Asalaamu Aalaikum Wa
Rehmatullahi My Beloved Family and Friends!
Subhanallah,
the past few weeks have been crazy for our family. We have had blessed days of
travel, the opportunity to reconnect with family away from home and frankly a
huge reality check.
Lets
start first with out trip to Karachi. Karachi is the city that never sleeps. At
any given time at night, we could hear the motor of a rikshaw grumbling in the
quiet of the night. During the day, the streets were often flooding with crowds
of people, vendors, traffic and pollution.
Sea View, Clifton Beach. The boys with Grandma.
Still,
there was something precious about this city and that was the charm of its
people. The people of Karachi, with their wide smiles and over confidence,
their desire to stay forever in their city was a strange sense of patriotism I
had never before experience.
With
my in laws living in Lahore and Islamabad, it was only natural that we would go
visit. Lahore was completely different than Karachi. In SO many ways, I believe
the saying goes something like “if you have not seen Lahore, you have not seen
anything at all”—whoever said this was right! Lahore was a town full of
history, from the Badshahi Masjid to the Gudwara next door. Settled somewhere
between these sights was the town of Shadara.
Whilst on our way to Shadara, our driver
pointed out the sights as we observed all the details and charm of Lahore. My eyes fixated on the world famous Data
Darbar. Our driver insisted we go inside and offer our prayers and offerings to
the saints of the past. I politely and awkwardly half smiled, citing that dua
can be made from anywhere and I much rather seek help by asking Allah SWT.
Shadara
was the town where our relief effort began. As we pulled up to the The Ghani
Grammar School a dusty sign greeted us. We met with Waqas Khan, one of the representatives
of the school. He welcomed and unloaded the heavy suitcase full of school
supplies we had collected with the help of our family and friends.
Nusaybah and Zakariya sorting thru the donation supplies!
We walked a short distance, turned a few
corners until we reached the school. It was located on a muddy rocky road. Whilst
making our way up a set of narrow steep stairs, we were met by two charming
boys dressed in crisp blue school uniforms. They were both students at the
school. We visisted each of the classrooms and were invited in with a huge smiles
from all the children. The students sat neatly in their seats and ever so
politely answered our questions. A sweet young girl told us it took her 30
minutes to walk to school! This gives you an idea of the motivation these
children have towards wanting an education.
One by one each sparkly eyed child told us what they wanted
to be when they were older. Their answers ranged from Pilots to Teachers to
Doctors. The children cheerfully presented Zakariya with handmade thank you
cards. A gift and story we will forever cherish.
Zakariya & Waqas
Waqas presented Zakariya with a certificate for his efforts
Mashallah we recently learned that three talented children
from the Ghani Grammar School went on to winning the Art for Change Competition
where they competed with 2500 students from all overPakistan!
After
saying goodbye to Lahore we journeyed our way ahead to Islamabad, Mauree, Pindi
and then back to Karachi. We hugged our friends and family in
Pakistan and the second leg of our trip to Istanbul began.
Ahh Istanbul! Situated between two continents, Europe and
Asia. A city I had to share with my parents. Istanbul first stole my heart in
2010, when we were blessed to visit Ankara and Istanbul.
Marhaban Istanbul! We
spent some time in the city, taking in the sights. The Blue Mosque at the heart
of the city surrounded by chirping birds, The Hagia Sophia filled with the
ever- popular wondering stray cats and The Topkapi Palace adorned by treasures
centuries old.
Baby meets Blue Mosque
Ohh
Dear Istanbul, how I missed your rich Islamic history! You look the same but you feel so different.
Right
now I am thinking of that dark alley which is sometimes visited by an old hunched
over man, his palms cupped together in search of spare change. I think about the
woman I saw sitting on the street cradling her two sleeping babies in her arms,
her bodily heat keeping them warm. I can hear the two hungry little Syrian
girls, staring into the window of McDonalds while we comfortably ate our meals.
I feel for them, so I feed them. They order more than they can eat, “to take it
home for the others” they say so insistently.
I
take a harder look this time. You do not
look the same. I hold my purse tight, I ask myself in despair “ Ya Rabb.
Where do we even begin?”
The
next day we headed towards Fateh, the area in which the Syrian Elite School is
located. Here we meet Ayman, our interpreter. Ayman is from Canada. He reminds
me of home. Our friends from the Muslim Helping Hands helped us arrange the school visit. A special thank you to Sara Syeda, Moheeb and our host in Turkey- Yashar. We could not have done this without you guys, may Allah reward you immensely.
Yashar & Zakariya at the Airport
Children in the school have to keep their jackets and sweaters on during class
because there is no central heating
Hanging out with some of the children during recess
We
meet some of the Syrian children and hear their heart wrenching stories. It was
difficult-- mostly to try and stay composed.
A sweet girl, dressed in a red sweater made her way to the office, her
name is Islam. Her age just 9 years:
Islam: I lost my Father. We
(my Mother and my four siblings) escaped Syria and now live with my Uncle’s
family in an apartment
Me: Do you still have family
in Syria?
Islam: Only my Grandmother,
she is in a refugee camp
Me: Do you like coming to
school?
Islam: Yes, I like to study
Arabic
Me: What do you want to be
when you grow up?
Islam: A Teacher
Me: Do you miss Syria?
Islam: Yes, we will go back
Inshallah.
Islam
both in her intelligence and naevity surprised me. She doesn’t realize the
gravity of her situation. She doesn’t realize that she will not see her Grandmother
again. She doesn’t realize that the Syria she remembers is no more.
Islam
captivates me with her maturity but I feel sadness. Sadness that she has to
grow up so fast, sadness that she has lost her childhood, sadness thinking
about what conditions she has to live in. There is a reason she survived. She has
a purpose and so much to offer but only if she is given a real chance.
Education
is the key to breaking the cycle of poverty. For Islam, her family’s future depends on her. Islam’s mother has done
her part by desiring an education for
her children, she is keeping them safe and off the streets.
Your contribution can change the life not only of a child
but the child’s entire family. As Nelson Mandela once said “Education is the
most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.”
For just $10 a month you can sponsor a child at The Ghani
Grammar School in Pakistan and for just $60 a month you can sponsor the
education of a Syrian migrant in Turkey.
I leave you with the words from my favorite book, Ayah
Jamilah, “The human race is created from
the one source, if one man feels pain, the others, from the same source, cannot
be indifferent to it.”
