Strange Things (Photo Evidence Of...)

I was the passenger in a car driving down a major road in Karachi. It was my first day there. It had been a whirlwind day - we'd arrived at the Quaid-e-Azam International Airport at 4am. We'd been met by three two parents, two brothers, 2 uncles 3 aunts, and five cousins. We were all packed into three cars and went to M's familial home where these people would. not. leave. even though it was very clear we were exhausted. At some point, we tried to take a short nap but couldn't, we went through all the luggage to distribute various gifts (less that 25% of the luggage carried stuff for us.)

After that, we'd begun a dizzying tour of family member's houses. Nani - M's maternal grandmother - was first, then Baray Uncle - M's eldest paternal uncle. Next up was his eldest paternal uncle and then the next door neighbors. (These things have to go by age. It's a respect thing, the eldest being visited first. Also, M's family still very much expects preferential treatment of the males in the family. Another post for another time.)

It's night. I've been up for two days. We're driving home, and the streets or Karachi are dark and dusty. Never empty, though. We pull up to a crowded intersection, and as we're slowly making our way through, I'm sure my eyes are deceiving me. "What's that?" I ask. "A side-of-the-road fast food restaurant," says M. "No," I say, "I mean, what are those things strung up by a rope between those two poles?"

"Oh," says M, "those are dead chickens, waiting to be cooked." 

Just hanging out there in the dust and pollution and dirt. Without refrigeration.