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There was an overwhelming diversity of grub at the Karachi Eats festival

Karachi has never been my favourite city in Pakistan. Over the last 23 years I have rarely had much good to say about it, either person-to-person or in print. Nasty, dirty and downright dangerous particularly in recent years — I really did dodge a bullet in Mehmoodabad, probably not meant for me but hey — it was never high on my list of places to visit for a little light R-and-R.

But nothing is forever. Of late the place has had a wash of the face, it really is less tricky than it was and public events are again on the agenda. Successful literary festivals paved the way and it was only a matter of time before somebody had the bright idea of putting on a food festival, because if there is one thing the average Karachiite loves it’s their grub.

Thus it was that I went along, a couple of friends in tow neither of them natives of the city, to day two of the Karachi Eats event held in the grounds of the timelessly elegant Frere Hall — and it was a howling success. Curmudgeon that I am I had a stiletto of cynicism to hand to slip between the ribs were I to be less than moderately satisfied or impressed — and it never left the sheath.

There were cavils and let’s get them out of the way from the outset. The signage was either poor or completely absent. The entrance to the event was not prominently signed — or I missed it — and there was no map of the stalls. Anything to do with food on a large scale is going to produce rubbish on an equally large scale — and there was a dearth of litter bins although there were volunteers who policed the site for rubbish. There was also a prominent lack of toilets, and given the size of the crowd — I have no idea how many but several thousands — toilets and hand-washing facilities ought to have been there. Again if they were, I missed them, and my apologies if so.

There endeth the complaints. For a couple of hours we roamed among a happy throng of young and old, men, women and children, preening fashionistas, boys with their egos to the fore but generally behaving themselves — and the object of the entire exercise, over 80 vendors purveying some very tasty wares indeed.

There was an almost overwhelming diversity of grub. All was presented by — as far as I could see — existing businesses or franchises already operating in the city and using the eat-in to showcase their goods. The lines waiting to be served were orderly and moved along smartly, people were courteous in making way for others and those delivering the comestibles were appropriately gloved and hair-netted.

This was a public event on a grand scale, and from what I had gathered of the two previous iterations was both a scaling-up and an improvement, particularly in terms of traffic management, over its predecessors. The police and paramilitaries outside the event grounds kept things moving, and considering the volume of cars, there was remarkably little prolonged traffic-jamming. Somebody somewhere had done the necessary coordination and planning. It worked.

There could be few more convincing signs that things had changed for the better in the city. There was no fakery on display — people were genuinely happy and relaxed, there was no sense of looking over the shoulder, and for three days Karachi shone at its best. Perfect it was not as noted above, and when I visit next year I expect to see those issues addressed, and perhaps addressed also in the upcoming literature festival at the Beach Luxury Hotel on February 5, 6 and 7. The Beach event has in the past been noted for its appalling traffic problems and the last time I attended it was ankle-deep in rubbish over most of the outdoor venue.

Thus it is that I leave Karachi with an unaccustomed rosy glow. On Sunday, there was a visit to the Mohatta Palace, maps and fabrics and some superb presentation and curation. Visit if you can, and a delightful late brunch at Marigold and Honey in Zamzama. Karachi… not such a bad place to visit after all. Tootle-pip! 

Published in The Express Tribune, January 28^th,  2016.

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