The US pharma company Mike and I worked for had a
subsidiary in Pakistan and we spent three weeks working in Karachi as internal
auditors. This was when the country was not generally associated with Islamic
extremism and long before it became dangerous for foreigners. Since we were
staying in a plush, westernised hotel, the appalling poverty of the general
population was largely concealed from us. But one day while walking through a
crowded market I glimpsed coming towards me a man whose nose was missing, and
in its place were just two sepulchral cavities, his face a midpoint between that
of a living person and a spectral skull from the trenches of the Great War. He
must have been a leper. This frightful apparition took my breath away, and the
man passed in a flash, disappearing into the multitude behind me. In the fast, crowded
rush I could not even share this horrifying sight with my colleague – it was an
image which remained in my mind for years afterwards.
The taxi driver who picked us up on the first morning
deposited us at the office, and then asked at what time we would go to lunch.
When we emerged at noon, there he was, ready to drive us to a restaurant, and
he waited to take us back to the office after the meal. While travelling back
to the office, he wanted to know at what time we would finish work….and sure
enough, there he was again, ready to drive us back to our hotel. Then we realised
that he was in fact our dedicated chauffeur who, for a modest daily rate, was
quite happy to drive us wherever we wanted, and at any time.
Once on the way to work I became gradually aware of a persistent
foul smell. I was not normally disturbed by bad odours, but this was truly
revolting and seemed to be intensifying. By concentrating my attention, I
finally made sense of it: we were stuck in gridlocked traffic in the stifling
heat behind a large truck laden with rotten fish.
One of the offices was said to be occupied by the
secretaries, yet they never seemed to appear. After a while it dawned on me
that they were in fact two men, and that no women at all worked for the
subsidiary.
The accounting staff were in one large, stifling room.
There was no air conditioning, and the only concession to their comfort was a
set of rotating desk fans. These constantly scanned and rescanned the
landscape, churning up the humid air fruitlessly. Each of the desks bore huge
piles of papers upon which weights of different sorts were perched to prevent
them becoming airborne. The clerks had become expert in lifting and rapidly
replacing them in sync with the fans to retrieve the documents they needed.
The Purchasing Manager at the subsidiary asked us every
day whether we would like to “buy some beer for our room”. Since Pakistan was a
“dry” country, it was not possible to consume alcohol publicly. If we wanted
some, he said it would suffice for us to bring in our passports and he would
arrange it. We were not particularly bothered, but he was so insistent that finally
we agreed and brought our passports into work on the following day. We were already
aware that as a conservative Islamic country Pakistan was very intolerant of locals
drinking alcohol - there were constant news reports on the hotel radio about people
being caught and flogged for drinking.
After work, the Purchasing Manager drove us to a very
large shed where alcohol was on sale, but only to foreigners. A soldier
sporting sergeant stripes and carrying a machine gun was in attendance, which
was somewhat worrying. A distraught and dishevelled man immediately approached
us, apparently pleading for us to let him have part of our alcohol allowance.
The Purchasing Manager chased him away in an ugly and aggressive manner. Then
he took our passports and proceeded to place a long order comprising many
bottles of different spirits (whisky, gin, rum etc.). As an afterthought, he
turned to us and asked how many bottles of beer we wanted….just two each, we
said. We gave him the money for our beer and he in turn paid for all the
alcohol, loaded it in the boot of the car, and started to drive us back to the
hotel.
Sitting at the back of the car, Mike and I felt very
uneasy. When we arrived at the hotel, our driver gave us our beer and continued
on this way, with all the other bottles still in the boot. We sat in the lobby
and tried to make sense of the situation. On the one hand, we had been conned
by a company employee into facilitating a criminal act punishable by whipping
and/or imprisonment; on the other, we were corporate auditors responsible for enforcing
the company’s exacting standards of ethics and respect for local legalities - so
if our role in this misdemeanour ever came to like it would surely be a firing
offence if our role in this misdemeanour ever came to light - very alarming.
Mike’s comment on this (“Alex, life is a learning
experience”) seemed to me completely absurd. After all those lessons, books and
exams surely we knew enough to live our lives without further ado?
After chewing it over, we thought that the best plan was
to ask the Purchasing Manager what had happened, hoping to keep it under wraps
as much as possible. His immediate response on the following day (“Don’t worry,
not out of petty cash”) was only slightly consoling, as we were more anxious
that nobody senior within the organisation was aware of it. When we asked him about
this, he replied: “Don’t worry, nobody knows, only Mr. Z*** [the Managing
Director], Mr. S*** [the Finance Director] and XYZ [other key executives]”.
After that I had the dread feeling that my complicity would be discovered some
day, that I would be humiliated and summarily dismissed. That concern gradually
abated, and I managed to survive within the company until the encroachment of
fogeyhood.
Before we left, we learned the true story. Mr. Z***
occasionally had to entertain visitors from the U.S. headquarters. They would
have been delighted with the company of his extrovert and voluptuous wife (a
lot of woman for such a diminutive man). However, they would also have expected
some alcohol as part of the entertainment and relaxation, just as if they had
been back in New Jersey. That could only be bought in Pakistan by westerners
such as us, and was the explanation for our disconcerting adventure.
No comments:
Post a Comment