Who Stole My Soap Bar? – Part 3

Note: continues from    Who Stole My Soap Bar? – Part 2…

That’s why I’m always happily carrying my cross with me and not saving my ass — like Samson, the Invincible.

Lustful Daughter

But Abid was so mad, he asked me to get out of his house and I found a room for rent.

Shehnaz complained the room had a serious problem — it had a repugnant smell.

“It’s the aroma of freedom,” I pacified her. I showed her my pleasure to leave her husband’s house while he listened, humiliated.

The room indeed had a problem.

But not the pungent smell, characteristic of Behari people — that’s fine with God.

The problem was that the landlord had a lustful daughter.

You can read the details of my fishing her to God and solving the problem in   My Strange Divorce – 5. .

I’m a weird disciple of Jesus Christ: I don’t fish men; I fish women to God and I guess I and Jesus did a pretty good job of fishing all the women in the bloody landlord’s house to God.

God then kicked me out of my School Teacher’s job and I could afford that room no more.

Once more, I was homeless.

I suffer from anxiety and I had a great panic attack as rent-pay date came near. My wife had tried to send me to an Islamic religious seminary whom I feared were I.S. (Islamic State) butchers who were paid by my older brother, Hamid, to kill and bury me.

I told Edith, my good Bible Teacher in http://www.WorldBibleSchool.org, about my troubles. She asked Qamar Dilnawaz, the minister of Church of Christ, Pakistan, to help me out ASAP.

Qamar did nothing and left me to the butchers of I.S.

Mission: Impossible

God, on the other hand, sent His angel and I saw a dream. The angel of God was asking me to move to this house, my late mom’s house.

After I woke up, He asked me to find a pickup for moving my stuff for Rs300.

I went to the Suzuki pickup trucks’ stand on that strange Friday.

Nobody agreed to move my stuff for less than Rs500. I returned back to my room to pack up, not knowing how I was supposed to find a Rs300 ride.

As I reached the turn of my street,

I found a donkey cart. He asked me Rs300 for the job and I hired him. Yes, a donkey cart!

Some people find it embarrassing to sit on a donkey cart.

As I reached my late mom’s house, God’s angel reminded me how in olden days, the kings used to enter their conquered cities sitting on an ass, as Jesus Christ also had done with Jerusalem.

He brought a smile to my signature sad face.

My mom’s house is in ruins but it was all mine — no more rents to pay!

I gave this house a beautiful name: Asia House, after my daughter; it’s a Greek word that means “welcome” because when I was freakin’ homeless, this house had welcomed me.

In fact, God’s Holy Spirit dwells here and it freaks me out.

But before I entered Asia House, God’s angel asked me to see where Fahmidah, the heroine of this memoir, was and how she was doing — my next Mission: Impossible.

I had known Fahmidah in January 1992, when I had visited Aasia House with my mom and my younger sister, Aamna.

I was almost 25 then while Fahmidah was 7-9, I’m not sure.

You can find more details in   The Son of Woman,  which you’ll find informative, yet interesting.

I looked around but failed to see her.

Yusuf’s Sister

I only found my left-side neighbor’s wife — who didn’t fit the age: she seemed in her 40s while Fahmidah could hardly be 35.

A neighbor named Tanweer helped me with breaking the locks and since the ground floor had become lower than the sewer, it was filled with sewage.

I tried to find the source of the dirty water leak but it was too dark a house, with no electricity and no windows for sunlight. Some freaky house!

Luckily, I found the ladder my mom had bought for me back in 1976 visit to Pakistan.

I used that ladder and stayed in the upper story as the staircase is outside in the front yard and was covered with thorny branches of I guess the banyan tree along with two beehives.

In one of the dreams, God had informed me that my arrival to Asia House was a carefully executed plan. He said the people there were good.

On the next night of my arrival, I ran into a gentleman who introduced himself to me as Yusuf.

He said he used to come to play in our house and that my older sister knows him well and it made me glad to know that.

To be continued…

Who Stole My Soap Bar? – Part 3

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