A Camel, a Lamp and a Japanese Surplus Shop in the Philippines

Sometimes the best souvenirs come from places you’ve never actually visited. What I didn’t know at the time was that I’d just discovered what appeared to be a traditional Pakistani camel skin lamp.

I have a bit of a weakness for unusual things.

Not necessarily expensive things, mind you. Just objects that catch my eye, make me stop walking and whisper, “Now, what on earth is that?”

And that’s exactly what happened during one of my visits to a Japanese surplus warehouse here in the Philippines.

For those unfamiliar with these places, Japanese surplus shops are something of a treasure hunt. They’re packed with second-hand furniture, household items, decorations and all sorts of mysterious objects that have somehow made their way from Japan to the Philippines.

You might find a perfectly ordinary rice cooker sitting next to an antique-looking cabinet, a collection of porcelain dogs, or something that looks suspiciously like a medieval torture device.

And occasionally, you find something genuinely extraordinary.

Which brings me to my lamp.

Love at First Light

There it was, standing amongst the usual assortment of forgotten household treasures.

A rather magnificent, colourful lamp with an unusual shape, covered in intricate floral patterns and glowing with a wonderfully warm, golden light.

It looked a little like something from One Thousand and One Nights.

Or perhaps something Aladdin might have kept in his living room once he’d upgraded from rubbing lamps to using electricity.

I had absolutely no idea what it was.

Was it glass? Painted parchment? Some kind of elaborate plastic?

Whatever it was, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

And as anyone who enjoys rummaging through second-hand shops knows, there’s a dangerous moment when curiosity turns into ownership.

I had reached that moment.

The lamp was coming home with me.

A Little Research and a Rather Surprising Discovery

Once I had my new acquisition safely at home, curiosity got the better of me.

After all, I couldn’t very well spend the rest of my life referring to it as “that colourful thing from the surplus shop”.

So I did what any sensible person would do.

I asked the internet.

And the answer was rather unexpected.

My mysterious lamp appeared to be a traditional camel-skin lamp from Pakistan.

Yes, camel skin.

Not camel-coloured plastic. Not some exotic type of glass.

Actual camel hide.

I must admit, that wasn’t particularly high on my list of guesses.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, somebody looked at a camel and thought, “You know what? That would make a lovely lampshade.”

And, surprisingly enough, they were right.

How a Pakistani Camel Skin Lamp Is Made

These remarkable lamps are particularly associated with Multan, an ancient city in Pakistan’s Punjab province.

Multan has a long history of traditional craftsmanship, including pottery, decorative painting and leatherwork.

One of its most distinctive crafts is called Naqashi, the art of decorating surfaces with intricate hand-painted patterns.

The painting tradition itself is centuries old, but the particular craft of decorating camel-skin lamps is often traced to the early twentieth century, when an artisan named Abdullah Naqash began applying traditional designs to these unusual objects.

And making them is considerably more complicated than simply stretching a bit of camel skin over a light bulb.

The process traditionally involves several skilled craftsmen.

First, the camel hide must be thoroughly cleaned and treated. Layers are carefully removed until the material becomes thin enough to allow light to pass through.

The prepared skin is then shaped using a mould, often made from clay, and left to dry until it becomes firm.

Once the shape is ready, the artist takes over.

And this is where the magic really begins.

Using traditional painting techniques, the craftsman decorates the surface with flowers, leaves, geometric patterns and sometimes scenes from everyday life.

The colours can be wonderfully vibrant: reds, yellows, greens, blues and deep earthy tones.

Finally, the lamp receives its protective finish.

Switch on the light inside, and the treated camel skin becomes translucent, allowing the colours and patterns to glow.

What looks like a decorative object during the day suddenly becomes something quite magical at night.

It’s rather like stained glass, only without the glass.

And with considerably more camel involved.

Three Craftsmen and One Very Patient Camel

What fascinated me most was discovering that traditionally, three different specialists may be involved in producing a single lamp.

There’s the clay mould maker, who creates the shape.

Then comes the Dabgar, the leatherworker who prepares and forms the camel hide.

Finally, the Naqash, the artist responsible for those beautiful painted decorations.

It’s a remarkable combination of skills, often passed down through families.

And considering how much work goes into preparing the material, shaping it and painting all those tiny details, I now look at my lamp rather differently.

What I initially thought was simply a colourful decoration turns out to represent a rather extraordinary tradition of craftsmanship.

Although I still wonder who first came up with the idea.

I imagine that conversation must have been interesting.

But Why Camel Skin?

That’s a perfectly reasonable question.

Camel hide is strong and durable, but when properly treated and thinned, it also becomes translucent.

This makes it particularly suitable for decorative lamps.

Instead of producing the harsh, direct light of an ordinary bulb, the skin diffuses the illumination into a soft, warm glow.

And because the surface can be painted, the lamp becomes both a source of light and a piece of artwork.

The result is something you simply don’t get from an ordinary lampshade bought in a department store.

Of course, camel skin is an animal product, which may not appeal to everyone. The precise source of the hide can vary, and I can’t verify where the material in my particular lamp came from.

But as a traditional craft, it’s certainly fascinating.

Pakistan, Japan, the Philippines — and My Living Room

There’s another part of this story that I find rather amusing.

Assuming my research is correct, this lamp probably began its life in Pakistan.

At some point, it may have travelled to Japan, where it presumably decorated somebody’s home.

Then, for reasons known only to its previous owners, it ended up amongst a shipment of second-hand goods bound for the Philippines.

And finally, it was sitting in a Japanese surplus warehouse, waiting for someone like me to come along and fall hopelessly in love with it.

Quite a journey for a lamp.

In fact, it’s probably travelled more than some people I know.

Of course, I have no way of knowing its actual route. The Japanese surplus shop is where I found it, not proof of every country it has passed through.

Still, I rather like imagining its adventures.

If only it could talk.

Although, considering its origins, it might have quite a few complaints about the journey.

Not Every Treasure Needs to Be Expensive

One of the things I enjoy most about wandering through surplus warehouses and second-hand shops is that you never really know what you’ll find.

Most of the time, it’s nothing particularly exciting.

A chipped vase. An old coffee table. A collection of cups nobody seems to want.

And then, suddenly, something catches your attention.

Something unusual.

Something with a story.

That’s what happened with this lamp.

I didn’t buy it because I knew anything about Pakistani craftsmanship. I didn’t recognise the Naqashi painting tradition, and I certainly didn’t know that camel skin could be turned into something so beautiful.

I simply liked it.

Only afterwards did I discover the history and craftsmanship behind it.

And somehow, that makes it even more special.

A Little Piece of Pakistan in the Philippines

Today, my colourful lamp has found a new home.

My Pakistani camel skin lamp might not be everyone’s idea of the perfect souvenir, but to me, it’s proof that the most interesting things often turn up in the most unexpected places.

When it’s switched off, it’s already an eye-catching decoration with its unusual shape and beautifully painted floral patterns.

But switch it on, and it becomes something else entirely.

The warm amber light brings the colours to life, turning an ordinary corner into something rather cosy and exotic.

Not bad for an unexpected find in a warehouse full of second-hand Japanese furniture.

And I suppose there’s a little lesson in all this.

Sometimes, you don’t need to travel halfway around the world to discover something interesting.

Sometimes, the world comes to you.

Occasionally in the form of a lamp made from a camel.

Living in the Philippines has taught me that the most interesting discoveries often happen when you’re not looking for them.

And that, I think, is considerably more interesting than another rice cooker.