musings | Matt W Cook

October 5, 2011

Guest Post: Experiences in Pakistani Prison

I’ve been quiet about the situation with Nate and Hillary since they got out of prison. I wanted to give them a chance to organize their own thoughts and share their story in their own way. So, for you lovely people who were thinking and praying and mobilizing for them, here is the official update from the Barnetts.

First off we want to say thank you… I am not sure if words can even begin to express fully just how thankful Nate and I are for our incredible family and friends!! We were so amazed when we arrived home and saw just how much was done on our behalf!

I guess the best way to start is at the beginning :)

Nate and I really enjoyed our time in Karachi. We loved being able to see what some organizations were doing with regards to health and helping orphans (two things that are still so important to us!) But most importantly we really enjoyed getting to know some great friends! Though there are many issues in Karachi, and Pakistan on a whole, we loved being able to meet and get to know great people that loved their country and wanted to see it change for the good.

We knew our visas were going to expire while we were in Pakistan. Nate went to the visa office in May and clarified that they would expire three months after we arrived – which would be July 5. The visa officials explained to Nate that it would be a simple renewal process and to come back in June (about 2 weeks before it officially expired). We felt this was not leaving a lot of time but were reassured by the visa officials it would be no problem. When the time came Nate brought in all the required documents only to be told we needed to have more documents and that all of our information would have to be sent to another city for processing. Then for the next three weeks we were on the phone with people who were shuffling us from one person to another, never really explaining to us what the problem was and why it seemed to be taking longer than normal to process. All this time we were speaking to visa officials and many friends (who had similar issues) who never once warned us to leave the country when our visa expired. It was always said that it was not a problem since our paperwork was being “processed” and that if anything we would have to pay a fine at the airport when we left.

Unfortunately we did not realize all the effects of the huge changes taking place with regards to foreigners in Pakistan and that Pakistan officials were starting to flex their muscles after the issues with Mr. Davis and Mr. Bin Laden. We also believe we may have unknowingly befriended someone that we should not have. All this to say, there was a lot that happened that did not make sense!

On Monday July 11 I left the city to attend a wedding of my friends. Normally Nate would travel with me but this was the first week of the summer camp he had been planning and did not feel that he could leave them. This was ok because I was travelling to the other city with my friends and staying with them the whole time and Nate was hoping to come and meet me at the end of the week. But our plans got changed.

At around 9pm that night Nate was at our apartment eating dinner when the police came to the door. (He Was Not outside “loitering under ‘suspicious circumstances’ “…and also he is not 40!) He was taken to the police station but then returned to our apt again with more police who then proceeded to search our entire apt. they confiscated our laptop and copies of our visa renewal (which thankfully Nate had kept a copy of…but then they somehow disappeared in police custody). During this time I was receiving texts from Nate but then they took his phone and turned it off.

I was thankfully with my incredible friends who surrounded me with hugs and prayers and wisdom. I called a friend who lived close to the police station who went and spoke to them. They told him that Nate was only there for questioning and that he would be out after a couple of hours. Those couple of hours dragged on and when we realized that he was not going to be released I started to wonder if the police would come to get me.

Sure enough at about 1230am there was a knock on the door at the place I was staying and there was a large group of officers (including a female guard) who had come to take me down to the station for questioning. I was questioned for about three hours and then had to wait for the whole next day to see a top official of the city police. Thankfully I was able to keep me phone and was in contact with our friends in Karachi that were with Nate. I also contacted someone at the Canadian High Commission.

On Tuesday evening I finally reached Karachi, and went through another interrogation. At least Nate was by my side through this one. They told us we would have to separate again and be held in separate police lock-ups. Nate and I tried to see if we could stay together but they insisted. Amazingly they allowed a friend to stay with me. It was such a comfort to have her with me, she not only had a better grasp of the language but she comforted and encouraged me and got me through that night.

The next morning (Wednesday July 13) we were together at the police station again. Everyone kept saying that we were going to the court and that the judge would likely ask for a fine and we would be deported. Although we were still not sure exactly what would happen, we tried to stay hopeful.

Our friend Pervez stayed with us at the court house. He was a great friend to Nate the whole time we were in Pakistan and we were amazed at how faithful he was through this whole ordeal!

When we were finally brought before the judge he asked us if we knew what we were being charged with. The police officer and the judge conversed in Urdu for a while and then the judge told us that our court date was July 25 and that we would be in Jail custody until then. Nate told him that we had a flight booked on July 24, to which the judge looked surprised but stated that the date could not be changed.

We were devastated and confused. And we had no way of passing on this new problem. Thankfully we saw Pervez outside before we got put into the truck that brought us to the jail.

But things were still quite confusing. We didn’t know where we were being taken exactly, one officer said back to the police station and others said the jail. We could understand a little of what the officers were speaking about in the truck and they were joking that by the time we left jail we would be fluent in Urdu. When we arrived at the jail I was ordered to get out of the truck. Nate and I had already talked that we would be adamant about not separating until we could communicate with someone we trusted: either a lawyer, our high commission or one of our friends. So we put up quite a fight when they were ordering me to get out of the truck without Nate. Thankfully a lady was walking out the jail that spoke English well enough that I could explain that we had not been able to call anyone and she at least got the guards to allow Nate to come inside with me. Once inside we were asked to separate again. But Nate stubbornly sat outside of the office while I tried to reason with a head matron. She was not impressed that we were not backing down and told me I was “wasting her time” when I told her all we wanted to do was make one phone call. I actually walked out on her and clung to Nate as he tried to tell the guard that we needed to know if Pervez was outside at least. At that time one of our friends arrived that knew Urdu and calmed us by letting us know that a lawyer was being contacted, that the high commission of Canada knew what was going on, and that our friends were working hard to figure this out for us. At that point, he reminded us that we could do nothing but wait. He said that this would be the hardest moment of our life possibly, and he was correct.

He was correct because that moment led to three weeks of separation, confusion, and frustration. I did not see Nate for another 8 days.

I met the lawyer on July 13. Some friends were able to visit on July 15 (before they were told to stay away because of publicity). I met someone from the High Commission on July16. I saw the lawyer again on July 20. And finally went to court and saw Nate on July 21.

In the mean time I hung out in the barrack. All the ladies were very friendly and happy to see a new `foreigner`. Their first question was whether or not I was involved in drugs…that seemed to be the only reason why foreigners were sent to jail. I lived in a large room with another lady (Rose) from Africa. She spoke excellent English and was respected (and a little bit feared) by all the other ladies. There were about 60 of us plus children. The barrack had high ceilings, fans that stayed on most of the time (unlike my apt!), a TV, two Pakistani style washrooms, a sink, a water cooler (that didn’t really work), and shelves for food storage. Just outside our barrack was another barrack for some of the other ladies and it had a cooking area that we could use until our door was locked each night at 6pm. The windows were big, though they had bars on them, but there was always a breeze coming through…which was very nice at night. At night we had mosquito nets and typical Pakistani beds called a “char pie” (four legs). There was food provided, but it consisted mostly of flat bread (roti), lentils (dal), boiled potatoes or vegetables, and a couple of times through the week we would get chicken. Most of the time it was too spicy. So Rose and I would cook our own food – rice, and potatoes. At the beginning I was able to get some bags of essentials (clothing, toiletries, some food, and encouraging notes) from very sweet friends, but after the first week I didn’t get any visitors so I was so thankful to have Rose!

A typical day would start at about 830 for me. Rose and I would clean our barrack (sweep and wash the floor and bathrooms) and do laundry and shower. After breakfast we would just try to keep ourselves busy. She had lots of crafts – crocheting and quilting – and I tried to help with that, or I would read or watch TV. In the afternoon some ladies were allowed in our barrack so we would visit, or watch TV with them, or play with the kids. Then in the evening Rose and I would just talk about life and watch TV again. I spent a lot of time thinking.

There are many stories of my three weeks with these ladies. Some are funny, some are heart breaking but above all I am thankful that these women became a part of my life!

Nate’s experience was quite different. After we separated he was brought to the men’s jail. The jails were next to each other but the buildings were quite big. He was placed in a large barrack with about 70 other Pakistani men. There were two sides to the room. On one side there were about 20 men that had mattresses and pillows, better food, and rights to the washroom – this was only because they paid extra bribes or were on the good side of the prisoner that was “in-charge”. Nate was not on this side! He was crammed onto the other side with about 50 men. He had no pillow or mattress and was sleeping shoulder to shoulder on a cement floor. He was told he had to pay $1000 in order to be allowed into the “foreigner barrack”, but we believe once there was more awareness and pressure from the Canadian Consulate he was moved to another barrack without paying! For the final two weeks he stayed with two other African men in a small room with a TV and a washroom. He also had a small foam mattress to sleep on. Food was provided for him, but because there were 4000-5000 male prisoners there was not an assortment of food. He basically had rice and dal (lentils) for 3 weeks.

Every time we saw each other at court Nate had chains on. Or he was chained to 5 other men and brought to all their court rooms. Bribes had to be paid in order for us to see each other, even when we waited at court. And there were always 4-5 guards around us – staring, talking, or trying to get more bribes. We tried to push everything else out of our minds and focus on each other. We were so thankful for those times, though brief!

We were supposed to have our final court date on July 25. There was a strike that day so when we went to court house to do paper work on the 26th, the Judge then scheduled the new court date for July 27. We appeared at court that day to find out the Judge had taken two vacation days (unannounced) and so we would return on Friday July 29. On that day we were supposed to see the judge at 1030am, we finally were brought before him at 330pm. This is when he finally sentenced us to 22 days in prison (almost already served) and 10000 Rupees each (approximately $100). Finally on August 2nd at about midnight we were escorted out of jail.

Throughout this time there were so many ups and downs. So many precious times with my new friends, and so many heartbreaking moments. So many questions for ourselves, for those around us, and for God.

We are home now and have enjoyed many good times with family and friends. Asking questions and explaining answers. We believe this will not be something that is processed quickly, but we feel that the more open we are about what happened the more we will be able to process. So please feel free to ask questions if you want to!

We also ask that if you put anything about us in your facebook profile, or emailed people about us (including MP’s), or spoke to people about us, that you either link this or pass this on. When we came home we realized just how big this was over here and were amazed at how many people knew and cared about what had happened to us! We thank you! Don’t forget about us:) but we ask that when you do remember us, please remember the people that are still in that country. A lot of those people do not have a stable country like ours; they do not have safety, education and health like a lot of us. They do not have infrastructure that protects abused women, or education that encourages embracing those who are different. We have a lot to be thankful for, but with that comes more responsibility.

Thanks for reading! We look forward to hearing from you! – with Nate Barnett.

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September 19, 2011

Love Gems #1 – Mr. Miyagi

I performed a wedding a few weeks ago. It was a glorious time and a glorious couple. I had the opportunity to share a bit about love and marriage. I defaulted to nuggets from four of the greatest men who ever lived. The first was Mr. Miyagi.

Remember that scene from The Karate Kid? Mr. Miyagi askes Daniel if he’s ready to start learning Karate. Daniel shrugs and says, “I guess so.”
Mr. Miyagi shakes his head and takes Daniel by the shoulder. “Daniel-san,” he says. “Must talk.”
He crouches down and unpacks his parable. “You walk on road, hm? Walk left side – safe. Walk right side – safe. Walk middle? Sooner or later squish just like grape. Same with Karate. Karate do yes? Okay. Karate do no? Okay. Karate do ‘guess-so?’ Sooner or later squish just like grape.”
Love’s that way, I thought. Love do yes? Safe. Love do no? Safe (though empty). Love do ‘guess-so?’ Sooner or later, squish just like grape.
Love is the wildest battle I’ve ever fought. And any battle demands all your attention.
People fail when they love their neighbours and their spouses ‘guess-so.’ It’s as bad as walking down the centre of the road. Gotta pick a side! Either refuse to love anyone, and live that empty, dark life of safe loneliness. Or choose to throw yourself into love and walk that vibrant path of peace. Otherwise you’ll be always waffling back and forth between selfishness and love, never sure which hand to play.
The love path will get you beat up, just like the Karate path earn Daniel a few bruises. But it was better than the other path. Because love creates a bubble of protection around us that we are enabled to extend to the people in our circles. It makes the world a better place. It heals every hurt. It’s not easy, but it’s safe. Safer than ‘guess-so.’

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September 15, 2011

Who Are the Music Makers?

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
– Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy – ‘Ode’
Full text here.

Who are the music makers?

Who are the dream dreamers?

Do you want the job?

It’s not an easy role. You are forced to wander alone by the cold, infinite sea. You will have to pitch a tent in the dark, sacred desert. Your dreams will give birth to Nineveh and Babel, and then you will find your prophecies tearing them down again. You will have to give up the world and be willing to have the world give up on you in return.

Can you do it?

Are you willing?

There is much in store for you, should you take this heavy yoke.

You will become a mover. A shaker.

With wonderful deathless ditties,
We build up the world’s great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire’s glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song’s measure
Can trample an empire down.

The path turns itself dark. And that makes the light of your music all the brighter.

Is it worth it?

The pain? The loneliness?

Tell me this, instead.

Is life worth the pain of living?

Are children worth the pain of birth?

Is gold worth the flame that makes it?

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September 13, 2011

Sweat the Hard Stuff

The hardest stuff is always the best.

I’m tired right now. I gave a sermon on Sunday. It was inspired by a conversation four angry Baptists had that I overheard. I’m always wrecked two days after giving a sermon. Preaching is, honestly, one of the funnest things in the universe. Stressful, tense, but fun. But it drains every drop of emotional, mental and creative energy I have. Come Tuesday, I have an IQ of 60, lack the imagination to draw a circle and nearly weep when I see an ugly cat.

So it’s hard to do the hard stuff in the week following a sermon.

Which sucks, because the hard stuff is the best stuff.

When you have to sweat a bit to create or consume something.

When it’s tough, but you’re still good enough to pull it off.

Reading a profound poem.

Writing an emotional scene.

Cooking a pot of palak paneer that makes your Pakistani wife go ‘Hai Allah!”

Those are great.

Those are hard.

Especially after draining myself on a Sunday morning.

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September 5, 2011

Death of Dreams

Do you, um, have a minute?

Because I think we need to talk. Have a seat.

I’m not too sure how to begin…

I want you to remember that I respect you. I love you. And I believe that you are your own person and you have to make your own choices and follow your own path.

And I’m not judging you. God knows I have enough problems of my own to handle without trying to handle yours.

But I’ve noticed something and I thought I ought to bring it up.

What happened to you?

Remember how you used to talk? All those wild dreams you had? You were going to save the world, weren’t you?

You had it all planned out, too. Well, some of it at least. You had a mission. You had a goal. An epic quest, as it were. You were going to stamp out hunger or write a book or bring spiritual enlightenment to a dark place. You pinned quotes and posters that reminded you of your God-given quest all over your dorm room. You annoyed people to death with your constant rantings about that quest. We all knew you had great things coming your way. And not the normal, run of the mill great things. Not just a nice job, sexy spouse and fat credit account. Oh no. None of those were nearly enough for you. You didn’t want to own the world. You wanted to save it. To fix it. To leave it better than you found it.

Do you remember? Can you remember what it felt like? Gathering together with your friends and getting the adrenaline pumping? Some days you felt like you could run into the streets and get to work right away.

And you almost did!

You even kinda started.

And then…

Well…

What happened?

When did you settle?

Did your dream change? It’s okay if it did. Like I said, it’s your life. You’re a good person, even if you let go of the dreams of your past. I really believe that.

I just wonder…

Do you still dream?

Because if you do … when are you going to wake up and build it?

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August 29, 2011

On Starting a Commune

I first starting thinking about it after leaving college. Because dorm life was so fun. It was so fun that I just couldn’t understand why we quit doing it.

My wife thought the same thing.

So why live alone? Why create a single-spaced hole when it’s just so much more fun to live with others?

So we took a step forward. We convinced a friend to move in with us.

It was glorious. It brightened our lives.

Yummy.

We’re taking the next step today.

Three families. One apartment.

A test of intimate community.

A sounding of life-rythms.

For life is a journey that no family needs to walk alone.

Back to dorm-life.

Back to Acts-living.

People look at me funny when I tell them. I guess I understand that. Living in community is so very rare on this side of the ocean that people automatically assume things about poison kool-aid and stuff. It’s too bad, though. Because sharing life tends to give birth to a more abundant type of life. A deeper, realer life. A more natural life. Because we have not evolved to live sequestered away in cells, cut off from our fellow-man. No. We are made to be together. That’s one of the reasons why, I think, we suffer from so much anxiety and mental stress in the West. We are alone in this artificial sea of people.

Is it frustrating to live in a community? Is it hard to balance the life-rythms of others? Is it difficult to adapt to the strange habits and personalities of complex people? Yes.

But it’s better than living alone.

Because when there are people, there is love.

And nothing beats love.

4 Comments

August 16, 2011

Thoughts on a Cup of Tea

Stop.

Just for a minute there.

It’s not that you’re doing it wrong. I don’t really think there is a wrong way to do it. But maybe there is another way. A way that will be better for you.

First, don’t pour the water while it’s boiling. Let it cool down a bit first. Just a minute. It’ll still be hot. And the taste will come out better.

While you’re waiting, think about something lovely in the room you’re in. Smile at it.

Now pour.

Watch it for a bit. See the colour seep from the bag and stain the water. What did you use? Black? Green? Herbal? Try green. It’s good for you and, if you make it the way I do, it’s not even a little bitter and tastes like something divine.

How long are you going to let it steep? Try steeping for three minutes or less. It won’t be as strong, but it won’t be bitter, either. That’s the best kind. It’s not strong, but it’s not afraid of being weak, either.

Are you just going to drink it? Just like that?

Try sitting on the floor. Cross your legs. Put your cup in front of you. Is your room quiet? Can it be made quiet? Can it be made still? Just for a minute. Take your cup in two hands. I know you can lift it with one, but two is better. If you only use one, you’ll be tempted to multitask. And multitasking does not lead to peace.

Bring the cup to your mouth, but don’t drink yet. Don’t smell it, either. Rather, breathe it. Slowly. Breathe it again. Can you taste it already? Can you feel it’s warmth in your chest? Nice, isn’t it? Close your eyes and breathe it for a minute.

Put it to your lips, and take a sip.

Smile.

That’s how to have a cup of tea.

3 Comments

August 13, 2011

No ‘scuses!

I’ve been gone for a long time.

Not just offline. Haven’t made much progress on any projects for about two months.

Want excuses? I got tons. Good ones, too. Excuses that would make you shake your head and mutter, ‘Gosh, poor Matt.’ Especially if I could tell you my excuses in person. Because I can sure spin a story.

And I can still work on new excuses, too. There’s always something going on to take my mind away from my work. I have enough excuses lined up to put everything off for the rest of the year, really. I could do it. Don’t imagine I haven’t thought of it. It wouldn’t be hard.

And I would do it, too. And you wouldn’t blame me. My excuses would leave you with nothing but sympathy for me. Wouldn’t that be nice? To play the role of the martyred writer, desperate to tell my story but, alas, the universe is working against me. Was a gloriously tragic tale! How romantic! How pathetic! How … common.

That’s what every failed writer/artist/musician/dancer/chef/yogi/spiritualist/humanitarian/idealist does. And their dreams are stillborn.

Sympathy is a pat on the head. Nice. Kinda warm. But giving birth is better on every level.

Your sympathy is not worth nearly as much as my story.

If I give in to the excuses that call me, I’ll get a friendly pat on the head.

If I flip the bird to the excuses, climb the obstacles and write my stories, I’ll give birth to a world of characters and emotions and stories and lives.

And, who knows? I might even get that pat on the head anyway.

I’m back. See you around.

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July 19, 2011

Still in Prison

There are a few new developments regarding our dear friends stuck in prison here in Pakistan. Some of them are a little hard for me to understand because they are high legal things. I’ll do my best.

The Barnett’s lawyer and a representative from the Canadian High Commission met with a judge yesterday to discuss the case. Now they are waiting for the investigation officer to create a charge sheet. This is the next step in the process and leads to getting our friends in front of a judge. They hope the charge sheet will be completed by the end of the week. So, from my perspective, things are moving forward nicely.

In other news, the lawyer has recommended that we foreigners in Karachi adopt a hands-off approach to the situation. He’s asked us to no longer seek meetings or drop things off in person because of the potentially bad publicity it could bring to the case. Since I was able to see Hillary last week and Jodi was able to see Nate, we’re pretty much fine with this.

So now what?

Hard to say. I have been out of my element since arriving here. Karachi is a city I have never understood. I’m so thankful for friends in this town who, though they don’t know my friends as well as I do, have bent over backwards to help and help and help again. I don’t think I could have been able to pull off a tenth of all the amazing things they’ve done in this situation. And now that we’re being told to lay low and back off, I’m at a bit of a loss for what to do. Ruth is ill, so we may stay in the city until some of her medical tests are done. Or we may visit my in-laws for a couple days while Jodi and her new husband hold our place here in Karachi. Regardless, it’s good to know that the whole situation is moving forward and there is a whole bundle of hope at the end of the tunnel.

I’m encouraged and I feel optimistic. Everyone involved in this has been stellar. The lawyer, the friends in Karachi, the Canadian government, all you lovely people in Canada. I felt encouraged for the first time this week this morning. Just a settled sense that things were going to be okay eventually. Everything will be alright in the end. So if it isn’t alright, it’s not the end.

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Category: musings