Dear Pakistan Page 5

  It was Saturday afternoon. We’d decided I would take my homework to Danny’s place to collaborate (Mrs Smith’s word) on my history assignment. History had become an analysis of the cricket and the political state of Africa. Danny said he’d help, for though I’d murmured noises in the right places about cricket in Pakistan and knew a lot about Imran Khan (most girls in Pakistan still did), I was totally ignorant of the political side of things.

  ‘Just listen to this first.’ Danny came over as I was getting my books organised and put a set of headphones over my ears.

  I was totally unprepared for the rush of sound that swept all around me. It made me bend my head to the left as the drums began the beat; the bass definitely came in from the right. As the lyrics started I fully expected a singer to be hanging from the ceiling. I can’t remember if I actually looked upwards. Danny was grinning, saying something. It was as if I were suspended in a bubble with only loud, pure sound. It made a feeling rise in my chest that I couldn’t identify, nor could I control it. Suddenly I was sobbing; the music stopped, and Danny was holding me.

  ‘Jaime, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.’

  It took a while but I managed to reassure him. ‘It wasn’t you. It was the music. I’ve never heard anything like it. My ’phones or earbuds don’t sound like that.’ Danny pulled the plug out of the ’phones socket and the sound filled the room.

  ‘It’s different now. Before, it was intense, like it was making me feel something whether I wanted to or not.’

  ‘That’s the ’phones. I just bought them. Awesome, hey?’ I was still unnerved. He tried to explain.

  ‘It’s just like the movies—surround sound. Drums from one speaker, voices from the other. You know, sounds from offstage can even sound behind you …’ He said it as though I knew what he was talking about. I had no idea.

  ‘I’ve never been.’

  He grinned a bit uncertainly as if he hadn’t heard correctly. ‘Pardon?’

  ‘It’s true. I’ve never been to the movies. Mum hasn’t had time yet …’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding! I go all the time with the guys. We see everything.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Look, ring your mum. There’s a movie on in an hour. We can just make it on the bus.’

  It was too fast. ‘What about this history assignment? What do you wear? Do I look all right?’ I can’t believe I said that last bit.

  He bent down to peck me on the cheek. ‘You need educating, babe. Don’t worry about the history. We’ll do it later. And you look great!’ His glance flicked to my hair. I’d worn it down with the fringe curled like Debra’s. Apparently these things work after all.

  Fortunately, Mum had shown us how to use the bus. That sounds weird now, but then, if the ticket machine made strange noises or spat out my ticket, it would throw me into a panic. Bus drivers weren’t always a lot of help. The last time I was on one with Dad we didn’t know where to get off, except for the number of the stop. Dad asked the driver to tell us when it was stop eight. The driver smirked and answered, ‘Sure, mate, it’s the one after seven.’ We felt so dumb but we just hadn’t known how the system worked.

  It was totally different being with Danny. He didn’t even have to think about where to get off, just stood up suddenly and said, ‘We’re here.’

  The shopping centre was huge with ground-to-sky glass and escalators everywhere. That was another thing, but I wasn’t about to tell Danny. The only escalators I’d used were at international airports.

  Danny walked right onto one without missing a beat in his rhythm. Fortunately, I was behind him and he didn’t see the hesitation or my hand gripping the rail too tightly. Getting off was a worry. I tried to time it just right, so I wouldn’t get my feet caught in those little teeth at the end, but I landed in Danny’s arms instead. He looked pleased, but it was a little too public for me.

  I was surprised at how many people were there but I guess eight movie houses showing different films at once would draw a crowd. When I recognised some kids from school, I wished Mum and Dad had had time to take us themselves; then I wouldn’t look such a geek.

  Danny seemed happy enough as he pocketed the tickets. He apologised for paying, which I thought weird. I’m glad he did for I hadn’t come prepared, nor did I realise how expensive it was. Many times I would still find myself thinking in rupees.

  We ended up at the latest action movie. On the way down the carpeted hall we were laughing about something when a couple passed us, engrossed in each other. The girl looked Pakistani but I knew she wasn’t; she had short stylish hair and the latest type of skirt that split up the side. Besides, the guy with her was a blond Australian and obviously taken with her. I knew I didn’t look at Danny the way she was staring at her boyfriend. Nor did I ever look long enough at Danny to notice if he cared that much about me. Scary stuff.

  Danny settled me down with Maltesers and Coke—he knew how to do things well—and the film began. From almost the first moment I was in agony of some form or another. The screen was too big, the sound so intense, that there was no way not to get involved. I forgot about the Maltesers, let Danny drink the Coke, and hung onto his left hand all the way through. When guns fired, I flinched and I even ducked for cover at a few places. I cried at the emotional bits (quietly) and even gasped when one of the guys was shot and he twitched with blood spurting everywhere. That bit was disgusting. It took great self-control not to bury my head in Danny’s safe shirt.

  Every now and then he’d check how I was doing but he didn’t see the way I was pushing myself further into the seat.

  ‘Well?’ Danny queried after an hour-and-a-half’s whirl through crime and justice. ‘How was it? Would you do it again?’ Maybe he did know how difficult it was, for his hand had a few red marks on it.

  I should have said ‘no’. ‘Yes, I’d do it again.’

  He grinned, kind of proudly. I tried to explain to him later that it was like a challenge, like going to the bazaar in Pakistan incognito after a terrorist attack, causing emotions to run high against Westerners. It was exhilarating, a feeling I’d missed.

  The look on Danny’s face said, ‘how could a movie do all that?’ but he let me go on about it all the way to his house until he finally finished it with, ‘Well, you’ll get more of that if you go out with me.’

  I stopped to look at him, then. ‘Are we going out, Danny?’

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked seriously. Why did he do that—make me think? Was it because he didn’t want to make a mistake?

  ‘Kids think we’re going out because we’re together a lot at school.’

  ‘And you just went out with me to the movies.’

  ‘That’s different, isn’t it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘It’s all words, Danny. I don’t know what they mean. Can we still spend time together, be friends, even go out together but not “go out”, I mean, as a couple?’ I sounded so dumb, and—horror!—if Kate was right, this would be his bowing-out point. I held my breath because I suddenly realised I needed Danny’s friendship, his easy way of dealing with things. He could see a bigger picture than me and help me not to get too uptight, too serious about myself.

  He gave that ‘what are you worried about’ grin of his. ‘That’s cool. I know where you’re coming from, Jaime.’

  ‘You do?’ Even I wasn’t sure.

  ‘Yeah, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks as long as we know what we’re doing. Right?’

  ‘Right.’ I just hoped that he and I both knew what we each thought the other knew. I wondered if that was how he’d survived the flak he must have received at times from some of the kids: not worrying about it since he knew he was doing OK. That was a new concept for me. In Pakistan, I had to worry about what impression I was giving. The rules were different and there were so many of them.

  Since he was being decent about it
all, I thought I’d better explain. ‘You see, where I come from, girls aren’t even friends with boys. It’s totally taboo. Even in the international school I went to, if we had a friendship with a guy—and many friendships became more than that—it had to be kept quiet, for most of the staff were Pakistani. They would never understand.’

  ‘What about out of school?’

  ‘If we went down to the bazaar, the boys had to act like brothers, nothing else. They couldn’t even touch us or there could have been repercussions. One couple were found practically doing it in the boys’ dorm. They were expelled on the spot. We were warned about it a lot, and girls could be put in prison for being immoral so that’s why I’m still cautious.’

  After letting me go on, Danny’s comment floored me. I thought he mightn’t understand. ‘We’re much the same.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A lot of Greek girls can’t have boyfriends. Their parents would have a fit.’ He grinned. ‘I know a few who get out their windows at night though.’

  I began to feel that confused feeling again. I had quite a few of those and was beginning to recognise them: ones that made me sad as though I’d lost something; ones that made me feel misplaced, angry or homesick for Pakistan. This was the angry one.

  ‘What about you? You can have a girlfriend because you’re a guy?’

  He answered me patiently enough, or did he sound just a wee bit weary? ‘I told you, I’m not Greek, so the rule doesn’t apply to me. Same as you. You’re not Pakistani, so you can have a boyfriend.’

  I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. At times I didn’t feel the tiniest bit Australian. That afternoon, I thought I had some of it put together but I’d lost it again. I asked Danny to take me home. I even surprised myself and let him kiss me in the car. The awful thing was I didn’t care whether he did or not. It didn’t turn out to be what Kate would call a proper kiss, anyway. She always said a guy hadn’t kissed you properly unless he could tell afterwards if you still had your tonsils. At times she sounded so gross.

  Mum opened the front door as we walked up to the porch. I tried to remember how long we’d sat in the car when I noticed she had an ‘I’m mad but I’ll be polite’ look on her face. I hadn’t seen it for a long time.

  ‘There’s a friend here to see you, Jaime,’ she started in a low tone, then, ‘How could you take so long to come in?’

  I knew what she meant but I was afraid Danny wouldn’t.

  However, I forgot his Greek upbringing. He stepped forward immediately. ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Richards. I should have rung about being late. As it was, Jaime was working out some of her feelings about living in Australia.’

  Mum visibly softened. It was the exact thing to say to her. How could he have known? It was basically true and I couldn’t see any of the total Aussie guys in my class saying something like that. They wouldn’t even know what was at stake.

  ‘That’s quite all right, Danny.’ She was all smiles. Even I had never got her to that point so fast. ‘I’m sorry I can’t ask you in this time but I’m sure we’ll see you again soon. Why don’t you and your family come for tea sometime?’

  Wow, was Mum ready for that? Even I wasn’t sure how many there were.

  Danny winked at me as he turned to leave. It made me feel warm again.

  ‘Come in quickly,’ Mum murmured. I was beginning to wonder what all the fuss could be about, when I heard my name called.

  ‘Salaam, Jameela.’

  ‘Hello, Jaime.’ It was Yasmeen, her parents, even Shehzad, but no Rosina. I panicked—just like Pakistanis to come unannounced. We were used to it in Pakistan but not here. What if they guessed a boy brought me home? Would they think I was an unfit friend for Yasmeen? A bad influence on Shehzad? I implored Mum with my eyes to think of something.

  She already had. ‘A friend of the family just brought Jaime back from their home. Here she is, at last.’ Friend of the family—so that’s what Danny was now. I grinned. Mr Rasheed was introduced; then he and Dad resumed talking. Apart from the shock of finding them there, just seeing that small glint in Dad’s eye again made my own eyes water.

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ I said impulsively to Yasmeen and her mother. And I meant it, truly meant it.

  Through cups of tea, biscuits and cake (our suppers were never quite as good as theirs) the evening passed without further panic. Shehzad was supposed to be talking to Andrew but I caught his glance on me a few times. I hoped Shehzad didn’t guess about Danny as it mattered a great deal to me to be accepted by their family.

  Apart from my own family, I still didn’t feel as if I could hold my own anywhere. Even with Danny, there were times when I wasn’t sure what he expected or how to keep it all together.

  At Suneel’s place, the noise from the bazaar had escalated to what sounded like a small-scale war. Dad was pacing the floor by the time Suneel’s father returned. Mum saw him first; she’s not a screamer any more than I am, so her horrified gasp unnerved me for a moment. The khan was supported by two men and blood dripped down his arm.

  His wife scurried around making the distressed sounds a buffalo makes over her sick calf. Suneel somehow managed to stay calm throughout the proceedings of getting his father in to bed. When he returned to us, Dad had made up his mind.

  ‘I’m really sorry about your father, Suneel. I think it best that we leave you in peace now. Maybe you have someone who could take us to the airport?’

  ‘I am afraid, Mr Richards, that there is only one flight a day and that has been taken up with flying the wounded to hospital.’

  I let my mouth gape. The plane was small but even so, to take up the whole flight would mean about twenty men wounded more badly than his father.

  ‘Actually, I have called for a jeep to come when night falls. The driver will take you out of the valley to the next major village. There you will be able to get a bus to Peshawar.’

  Just then two men came in with our bags from the hotel. Suneel had thought of everything, it seemed.

  With dusk came quietness in the bazaar and I almost wondered if we needed to go. Maybe it was all over. I watched Dad and Suneel talking in low tones. Dad had that buoyed-up, hyped look about him.

  Suneel—it hit me then—I’d never see him again. Would it matter? Half of me knew it wouldn’t. He was too different, a part of this scene, and I wasn’t. But another voice inside me protested about how exciting he was. I could learn to live here, couldn’t I? I chided myself for being so stupid. His marriage would already be arranged and it wouldn’t be to some foreign girl on a family holiday who just stumbled into his life.

  ‘A penny for them?’

  I jumped. Mum was at my elbow, following my gaze.

  Feeling sheepish, I only grinned.

  ‘It wouldn’t work, you know,’ was all she said.

  ‘I know.’

  But a girl can dream, can’t she?

  9

  We were all invited to Yasmeen’s house for her cousin’s birthday party. That’s just the way Pakistanis do things: the whole family matters. I made the mistake of telling Kate and Debra where I was going. They’re as nosy as Pakistanis can be except Pakistanis are only nosy to know you better or pass the time of day. I didn’t trust Kate’s nosiness.

  ‘You’re crazy! And you’re going with your parents?’ She almost managed to repeat what I’d said word for word. It was about her most intelligent comment all day. She even looked as if she wanted to come but I wasn’t fooled. It was Debra who voiced what was probably on both their minds.

  ‘You’re not going to go all ethnic on us, are you?’ She made ‘ethnic’ sound like a headhunting course. ‘You live here now. You don’t have to keep getting involved with them.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Kate joined in. ‘Let them keep their extremist views.’ Look who was talking! My thoughts must have shown, for she continued, her voice reminding me of the fair
y story where lizards fell out of the nasty sister’s voice instead of roses. ‘Unless of course you think they’re better than us.’

  There was nothing I could say as I suddenly realised I did think Pakistanis were better. Mum says every national or cultural group has its own idiosyncrasies and a certain character with good and negative attributes but just then there didn’t seem to be any comparison with the Rasheeds’ gentle and hospitable ways. I knew I shouldn’t think like that. I’d been taught not to look down on other cultural groups but here I was, despising my very own.

  I was so flustered I just hurried off to the bus, imagining I could still hear Kate’s cackles. They would have thought they got the better of me, but who cared?

  Actually, I did care. What if everyone thought like Kate? There would be no place for me here. I could see the next two years of high school stretching into the distance like those pictures of the Nullarbor Plain, just endless misery, waiting until I could get back to Pakistan. That was when I heard the screech of tyres and an angry voice shouting, ‘Get off the road, you bloody idiot.’

  I managed to reach the edge of the road but it was too late when I realised I was on the wrong side to catch the bus home. I watched it pull away from the kerb and I did something I don’t remember doing since I was little: I cried in public. Not like Elly did in the Teddy Bear Shop but it was just as embarrassing and I couldn’t stop. Every time I’d sniff and get my face upright it’d come crumbling down again.

  ‘Hey.’

  I was feeling so sorry for myself that I didn’t hear the car idling beside me. When I became aware of it, I started walking as if my house was close by, pretending the car wasn’t there. That was the way I handled wild dogs in Pakistan. If I ignored them, they left me alone.

  Gone were the sobs; this feeling was worse than anything wild dogs had ever conjured up. All the other kids had gone on the bus. What if I was abducted? From what I’d heard on the news, there were serial killers behind every bush!