Who Stole My Soap Bar? – Part 4

Note: continues from   Who Stole My Soap Bar? – Part 3…

Yusuf then told me my neighbor’s wife was his sister and that he intended to pay me a visit next morning.

He did come next morning, June 7, 2014 and expressed his desire to make repairs in my house. He brought a building contractor and asked for a quotation for the repairs.

The contractor asked Rs70,000 for a little construction job and Yusuf thought it could be done for half the quoted price.

Hence, the greedy contractor was not hired.

He told me he had built my left neighbor’s new house for the sake of his sister while he had moved to another house a couple furlongs away.

But I fool still failed to understand his intentions because God had told me in a dream that the people in this neighborhood were good.

So God sent His angel again and I saw another dream that night.

I was sitting in the toilet of an old mosque. The door of the rest room was broken but was good enough.

Then I woke up.

Using the toilet means answering pressing needs. A mosque means Presence of God.

Hence, I decided to ignore Yusuf’s lucrative offer to build me a new house.

On the third day of my arrival to Asia House, on June 8, 2014, there was a massive  terrorist attack on Jinnah International Airport in which many people from this vicinity were also killed.

Yusuf, therefore, changed his plans a little.

He took me to Bin Qasim port, some 50 km (31 miles) afar and showed me his office.

He had 4 trailers and he definitely must have been making good money.

He told me Bin Qasim Port was a very peaceful place and there were many businesses & firms from the Persian Gulf countries where I could apply for a lucrative job.

He also had cared to take me there on a Friday as it used to be my employer’s weekend.

We served the Friday prayers in the nearby small mosque.

As God had been telling me to keep away from Persian Gulf countries since 1998, I failed to show any particular interest in this new offer.

Moreover, the dream had already suggested that God’s Holy Spirit dwelt in Asia House so how could I have left it? Isn’t Jesus the bread of life? Should I have left the Bread of Life or was my decision to stick to the freaky ruins of Asia House based on sound, Christian judgment?

Besides, Yusuf had no idea about my conversion to Christianity since 2001, which I keep as secret as per Jesus’ commandment in Gospel.

In 2012, while I was still living with my strange wife, Saima, God had shown me a dream, a nightmare.

I was standing on Saforah roundabout on University Road, facing Saddar, downtown Karachi. I saw a nuclear missile hitting Saddar, some 20 km (12.5 miles) away.

On my back, some 3 km (2 miles) away lays Malir Garrison, housing some 100,000 soldiers.

The military rushed to Saddar but they got stuck in traffic and that’s when I saw an even larger nuke hit Saddar. Then the angel of the Lord woke me up.

The attack on Karachi’s only airport was that first massive terrorist attack. It was to give a shock to evil Pakistan military who harbor “good” terrorists and promote a religious fanatic extremism in the country.

Getting stuck in traffic means internal discord.

The Nawaz administration as well as the semi-independent Pakistan military were hit hard because the Administration were holding negotiation talks with TTP, the Pakistani Taliban, when TTP carried out that terrorist attack.

God had found it prudent to foretell me about Airport Terrorist attack and something bigger still yet to correct Pakistan military.

Waqar’s Sister

I used to have dinner at Cafe al-Hasan on my way back from my Print Shop business, where they used to serve paratha (delicious oily bread) along with some chickpeas for Rs15. It’s the cheapest food one can find in Pakistan.

On September 6, Waqar, the proprietor’s son, offered me his sister.

But he committed a grave mistake.

He said “We need a man for the ‘night job'”.

I felt very disgusted for his disrespect of women in general and his sister, in particular and my disgust showed off.

He noticed my aversion and immediately corrected himself.

“Can you please meet my father in the morning?” he asked.

I made no promise because his ill manners had struck me too hard.

But when I went out in the morning, I found out that I had just Rs7 on me — I was short of Rs3 for a ride to office, some 3 km (2 miles) away.

September 2014 was a particularly hot month, otherwise 3 km are nothing for me.

I decided to ask Cafe al-Hasan for Rs3 loan.

To be continued…

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