Faryal wadood

Pakistan and U.S.A.

by Faryal Wadood

I was one year old when my dad came to the United Stated. I never spent a day of my childhood with my dad, my mom she took care of two sisters, a brother and me. I grew up with my cousins, aunts and uncles because I lived in joined family in Pakistan. I was four years old when I started kindergarten there but my dad wasn’t with me. When I saw my cousins sleeping with their dad that was the time I missed my dad the most. I also wanted someone to tell me stories before I went to sleep. Even though my uncles looked after me, I wanted my own dad. I would look at the sky and heard an airplane. I always thought that my dad would be on that airplane and will be looking at us, so I would wave to the sky and scream.

Four years after my dad left Pakistan. I started my school. On the first day I couldn’t wait to go to school. All night I was waiting for the morning sunshine and wanted to wear my new uniform and new bag to school. I woke up in the morning before everyone else. My maid fixed my breakfast and dressed me up for school. My mom gave me two rupees (Pakistani currency) to get candies for myself at school. My dad called me in the morning before I went to school; he blessed me for my first day of school.

I went to school and went to my classroom. The classroom had no doors and one wall was missing. There was one bathroom, and it was the worst bathroom I have ever been. No one had ever cleaned that bathroom even though all the students used it. I remember liking that class because it didn’t have all four walls so I could see the children playing outside. The PT (PE) teacher sitting there and looking at the students.

On the first day my teacher went outside to talk to another teacher. When I saw my teacher walking outside, my friend Hassan and I ran outside to the playground. When the teacher saw that we weren’t at class, he called us back to the class and slapped my friend and me so hard that his hands left fingerprints on our face. She didn’t let us go out at lunch and we both were crying. I started hating that evil teacher. I thought he was as big as an elephant.

I went home and when my mom saw me, she asked me, “Haseena how was school.” In my family everyone calls me haseena. When I saw my mom, I ran up to her and started crying.

My mom asked me, “What happened Haseena.”

“I don’t want to go to school anymore,” I replied.

My mom looked in my eyes and held one of my hands, “why?”

“My teacher slapped me today on my face and I hate that fat teacher.” I said

My mom explains “it is ok, he is your teacher and he is just trying to tell you something right.”

I didn’t care about what my mom said, I didn’t want to go to school.

That night I couldn’t go to sleep. This time I wasn’t happy, I was scared that my teacher would hit me again tomorrow. If I went to school late, didn’t do my homework or did something wrong in class. I was sweating and I was telling my mom again that I won’t go to school tomorrow but she didn’t listen.

It was cold in the morning. My school started at 7.00 am. I was feeling so lazy; I couldn’t get up from the bed. I wasn’t fresh like yesterday. I was in very bad mood and wanted to hide at my uncle’s house so I wouldn’t have to go to school. My dad called me in the morning. My mom picked up the phone and she told my dad that I didn’t want to go to school. My mom gave me the phone and I started crying on the phone to my dad about the school. He told my mom, “she wouldn’t go to this school, It was just her first day and her teacher hit her, how will she learn anything like that?”

My mom told me that starting next week I would be going to another school with my sister and cousins. I wasn’t very happy about school anymore as last time. I figured that studies could never be fun anymore. I was sitting under the mango tree, eating green mangos. when my cousin Afsheen said, “You should go to my school, you will like it.”

Then my sister Nousheen said, “At our school they sell all kinds of candies and ice-cream.”

I smiled and they laughed . I didn’t really care about the school; I wanted to go with them just for candies.

The next morning my sister, my cousin and I woke up and got ready for school. We walked to the main road which was 15 minutes away from my house, along with 2 guards my uncle sent with us. My uncle never let us go alone; so he always sent one or two guards with us for safety because we all were girls so boys wouldn’t bother us on the way. Plus, our bags were heavy so they helped us carrying those as well. While we wait for our school bus to come, we all played around and watched the cars. My cousin said “all the nice cars are mine,” my sister said “no mine” and I said “no all of them are mine.” Then my cousin Afsheen said, “When I get a job and have money, I will give Haseena and Nousheen one free car”. My sister and I laughed and said whatever. Our school bus came and took us to school.

When we arrived, my sister bought candies for me because my (mom told her too). I was happy that my sister was with me. My sister took me to a small school and they left me. They went to another school. It was the same place but for children from grade 2-10 they had different school, they were just a minute away. This school was nicer than the one I went before. I was held my sister’s hand pleading that she not leave me and tears came to my eyes.

It was morning; all the teachers were putting us in straight lines for prayer. I was looking at all the children who were laughing and playing around with each other. I was standing there with tears running on my face. The teachers had sticks in their hands. If the students talk during prayer the teacher would hit them. When I saw the long wood stick with one teacher, I stopped crying and couldn’t move. Everyone sang the national song anthem pulled the flag up. Then all the students walked to class in straight lines and the teachers checked their uniforms, school badges, nails, hair to see if everything was cleaned.

I went to my class and began to sit down, but the person didn’t want to sit with me. I started crying again. I cried at every single thing because I missed my mom. My teacher Ms. Farzana came and held my hand took me to the front desk. I sat on her chair and she asked me my name and my parent’s name and gave me some drawing to do. I spent my lunch with her too her. At school I saw all the teacher hitting students and punish them. Once when everyone in class was talking, Ms. Farzana took us outside and told us to become chickens. The whole period we sat like chickens and I loved that punishment because it was funny and we could just stay outside. I made friends in my class and I got hit by my teacher every single day. It wasn’t only me, all the other students got hit too. I learned that in Pakistani schools students are punished physically and mentally so they can be disciplined.

A Few days later Ms.Farzana told me to go and bring a stick from another class because some students didn’t do their homework. I was happy to see the students hit and it seemed fun because no body cared anymore.

My dad called us and said that we might go to America. I was happy that I would see my dad and my brother after so long. I told my friends at school that I was going to America. My friend Shabiha said, “Faryal you are going to united states”

“You are so lucky that you are going, at least you will learn English and won’t get beat up by the teacher.”

“I know but I don’t want to leave this school because I will miss all my friends and all the fun,” I said.

It was my last day at school. All my teacher and friends were asking me if I was really going to America. My best friends in my group were crying but I told them that I was going to US just for three months. In class my teacher Abdul Qayum asked me for my notebook so he could check it. “I am going to America in two days so that is why I don’t have my note book,” I said. “You are making this excuse from the last week and I don’t care if you are going to America or anywhere else,” he replied. He thought that I was lying to him. He got a stick and hit me twice. Abdul Qayum sir was the best and strictest teacher in my school. That day I got hurt the most because I was already sad and he mad me sadder for not believing me. Now sometimes I feel may be he will be also feeling bad that he hit me and I wasn’t lying. I was a little happy to go to America. I thought of school there and making new friends, even though I hate making new friends because I am so shy and can’t make friends easily. I was especially excited for wearing American clothes because in Pakistan girls don’t wear pants and shirts and didn’t have to wear uniform to school.

The next day in the evening, my sister and I went to grandmother’s house and everyone came there to meet us and spend the night with us. At night everyone slept in my grandmother room. It was a very large room from my grandfather s time. Fifteen beds could fit in it, so whenever we went to my grandmother s house, all my cousins and aunts everyone talked and ate till late and then sleep in the large room. My elder sister Shahzadi, who is married in Pakistan, was very sad because we were leaving her and she was all alone with her 40 days old baby girl. She called me Haseena and said, “can u sleep with me tonight.” My other sister Nousheen, Shahzadi and I slept in the same bed. We covered our faces in the blanket and my elder sister were telling us that how she is going to live there alone and started crying. All of us were crying so much. Then my aunt said “shahzadi don’t cry they will be coming after three months. They will not be there forever.”

The next day my uncle took us to the airport at 4.00 is in the morning. When I came to U.S. I was able to see my dad for the first time. When he saw me that I had grown up, tears came to his eyes. While we were going home my brother told me and my sister to talk to my friend. I even couldn’t say hi to her.

After one month I started middle school. I was excited for the new experience in American school. I wasn’t scared because I knew the teacher wouldn’t beat me up. In the morning my mom and sister walked with me to Willard middle school. I went to the cafeteria and three Pakistani girls were sitting there. My mom and sister told me to sit with them and they left me. I was feeling so hurt inside and wanted to cry so bad because remembered the school in Pakistan and my friends. My mom saw that I was very nervous, and she cried too, but she just left me. The Pakistani girls Hira and Mehwish spoke Urdu and I speak Phusto so I couldn’t even really talk with them.

Everyone just went straight to their classes and didn’t have any school prayer before the classes started. No one was wearing school uniform .All the girls were putting make up on in class and they all dressed up very nicely the way they wanted. I loved it. They helped me a lot in all my classes. In my math class one guy came and he wanted to ask everyone what they wanted to be in the future. My friend Hira told me to say that I want to be a doctor. I couldn’t say it correctly and I got all nervous: what would I do if he asked me front of the class? Hira and Mehwish repeated 100 times to say “I want to be a doctor.”

In my drawing class guys used to make so much fun of me because I couldn’t speak English. They said I was related to Osama-bin-laden.I felt very bad and I complained to the teacher but she really couldn’t really do anything about it. I didn’t have anyone to talk and stay with them at lunch. My whole year in middle school was the worst in my life. At night I cried after my friends in Pakistan and thought that in my country I could talk with everyone and had full freedom. Here I have no friends and what will I do if I never make friends over here. I wanted to go back to Pakistan and I was ok even if my teachers hit me everyday. Then I also graduated from middle school and took summer school in Berkeley high. In the summer I met so many Pakistani friends and all of them became my every good friends same as the once in Pakistan.