Day Sixteen: Mine Your Own Material
The things we leave behind.
When we left Rawalpindi, I missed some people, not stuff. One was our dearest friend, the woman who sold us milk.
I always gabbed when she came, not thinking she had other places to go to deliver milk. If she ever found me quiet, she’d say, ‘Bibi are you unhappy with me?’
Next morning she’d bring me a cup of milk, ‘this is for you, are you happy now?
Then there was our gardener, who’d say, salaam bibi, if I didn’t respond, he’d give me a lecture, ‘salaam’ means peace be to you. One who wishes salaam and one who responds, gets one hundred rewards each.’
I was shy and didn’t know how to respond, he knew it.
Then there was the vegetable vendor, who once told my mom, the reason why Bari( servant) is late coming back with groceries because on his way to the stores , he takes a nap on the grounds of the race course.
Another time my mom didn’t want to buy any vegetables, the vendor came next morning and said, ‘Ma ji, yesterday I had a bad day, I couldn’t sell anything, because you’re the first one I come to and you did not buy my vegetables. So I had bad luck.’
I miss these people who were so sincere.
In Gander, Newfoundland, I miss my little pupil Ross, he always waited on the top of the street, to help me walk the icy place on our school compound. He wanted to protect me from falling.
Each one of the above were ready to help us in one way or the other. They are some people we met, whom I will not forget.
Material things can be bought, but we cannot buy what they did for us.
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