Sacrifices
by Sara Nazeer
“We are leaving Pakistan,” my dad said.
When I heard my dad say this I thought to myself. “ What is he talking about?”
My dad wanted my mother, my two sisters my brother and me to move with him to America.
I thought to myself. “But why"?
Those words didn’t mean anything to me. I was happy in Pakistan. I had toys, friends and cousins to play with. I had never thought, that I would ever leave Pakistan. It’s such a beautiful place. It has mountains, clouds, jungles and beautiful birds. But I wondered if America was going to be the same.
I was going to a place where people would speak a different language. Many different thoughts raced through my mind. I imagined the new faces I would see, and the new people I would meet. Just hoping that everything would go all right, I went off to my room, and didn’t ask my parents why we were leaving Pakistan because, I knew there was no right answer.
As I walked to my room I noticed that all the furniture in my house had been shifted to the storeroom, sold or given away. I entered my room and saw that my mother had packed up all my toys. I asked my mother. “Where are all my toys?”
My mother said “I am going to give them to the charity store”.
I said “but why mom?”
My mother said, “Hum log America ga rahain hain,” (We are moving to America).
I replied, “I know that. Don’t remind me again and again!”
My mother replied, “I am not reminding you I am telling you that we are moving”.
I said, “Whatever. Lets see what happens”.
I went to bed and cried the whole night. I looked at my shelf where I used to keep my toys. It was full of bags. This was the sign that told me that I was definitely moving to America.
The bright sun was up. My grandmother came into my room and opened up the shades. The sun hit my eyes. It is usually hot in Pakistan, but that day was hotter than ever before. I could hear my cousins playing and shouting. The sounds were very clear, even though all the kids were in the other room. I could also hear sounds of the birds chanting. I woke up. My grandmother held me tight to her chest and said, “Lets go for a walk.” Usually my grandmother and I would take walks every morning, but this one was a little different. As we were walking, I asked my grandmother. “Why don’t you come with us to America?”
My grandmother replied, “may apni moth ithi he kerna chahti haan.” (I want to die in my own peaceful world”).
I answered, “What do you mean by your own peaceful world”
Grandmother responded, “My husband died over here”.
My grandmother’s eyes were full of tears now. I didn’t know why she was crying.
That night I went to my maternal grandmothers house. Everyone was there. I didn’t have a cousin in my maternal family who as my age so I just sat all by myself. Then my aunties came to sit by me.
Aunty Tasneem said, “So you are moving to America, I heard that school is very hard over there”.
I answered, “Really? You think that school is hard over there?”
Then my other aunty Asma said, “Oh don’t scare the little girl, she will do just fine over there.”
I just smiled at them. I was so tired and bored that I wanted all of them to be quite and stop reminding me that I was suppose to be going somewhere. I went to my grandmother’s room and put myself to sleep.
I woke up. It was raining. Everything felt so numb. It was as if everyone’s tears had filled all the numbness. Or maybe everyone was crying because we had to leave so was the environment because of the heavy rain. There was; so much mud in the back yard, but the scene was so pretty with the rain falling and the sound of rain. I noticed that everyone was in a hurry. My mother was packing up everything. My dad was talking on the phone, and my siblings were all getting ready. My older sister Maria said,” Sara get ready”.
I didn’t say anything. It was time to say good-bye. Everyone was there, all the neighbors, relatives. Everyone was crying.
By the time I reached the door my best friend, my cousin Hina said in a low voice and big round eyes filled with tears, that fell down her cheek.
“jaldi ana” (Come back soon).
Now I was crying too. I never thought that Hina would cry for me. I know that we were best friends, but we fought too much. And I remember once when Hina scratched my face, also the time she took my books and ripped them up. Also the frog Hina and I killed accidentally and made a grave for the frog. And the time we stole flowers from the flower garden and got pushined. We were very close. I didn’t tell Hina when I as coming back. I left home with everyone in tears.
I wanted to get off the plane and run back home. I wanted to play with my toys and my cousins. I wanted everything back, because sitting in the plane was so boring and my legs hurting. I missed watching my favorite cartoons and I missed my time with my cousins and friends. But I had no choice. I wondered what if my parents had actually asked me if I wanted to move to America or not, and what would I have said? I imagined that my parents left me in Pakistan and I cried everyday for them to come back. I was horrified by all the thoughts that were in my mind. While I was on the plane, I remembered all the events that happened to me in Pakistan. I remembered the time when I got hurt or the time when I pushed my cousin and she fell down and hurt her leg. I was such a mischievous girl, but now I thought I would never do this again. While all these thoughts were in my mind I slipped back into my seat and shut my eyes.
“Welcome to San Francisco we are now landing.”
I had always wondered what America would be like. I had only seen America in pictures. I got off the plane. There was a big crowd. People were rushing in and out. It was very cold. People of all colors were there.
I looked at one particular lady who was dressed in blue, and white. She had a big smile on her face. And whenever she saw someone she said, “Welcome”.
At last I was at my new house and could relax. My mother called back home and said, “We are all fine.”
My uncle replied with a satisfied voice, “That’s good, but when are you coming back?”
This question was on everyone’s mind but there wasn’t an answer for it.
After some
days
my dad said, “Sara you are going to start school.”
I replied, “Okay dad, I am ready to start school.”
I was never shy at making friends. I talked to all the girls that were in my class. On the first day I made a friend who’s name was Julieta. Just like me Julieta didn’t speak English either. She spoke Spanish. I said to Julieta,“What’s your name?”
Julieta replied, “ Que?” (What).
The word que was something I didn’t understand. And then Julieta said. “Esta classe de ingles” (this is English class).
I stopped talking to her and paid no attention to what the teacher was saying because I was so excited about the day ahead of me. Julieta was a big girl with two ponytails. And her eyes were round like wheels. She laughed as if she was so happy even though it was the first day of school. So Julieta and me were similar in many ways.
After September 11th everything changed for my family and me. There were a lot of stereotypes about Muslims. Those stereotypes never mattered to me because I know that my country is different and doesn’t involve itself in anything like September 11th. My countries people are very innocent and light hearted. They don’t like hurting people. My country had always been very peaceful to me.
A classmate said “ Sara you are Osama-Bin-Ladens granddaughter. Your family bombed the Twin Towers.”
I said “ What? No you are wrong. Because you are Osama-Bin-Laden’s son.”
Later I raised my
hand and told my teacher.
“Ms. Ratwell this guy is bothering me.”
Ms. Ratwell said, “Both of you need to sit separately.”
Ms. Ratwell gave the guy a detention. I was very happy that the guy got the detention because he didn’t deserve the right to say anything to me.
There were rumors everywhere about Muslims. I wanted to change the way people thought about my country and my religion. Sometimes people questioned me.
“How much money did you have when you came to America?” Asked a girl.
This question made me very mad. I wanted to slap that girl and cuss her out, but I didn’t do anything and just sat there. I don’t understand why people asked me questions like this. I believe that it’s the way people portray Muslims. They portray Muslims as uneducated and poor. In my opinion America portrays all immigrants as poor people. Around the world America is known as a sign of wealth. They think that my family moved to America for money, but those people are wrong. I lived a very happy life back in Pakistan. The only reason I moved to America was because my parents wanted me and my siblings to get education. Only for the sake of their children my parents left their home country. And yet my siblings and I got education in terms of leaving the love of our family.
Since I moved to America my family has never sat together for lunch or dinner. My mother is always working and so is my dad. We only call our grandmother once a month. When we call our grandmother she says, “Come back, America is not your country”.
I always answer, “I know, Grandmother, America is not my country but I am only here because my parents are here, otherwise I would not be living here”.
My grandmother responded “te fir tu ithi kyon ney andi aja jaldi” (then come back home soon).
I always try to convince my grandmother that I will come back next summer or the following summer and she gets happy. But when it’s actually time to go I am disappointed to be lying to an old lady. Who I imagine sitting in her room, looking out from her window for her grandchildren playing in the yard. I also imagine an old lady praying for good future. I imagine an old lady begging and crying to god for some more days of her life so she can see her grandchildren.
I never thought that my life in America would be busy. I have never enjoyed a bright sunny morning here; I have never felt the sun hit my eyes. I don’t have anyone to wake me up in the morning and hold me tight and come for a walk with me.
In America my typical day starts with a morning full of rush. My alarm goes beep beep. I wake up and then wake up my sisters. I get ready in a rush and grab something to eat and come to school. In school I say greetings like, “good morning.” It seems like people are rushing through the day to reach the next day with the exact same routine.
I have to follow this routine in order to acheieve what I am here for. I try to fit in, but I still don’t because I speak a different language and I look different. According to people they say my eyes are black, hair is dark brown, skin color is pale and I am short. This is somewhat true and I believe them, and I know that I don’t belong here. Someday I will go back.
Sometimes when I talk to my cousin Hina online she usually talks about her college.
Hina says, “So yah what have you learned in America so far?” I don’t like the way she talks to me because it seems as if she is making fun of me. All my relatives believe that my siblings and me have forgotten our language Urdu and we cannot speak English well either. I think they are jealous. They are so selfish that they don’t think about how hard it is to always be away from your loved ones. I never knew my cousin, who was also my best friend, would change so much that she would make fun me. She hurts my feelings a lot. I don’t know if I will ever forgive her. She sounds so bitter when she talks to me. It seems like she is not interested in talking to me. I feel sad and wish that Hina hadn’t changed. I can’t believe that my cousin Hina who had tears in her round eyes when I was leaving would change so much, that now she doesn’t even talk to me. It’s almost been a year since we last talked. I remember when we didn’t see each other for a day and that would be our worst day. I have gotten used to it. Whenever I call her, my aunty picks up the phone and says, “Oh she is sleeping” and I reply, “ Can you tell her to call me?”
My aunty replies “Sure Sara, she will call you” and I wait for her call but days and months go by but Hina never calls. Now I have given up on her because she has to go her way and so do I.
I understand that everything that happened is the past will bring me a good future. In hope, I follow the exact same routine everyday to see the sun rising from my own eyes. To imagine feeling the sun hit my eyes like it use to do.
Sara Nazeer