74: Family and Farming

I’m one of seven children and grew up in Ghazighat, a small village in Pakistan. Growing up, we didn’t have electricity, and school was over an hour away by walk. I had to wade through fields with grass taller than me, but I was keen to study, so I put effort to get to school. Still, it was hard to come back and do the homework in candlelight. I would reach school wet all year round – drenched with sweat in summer, rain in the monsoons, and wet from the dew in winters. I remember getting to school and having to wring my clothes every day. I knew going to college was not an option. No one in my family left our village to pursue education. My father was working in the UAE while I was growing up. So, my siblings and I worked on the farms every day after school. That’s when my love for farming developed.

I married at the age of 19 in 2007. This year stands out for another reason – it’s the year our village got electricity. The irony is that I stopped schooling by then and was working full time on our farm. Life would have probably carried on similarly, but the floods of 2010 altered the course of my life. It destroyed our house, fields and everything we owned. They were hard times for everyone around as the flood had destroyed the homes and livelihoods of others too. Around this time, my father asked me to come to the UAE to work so I could support the family and rebuild our home. So, in 2011, with a heavy heart, I left my family, my pregnant wife and my beloved Pakistan and came to the UAE. I got my driver’s license and got a job as a driver. It would be over two years before I met my son.

I’m a father to two boys who are ten and five now. Ever since I first left Pakistan, I have desired to spend a few months home with my children. When I heard of the virus, I was not bothered or worried about it. That is until the UAE went into lockdown. I live with my cousins in the UAE, so I was not alone, but I was not with those closest to me either. The first two months of staying confined to the walls of my room was a struggle. I longed to step out, walk freely, work (I didn’t enjoy idling my time away) and dreamed about being with my family in Pakistan. Since there wasn’t much work, my employer suggested I spend the lockdown in Pakistan and come back when things are better. I could not believe it; my desire to spend time with my family and my boys came true because of the virus in the world.

As a man, I have always believed that my role should not only be of the provider. I want to be there for my children, watch them grow, teach them life lessons, guide them, take them out for treats, read the Quran and say Namaz with them, just like my grandfather did with me. He was a wonderful and pious man who encouraged us to walk under the guidance of God. Our family is conservative, and the women don’t usually leave home. Men do most of the chores outside the house. Sometimes I feel I’m letting my family down by not being there with them. Yes, I’m away from home to provide for my family, but what’s the point if I can pay for my son’s ice cream but am not there to take him to the store to buy it. This scenario may seem strange to those who live in modern societies where everything is available at one’s fingertips. Unfortunately, that’s not the case in my village, and we have to go a few kilometres away for most things.

I’m blessed, I spent five months with my boys during the lockdown, and I feel I was there for them as a father. It’s the longest we have been together. Even today, the first question my sons ask me is, “Abu, when are you coming back?” I want my children to have memories of spending time with me and not that I was away the whole time. I hope my children will never have to leave home and stay away from their families as I do. I hope they will become independent, decent men who can build their life with family around. As for me, someday soon, I will be back in my village living my dream of being with my family and farming.

Saleem Muhammad – As told to Humans of 2020

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