Message from discussion Humor: Desi Types in Amreeka :-)

From: "Mariam Ispahani" <mar...@ispahani.org>
Subject: Humor: Desi Types in Amreeka :-)
Date: 1999/08/29
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Newsgroups: soc.culture.pakistan,soc.culture.indian

Greetings! - Many moons ago, found this on the net... don't know what is with
the Toyota Corolla... I thought a Honda was more the 'in thing' :-)

===
DESI-TYPES IN AMREEKA - By Anis Y. Shivani

Too many different kinds to generalize, but certainly possible to categorize.
So here goes:

(1) The successful professional type with a degree from an American state
university and well over twenty years of residence in America.  Usually a
doctor (or engineer). His kind has flooded American health care institutions
(along with Indians) to the extent that new regulations will limit the influx
of desi doctors into this country before American doctors become pariahs in
their own country. Owns three bedroom house in suburbia, has high school kids
named Aisha and Faisal trying to make the breakthrough to the next level of
material success by getting admission to the second-best level of private
American colleges (Northwestern, Pomona, Oberlin). Has  visited Pakistan
twice in the last 25 years, the last time in 1983, and has no clue  what goes
on in Pakistan when he sits with his Indian-Pakistani friends and reminisces
about the Karachi (or Lahore) of old which bears no resemblance to today's
democratic chaos.

Favorite topic of conversation among fellow Pakistani professionals:
"technology transfer" to Pakistan. If you speak to him in Urdu, responds in
English.  His American English is good enough to make him feel superior to
those with seriously flawed accents (he frowns on South Indians), but he
can't get the t's and v's and b's just right.  He pronounces, desi-style,
"taaaalk," instead of the more elemental "talk."  Member of APPNA
(Association of Pakistani Physicians of North America) and proud of his
picture with President Clinton (cost $1,000
to be at the dinner, but  there you can see him, if you look really hard,
with his fading hair and rectangular silver spectacles five rows behind the
President on the extreme right hand corner of the podium OK, his nose is all
you can see).  After completing his (medical) residency in the U.S., returned
to Pakistan in 1974 to marry a beautiful U.P. girl who had done her Masters
in Psychology at Karachi University. For twenty years, she (Fazila) has been
saying she'll go back to work (she used to say after her children turn five,
ten, fifteen, and now says after they're off to college) but somehow you
don't see it happening. She clips every sale coupon for groceries.

He's thinking of sponsoring in-laws before new immigration laws make it more
difficult.  Stays away from "fanatics" of all description, and contributes
generously to the local Pakistani Association. Pretends that his daughter
Aisha has  never   dated a man, and son Faisal will find a "nice" Pakistani
girl to marry (after completing his medical residency). Proud to be an
"American citizen." Tries hard to "assimilate" (calls out "ha ya doin'?" to
his neighbors without fail), never delays his tax returns, but can't give up
going to mushairas with middle-aged couples. Prematurely balding.
Unimaginative gray flannel trousers and navy blue blazer are stock-in-trade.
Wears polyester ties. Never danced, or ran faster than 2 m.p.h. Ten pounds
underweight.  Drives white 1988 Toyota Corolla (on his six-figure income).

(2) The zamaney-ka-sataya-hua, musibat-ka-mara, thaka-hua-insaan, I mean,
the leering guy with the untrimmed moustache at the Exxon gas station and
super-convenience store with 15 years of loyal service to the petroleum
giant. You recognize him when he blurts out "Debbie-Owl (Will that be all?)
Ma'am?" when you pay up at the cash register. Calls even 12-year old  girls
"Ma'am." An unfinished Bachelor's degree at Premier College and being used as
slave-labor at uncle's garment store in Liaquatabad are the fond memories
with which he left the country. Too young to resign himself to his fate, too
old to start something new. Ahmad Samiullah paid 70,000 rupees in 1981 to
procure false travel documents and enter the U.S. illegally.  After six
months of driving "limousines" (eh, cabs?) in New York City, he headed south
to the Sun Belt. Took advantage of the 1986 Immigration Amnesty law and
obtained residency and citizenship as a "farmer" (he was supposed to have
worked as a grape-picker in Northern California). Cost him $5,000.  The U.S.
government's magnanimous amnesty (not to mention the San Jose Sardarji's
cooperation with the farm paperwork) made it possible for him to visit
Pakistan in 1989 after an eight-year absence. Old mother with   cataracts
wanted to hook him up with mamoon-zad-behen, but he gets cold feet   every
time he thinks of supporting a family on his $6.50/hr. job in the U.S.  His
ostensible reason for yearly winter visits to perpetuate the wife-hunt
(thanks to $950 round trip Gulf Air discount fare) is that he can't find
anyone beautiful enough "hoor pari chahyey kya?").

Lives with roommates and keeps his refrigerator well-stocked with Coors Light
Beer, even though he might never drink it himself. Lately, he's been feeling
strangely attracted to the tablighi guys who keep visiting his store to ask
him to join  their "program" at the Masjid. Barely passed his citizenship
test after taking   history and English lessons at the local community
college for two years. Tries to hit on every single woman (white, Latino,
Asian, black) who crosses his path and has now enhanced his repertoire of
sleazy lines with "would you like to have a beer and go dancing with me
sometime?" No one has yet taken him up on his offer (trimming the moustache
might help) and he would probably collapse if someone actually did. Thinking
of going on disability and getting unemployment compensation for six months
while he stays home with roommates and watches rented Indian movies. Often
mistaken for a Hispanic (hey, amigo!) and is flattered to be thought of that
way. Goes by name of Sam (as do all his desi convenience-store friends).
Doesn't have medical insurance, so shows up moaning (with the flu) at
Emergency and Trauma Centers of major hospitals at one in the morning for
free treatment.  Wears gold chain, three golden rings, gold watch, tight
jeans, and silk shirt with three open buttons showing hairy chest. Gets his
kicks from wearing clothes and returning them to department stores for full
refund just before 30-day return period is up. Hasn't lost a single hair on
his head, but suffers from stomach ulcers, kidney problems, and bad gums.
Drives white   1988 Toyota Corolla.

(3) Artsy-fartsy Pakistani rebel student, consciously modeled after
Paki-Brits Tariq Ali, Hanif Kureishi, and Salman Rushdie (for lack of
avant-garde desi role models in America). Tells you that Salman Rushdie is as
much Pakistani as Indian. You never see him (or her) at any Pakistani
gathering or even know of his or her existence on your campus even if you
study at same place for four years. If a boy, keeps long pony- tail (desis of
the doctorly persuasion make fun of him and snicker, "Jesus Christ aa gaiy)"
If a girl, dresses in nothing but black, wears mournful look and will never
smile back at you if you recognize her as a fellow Pakistani on a campus
pathway. Hangs out with Iranians, Turks, Egyptians, Greeks, Spaniards, and
Italians (students and drop-outs) of similar quasi-Bohemian persuasion (all
Satyajit Ray and Fellini fans). Into "experimentation" of every kind (use
your imagination) and asks unsuspecting Pakistani acquaintances: "Do you
think it's all right for me to have these feelings   toward persons of my own
gender? I mean, would it be all right?" Paints but never sells anything.

Included here are Marxist political economists, pianists, and "creative
writers".  The neoclassical economists with secure World Bank jobs,
mathematical and   computer skills, high rankings on the back-home marriage
eligibility charts, and suburban futures belong to category "one", and are
never to be seen dead with the wayward "radical" type. Thinks smoking is real
cool, but will tell you: "I wanna give it up". If goes to law school, thinks
pro bono work, human rights organizations, low-paying think tanks, and going
back home to work for an NGO (usually does go back and fares quite well!).
Wants nothing to do with religion, rituals, artifice, hypocrisy, expensive
clothes, double-standards, male chauvinism, desi nationalism, cricket, Indian
movies, Pakistan Student Association, or segregated parties. Keeps in touch
with all of his or her Grammar School friends throughout the globe, and
celebrates Jewish, Christian, and Hindu holidays with cosmopolitan  friends.
Still listens to the Cure and Depeche Mode. Dreams of finding true love  (and
usually does!). Leaves complicated answering machine messages in  different
languages that always begin: "Hi friend!" Bravely bears the burden of  being
"idealistic". Has no problems finding dates or long-term relationships and
has typically been going steady with the same person for five years. If you
are a Pakistani guy or girl, you have no chance with her or him (don't
humiliate yourself). Speaks English better than Americans (except for the
sing-song Pakistani-British intonation that won't go). Might drive white 1988
Toyota Corolla if she could afford it.

(4) The "born-again" enthusiast, guy with white topi, scraggly beard and
trousers lifted well above the ankles, and girl with $60 hijab purchased at
last summer's ISNA convention. Can't justify living in "dar-al- harb" (region
of war) under any circumstances except to make "da'wa"  (proselytize) to the
"kuffar" (unbelievers), so they sign up on Internet newsgroups (MSA-net,
Muslim sisters net, soc.religion.Islam, soc.culture.Pakistan,
soc.culture.Indian) to bash every sect not of their persuasion. Haqqanis bash
Salafis, Tahriris bash Kabbanis. Economic development, democracy, and human
rights are Zionist plots to distract us from striking fear in the hearts of
the "kuffar". Never bashful of dispensing fatwas condemning people to
apostasy at the slightest provocation with the disingenuous preface: "ad-din
un- nasiha" (religion is giving advice).

Contemptuous of progressive Pakistanis back home who're lost in the
wilderness of culture, music, materialism, and mysticism. Shows up at Noam
Chomsky lectures to voice his approval of hallucinatory conspiracy theories
and to bash Zionists, and never misses a chance to hold up "Save Bosnia"
placards whenever  President Clinton is in town (this is a form of "da'wa").
Keeps his gaze down when   Muslim girls talk to him and looks away like they
had rabies, but cannot stop stealing glances (not too furtive either) at
every girl (white, Latino, Asian, black) on the street. Discussions typically
center around co-wives in jannah 'obligatoriness' of sunnah clothing, finding
the direction to pray in planes, and how to wash off dog gandagi. Writes
badly-spelled letters accusing American news magazines of "bias" against
Muslims. Wants fellow Pakistanis to go to Kashmir to fight jihad (can't go
himself because busy performing da'wa on Internet in dar-al-harb, an equally
great responsibility that has devolved upon him). Guy thinks that any girl
who wants to talk to him is flirting with him (and he must save his faith),
and girl thinks that any guy with a smile on his face is sexually harassing
her.

Will probably never return to Pakistan (it being too progressive and
culturally   materialistic). Almost gave mother back home a heart attack when
adopted   kunya (spiritual nickname) of Abu Zabaidah. Usually found at
radioactive   underground labs or biology labyrinths performing experiments
at 3 a.m. Thinks that if you've read Amina Wadud-Mohsin's apologist pamphlet
on women you can dispense with all social theory, philosophy, and history.
Looks forward to getting his citizenship so that his Congressman will take
him more seriously when he writes him badly-spelled anti-India letters.
Putting fundamentalism back into fun. Drives white 1988 Toyota Corolla.
===

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