After we got married in Manchester, H1 and I went to Pakistan. We were hoping to do something worthwhile. We arrived in Karachi not knowing a soul, but soon made friends with a Jordanian named Tahsin. (After many years we got in contact again via the internet. He is a happy grandfather with a beautiful family.)
I started teaching English at the "Pakistan American Cultural Society." They gave a day or two of training, and then I found myself in the classroom with eager students and a textbook. This was very different to my actual teacher training as a Montessori method nursery teacher. I had studied and passed exams in the St Nicholas Montessori Centre in London. The Montessori method is very much learner-centred and hands on. Studying for the CELTA (Cambridge English Teaching) in 2008 actually reminded me of Montessori: again learner-centred and plenty of participation. But back in 1979 in Karachi, the teaching style was the traditional classroom approach, "jug and cup." (The teacher "pouring in" their store of knowledge to the student's "empty cup.")
Still, I took to teaching in the classroom quite naturally. I was comfortable there and enjoyed it.
Sometime later, we met an expat Tanzanian who was running a business school, the "International Commercial Institute" or ICI. He had an empty floor in the building and offered it for our use. So we set up our own English language centre and taught there. It was interesting designing a simple curriculum, though I
could have done with a bit more training before I embarked on that!
Meanwhile, I found I was pregnant but I was not very well. I had (have) a type of inflammatory arthritis. I'd had knee surgery in my early teens. I would sometimes get a relapse. My right knee would swell up, then my left knee, then both knees would lock so I could neither straighten nor bend the knees. The range of movement was sometimes just a few degrees. I was in a lot of pain and felt quite exhausted. Over the years, when I had a recurrence like that, it would last for maybe six months and then gradually improve. Then I could go 3 or more years without another relapse, but sooner or later, it would return. I didn't understand all of this until fairly recently, about 2009. Then I discovered that inflammatory arthritis (like what I have--psoriatic or rheumatoid arthritis) is a "whole body" illness. The inflammation may be apparent in the joints, but the problem isn't only limited to the joints. Even when the relapse passed, I was never very robust, but I never made any connection to my achy knees. (Now thankfully I can get treatment when I'm having a relapse. One steroid shot in the knee and at least I'm mobile again, although there has been lasting damage and eventually I'll need new knees.)
In any case, between the pregnancy, the stress of a less-than-happy new marriage, and the high heat and humidity of Karachi, I had a bad relapse. It wasn't an easy time and eventually I had to stop teaching.
But the months passed. We rented a nice flat, we had some friends working with us helping with the new English school, and I went to a local tailor to have little sheets, nappies, blankets and clothes sewn. Baby was on the way.
I have some nice recollections of Karachi; going out on a boat crab fishing. The pilot would catch the crabs and cook them on the boat, and we would sit on the little vessel, bobbing on the gentle waves, with the view of Karachi in the distant, eating the fresh catch.
But all was not calm in Pakistan. While we were in Pakistan, General Zia ul Haq (spelling?) took control. Former President Bhutto was executed. It didn't affect us at all, although there were gradual changes in the reception of westerners in the country which did ultimately have an impact on us. (I wrote a bit about that in the post about Manchester.)
We found a little clinic. It was very clean and small. There was, as best as I remember, just one lady doctor. I read up about childbirth and delivery as much as I could. By this time, my legs were much better, and I was ready for the big event.
And so it was, on 8 am on the "official" due date, I woke up with a contraction. We timed them and they were 20 minutes apart, regular, but soon became faster. A taxi was called and off we went to the clinic. I won't go into the labour details but it was back pain and not what I expected. (Whoever says that labour doesn't hurt?!) Still, after a lot of blowing, pushing and the general noises of a natural delivery, at around 2 pm my little son was born. Pax had arrived safe and sound.
(And we got in a taxi 2 hours later and went home!)
Welcome to the world, little Pax. How I love you and how I wish your stay here had been longer.
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