Karachi's hidden underbelly
"The blue-grey vapour canopy hangs leaden over Karachi, not a single waft of air is carried from the sea into the dusty concrete desert, where just a few trees lead a wretched existence. The monsoon has merely skirted Karachi and the little rain has brought no relief at all, no more black clouds in the sky for weeks." – Perhaps Karachi isn't a place many of us would be drawn to visit.
In any case, most people have few associations with the name; Karachi is a blind spot on the collective map. Despite that, it remains the largest metropolis in the Muslim world: the urban agglomeration's population is equal to that of Denmark and The Netherlands combined.
Jürgen Wasim Frembgen's new book "Sufi Hotel" catapults the reader right into the middle of this monster of a city where for years now, daily life has been defined by gang warfare, abductions, murders and suicide attacks. The book, a meticulous milieu study of Karachi's underworld, is structured in chapters bearing names like "At the Tea House", "In the Brothel District" or "At the Shrine of the Sufi Master" and introduces a reality that is sometimes surprising, sometimes shocking and that frequently leaves you speechless.
Few people in German-speaking nations are more familiar with Pakistan than Juergen Wasim Frembgen.
The ethnologist, scholar of Islam and Sufism and former head of the Orient department at the Museum of Five Continents in Munich has been conducting research trips to the southern Asian nation for more than three decades.
Keen observational powers
We have his passion for the region to thank for a series of ethnographic travel books that take us from the lowlands of the Punjab and the peaks of the Himalayas to the courtyards of Sufi mausoleums, to street cafes and in among the tribal societies of isolated mountain valleys.
In his new publication "Sufi Hotel", published in German by Schiler & Muecke in Tubingen, Frembgen displays keen powers of observation and a gripping narrative. The focal point of his explorations is a tea house in southwest Karachi that gives the book its name…"Sufi Hotel".
It is here that Frembgen spends many hours eavesdropping on the shrill and murky stories coursing around the neighbourhood and capturing impressions as they rain down on him. The observations are translated into precise adjectives.
Often, the descriptions are formulated with such verve, the reader finds themselves almost able to hear the sounds, smell the smells and see the images from the comfort of their chair.
The tea house thus becomes a hub and pivot point for Frembgen's observations in a city district that's a mixture of red light area and marketplace, frequented by pimps and young mullahs, eccentric dervishes, drug dealers, gang members and transgender women.
As the narrative unfolds this cafe, run by a cash-hungry Pashtun, comes to symbolise the contradictory nature of urban Pakistan.
"On a rusty nail hangs a fly-encrusted picture frame with a colour poster of the Red Sufi. It depicts the saint flying like Icarus, dancing with a lute in his hand and praying before an open Koran. In the half-light and stifling heat, we take a seat on a threadbare sofa, alongside a pile of dusty musical instruments."
The Sufi symbolism of the cafe decor merges with the pseudo-religious ramblings of some guests and the obvious vices of others. Everything is underpinned by a fierce battle for survival on the streets. Some of Frembgen's encounters are nothing short of grotesque: On one occasion he meets a hypocritical cleric who abhors music as haram (forbidden), preaches chastity to others and warns against God's punishments, while at the same time being among the district's most enthusiastic brothel visitors.
Contradictions beneath the surface
Through the character outlines of such out-of-kilter figures, Frembgen provides astonishing insights into the contradictions that simmer beneath the surface of this Muslim society.
While the ethnologist delves into this world with respect and ethnographic professionalism, he does not shy away from denouncing the blatant maladministration and incongruities he encounters; or condemning an increasingly pervasive Pakistani fundamentalism: "I despise the increasingly rigid expressions of religiosity, the increasingly narrow-minded self-perception of official Islam that has almost completely eradicated any remnants of faith from previous epochs of humanity," he writes.
The overall resulting picture of the city is rather a grim one, a lesson on the abysms of human existence, one that also tells of the rifts between religiosity and secularism, the eternal interplay between the here and now and the afterlife. Reading this book, although sometimes not for the faint-hearted, is a literary delight and makes a valuable contribution to broadening our worldview.
© Qantara.de 2023
Translated from the German by Nina Coon
Jürgen Wasim Frembgen, “Sufi Hotel”, Schiler & Muecke 2022, 186 pages