She had a son, a husband, a house, and a mango tree outside, what more could one ask for? My mother, Safia, was not ready to leave the country she had called home for twenty-one years of her life. However, her husband, and my father, Subrul, thought it was important to leave and seek the “opportunities” that America had to offer. What these exact opportunities entailed were a bit vague to the young couple, but the proposal was enticing as it was told by various family members who had made the move that it would mean “a better future for their children.”
My parents gave away money, food, and everything that could not fit into their six pieces of luggage. However, one thing, and the biggest thing that they had to give up was their “home.” The house was three levels and included two kitchens, six bedrooms, two livings rooms, a garden and a beautiful veranda. What once was filled with the hustle and bustle of family, friends and servants would now sit silently in North Karachi.
Eighteen hours later, and the young family now had a new “home,” a one-bedroom apartment in the middle of Long Island. Back in Pakistan, my parents had it all, but in America they would have to start from scratch. In the United States, no one cared about the title you had in your motherland, here you were just another immigrant looking for a job.
My parents lived in a one-bedroom, basement apartment for six months as my father struggled for work and dreamt of a better life. My mother was pregnant with me and she would cry, as she feared a life of poverty and struggle in the United States. Eventually, dreams began to come true as my father moved up in ranking at work and bought a three-floor house, somewhat reminiscent of the home in Pakistan. However, the biggest dream of all came true: a better life for their children.
Today, Pakistan is a war torn country. Starving, homeless children line the streets and the ones who do have homes fear to come out in the risk of being robbed or murdered. Just two weeks ago, my fourteen-year-old cousin was followed home and held at gunpoint as he watched everything from his house disappear. Furthermore, many young women do not go to college and just get married off. Freedom and education for girls has been taken away by religious extremists. Fortunately, I do not have to live through the struggles of a Pakistani. I wake up and step out of a college dorm in the pursuit for higher education. For this reality, I thank Ami and Aba, and their courage in rebuilding a whole new life in a foreign land.
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