I’ve never been more scared for my life than when I was standing around in the streets of Karachi. I was the palest person some of these people had ever seen, and in Pakistan it’s not rude to stare. They stare at the rich in Karachi, they stare at unusually light skinned Arab women. I was as much a freak to them as I pretend to be in America.
At the time of my visit, there was quite a bit of terrorist activity. As I recall, they were fond of blowing up American fast food places: KFC, Burger King, whatever symbols of western decadence were available.
My mother always used to say “We didn’t come all this way just to eat at McDonald’s”. That never made sense to me.
“I like McDonalds,” I would say. “Why don’t I get to eat the food I like? Why do we have to try all this new, scary stuff?”
“DANIEL, TERRORISTS WILL BLOW YOU UP IF YOU DON’T TRY THIS CALAMARI!”
I have no idea why she never tried the terrorism angle. It would have worked.