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Seeing with different eyes

Melanie Simmons

The months of August and September 2001 found me in Pakistan. I travelled to this Islamic nation by myself in hopes of learning more about the people of this tribal nation who are so deeply rooted in their culture and history.

Most of my time was spent with some friends in Karachi, a city of roughly 15 million. I did venture out on my own for about a week when I flew up to Lahore, the historical centre of Pakistan. Here I experienced some awesome and eye-opening situations, but also some scary ones.

A woman travelling alone in Pakistan is virtually unheard of. For me to walk down the street to the local store to pick up some groceries was not an option. I tried that the first day I arrived in Lahore and quickly realized that I would not be able to move about as I was accustomed to everywhere else.

I hired a driver and a guide to escort me through this city for several days. Each day, I was to catch a taxi or rickshaw and meet my driver and guide at a designated location. My guide changed from day to day, but my driver, Abdullah*, remained with me throughout my time in Lahore.

The first day I met Abdullah, he paid no attention to me. He just did his job and drove me from place to place. The second day, when my guide left the vehicle for a few moments, Abdullah stared at me boldly in the rear-view mirror. Here, in our Western society, this would not necessarily have been something to be concerned about, but in the Muslim culture a woman does not look at men or make eye contact with them because it insinuates to them that the woman has loose morals and wants to sleep with them. It was a daring action by Abdullah, and I averted my gaze from his lustful, condemning looks.

I had been struggling already with the attitudes and assumptions of the men. I had been treated with contempt, glared at accusingly with disdain and anger, and, after two weeks, it was beginning to get to me.

Because I would not look at Abdullah, he decided to turn around and talk to me. The smile on his face, though, was insincere, almost sneering. He asked all the typical questions that men ask when they are trying to pick up a woman in that culture – ”Are you married?” “Do you have any children?” These questions may not seem suggestive to us, but this is another culture, another world.

I answered the questions, then decided to turn the tables on him. I started asking questions about his wife, his children, where he lived, where he came from, etc. My guide returned shortly, which ended our conversation, but the damage had been done. I felt very hurt by Abdullah’s actions. The entire time I was talking to him, his eyes were affixed to my chest, and the lust in his eyes was very evident. I felt violated and disappointed.

I returned to my room that evening, and my prayers were tearful and many. I had come to Pakistan to show the love and light of Christ, yet these men were so difficult to love. How do you love someone who treats you like that? The oppression is so heavy in the air over there that it is tangible. It is like a thick fog that blankets the land and hinders visibility. I cried out to the Lord because I wanted to meet just one man who did not treat women with contempt and disdain. I cried out to the Lord because I wanted to show love and light and I knew that it was only through Him that I could do this.

The next day, I e-mailed my pastor from a cyber cafe and shared with him what had happened and how I had cried. I also shared with him that I felt there was something about Abdullah. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I felt that we should be praying for this man in particular.

I caught a taxi to meet up with Abdullah and my new guide. The ride was supposed to cost 80 rupees, but the taxi driver was intent on charging me 400. I disagreed with him, and soon the situation became dangerous.

My guide, Aziz*, came to my rescue, along with Abdullah and a third individual. A fight ensued, and I retreated into Abdullah’s van. There was only one way out of the van, and it was blocked by Aziz and the taxi driver, who were screaming at each other with uncontrolled rage. This quickly progressed to a physical fight, with one of Aziz’s hands wrapped around the throat of the taxi driver while the other hand was wildly slapping and punching him.

In the midst of all this chaos and turmoil, I prayed for protection: “Lord Jesus, if ever I needed You, it is now!”

Abdullah, in the meantime, was doing something incredible. He was protecting his vehicle and, surprisingly, me. He was watching with intensity what was going on with the fight. Every time the taxi driver tried to come at me, Abdullah moved in front of that door, blocking me with his body from any attempt by the taxi driver to harm me. He repeatedly placed himself in harm’s way to protect me from this man who was raving mad.

When the threat of the taxi driver diminished somewhat, Abdullah would get back into the van, turn around and reassure me with a kindness and compassion that I had not expected. He no longer looked at me through the same eyes as the day before. He now saw me as a person, not an object of contempt or a lesser being, his vision no longer impeded by the blatant propaganda about Western culture and Christianity that riddles Muslim societies. I saw him through different eyes as well. I now saw him as a person who cares and has concern for people.

Seeing Abdullah through the eyes of Christ changed my heart. Satan is the father of lies. His purpose is to turn human beings against each other and against God, to lead people to hate and resent each other through accusation and misunderstanding.

On a daily basis in Pakistan, propaganda is announced from the minarets of the mosques. Half-truths about Western culture (which they mistakenly equate with Christianity) are blurted out by the muezzin on PA systems for all to hear. There is little if any chance to refute these accusations and lies because of Pakistan’s blasphemy law – which carries the death penalty for criticizing Islam.

People live in constant paranoia and fear there. It is a land without much joy and happiness. I could not see hope in anyone’s eyes. It is a harsh, harsh land. But it is not a land that is completely lost. The Lord knows every heart there. He knows the people’s suffering, the lies they have been deceived with and the blindness that weakens them. The Lord is at work there, and I have great hope for them.

* The names of the people in this story have been changed from their actual names to fictitious ones.

Melanie Simmons is a member of Richmond Bethel Church in Richmond, B.C.

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Last modified February 11, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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