Ayubia (Murree)

A number of the Comexers were suffering from various ailments - the obvious gastric ones, heatstroke and exhaustion, so it was decided to head for the cooler Murree Hills to recuperate for a few days rather than spending days in Lahore. Good idea except for the amazing laxative properties of the Ayubia water.

Comment from Don C:
During a recent visit by a cousin who lives in Australia it emerged that his wife, who is Pakistani in origin, went to school in Murree! Another amazing coincidence.

Gordon's letters

Jim Lindsay's diary:

16 August

Khanspur or Khanispur or Ayubia - we were never quire clear which - was probably not the ideal place to recuperate. Apart from anything else it took a day or two to get used to the altitude - about 2300m or 7500 feet. We also found out the hard way that the water was laden with mineral salts that left a great many people with gutrot. Gordon and I among others took turns at digging a latrine pit and erecting a screen, and it left us gasping for air. Before we got this done there were tales of desperate Comexers in search of the privacy of the bushes being pursued by flocks of inquisitive children, and underwear having to be buried. Even when a pit was dug and provided with its modesty screen, local people used to gather and throw little stones over the screen when it was occupied to see what the reaction would be.

It was pretty, though. We were perched on a spur between a deep main valley to the north and a side valley to the south. Below us in the mornings we could see the oddly-named Entertaino above a sea of cloud, but as the day progressed the cloud typically burned off and we could see down into the valley and as far as the distant high Himalayas. In the evenings everything was suffused with a warm green light. There were said to be tigers in the neighbourhood.

We could eat at the Entertaino, where we were served buttered bread under the name of toast, and the waiter would cheerfully throw waste over the balcony into the valley below. Apart from the Entertaino there were a few shops that served the local community, including a bakery that sold little cakes and did outrageous things in the way of short-changing. We ate a lot of these cakes, which came wrapped in Urdu newspaper browned in the oven. There was also a little hospital which was inevitably pressed into service for Comex as well. One or two unfortunates were actually quite ill and spent their stay there.

17 August

I was not well this day, although the diary cheerfully names half a dozen people who were worse. Most of the day was spent in my grubby sleeping bag, but in the evening some of us were fit to venture out to the other local restaurant. I think this was the day that John Stevens, after a day in hospital, felt well enough to venture out to take the air in the evening wearing only a towel. Sadly for him but to the great joy of the public he suddenly erupted from both ends and lost his towel in the process. The story cheered us all up - it made up for all these choir practices.

18 August

Another day at high altitude with rumbling innards. People laughed at our clothes, and I had a bush hat that seemed to be specially risible. We found it hard to come to terms with this mirth coming from people who regarded mud-coloured woolly jumpers over baggy trousers as the yardstick of elegance,. There was not really a lot to do even for the fit and it was easy to get very lethargic and sloppy. It was surprising though how something simple like having a shower or washing a sleeping bag could restore morale.

The Post Office could not sell us stamps for our letters home. They assured us that the unprecedented demand meant that they had "scoured the whole countryside, even Murree, for them" in vain. Various people had been to Murree and dismissed it as a "Pakistani Blackpool" but they didn't come back with stamps either.

As ever, merchants came from far and wide to sell us things we did not want. How many Comexers actually needed tennis racquets? The more sensible ones came with ornaments and we all went through the haggling routine for items that we later saw in Lahore at bargain prices.

Social life that evening included the more expensive café where Greg was more or less permanently resident, with a local Methuselah doing the cooking - there is a photo of him in Greg's book. There was another café with live music from local stringed instruments. It was packed and clearly not for tourists, so although nobody asked us to leave, we did not stay for long.

19 August

Some of us were healthier but others had become worse. Bill, Gordon and Jim Moyes all went to the hospital today. Meanwhile people came up with grand ideas for long walks or the hire of horses for trips, but nobody really had the energy for the former or the money for the latter. So we played cards and read and ate and visited the bog tent and went to the shops. Like others I had been equipped with locally made clothes by the local tailor. Mine were a nice bright green shirt and baggy white trousers. The shirt got a lot of use but the trousers were a mud magnet.

We started getting ready for travel the next day. Cleaning the coach was an ordeal. We were still not altitude-hardened, the nearest tap was a long way away, and when we emptied the interior we had to keep a constant watch over the piles of goodies we had set up outside.

It was good fun sharing a room with the eccentrics from Oxford. This was the day that Angela used the wrong packet and washed her knickers in chicken soup.

Tea on the roof of the world by Liz Y

A lasting memory of Pakistan is of looking out over the Himalayas from a little Chai House in Ayubia. Here Johan and I sat outside at a small table with a striped, red tablecloth and drank strong, sweet, milky tea, served from a small teapot in delicate, china cups with saucers.

The Northern mountainous areas of Pakistan such as Murree had been popular with the British Raj. The tea was served in a style seemingly reminiscent of those days.

We fell into an interesting conversation with S, a man from Karachi, who joined us at the table and was in Ayubia on holiday with relatives. S owned a taxi business in Karachi but wondered if he could improve his prospects by moving to Britain, if he could get a visa.

Labour shortages in the 1960s meant that people were being encouraged to come to the UK. There were opportunities in various parts of the economy, including the transport sector.

We talked about what S's life might be like in Britain. By 1969 there had been a steady migration of people from Pakistan to the UK. Many were settling in the Northern and Midland industrial cities like Bradford and Birmingham or in parts of London. In this beautiful mountain setting in Pakistan it was difficult to imagine a greater contrast than with a gray day in a possibly drab part of an industrial city in the UK. Here in Ayubia the air was pure and fresh with the smell of damp pine forests on the mountain slopes beneath us. It felt like a taste of paradise.

We did not know of course what life was like in Karachi. Karachi was known as "the city of lights" and was reputed to be a large, vibrant and diverse city.

My inclination was to point out some of the downsides of coming to the UK, some of the disappointments S might encounter. Of course, S would have heard reports from other people, those who had already left Pakistan to work in the UK, and their views would undoubtedly influence whatever he decided.

I do not know what S's future held in store, how his plans turned out, but it was pleasant to meet him and to learn a little about his life, hopes and aspirations for the future.

A note: Ayubia stands at 8,000 ft. elevation above sea level, almost double the height of Ben Nevis.

Khanspur in sickness and in health by Liz Y
By some unaccountable piece of good luck, a few of us remained well in Khanspur.

It wasn't good to see fellow Comexers suffering, throwing up and burying their underwear. The surroundings were beautiful, the mountain air fresh, but there was little privacy for those who were ill.

The camp was a magnet for inquisitive children, who popped up unexpectedly amongst the greenery of the forest. There was a lot of activity in the village. Our visit provided new custom for the industrious tailor. He worked from dawn till dusk at his Singer sewing machine, running up bespoke brightly-coloured, cotton shirts for Comexers.

There were other people here too on holiday. Among them were a middle aged, smartly dressed man and his adult daughter, who struck up a conversation with Johan and me, while we sat on the veranda of a rather nice cafe. I can't recall its name, except that the veranda had wooden balustrades.

They were a professional family, probably quite well off, confident and assertive in their views. The daughter had recently completed a Masters Degree in Sociology and talked in a forthright way about her achievements. Her father would have been a young adult at the time of the founding of the Republic of Pakistan and the end to British colonial rule.

We began to chat about news as presented in the media of each other's countries. I tentatively broached the subject of East Pakistan, a contentious issue at the time. The father was quick to point out that Britain faced a problem of comparable complexity in Northern Ireland. In other words, I should look in my own back yard.

I can't remember how this conversation ended. We didn't learn a lot about issues of the day in Pakistan, but the mildly defensive exchange on the father's part was food for thought in itself.

Otherwise there were pleasant places to walk along forest tracks. We took a leisurely stroll with a guide, who was somehow linked to the Comex group. We talked a bit about the climate and ecology of the region. He described how the roads became impassable in winter, blanketed in deep snow. He also said there were rare sightings of cheetahs in the forest. I glanced apprehensively through the trees, but saw from his amused expression that he didn't really expect to see one.

Once upon a time there were cheetahs in Northern Pakistan but by 1969 they were all but extinct. Snow leopards were also becoming a threatened species. Today there are reports that big cats are a problem for villagers, as a result of deforestation and destruction of habitat.

The ailing Comexers rallied and the time came for Cuddles to take to the road again. New adventures awaited us in the humidity below. Next stop Lahore.