Raman
Jalota's Stories
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1. Insha
Allah
- Praise God
2.
Pocekei - Mushrooms
8.
Burka - A thin veil or flap around the face
9.
Chai - Tea
10.
Rupee - |
Pocekei
By Raman Jalota Insaan looked at his mother with his big brown eyes and nodded his head. He picked up the dirty sack made from some old clothes that her mother had patched together. He could recognize a faded blue patch as one of the shirts he had worn till it shredded to pieces. He walked past the brick and cement houses. They were built in clusters and were indistinct from each other in their mediocrity. This is where the rich people live. I wonder if I can see inside their homes and see what strange things they have? He stopped by the steel gate of the first house and peered through the gate. The house was set some fifteen feet from the gate and he couldn’t see inside the house. He fingered the steel rods that made up the gate and liked their cool touch so much; he put his tongue on it. It had a cold metallic taste that he found soothing. He lingered for a while, standing outside a strange house with his face licking the gate, till his stomach reminded him. He walked around the short wall till he reached the back of the home. His face lit up with a smile as he saw a pile of garbage with some flies hovering on top. Food. Freshly thrown. I am on time, Insha Allah1 , no one else got here before me. He hurried and sat down by the pile. Who taught me that? Oh yes, mom. She said sit down when you pick up things, so that no one else can see you and take what's yours away from you. You are a little boy but no one has any mercy. We all starve here in Allah’s land. There’s no honor among the starving and the thieves. Thieves? I don’t think that we steal anything. If the rich folks throw things away, we have a right to take them. He sat on his haunches and started shifting the garbage around. His eyes lit up as he saw green and brown. Aha! Green … what’s it? Oh yes, the leaves from a cauliflower. The stupid rich people always throw these away! And then he looked for the obvious, the stems from the cauliflower. He gathered the slightly wilted leaves and pieces of the hard stem from the garbage. He then looked for the brown pieces. Yes! Insha Allah, potatoes. He picked up the reddish brown skins of potatoes with a hint of yellow meat on the insides. He carefully selected a piece of newspaper from the garbage and shook it. He wrapped the cauliflower leaves, stems and potato skins in the newspaper and pushed it to the bottom of the sack. He then went through the rest of the pile, looking for pieces of papers, cloth and wood. He found a small broken doll with a faded green dress and yellow hair. Amrika! This must be from that place they call Amrika. He picked it up and put it in his sack too. After he had gone through the pile once, he went through it a second time, making sure he had not left a speck of food, clothing, paper or wood in it. Satisfied with his work, he carefully gathered the pile back into its original shape and half ran half-skidded towards the next row of houses. …..
The
noon sun was too hot for Insaan. He found a large tree and put
his sack under his head and lay in the shade of the tree. This is
nice. I wish mom were here to sing to me. I am hungry but I
have enough food for tonight. And Rashima will be so happy to get
the doll. Maybe I can figure out how to fix it, so it doesn’t
look so badly broken. His stomach kicked in again. I am always hungry. Can’t you ever leave me hunger? Let me lie here peacefully and dream of a nice big house and food. Yes food. Lots and lots of food. And not just ordinary bread and potatoes but meat and bread and the most wonderful food of all – Pocekei2. . How did mom describe it to me? As he drifted into merciful sleep, he saw it again. His mother holding little Rashima in her arms and telling him the story of a great feast and all the food they had at the feast. “And they even had Pocekei, Insaan. Pocekei!” He rolled the word over his tongue like the tastiest morsel of sweet honey, “Pocekei. What does that mean mom?” "Well Pocekei doesn’t grow here in Afghanistan, it’s brought in from other lands. It’s shaped like this.” She drew in the dirt floor of their makeshift home. It was a small plant with a cylindrical bottom with a big circular top. “It’s mostly white in color and soft and sweet. It’s the best food that I have ever had Insaan. One day you too may have a chance to taste it.” He drifted into a dream surrounded by giant Pocekei. He tore pieces of them and ate till his belly ached because it was too full. The ache in his body woke him up. I better hurry up and get home. Maybe I can cook what I have found and eat some of it and feed Rashima too. That should get rid of this stomachache. A man stood over him. He was filled with fear. He grabbed the sack and held it close to his chest. A tall man with a white turban, a full beard and a dirty salwaar3 and kameez4 stood next to the tree. “Hey kid, why aren’t you in the madrasa5?” “I am very poor and I have to find food.” “How old are you kid?” “I am six.” “You are old enough to be a taliban6. You better start showing up in school.” “But sir, I have to find food for my sister and myself.” “What have you got there?” He took hold of the sack and pulled it out of Insaan’s hands. He opened it and rummaged through it. He pulled out the dirty, broken doll. “What the hell is this? Shaitan7!” “No sir. This is mine. I found it in the garbage … behind those houses ... it is for Rashima ... my sister.” “This is not a proper toy for a Moslem child. I will destroy it.” He threw the sack back at Insaan and walked away with the doll. Insaan stared at his retreating back. I am not Shaitan. That man is Shaitan. He took Rashima’s toy. It was Rashima’s toy. I found it for her. He is a thief; he is Shaitan. …..
Nasreen
sat
down for a
moment and picked up the sleeping Shabnam. She ran her hands over
the face of her child. She looked at the small pile of firewood
she had collected and wiped her brow with her kameez. She kissed
her sleeping child tenderly and placed her back on the ground. As
if nature had provided her with a sixth sense, she looked up as the
shadow of a tall man approached."Do you have enough wood for the day woman?" She didn’t raise her eyes, but whispered slowly, "No sir, but I will move on to another area if you wish." "No, I don't wish any such thing. I want to look at your face and take care of you for a few hours if not days." She shuddered and stood up with Shabnam in her arms and slung the firewood on her shoulder. Without looking at him, she started walking away from him. "Don't be afraid of me. I know you need a man. I can help you with some money, if you want." She held her burka8 tightly as she hurried away from the man. She heard his lewd laugh behind her back. When she had gone several yards and was sure he hadn't followed her, she looked for more trees and bushes that she could break a dry branch off to add to her supply. After several hours of gathering firewood, she was satisfied and headed home to her children. …..
Walking
home
from the
market, she touched Shabnam's forehead again and felt the fever.
"Oh God, please help my child. She's weak and hungry and needs
your help." She raised her eyes to the sky searching for the
harsh, unforgiving God and hoped her voice and wishes carried up to
wherever and whoever he was.When she stepped into the shack, Insaan was busy at the stove. He had used some twigs and the left over coal from the previous night's cooking to start the fire, which was glowing red with heat. He had a pot of water simmering with brown potato skins and another pot with cold water held green leaves and stems. "Good Insaan. You found food again!" "Yes mom. I can always find food as long as there are people around." "Open that green sack and put a handful of green peas in the same pot. I will wash these potatoes that I bought and add them to the stew. Can you make some chai9 for Shabnam and me? She is getting sick." Insaan walked over to Shabnam and instinctively put his palm over her forehead. "Hot." He quietly walked away to prepare tea. Nasreen found the small bottle of honey in the back of the shack and put two spoonfuls in a tin cup. She added the tea to the cup and blew on it to cool it. She dipped her finger in the tea from time to time. When she was satisfied with it, she picked up Shabnam and put her in her lap. Slowly she fed her the sweet tea with a spoon. Shabnam's eyes lit up with the taste of honey but the fever quickly extinguished the spark in her eyes. Nasreen looked at Insaan and Rashima playing in the corner, drawing figures in the dirt and laughing. She said a silent prayer for her youngest daughter and stepped out of the shack. An old woman was walking just ahead of her. Nasreen called, "Is that you Marian?" Marian stopped and waited for her to catch up, "How are things?" "As good as can be, but my youngest has a bad fever." "You have any medicine?" "No, do you have anything I can give her?" "I will say, give her some ginger and anise tea with honey and almonds." "I have honey and tea but nothing else." "Come with me, I will give you some herbs, but first let me check her." She patted Shabnam's chest and touched her forehead. She looked at her eyes and tongue. Her face fell as she looked at the back of her tongue. As they were walking to her shack she whispered, "It's a very bad fever. Insha Allah, only he can help her. I will give you the herbs for the tea but she is very sick. How long has she been this way?" "Three days. She hasn't eaten much either. Insaan manages to find some food everyday, but we only have one meal a day and she has never been a strong baby. I have a few rupees10, if I can buy some medicine." "The medicine for her sickness is beyond our means Nasreen. Only God can help her. What about the other kids?" "They seem to be stronger. They take it well. They are able to play and don't complain about being hungry." "God help us all." "Marian, will Shabnam make it?" "Only God knows. Be strong Nasreen." She walked back to her starving and sick children. She looked up at the dark sky and prayed and cursed. She heard a strange sound from the sky. She didn't see the USAF plane flying swiftly over the skies, taking pictures, mapping targets, and identifying areas for bombings. …..
Insaan
was angry at being
dragged by the old man. But he was too weak to fight the cleric
who lifted him up and sat him down in the classroom. There were
several other dirty, hungry kids sitting on the dirt floor while an old
man with a book and a stick read aloud.The boy next to him whispered, "Don't worry kid. There will be food handed out at the end of this class." "Food?" "Yes, they feed us once a day. I just come for the food. Once they serve it, I go back to my home." The teacher heard the whisperings, "Stand up. You there." "What are you talking about?" Insaan stood up, "Nothing." "What is it that is more important than the word of God? I am reading from the holy Quaran. You must repeat everything you hear me read. Do you understand?" "Yes sir." "What is bothering you, son?" "Nothing sir, just hunger." The teacher's eyes softened a little, "Sit down. We will serve lunch in a short while." Insaan repeated the strange words that he heard, not understanding most of them. The thought of food kept him going for the next two hours. And then it was recess. All the children lined up outside their classrooms while the teachers and some of the bigger boys went to get lunch. He saw four boys and the teacher come back to their line with two steel buckets. Inside the buckets were black garbanzo beans that had been soaked overnight and then had a hint of lime and salt added for flavor. Insaan moved with the line and joined his hands as others before him had done. A boy ladled out the garbanzo beans in his hands. His eyes lit up as he smelled the fresh garbanzos. He ate hungrily. His stomach stopped hurting and he drank from the school tap. He found his friend from the classroom, "Will there be more food?" "No, not till tomorrow." "Can I just come for the food?" "It doesn't work that way. You have to recite the Quaran before they will feed you. If you try to take the food, they will beat you with their sticks." …..
He ran
back home, excited
with his discovery of food. His mother was standing outside the
shack with tears in her eyes."Where have you been?" "I went to the madrasa …. They gave us food. What's wrong mother?" "Shabnam." Nasreen turned away to hide her tears. Insaan followed her in. Rashima sat in a corner. There was no sign of Shabnam. "What happened?" "She died this afternoon. I found a place to bury her. She's with Allah now." Insaan sat down. Shabnam has disappeared, just like our father. No, our father didn't disappear. He threw us out and we disappeared. Will Rashima and mom disappear too? He stared intently at his sister and then at his mother. That's all I have left. Will they die too one day? Will I die after they die? What is death? Does it get rid of the hunger? He sat a long time on the floor, drawing circles on the dirt floor over and over again. …..
Insaan
was heart broken, "There's no food either?""No. No food. No school. Just war." "War?" "Yes. Amrika is making war on us." "Why?" "They are angry at us. They are evil … Shaitans." Insaan whispered, "I don't want war. I just want food." He wandered the streets. Cars were busy moving people out of their houses; even horse drawn carts were loaded with household goods as families left one hellish place on earth for another. He went back to the rich neighborhood. No garbage. He walked around the houses. Not a single house had any movement. They were deserted. No garbage left for him. No food for him. Bewildered he ran home. Rashima looked at him with her smiling bright eyes. "Insaan, what did you bring today?" "Nothing. Everyone's leaving. They have left nothing for us." "Look at what I found." She held up the broken dirty doll that he had found a week ago. He tore it from her hands. "It's dirty. Amrika. Shaitan." He ran out of the shack and threw it with all his might. …..
Nasreen
sat in the dark. The bombs were loud and getting louder.
She wondered if she had done the wrong thing by staying. Insaan
and Rashima were sleeping.She whispered, "Angels. My angels." They had not blinked an eye when she told them that there was no food tonight. They had drunk the weak tea she had made and had played on the floor as always. They were sleeping peacefully. She bent over them and kissed their eyes, hoping to fill them with dreams of peace and happiness. Insaan's eyelids were moving. His dream tonight was the best dream he had ever dreamed. He was sitting at a large table that was piled high with food. There were fruits and meats and of course Pocekei. He tore a piece and gave it to Shabnam and another piece to Rashima sitting at his table. He tore a bigger piece for himself and opened his mouth. Nasreen shuddered. The ground was shaking as if in an earthquake. She glanced over. Insaan and Rashima were fast asleep. "Bless my angels, Allah." She whispered and shut her eyes. The tomahawk missile went flying through the air seeking its target with inhuman precision. It was locked on the target and approached it with a loud thundering noise. Nearby a load of cluster bombs lit up the sky. The ground shook violently raising Insaan from his sleep. Rats! I missed the taste of Pocekei. He blinked his eyes as he heard the thunder of bombs. He opened his mouth to speak. The tomahawk missile found its assigned target. Its warhead carried thousands of pounds of bomblets. It buried nose first several feet and then exploded. The explosion lifted several empty and one full shack several hundred feet into the air and evaporated Insaan instantaneously. Insaan struggled to regain his dream … his Pocekei … failing, he gave up and floated to the nearest garbage pile. The End 3028 words
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Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author. |
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