This memoir starts from The Flight From Casablanca. Thank you.
Note: My dear readers and followers. I’m deeply thankful for your interest in my life’s strange stories. But I’m unable to do good and follow you back or read your blogs because I’m going through very bad times. I hope you’ll bear with me. Thank you for understanding my lack of politeness.
Evil Abid asked me in and then about my arrival in such a condition, carrying just a plastic shopping bag with more pajamas & some underwear and tried to humiliate me, as I had feared.
As soon as I started telling him my story, he cut me off, advised me to learn to lead a simple life and asked me to go get a shower first and get fresh.
So he had complete knowledge of my story and my going to jail but he never said anything except for evil.
He judged me instead of comforting me. But when I fearlessly started telling him the terrifying parts of my ordeal in the jail, which would have had negative implications on his rule over his wife, he fell prey to his own evil, decided to shut up and never again opened that subject.
Besides, his very act of judgement exposed his wickedness.
His wife, Shehnaz, gave me Pakistani Shalwar-Kameez suit to wear and I went to take a shower.
After the shower and a royal breakfast, he told me he didn’t go to office that day because his daughter, Sarah, 4, had seen a vision about a paternal uncle coming to visit them from Saudi Arabia.
God had sent His angels ahead of me to prepare for my advent to Pakistan.
Abid said Sarah had never been so happy since August, 1997, when her younger sister, Asma was born.
After a week, he showed me a letter from the Pakistani Embassy in Rabat, Morocco, while his wife and children were sent to visit her family for a couple days.
It had a threatening tone sent to Abid’s permanent address, where I’m currently living, asking Abid to present an explanation of his failure to send money to his Moroccan wife and taking care of her.
This was the secret of Abid’s show of some politeness. Otherwise, he would have just insulted me and wouldn’t have let me stay in his house at all.
Let me give you a little more details so that you’ll understand why that letter was so important.
I’m going to take you into the past and we’ll come back to the future again.
My mom had a strange friend named Aunt Freeda. She was a good woman with the bad habit of asking for loans, which she never paid back.
My mom and Aunt Freeda agreed to marry Nayyar to Abid. Mom had been looking high and low but never found a girl for Abid. Abid was also relieved to finally find a family ready to give their dear daughter to an arrogant man like Abid.
In 1976, I had visited Pakistan with mom and 6 others of my siblings but Hamid wasn’t among them.
Hearing my stories of Pakistan, he, too, became excited to visit Pakistan.
In 1982, my mom took Hamid, Sajid and Abid to Pakistan, who had missed the fun of 1976 trip.
When they returned, Hamid told me Aunt Freeda broke the engagement by asking my mom to marry Nayyar to Hamid, instead.
This greatly humiliated Abid because he’s proud of his masculinity in patriarchal Pakistan where the male suitor is greatly valued while the female feels miserable and frightened as a sheep being taken to the slaughter house.
The Pakistani society is rife with horrible stories of men beating their wives, throwing acid on their faces or even killing them.
My mom, on the other hand, was puzzled and failed to decide about Nayyar.
Abid then started leaving no chance of humiliating Hamid, turning his trip to Pakistan into a misery.
It’s a habit of Hamid to cut people’s roots so that the Yeerk slug in his head will rise above others.
Ever since their arrival back from Pakistan, there was continuous talk of Aunt Freeda and her tricky children.
One day, I had enough.
I told mom Aunt Freeda and her children were very wicked & evil and advised her to forget them FOREVER.
She liked my idea and we enjoyed some long-needed peace of mind.
Aunt Freeda wasn’t evil. Her husband and (male) children were.
Abid kept insulting Hamid and he ran to me.
At that time, our evil landlord needed money and he sold that house to a nice gentleman called Salman. We were a family of 12 living in a 2-room house.
For a small additional amount, Salman let us occupy the rest of the house, which had two more rooms. My father reserved one of them while I started using the second one, which had no AC and hence, was very hot & humid.
I started molding Hamid into my most powerful enemy ever.