Time, they say, is the best healer. In time even the deepest scars heal. Kashmala, Gulalai and their mother were somewhat out of the shock after a few weeks and appeared to be living like the other victims of the conflict who lived beside them.
After living in the school building for a couple of months, one day, they were told they had to shift to an IDP camp. The camp was located in Jalozai, a small village near Mardan, one of the main cities of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province.
This camp was much better a place to live than the school building. A huge swath of previously unoccupied land was converted to a makeshift village by hundreds of very small tents place immediately one after the other in long rows. Each family was allotted one tent. There was one make shift rest room per every 8 tents. Food was served three times a day at designated places which would be crowded much beyond capacity during the distribution.
All the families were given blankets, a few clothes, water containers and other items of daily living. Many workers of local and international NGOs frequented the place. One NGO working to help these victims acquire skills for earning a living hired Kashmala for a small stipend. She had to teach young kids how to read and write. In return she would get 4000 rupees per month, and after a few months, the prospect of being hired permanently once she is 18 and can be legally allowed to work full time.
The forlorn family was very happy. 4000 was not a meagre amount for them. Kashmala’s mother thought she would be able to educate her second child if she had the money. She had initially thought she would work at someone’s house to allow for her kids’ education, and had yet not dropped the idea altogether but was somehow relieved for the time being.
Kashmala had not completed her school yet. Still she was able to do the job so well that she was able to teach most of the students in her class reading and writing. Her most important skill, public speaking, had, however, yet not been seen until, one day, when she was interviewed by a foreign TV channel, and she spoke of her story in very effective words. The people who were interviewing her were amazed at how a young girl from such an undeserved area could speak so well--- and that too not in her mother tongue but in English. They immediately wondered if she could work for them. The area was obviously a place where no one was willing to work and having a local reporter, however untrained, was still good for them. Kashmala was really thrilled by the idea but her mother said no. She was strongly convinced that appearing on the TV was only for women with a bad character.
After a few months, the NGO decided to give Kashmala a permanent job. Although her mother was still convinced that it was far too good to be true, Kashmala was offered a handsome amount of 35000 per month, in addition to free accommodation and food. Every night when her mother would wake up for prayers, she would pray for the honour of Kashmala. She was very happy about her daughter’s switching fortunes: she was nevertheless apprehensive.
Kashamala and her family had to move to Islamabad for the new job. This was the first time the family was to travel in such a new car. While travelling, Gulalai, Kashmala and their mother suddenly became very sad, and tears started oozing down their cheeks. It was most likely they all recalled Salam Din. They did not say anything to each other but cried silently. The driver got a bit confused, and looked at the tissue paper, but refrained from offering it, lest it should sound too intimate for a driver.
When they reached Islamabad, the driver asked Kashmala if he would take him to their residence or the main office. He addressed her by bibi jee. Kashmala had never been called bibi jee. She was so confused by this new name that she was unable to answer properly. She said, “where ever you want?” The driver, without realizing her meekness, felt the improper response was because of the fact that he should not have asked the question in the first place went on to saying, “sorry bibi jee, I know it is evening and the office would be close, but sometimes some sahibs (officers) still visit the office before being dropped at their house.” Kashmala did not say anything, she just said ok.
Time, they say, is the best healer. In time even the deepest scars heal. Kashmala, Gulalai and their mother were somewhat out of the shock after a few weeks and appeared to be living like the other victims of the conflict who lived beside them.
After living in the school building for a couple of months, one day, they were told they had to shift to an IDP camp. The camp was located in Jalozai, a small village near Mardan, one of the main cities of the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province.
This camp was much better a place to live than the school building. A huge swath of previously unoccupied land was converted to a makeshift village by hundreds of very small tents place immediately one after the other in long rows. Each family was allotted one tent. There was one make shift rest room per every 8 tents. Food was served three times a day at designated places which would be crowded much beyond capacity during the distribution.
All the families were given blankets, a few clothes, water containers and other items of daily living. Many workers of local and international NGOs frequented the place. One NGO working to help these victims acquire skills for earning a living hired Kashmala for a small stipend. She had to teach young kids how to read and write. In return she would get 4000 rupees per month, and after a few months, the prospect of being hired permanently once she is 18 and can be legally allowed to work full time.
The forlorn family was very happy. 4000 was not a meagre amount for them. Kashmala’s mother thought she would be able to educate her second child if she had the money. She had initially thought she would work at someone’s house to allow for her kids’ education, and had yet not dropped the idea altogether but was somehow relieved for the time being.
Kashmala had not completed her school yet. Still she was able to do the job so well that she was able to teach most of the students in her class reading and writing. Her most important skill, public speaking, had, however, yet not been seen until, one day, when she was interviewed by a foreign TV channel, and she spoke of her story in very effective words. The people who were interviewing her were amazed at how a young girl from such an undeserved area could speak so well--- and that too not in her mother tongue but in English. They immediately wondered if she could work for them. The area was obviously a place where no one was willing to work and having a local reporter, however untrained, was still good for them. Kashmala was really thrilled by the idea but her mother said no. She was strongly convinced that appearing on the TV was only for women with a bad character.
After a few months, the NGO decided to give Kashmala a permanent job. Although her mother was still convinced that it was far too good to be true, Kashmala was offered a handsome amount of 35000 per month, in addition to free accommodation and food. Every night when her mother would wake up for prayers, she would pray for the honour of Kashmala. She was very happy about her daughter’s switching fortunes: she was nevertheless apprehensive.
Kashamala and her family had to move to Islamabad for the new job. This was the first time the family was to travel in such a new car. While travelling, Gulalai, Kashmala and their mother suddenly became very sad, and tears started oozing down their cheeks. It was most likely they all recalled Salam Din. They did not say anything to each other but cried silently. The driver got a bit confused, and looked at the tissue paper, but refrained from offering it, lest it should sound too intimate for a driver.
When they reached Islamabad, the driver asked Kashmala if he would take him to their residence or the main office. He addressed her by bibi jee. Kashmala had never been called bibi jee. She was so confused by this new name that she was unable to answer properly. She said, “where ever you want?” The driver, without realizing her meekness, felt the improper response was because of the fact that he should not have asked the question in the first place went on to saying, “sorry bibi jee, I know it is evening and the office would be close, but sometimes some sahibs (officers) still visit the office before being dropped at their house.” Kashmala did not say anything, she just said ok.