A Page Of My Diary: Safia, Rasheeda and Omerkhel

Safia was a 5 year old girl, who suffered from Leukemia. She was always accompanied by her older sister, Rasheeda.

Rasheeda was very sweet, probably much older than me. They were lots and lots of siblings. Oldest sister had 4 teenage boys of her own but Rasheeda also had a sibling who had not started walking yet. Rasheeda was unmarried, she intended to remain unmarried after seeing her sister pass away during childbirth. She suffered from trauma.

They would visit every now and then, especially when Safia needed chemotherapy. Safia was a very quiet child. She had a smiley face but every time she returned from the hospital, she looked drained, tired, exhausted and you could tell she had been crying because of the pain. Her smiley face was not smiley anymore.

She only spoke to her sister by whispering into her ears. One thing I remember about her is ‘hun men peeli pindi di bukh lagi hai’ (Now I am hungry for yellow dates) or ‘hun men kaali pind di bukh lagi hai’ (Now I am hungry for black dates). Her accurate and to-the-point description of hunger was very funny but it made it easier for Rasheeda to know what her sister wanted to eat.

Also I remember, Rahseeda loved courgette curry just like me.

They came from a tiny town called Omerkhel, not too far from Chashma barrage, on the other side of River Indus that passed through my hometown of Kundian. We once visited them on our trip to Kundian for Eid.

I was shocked to see their house. It was just like the drawing I made of a house in the feet of mountains, sun peeking behind the mountain tops, green fields all around it. This is the drawing I often made in my childhood, just like many other kids. But this was real, the place that I drew in my childhood, really existed, it was always so close to me and I didn’t even know it.

They welcomed us with tea and mithai. Safia’s little brother was so cute, he had two teeth and 3 hairs on the top of his head, haha! He looked like a baby from some cartoon. Jumping and laughing in his mother’s lap. Rasheeda introduced us to her siblings. The oldest sister was also there with her teenage boys. Who could believe the little baby was probably 15-17 years younger than his own uncles.

There was another little girl who called Rasheeda ‘ami ami’. Yes, she was the daughter her sister who died giving birth to her. She thought Rasheeda was her mother. I found it very cute but equally sad.

Slowly Safia started to get better and her trips to Rawalpindi reduced until she got better and never visited Pindi again.

Safia is still alive and well, most probably in her early 20s now.

When I visited Pakistan in November 2015 for my grandfather’s funeral, I requested my father to take me to Rasheeda and Safia’s house, but it never happened. 

We still talk about them over dinner or tea, and have a good laugh over Safia’s little food requests.