurries of clouds eye level with K-2 the 2nd highest mountain in the world this year, woke to bright blue sky thin above etched peaks with chickadee cousins calling, hopping in apricot blossoms at 6 a.m. on Easter. Trout kiss the pond surface reflecting stony foothills. Across, villagers slowly climb their walled paths to work. Sunday is no holiday for Islam. Hungry herds of goats bleat. A cock crows more than thrice, the sound almost as perfect here as in Epidaurus' amphitheatre. A bee begins to sing. Begging children chanted “1 rupees,” following me, swinging their arms to imitate my western gait. Stern older brothers forced their sisters' heads aside. Girls cannot be photographed without their veils. They look at me as if I'm naked. Today the tribal waiter asks me whether I will fast for Christ. I tell him his valley choirs my sunrise service sing him a verse of He Lives! He Lives! and that old song the men's choir at Bethel Lutheran Church used to sing each year Up from the grave He arose. Everywhere the sound of rushing water * In Spring, 1987, I traveled to Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, Greece, and Egypt as a school consultant. I went to Skardu, Pakistan with 2 couples; one of them was undercover CIA from the U.S Embassy in Islamabad, who was “management consultans to the Mujahadeen,” teaching them how to use shoulder-held missile launchers to down Russian planes. I decided to make this Easter poem my holiday card, along with a picture of me riding a camel on a beach in Karachi. © Jane Piirto. All Rights Reserved.