{"id":231,"date":"2025-07-05T23:59:30","date_gmt":"2025-07-05T20:59:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/commons.princeton.edu\/jrn350-su25\/?p=231"},"modified":"2025-07-24T21:53:05","modified_gmt":"2025-07-24T18:53:05","slug":"this-man-came-from-pakistan-to-deliver-your-coffee-pronto","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/commons.princeton.edu\/jrn350-su25\/2025\/07\/05\/this-man-came-from-pakistan-to-deliver-your-coffee-pronto\/","title":{"rendered":"This Man Came From Pakistan to Deliver Your Coffee, Pronto"},"content":{"rendered":"

efood has landed on Paros. Its couriers have traversed far more than restaurant doors and seaside roads.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

By Noah LaBelle<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Zahid Mehmood couldn\u2019t remember the last time he\u2019d done anything but walk and sleep. Nineteen days earlier, he\u2019d set out from Karachi, Pakistan, on foot, before crossing into Turkey. It was December 2015, just before European borders began to tighten. Soon, his feet could take him no further. On the Greek island of Kos\u2014just 4 kilometers off the Turkish coast\u2014he boarded a three-meter boat, crammed with thirteen others, bound for the port of Piraeus.<\/span><\/p>\n

Once Mehmood made it safely to Athens, he heard that another <\/span>nineteen people had died<\/span><\/a> attempting the same passage after him. He could only thank God\u2014and the UN, which clothed, fed, and put him up in a hotel for a week. It took him another two months to land a construction gig, the same work he\u2019d done since age fifteen in Islamabad, Pakistan\u2019s capital.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This May, Mehmood\u2019s boat ride was much less treacherous: a high-speed ferry to Paros, where he now delivers takeout by motorcycle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAthens has too much heat,\u201d he told me on a recent Thursday afternoon. \u201cHere, I have the sea. There\u2019s not too much traffic, not too much pollution. It\u2019s a very peaceful place.\u201d He was lounging on a semi-circular stone bench outside the Paros Byzantine Museum with three other couriers in red efood vests, refreshing their food delivery apps. \u201cIt\u2019s like a shared office!\u201d Mehmood, thirty, said, a fanny pack slung over his shoulder. They\u2019d clocked in at noon and would stay until ten. In the distance, another ferry pulled in, spilling visitors and their suitcases.<\/span><\/p>\n

efood launched on Paros this summer. Mehmood stepped away from the scaffolding in 2020, when pandemic lockdowns impelled a food delivery boom. Now, he and eleven other Pakistanis working for efood in Athens have relocated to the island, where they share two villas. They\u2019ve arrived just in time for high season\u2014July through August\u2014when Paros overflows with Greeks and foreigners alike. By September, they\u2019ll return to the mainland.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tourists come with their culinary tastes, and leave Paros with less of its own. \u201cThere are not that many tavernas\u2014it\u2019s my main problem, seriously,\u201d Sophia Katsipi, the president of the Realtors Association of Paros and Antiparos, said. \u201cTo go to these little tavernas with the beautiful, local produce\u2026I don\u2019t want to see another sushi place. I\u2019ve had enough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

While locals may think the island is oversaturated, investors often argue new restaurants or hotels will create jobs for Parians. \u201cBut this island doesn\u2019t suffer from unemployment,\u201d Costas Bizas, the mayor of Paros, told me. \u201cSo who will you create new jobs for, and how are you going to find those people to work for you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The answer, often, is men like Mehmood. (There are enough Pakistanis, Afghans, and Bengalis on the island to field a cricket match on Sundays from six to eight or nine, depending on the number of overs.) <\/span>What sold Mehmood on moving to Paros was what drew him to efood in Athens, and what pushed him to leave Pakistan: the pay. \u201cAfter one day of work, it\u2019s finished if you have two people [to provide for],\u201d he said of his hometown. <\/span><\/p>\n

That didn\u2019t include the heat. In Islamabad, he worked outside, always, on two-story shells that trapped the humidity. In Athens\u2019 high-rises, less sweltering but sweltering still, he sometimes worked indoors. The salary was fixed at seventy euros for eight hours. efood paid a tad better, with looser hours, and no dust. On Paros, his pay doubled to meet the island\u2019s costs. \u201cNow I care for all of my family,\u201d he said: seven siblings, and his parents, his father retired from electrical work.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf I have papers, I\u2019ll go back and get married,\u201d Mehmood said. That\u2019s proven challenging. He\u2019s been waiting since April 2024 for his third country national application to be approved by the Greek government. \u201cI have nine years of proof, tax proof, doctors notes,\u201d he said. \u201cMaybe it will happen. I don\u2019t know. God only knows.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The next day, I returned to the pine-shaded area where Mehmood and his crew spend the majority of their waking hours, but he was nowhere to be found. A smattering of cigarette butts lay inside the stone semicircle. Some of his colleagues had draped <\/span>cardboard sheets over it, more comfortable for long stints.<\/span><\/p>\n

Soon, Mehmood returned, fresh off a delivery. \u201cIt\u2019s a tourist speaking English,\u201d he told me. \u201cHis order is eleven euro, but in his mind, it\u2019s ten euro fifty.\u201d Mehmood informed him, and got an apology with the missing coins. As he showed me the receipt on his iPhone, a ping sounded, twice, arpeggiated.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God,\u201d he exhaled. He\u2019d been seated for ninety seconds, tops. (The day prior, I hadn\u2019t seen him get a single order during a multi-hour conversation.) Now, onto Orange Cafe, for two coffees and a sandwich. Seventeen euros. He\u2019d earn two forty-seven.<\/span><\/p>\n

He crossed the street, quick but unhurried. On a side road, motorcycles clustered among parked cars, their red efood boxes ratcheted on tight. One was h<\/span>is, bought last year for \u20ac4,200, with an Apple sticker on the front fender.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI must be careful,\u201d he said, unzipping the box to reveal his helmet. \u201cIn Athens, I left helmets on my bike, twice, then I came back: no helmet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll come back, I\u2019ll come back,\u201d he reassured me. \u201cOnly just four, five minutes.\u201d The engine revved. He didn\u2019t flip down his visor. Then he was gone\u2014a right at the roundabout, before the coffee could cool. <\/span>\u2666<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

efood has landed on Paros. Its couriers have traversed far more than restaurant doors and seaside roads. By Noah LaBelle Zahid Mehmood couldn\u2019t remember the last time he\u2019d done anything but walk and sleep. Nineteen days earlier, he\u2019d set out from Karachi, Pakistan, on foot, before crossing into Turkey. It was December 2015, just before … <\/p>\n

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