OUR exit from Pakistan involved cutting through the southwestern province of Balochistan, the troubled desert  ‘hot spot’ which shares a long border with Afghanistan.

We were advised against making public our movements while in the province for security reasons and duly adhered. We took a 20-hour train ride from the town of Bahawalpur to Quetta, moving through dramatic desert landscape amid tight security. Good thing we were not allowed to cycle to Quetta, I had thought then, as the land is barren and we would have risked exposing ourselves to danger.

From Quetta, we had to get to the border town of Taftan by bus, which we did on January 30 after sorting out some red tape. For reasons unknown to us, we were offloaded from the bus together with our bikes and put in the back of a pick-up truck. We assumed it was for safety reasons although we don’t know for sure till now. 

And thus began our 600km ride in the “comfort” of five pick_up trucks. We were transferred from one truck to another along way and made an unscheduled night stop at a police barracks in a small town called Nokkundi, 100km out of Taftan. It was freezing cold and we had to make do with sleep on a concrete floor. We made our way to Taftan the next morning and finally arrived at the border checkpoint on what we believed to have been the last day of our visa. 

“Ah, this your last day on visa”, said the immigration officer as he perused my passport. I said, yes, and went on to tell him what we had to go through to get here. 

And then the sweet sound of my passport being stamped was heard. I heaved a sigh of relief but then the officer started counting the days with his fingers again. What now, I thought? “Oh, you have overstayed by one day”, he said with a laugh. 

And with that, our five-day ordeal of trying to leave Pakistan began. 

Our arrival in Pakistan on January 16 was a far more joyous occasion. We had entered from the Indian border town of Wagah and were greeted by office bearers from the Punjab Cycling Association, complete with garlands and armed security.

We rode into Lahore escorted by two policemen bearing AK-47s on a motorcycle. The situation was rather amusing for Ving Lee and I at the time, given that we had cycled across Thailand, Myanmar and India entirely without escort of any kind, but when in Rome, I suppose?

Our new friends from the cycling association were magnificent hosts and did everything they could to make our stay as pleasant as possible. No effort was spared in making us feel welcome, and we wouldn’t be exaggerating if we said we were literally feted by our hosts. 

Prior to us arriving, we were warned by many people in India about how Pakistan is a dangerous country rife with terrorists. Even a Lama we met in New Delhi raised questions about the safety in Pakistan. Regardless of their concerns, we still had to travel through Pakistan as planned so we just took the concerns in our stride. A misconception perhaps, I wondered? 

Most, if not all, of the Pakistanis we met inevitably asked us “So what do you think of Pakistan?”. Or “How do you feel being in Pakistan?”. You could sense that the Pakistanis were eager to disprove perceptions about their country and its people which they blame on the foreign media.

I am fond of saying that the Pakistanis not only welcome you but will also grab you tight and smother as if to say “We’ve got you and we will take care of everything”. And, they mean everything. During our time in Lahore and other towns outside of it, we were well looked after in every aspect; accommodation, food and even the occasional sightseeing tour. Pakistanis are an obliging lot and will see to it that you have what you need.

Security was of a major concern for them too. A little over the top perhaps, but it seemed they were not taking any chances with our safety. We were always surrounded by security personnel and guns.

In the smaller towns outside of Lahore, we were not allowed to roam freely by ourselves and were confined to our room after sunset. We could only move around if accompanied by our hosts or by the police although never was there a time we felt unsafe to be on our own. Hospitality or paranoia, their concerns were nevertheless much appreciated. 

The second most asked question to us in Pakistan would be “Are you Muslim?”. I guess it’s because they assume Malaysians would be Muslims  by default although the same question was asked of us often in India. 

We had some frank discussions about Islam with our hosts and found out that there is no religious policing in Pakistan. Nor do the Pakistanis place much emphasis on halal/haram matters. The Pakistanis appear refreshingly liberal despite being an Islamic Republic. Also, I discovered that Dr Mahathir Mohamad is a household name among Pakistanis as they see him as a Muslim who brought much development to a third-world country. I delighted in telling them that Dr Mahathir and I share the same birthplace and attended the same school. 

We had a string of productive activities while in Pakistan. We met journalists and even appeared on radio and television, speaking about our mission involving childhood cancer. We spoke to schoolchildren on a couple of occasions, too. 

There is something quite impressive about the young in Pakistan. They seem to possess what I would call the three Es – enthusiasm, energy and enterprise. That they appear mature for their young age, which I’m sure is by design and perhaps culture. 

We also had the opportunity to be given a guided tour of the Shaukat Hamum Memorial Cancer Hospital while in Lahore. It is the first dedicated hospital of its kind in Pakistan and provides free treatment to those suffering from cancer that they assess to be treatable. The wards are comparable to first-class wards in Malaysia.

 “I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation for our overstay, if true. Please can we use a phone to call our friends?” I pleaded with the immigration officer.

“No, you go to Islamabad and get visa extension” he summarily replied. Our requests for a phone call fell onto deaf ears. What do we do? Surely this can be resolved with a fine or a plea for leniency, after all we were only one day late and through no fault of ours. Islamabad is at least 2,000km away and there is no airport in Taftan. 

We were brought to a police barrack where again our requests for a phone was not entertained. We realised we were stranded and in a “lawless” part of the country. 

Over the next four days, many people worked round the clock to secure our release. We attempted to cross the border on two more occasions but to no avail. It seemed that the matter could only be resolved by a nod from the Interior Ministry in Islamabad. The days and hours were long for both of us as we waited around helplessly while relying on friends outside for help.

Contradicting updates were also coming back and forth and we got to a point where we didn’t know what to believe any more. Strange people would come and ask for our passports everyday and each time we were told “Inshaallah you will leave soon, no problem”. But none of that happened. 

The deputy commissioner of security in the area contacted me on a number of occasions also, each time expressing disbelief at our situation when it could have been easily resolved at the border when we first presented ourselves. Staff from the Malaysian High Commission were also on the matter by the third day. 

Finally, on the night of February 3, the police chief came to see us to convey the message that the order from the “highest” authority had arrived and we will be free to leave the next morning. The relief was palpable. 

We don’t know for sure who actually got us out of the situation but we suspect a Pakistani friend had made contact with the “highest” in Islamabad, including the interior minister himself, on our behalf and that likely got us the order to be allowed to leave. This friend also got in touch with the Pakistan Army to help secure our safety should anything untoward happen. We were, after all, in no man’s land at the time. 

We thank our friend from the bottom of our hearts. 

It was a shame that our journey through Pakistan ended the way it did after all the kindness we were shown throughout our stay. Nevertheless, our unceremonious exit did have its saving grace in the form of a police sergeant named Ismail, who looked after us during our most trying times. Ismail was kind towards us and kept us sane at a time when even a quick drive to the grocers’ and back provided us relief from the monotony of confinement. 

It was apt that the last face we saw when departing Pakistan was that of Ismail’s which only reminded us of the beauty of this much misunderstood country and its people. We thank each and every one whom we encountered along the way for an amazing experience. Pakistan Zindabad!

Seven Wunders crossed into Iran on February 4 to begin a new chapter of its journey around the world. 

You may follow our journey on Facebook and Instagram (SevenWunders) for daily updates or simply read about it right here on The Malaysian Insight.

Do support our cause in creating more awareness and raising funds for childhood cancer support on behalf of the National Cancer Society of Malaysia (NCSM).

To contribute;

Public Bank Acc: 3988587622

The National Cancer Society of Malaysia

Ref: Ride for Gold

Or online

Peoplegiving.org

http://bit.ly/7Wunders

Thank you. 

* David Wu is riding a bicycle around the world with Ving Lee to raise awareness about children with cancer. The Malaysian Insight is the media partner for the SevenWunders initiative.

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* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.