When I arrived in Pakistan, I was 26 years old and probably one of the only persons on the planet who didn't have pierced ears. Oh, I'd wanted them for years, but the idea that I could cheerfully allow someone to poke a hole in a part of my head was way beyond my comfort zone.
I'd tried to muster the courage when I lived in Mexico City one summer. Made the appointment and everything. Got one of my friends to agree to take me. Even had the earrings I'd wear while the ear healed. And I chickened out. At that time I was 21. Five years later my fear hadn't abated.
In Pakistan a woman's wealth is often measured in how much gold jewelry she possesses, and Abid's family dearly wanted to give me earrings and necklaces to go with the new wardrobe they'd provided. Ears of women in the old country are pierced when they are infants or toddlers, and even the cheap cosmetic jewelry available there is only made for pierced ears. Consequently both Abid and my sisters-in-law tried to talk me into having the procedure done.
In brother-in-law Tajammul's family nearly everyone is a doctor. They own a multitude of hospitals in the Karachi area, so Abid approached Tajammul's wife, Aijaz, with an idea.
"Why don't you pierce Judi's ears in the hospital? Maybe she'll feel more comfortable that way."
I wasn't at all sure that was true, but Aijaz agreed with Abid that it was such a simple procedure and would take less than a minute.
They were going to give us a tour of their newest hospital anyway, so I decided to give in.
To my surprise Aijaz scheduled the "operation" to take place in the operating theatre. She brought me in and positioned me on the table then stepped outside for a moment. When she returned another woman was with her.
"Judi, I'd like you to meet Dr. (I can't remember her name). I've asked her to help me decide where to place the holes in your ears."
The two women conferred, studying each ear carefully, then Aijaz placed a mark on each one. They stepped back together and studied their handiwork--artists examining a freshly-painted canvas. Satisfied, Aijaz swabbed the first ear and prepared to proceed. I wondered if it was too late to jump and run. But I didn't. Aijaz took up her chosen instrument, poised over the ear and jabbed. A brief moment of discomfort and the deed was done. She came around to the other side of the table and repeated the procedure. In less than two minutes the ears had been pierced and the earrings inserted. There had been no pain.
Yes, I was embarrassed at my irrationality. I was even more embarrassed when I later learned that the woman who had consulted with Aijaz was a reknowned OB-Gyn whom Pakistani women waited months to see. She'd abandoned her patients for a couple of minutes--to observe the woman who was so frightened she had to have her ears pierced on an operating table.
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