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25th July:
The Pakistan Open is under way in
Karachi, and but for the London bombings which caused Framboise's
operation to be rescheduled, she would be in Karachi now. So to get a
flavour of the event, the country, let's look at last year's "Last day
in Islamabad" ... |
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ONE OF THE BEST
From December 2004
 DAYS OF MY LIFE…
 The
last day I spent in Pakistan was to say the least… unexpected…
Rahmat Khan, the Legendary coach and manager of the All Time
Greatest Jahangir Khan, now National Coach of the Pakistan Junior
Team, had very graciously rearranged his busy schedule to make me
visit a bit of the City of Islamabad. |
BACK TO THE COMPLEX
 At 10.30 sharp, his assistant coach and cousin,
Ayaz Khan, picked me
up from the Marriott Hotel (if the rest of the country works on the
“five minutes means three hours”, as Amr Shabana says, the PSF is
run under the rules of the Air Force, so believe me, 10.30 was
10.30).
 First stop, the complex, and a look at the end of the Saturday
morning junior session, where only games and conditioned games are
played.
A funny detail. Between players of a similar standard, a bet is made
(the equivalent of £2, £3), placed in front of the tin, and the
winner puts it in a common pot that will be used to take the whole
squad out…).
Then, my two guides plus Shamshul (who played Nick Matthew in the
first round) took me to have a more in-depth look at the fantastic
facilities of the complex I only saw from outside. |
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I’VE DONE IT AGAIN…
 First of all, let me tell you that I seem to have the biggest foot
to put in the most embarrassing situation…
Let me take you back to the match Mansoor Zaman/David Palmer. Here I
was, minding my own business, watching a pretty good match. A
gentleman came to sit at my side, greying hair, funny hat on, an
impeccable English. “Do you enjoy your visit so far” he asks. “Yes,
so far, they haven’t kicked me out of the country yet”, I replied.
“What do you mean?” he said. I laughed “Well, I have a bit of a big
mouth, and England has been trying to get rid of me for 10 years
now, without much success I’m afraid…”
The gentleman laughs with me, “I’m a bit of a big mouth myself,” he
adds. “I’m the DJ around here”…
I thought to myself, what was he doing down there, near the court,
instead of being near the sound system, and that he looked slightly
over-age to be a DJ…
Then we started to talk about the match, life, Mansoor, we argued
about football, etc.
Cut to the visit of the complex. |
OUPS…
Ayaz stops the car in front of the Sport Board Office, and tells me
that we are to meet with the Director General of the Sports Board,
who had been slightly delayed because of an appointment with the
Sports Minister. At that precise minute, an official car drives in,
and out comes… my DJ.
 Well,
stupid French language, G is pronounced J, OK? So, the man I took
for the music man was the DG, Arif Mehmood Siddique, the Big
Boss of Sports in Islamabad and one of the most listened to persons
in the country.
Like I said, I had done it again…
But thank God, Mr Siddique has a great sense of humour, he is one of the
most intelligent men I have met in my life, he is passionate, witty,
knowledgeable, and not only respected but loved by all around here…
I received a lovely token (a photographer had been pre-arranged, and
I had the prints in hand less than an hour later, talk about
organisation…)
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 Back to the car, and off to visit the Hockey hall, (where you can
play all sorts of team sports), the Football ground (where Jahangir
lit the flame for the Asian Games), the Badminton Hall, the
Swimming Pool, the stunning Gymnasium that would be perfect for a
big squash event, noted Rahmat…
 Then,
as the DG had organised a big lunch for the workers of the complex,
we were invited to join them. The meal was organised at the Hostel
where the athletes are staying (along with Rahmat who chose to stay
near his troops to maintain discipline, and refused a more
comfortable hotel).
Once again, treated like a queen, the Framboise was… The food was
delicious, one after the other the athletes came to pay their
respect to the Man. |
OFF TO THE GARDENS…
 At a few minutes from the Complex is a beautiful garden, very
colourful, where all the dignitaries of all nationalities who come
to Islamabad come and plant a tree.
My blond hair was attracting a few looks of course…
As we were walking around, a few schoolboys came and asked Rahmat
for autographs. Ayaz whispered to my ear “That happens all the
time…”
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TO THE MOSQUE
 As I wasn’t dressed accordingly (I didn’t know we were going there,
otherwise I would have taken my chador), Ayaz lent me his long and
large black jacket to make me more decent. We took our shoes off, of
course, then strolled around the sainted place. What a monument…
There, I had one of the strangest experiences of my life.
 As the boys were inside praying, I was asked between 90 and 100
times if my picture could be taken. Even in my most famous days, I
never attracted so much attention and interest.
Let me assure you that, at no time, I felt in ANY danger, but a bit
overwhelmed by the attention I guess. So about 90 or 100 people sat
next to me, one after the other, and had their picture taken with
me.
 I’m not sure I get it, but…
It’s strange, you know, I’m not a very religious person, but, in
this place, the word “Harmony” sprung to my mind, as I was watching
a world I know nothing about go by ... |
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OFF TO THE MOUNTAINS
 Back to the car, and up a sinuous road that seemed to climb to the
stars… The view from up there was again very peaceful. We sat in a
little café, looking at the valley below…
Amazing…
 Once again, Tea. The sunset was beautiful. It was now very cold. I
was still wearing Ayaz’ jacket, the poor man pretending that, no, he
wasn’t cold…
Then prayer for the boys, and a perfect peaceful and tearful moment
for me, as I was contemplating the chance I had to be in such a
place, with such people, in such a country, after such a week… |
TO THE MARKET
 Back to the city. A phone call to the new Pakistan Champion, James
Willstrop, who was delighted to come out of the hotel. A meeting at
7pm was arranged.
So, for an hour, we walked around the jewellery shops, the clothes,
the non alcohol perfumes, talking, laughing, joking…
I had the impression of being back home in Africa…
The prices were so low compared to London, it was slightly unreal …
Lights, people, cars, laughs, armed guards …
Again, slightly surreal… |
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BACK TO THE MOUNTAINS..
 But 7 soon came, we picked up James, and up again, towards the
mountains, in one of the most famous restaurants of Islamabad, where
the view, once again, is stunning…
James and Rahmat talked a lot, and I was only too glad to listen…
Like I said, being around those people makes me realise how little I
know, and how much I need to learn… As he had been doing all day,
Rahmat invited us all…
We were alone in that stunning all in white restaurant, need I use
the world surreal once again??
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from
December 2004 |
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I had forgotten to give him back his
jacket.
