Daily Archives: March 6, 2017

‘Diary Entry: The first time I met George’ by Shameer Abdullah

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November, 11th 2016

Dear bolt,

I am so happy right now. I fail to express my feelings. Today I might have just made a friend. His name… wait I just forgot his name. What? As I am growing older it looks like my memory is also fading away simultaneously. Oh yeah! His name is George Sampeter. By the word ‘friend’ i mean that we were both easy with each other.

I remember very vividly the morning George became my friend. George came to school for the first time and not surprisingly, he was late. The prayer had already been said. His father led him through to the headmaster’s desk on the platform. Bolt, he was frightened to death. I could clearly figure that by looking at the way he was crushing his father’s hand. If only I had my father, i would also know how it felt like having my father besides me and clutch his arm.

his father and the head master were greeting each other as if they were brothers. i have heard that your first impression is your last impression was that he looked like a spoiled to me. he was given special attention because his father and the headmaster were friends. he was directly placed into the second standard with the intelligent kids. this father ruined my impressions of him.

Jealousy arose. For mainly two reasons. Firstly because his father was friends with the headmaster. Which gave him special treatment? And secondly because he had a father and I…I do not.

as time passed, I felt rather close to George. My favorite moment was then when he shifted to first standard because he was not intelligent enough. Hmm… This made him shy. his confidence level fell to zero. i then realized that this was the real George and I thought to make him my friend.

Wow! It feels as if it happened yesterday but in truth it has been thirty-five years. I still smirk when I recall our friendship. The first act of our friendship was when I offered George a pencil. Bolt, nowadays friendship is an act that is very dangerous. That is why I trust you the most. One has to be very cautious bolt. One sign of a very close friendship is when one becomes frank with you; he becomes carefree.

Looking back at my friendship with George, I realized that it has been a very good ride. This changed me completely and i believe it also changed George’s life too. I hope we both live happily and our friendship never breaks.

I have to go. My mother is scolding at me. I will be back after eating my dinner. Bye Bolt!

Journal Entry — 22 May 2014, Passage One, ‘Refugee Boy’ by Safa Aman

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7th November 2016

Dear Diary,

The time had finally arrived and I was feeling a frenzy of emotions, from nervousness to anxiety.

The plump immigration officer flashed me a smile as he passed my passport along with my father’s back to him. Damp fingerprints were imprinted on the passports due to the officer’s pudgy hands.

We were required to change the cheques now that we were in another country. After Father attained the relevant cheques, we went outside in search of a taxi. Our teeth instantly started chattering as our skin was in direct contact with the moist and goosebump-erupting air. Seeing the dense, grey clouds hanging low confirmed my suspicion of it always raining in England. However, the suspicion was to remain just that — a suspicion. Father chuckled as he informed me how that was the uniform that the English clouds wore on a daily basis.

We made our way to the taxi residing alongside a train of baggage trollies. The taxi was a grand black. Back home, I would have thought that the car belonged to some big-shot if it were not for the plastic board embedded on the top of the vehicle labelling it. I slid into the stiff, leather, black seat and examined the interior.

The road that stretched beyond us looked like something out of a painted picture. It was broad and straight and not to mention that it was bump-free. I was almost lulled to sleep by the hum of the car engine and tyres against the surface of the road.

Seven miles had been covered when the taxi turned off the serene motorway. It was eerily quiet with the few cars and abandoned fields in sight. My eyes scanned for life as we approached the village. Almost every house had about two cars parked in their driveway and cats peering out from the house window, but no people.

At last, we had arrived at the village when more life was to be seen. The locals’ dogs were trotting about on their leads. I anticipated the appearance of a goat or chicken — after all, it was a village.

One tiring journey had come to an end as we reached the hotel. It was too late to do anything; therefore, we lazed and lounged around in the hotel room. I plopped down on the bed and switched the television on. It was quite strange; however, I strained my ears to understand what they were saying, but ended up as a lost puppy — their accents were exceedingly thick! Their thick accents were accompanied by a fast pace and fluency, leading to even more difficulty.

After a couple of moments, I realized how the accents differ even amongst the English people. And why did the English they speak vary from the English that I had been taught at school? It was all too hard to comprehend. I spared myself the headache and switched the television off.

The next day was certainly more exciting. Our tiresome journey paid off instantly when we came across the beautiful landmarks that were only to be seen and read about in books: Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Circus, Marble Arch, the Tower of London, Houses of Parliament, Trafalgar Square, etc.

We paid a visit to the British Museum and strolled down Charing Cross Road when we found ourselves in Leicester Square.

London was like a whole new planet. Back in Ethiopia — even in the capital — it was bustling, but not nearly as much as it was over here. Cars were stuck in traffic jams more than half of the time and we were forced to walk (not once did we mind, though, due to the lovely weather). The vehicles surrounding me spat smoke and emitted throat-tickling fumes. I was in fits of coughing when I eventually got used to it like everybody else. I observed the buildings and went into awe every time I noticed how the old and new were alongside each other.

We were scurrying home and the adrenaline of it all made it enjoyable. I had just climbed into bed when the village clock struck midnight. The sound of ‘nothingness’ hung in the air. I had never been more at peace.

‘Diary Entry — 9 January 2008, Passage Three Boy Blue’ by Safa Aman

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Dear Reggie,

A shiver still runs down my spine each time I think about it. Fear grips my heart when water comes to my mind. So much so, I think I might have developed a phobia towards it as a whole.

I remember it like it was yesterday. What started out as an exciting cruise turned into an almost life-taking disaster. I was leaning against the ship’s railing and gazing into the Pacific Ocean — it was mesmerizing. The water was clear with an emerald touch as it rippled along the perimeter of the ship. I was counting the fish as they flopped and floundered about when an ugly jerk snapped me out of my reverie. It did not hit me as too much of a surprise considering the fact that it was not the first time it had happened. I reckoned that it might have been just another unfortunate aquatic animal collision until it took place again — and this time, harder.

We had encountered our old friend: the glacier. Yet, I was the only poor soul to have had to meet with such fate. The ship hauled me over as I failed to wrap my fingers around the rusty railing of the ship and fell straight into the water. It happened in such a flurry, I barely had time to react or call for help. It was not until my body was a part of the ocean that I allowed this to sink in (no pun intended).

My teeth chattered uncontrollably like those of a toy clown. I continuously kicked at the water and tried to fight it off aggressively, but nothing helped. The waves of the Pacific had taken over and threw me into awkward somersaults, twists and turns as I was engulfed. I could feel the icy water fill my lungs to the point I thought I would be unable to make it. I felt numb and eventually submitted to the ocean, waiting for the life left in my body to slowly slip away. The sound of the waves crashing and people screaming in the back were the only sounds that now rung through my ears. I made one last attempt to shriek and yell in hopes to be rescued; however, no luck prevailed.

I could no longer feel my limbs and thought to myself, “This is it. I am not going to make it out alive”, but then a miracle happened. Of course, I felt almost dead to do anything or to feel any sort of emotion in the moment, but gratefulness still filled me internally and I could not wait to see who my superhero was. I felt the intricately weaved net tickle my nearly paralyzed face and knew there was still hope for survival. I would have squealed with joy if I could. What were the odds of me being rescued even after being close to the bottom of the ocean?

I felt my body being heaved up with great difficulty by what seemed like a heavenly force in the moment. Icy water was no longer crashing against my pale skin and my nostrils were free to inhale, at last. I had never been more thankful for fresh air in my life!

My ‘superhero’ was certainly not as courteous as Superman or Spiderman, but he saved my life and that definitely counted for something. He cursed himself for ever rescuing me to begin with. Can you believe it? However, I still showed my gratitude towards him — Superman or not.

‘Directed Writing — Talk (May 2006, Passage One) Fire fighter’ by Safa Aman

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“Hey, everybody; Phil Chenay here for those of you who are not aware of who I am. Today, I am going to inform you and talk a little about ‘fire’. When the word ‘fire’ comes to your mind, simultaneously, ‘fear’ accompanies it. However, with the right precautions and safety measures taken, fear and fire should hopefully not be able to mix.

Being near a fire is not as frightening as the movies make it seem. The flames are a work of art, a wonder, a complete mystery and fascination. Sure, you may consider yourself ‘inferior’ to the fire at times as you do not possess the same heating power as the fire itself, but if you come to terms with that, it is not so bad. Needless to say that if your job revolves around fire, it is bound to get a little hot. The temperature ranges from thirty degrees celsius to forty degrees celsius most of the time. Because the fire is brighter than daylight itself, I, along with my fellow peers, often feel like we are stuck in a time zone where daytime is unheard of. The flames may come off slightly intimidating as they seek to scare you and look taller and mightier than they truly are. Not to mention that I almost burst my eardrum as the flames roared lion-like in my ears! To add to the noise, the wind is always present, making it awfully noisy at times. If you pay close attention, a slight ‘thump’ murmurs in the background as gas pockets are rapidly being burnt.

You all must have heard about the Canberra fire when it hit all your news’ channels at home. A single fire that goes up to a meter radiates about one-thousand kilowats of energy. You can only imagine how much energy was exerted in the infamous fuel-filled hills of Canberra when it caught fire. No lucky guesses, anybody? Well, about two-hundred and fifty-thousand kilowats were released. Yes, you guys heard me right. It was so out of hand that people were left with no choice, but to guard their own home and belongings.

As for the aftermath . . . it was not pretty. The smell of rotten meat hung in the forest air for about a month even after the fire. The only sign of life were the few eagles and carrion eaters. Reconstructing homes and places that people had many memories attached with was difficult for everyone to deal with, emotionally. Firefighters only require enough information to get a gist of what happened, but once the unfortunate victims of the fire ‘open up’, they spill every detail of the incident.

People should mentally and physically be prepared if a fire were to erupt. Evacuating at the last minute whilst a fire has already broken out is never an option. The best — and safest — thing one can do is remain in the sanctuary of his or her home as the fire simply goes over the roofs. You people also must refrain from approaching the flames if you are not dressed appropriately as the fire could cause serious injuries and burns. Having a grass clearing surrounding your property is a brilliant way to prevent your home from burning down. Unfortunately, people in today’s date and time opt for beauty over their property’s safety and end up with no clearing around their homes. This leads to their houses burning down until nothing remains of them.

The most we can do for now in order to prevent such fires from happening again are managing the fuels used as the weather is not in our control. However, deliberate fires may be caused as this method aids us in ridding most of the natural fuel that is present on the forest floor.

Majority of people object to deliberate fires because the idea of burning plants and trees for no apparent reason puzzles them. Little do they realize that by doing this, they are in the process of training for in case a genuine outbreak was to occur.

Fire is not nearly as terrifying as people make it out to be if the right actions are taken against it. If we work together, we will easily be capable of sparing innocent human lives along with other species. Thank you all for your time and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did.”

‘Official report: The development of money’By Hamza Khalid

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To: Hamza (sociology professor)

From: Hamza Khalid

Date: Thursday, 26th January, 2017

Subject: Development of money

This is to state that this report is about the transformation and consideration of money and how it has been used throughout time. And this report is to highlight its transformation and development.

It is thought that money is life because everything you need in life is bought by money. Nothing in this world is free even a clean water is not free. It is also true that money cannot bring success but success bring money.

If you ask the people, what is money? They will simply answer you that money is cash, credit cards and cheques.

Following are its forms:

1)      Amber

2)      Beads

3)      Cowrie

4)      Shells

A)     Perhaps, the oldest form of money is livestock and plant products, cattle’s and grains were very common. The other and very important form of money which was used by Chinese was cowrie shells. Slowly and gradually the development started coming and money come with metals including metal tools and metal jewelry.

B)     Eventually of course, in Lydia metal coins made of silver and gold were unrented which became lastingly popular. It was adopted by ancient Greeks states where banking transaction were carried out.

Today, eventually of course, money comes in coins and bank notes. Both paper currency as well as coins are in circulation. We all should thank to ‘Gutenberg’ for inventing the printing press which made the production of paper currency.

You are one of the visitors at the Venetian Glass Factory. Write a talk for your class, while including the following points: • describe Venice, and the view of the Venetian Glass Factory • show how the glass pieces are sculpted • explain how these pieces are decorated Think carefully about the purpose of your talk, and the audience for whom it is intended. By Jibraeil Aatif Anwar

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Good morning, my dear, fellow students! It has, obviously, reached your attention that I have recently visited the Murano Glass Factory in Galleria San Marco, in Venice, Italy. This trip was one of the finest I have ever been on for quite a while, as I got to witness the making of glass itself; basically, how it is made, how it is designed and how it is decorated. Are you already excited? Because I certainly am, as well, so let’s find out about all of the various events that happened there, and in what way.

First of all, it is quite very much common knowledge, the things that Venice is most well-known for: its waterways, which are as picturesque as Da Vinci’s own Mona Lisa; its bridges, which connect all of the 150 small islands in such a way that the overhead view would be like that of a web; its water taxis, which speed across the rivers faster than a bullet; and, of course, its gondolas, paddled through the narrow canals, being the very common places of love-making, romance and things very similar to that.

But, what you don’t know is that, along with all of this, Venice is also well-known for its glass factories, which have been practicing the art and craft of glass-blowing since 200 B.C. Yes, it really is as old as time itself, though not many of you would’ve known that. At the Galleria San Marco, you cannot help but be amazed; on the outside, it looks like nothing more than a mere store-front. And THEN, you enter the place, and you see some of the most beautiful stuff that our century could even be capable of producing.

Upon entering, the first thing that caught my sight – as well as the most obvious – was the crafters working their craft, very much like pure, true-born professionals: they really were that good. The center of all this glass-blowing, crafting and sculpting is, without a doubt, the furnace, which gives off such intense heat that even Sherkan would applaud it. Now, glass, when first created, is present in the form of a molten mixture, one consisting of potash, limestone, sand and soda ash, and is heated into molten form via heating it at over two-thousand degrees Fahrenheit; if that doesn’t surprise you, I don’t know what will; I think that an elephant coming down from an elevator most likely would.

A LOT of heating is involved in this; a blowpipe is heated while the molten glass is still sitting in the furnace, and is then used to take away a specific amount of glass from the furnace. In the process, a disco-ball of molten glass is formed on the end of the blowpipe used to take the glass from the furnace, so it is removed, and rolled over a marver, which, if you don’t know what it is, is a kind of flat sheet of thick steel. This gives a cool as a frozen Han Solo exterior layer to the glass, allowing the glass-piece to attain a fixed shape, after which the open end of the blowpipe is blown into, to create a molten glass-bubble and give the glass-piece its final, absolute, definitive shape.

Now, quite frankly, how can one talk about the sculpting of the glass-pieces, when they can’t also talk about their decorating? It’s just not possible, in any shape or form. So, without further ado, let me tell you about how these masters of the craft add impeccable detail to their creations: tweezers are used. Yes, you’re probably wondering, “How can a simple set of tweezers be used to obtain the decorations of the glass-pieces as we see them right now?” Well, tweezers, even just one set, have the ability to apply a very strong pulling force on an object. So strong, in fact, that it can pull the molten glass even further into the final shape desired, and hence further perfect the intended results.

As the glass cools, the shape becomes clearer than the story of a certain movie will ever be, resulting in a final color being obtained. However, the cooling surface also needs to be manipulated into a flat surface, so what need be used in such a case? A mechanism called a paddle, and after its successful use, the finalized glass-piece is obtained from the end of the blowpipe, and allowed to cool to its room temperature. In addition to all this, I even learnt about how specific colors may be obtained in the glass-pieces; in order to obtain a deep green hue, copper (an element) is added to it, and if a blue color is to be obtained, then varying amounts of copper are added to it, more for dark-blue, and less for light-blue. This gives the element of color to these glass-pieces.

And that so concludes my trip to this amazing glass factory, in which I managed to explore the art of glass-blowing, deliver eye-candy to my eyes in quite possibly the longest distance delivery service, and, most of all, have my heart absolutely enthralled by this amazing experience, every step of the way. I hope you guys enjoyed me talking about my trip as much as I did, for I now declare that this is the part where I say, “This is the end of the story I have shared, so live long and prosper!” Goodbye!

 

Write a dialogue between two colleagues working in the bank in Zimbabwe, discussing the hyperinflation of the country. In your dialogue, include the following: • the current situation • how people suffer • what can be expected Think carefully about the purpose of your dialogue, and the audience for whom it is intended. By Jibraeil Aatif Anwar

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Peter: Good afternoon, Nelson.

Nelson: A good afternoon to you, too, Peter.

Peter: I can already assume that you’ve heard about the news. About that horrible event that came almost like a tornado that takes along all the farmer’s sheep with it – hyperinflation.

Nelson: Yes, that was quite unfortunate to hear about.

Peter: It still infuriates me to no end. Once upon a time, our currency meant something; now… even twenty-five billion of its notes trade with only ONE US dollar. ONE! I can’t believe that this is our country’s fate.

Nelson: Now, now, Peter. Calm down. No need to get so agitated.

Peter: SO AGITATED?! What are you talking about, man?! People are suffering thanks to what’s happening. Mothers are unable to provide for their children, fathers are unable to earn a living for their family, thousands and thousands of workers have been put out of business, and the economy as a whole is going down. This is nothing to be calm and serene about, Nelson!

Nelson: Peter, first of all, calm down. Second of all, I know that you are upset, but there is no need to worry. We, as a nation, have always been a hopeful bunch, so I am quite sure that we will find a solution to our problem. Please, do not worry about it too much.

Peter: (sighs) I guess you’re right, Nelson.

Nelson: Glad to see that we have reached an understanding. So, how are your wife and kids feeling, after this incident?

Peter: They’re feeling horrible. In fact, the entire reason I got so riled up was because of them. My poor little angels. What am I to do now?

Nelson: A wise man once said that happiness could be found, even in the darkest of times, if only one were to remember to turn on the light. We are all struggling a great deal, Peter. But, I promise you that I will find a way to help your wife and children. And that is my firm promise.

Peter: I believe you.

Nelson: Now, what is the full story behind what happened?

Peter: Well, as I said before, twenty-five billion of our currency is currently trading with one US dollar.

Nelson: So, I have heard.

Peter: Unemployment is now running at more than eighty percent.

Nelson: Oh, dear.

Peter: The local newspaper even showed no less than five different people of the country give their views on what’s happening at the moment. Would you like to see it?

Nelson: Yes, of course.

(Peter hands Nelson over the newspaper)

Nelson: Very interesting perspectives. I can honestly not do anything other than worry like a sick dog over this.

Peter: What do you expect is to happen next, oh, wise, old Nelson?

Nelson: Now, now. No need to be so sarcastic, Peter.

Peter: Well?

Nelson: I am afraid that our economy may indeed be doomed at some point. It is almost as if Satan had sent his hounds of Hell to this world, and told them to target Zimbabwe, of all places.

Peter: Can anyone help us?

Nelson: Perhaps, we could obtain help from one of our fellow African countries. They have a better currency and resources than we do. I believe that they would be more than pleased to provide us with their precious luxuries.

Peter: What about any powerful nations? The USA and China, perhaps?

Nelson: I would only see that happening if they were willing to. They are busy countries, after all.

Peter: Yes, I forgot. Well, goodbye, Nelson. This helped me a lot, so I hope that you survive these years of darkness.

Nelson: Goodbye, Peter. I very much appreciate having helped you out.

 

 

Write a diary entry as the narrator of the story ‘The First Time I Met George.” In your diary, include the following: • what his first impressions of George were • how they became friends • how you (the writer) recall your friendship with George Think carefully about the purpose of your diary, and the audience for whom it is intended. By Jibraeil Aatif Anwar

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Dear Carlos,

Carlos. Now, isn’t that a funny name? You see, you are nothing more than a momentary creature, who I have created for one reason, and one reason alone: to vent about my frustrations at the moment; namely, about a young boy the same age as me, whose name is George. George Sampeter. A boy from my past, who now influences my future.

If I am to accurately recall, I first met George at school, obviously, and he had come late, sadly. So, there I was, peeking out of my distorted shell of a body to look at what was going to happen to the poor guy. He was terrified, holding his father’s hand for salvation from the Eye known as the school’s headmaster. God, did I feel envious! HE had a father, while I did not? And… it turned out that the father and the headmaster were close friends, which is why George had come late to school, and that he would be one of those boys who would receive special treatment from the school.

Could my day get any more worse than this? And, then, more of the tiger had awakened in me, for George was put STRAIGHT into the second standard! I do apologize for soiling you with my unnecessary anger, Carlos, but the twists and turns of these events were as if Medusa were strangled to bloody, gory death by one of her own snakes – that absolutely, horrendously, incomprehensibly, shockingly, and very much incredibly, unnerving, and the kind of event that would give you stress for the years.

However, the graceful Ice Queen, majestic she was, sent blizzards over my forehead till I was as clean as a mansion, for George, although he was good at reading and writing (good enough to be put into the second standard), was not good at sums. Because of this, he was put into the first standard with us better folk, and what shame he felt! He was so ashamed, to the point that I actually felt pretty sorry for him, and so I decided to go up to him, and try my absolute best to fix his mood, and lighten him up.

I said something like, “Hey. Don’t be so hurt that you’ve been sent from the second standard to the first. I think you’re a nice guy, so let’s be friends. And, here, have a spare pencil end, if your whole pencil isn’t working quite properly.” From that point onward, we became the best of friends, and, boy, did we make the most of it! Whether it was talking together about what interested us most, eating delightful, diabetic sweets like sugar cakes, or even eating sea-salty fish cakes, the bond between us was glue sticking together every fabric of our clothing. Ah, pure poetry….

Now that I am much older, and time has gone by since I was last in school with George, I would say that it is, relatively speaking, time to look back at this period of time, and consider any new interpretations or reinterpretations. The thought of doing this filled me with so much dread that I would have gladly ripped out my heart attempting to do so, being able to hear its faint, subtle beating. Oh, what joy! But, nevertheless, I would say that this was a truly extraordinary friendship, from start to finish. There is not a day that goes by that I regret having made this pledge of trust, and there is not a week that goes by that I don’t feel sorry for having been mean to him at first.

I do wonder, though: can a heart still feel once it has stopped beating? For I am in my old age, and the bad things that have happened around me (including, as the date I am writing this diary entry on alludes to, 9/11) have driven me more than a little bit cynical, that happy moments like these never happen in real life. And yet, alas, it did, thirty-five years ago, in the form of George Sampeter. I humbly thank him for always providing me with a comfortable memory to look back on, to give me hope and life in times of grief, sorrow, dread and depression, and I wish him all the luck in his current affairs.

And, now, I conclude this diary entry on a high note, which especially contrasts the low note I began it with. Finally, for I have better things to do, it is time for me to leave, and attend to those duties. Goodbye, Carlos, you magnificent, wonderful, admirable creature of all temporary goodness there is, for I need to go back to living like I always have!

Yours sincerely,

Jibraeil

Write an interview between the local newspaper journalist and Abdul Sattar Edhi. In the interview, include the following: • Edhi’s personal life • establishment and development of the welfare center • his personality, dreams and accomplishments Think carefully about the purpose of your interview, and the audience for whom it is intended. By Jibraeil Aatif Anwar

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Raphael Khalid: (clears throat) Greetings, everyone! And, welcome, to the Raphael Khlaid – I mean, Khalid – show! I remember it, so you don’t have to. We are all gathered here today to hear the words of a man, who, against all adversity and difficulties, has established one of the biggest foundations in all of Asia, one of healthcare and first-aid. He is one who, without, Pakistan could never have reached the position that it is currently in. He is our friend, our benefactor, and a global icon: Abdul Sattar Edhi.

Audience: (claps loudly)

Raphael: First of all, congratulations, for all you have done for our country.

Abdul Sattar Edhi: It has been my pleasure.

Raphael: Now, first of all, every single one of us would like to know about your personal life. And, I surely do not mean THAT personal life, but what you do during your spare time, and what your life was like when you were just a young boy.

Edhi: Well, I was born back in 1928. Now, everyone knows that Pakistan was not yet established, until 1947. So, I was born in Gujarat, India, into its very own Memon community. My mother taught be to have courage, and be kind, to help the poor and needy, and to strive for the welfare of others.

Raphael: Do you feel that what she taught you means a lot to your current life? Where would you be, had she not taught you these things? Would you still have picked up on these lessons of life via your own personal observations?

Edhi: It is safe to say that my mother’s lessons have been the backbone of my life, both in terms of philosophy, and in terms of practicality. Without them, the world would not have gotten Abdul Sattar Edhi, the icon. I am not sure that I would have observed all of this on my own; and, even if I did, I would not be able to find the will to put these into reality.

Raphael: Well, I definitely need to applaud that fact; I’m sure that everyone in the world would appreciate this.

Edhi: Thank you. I appreciate your appreciation.

Raphael: Tell us more.

Edhi: In 1947, as soon as Pakistan gained independence, we migrated to Karachi, Pakistan. And, anyone who knows me well enough would know that that is where I started developing my welfare center, my most well-known contribution to the people of this country.

Raphael: How was it like, being so determined to bring your ambition to reality? It must have been fun, right? What innovations did you make?

Edhi: To say that it was ‘fun’ would be an understatement. I had the time of my life doing everything to help me towards achieving my ambition. I started my own dispensary, provide medical care to the poor, and even drove a, as I call it, ‘poor man’s van’, to help the needy and dispense of any dead, unclean bodies. During all this, I met Bilquis, who is my wife and my partner, without whom the Edhi foundation would not be what it is today.

Raphael: I see. I am heavily interested in where your story is going from here. To add onto that, I have a wife as well; but, well, so does everyone else. She, like your wife, is my partner, my helper and my benefactor, without whom I would be nothing. In my case, she helped me in undergoing my side-career in space-science; in other words, NASA. Was your wife like my wife?

Edhi: She was humble, no doubt. She was a trainee at my first dispensary, when I first met her. I believe that the greatest strength we shared was our passion in doing what we believed in, and our shared want to help the poor, needy, old and sick. She was kind and generous, just like me. She was interested in the same things as me. She even contributed to the Edhi foundation as much as I did! So, there is indeed no doubt that she is my partner, without whom I would be nothing.

Raphael: I see.

Edhi: Thanks to her, the Edhi foundation reached a collapsed building in 1973, to help those who were injured in the process. It has also ventured into dangerous places that even government agencies are afraid to go into! And, most of all, we established the first air ambulances in South Asia, all these achievements being thanks to her, as well as the several thousand workers and volunteers, who form the meat and backbone of my foundation.

Raphael: I know. All that you have accomplished, with the help of only a few select people, surprises me.

Edhi: Thank you.

Raphael: So, for we now all know about all that you have accomplished, what do you do in your spare time, when you are not busy doing your services for this country.

Edhi: I am a humble man. Simple, elegant and clean. I spend my free time doing my services, for I really am that selfless. In addition, I begin each day with Fajr prayers, and my house IS, in fact, my apartment, in which only one room is my bedroom. The rest of it is used for the Foundation itself, of course. After Fajr, I work for the Foundation, and then, at the end of it all, I eat with the poor and needy at the free community meals’ center in Karachi. On my Fridays, I help the physically handicapped children, as well as the poor children. Because of this, one would probably say that I do not have free time. But, if the children are as happy as a dog, with big smiles on their faces, then it is free time, at least to me, and time well-spent.

Raphael: Really? That… I did not know about. Wow! (turns to audience, starts speaking in a comically surprised tone) Folks, this is why you should never assume things about people. Ever. In your entire life. (audience starts laughing)

Edhi: (starts laughing as well)

Raphael: Anyways… back to the main discussion. So, Edhi, last of all, what has been your primary vision for this country, and for life?

Edhi: It has been nothing more than giving all people in the world their rights. To work for the welfare of the poor and needy. I have, for all my life, supported none other than Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s vision for this country, to gain equality for all kinds of people, based on either their faith or their sect. I advocate for basic educational skills to be granted to the children. And, once it has been established as a modern welfare state, I can set a great example for other developing countries, to give them the hope that, one day, they may also do great things for their countries, like I did for mine. Given that I have gained international acclaim, attention and awards for my services, that may very well be possible.

Raphael: And that is exactly what I wanted to hear. Thank you, Edhi. And I would like you to know that everyone, not just the people sitting here, appreciate this noble speech of yours.

Edhi: I was giving a reply, not a speech.

Raphael: Sorry, sorry! (audience starts laughing again)

Edhi: (remaining serene) Well, it has been a pleasure to be on your show, and share my life-story with all these people sitting here in front of me, Mr. Khalid.

Raphael: It has been my pleasure, too. (Edhi leaves) (Raphael turns to audience) Well, goodbye, folks! Hope to see you on the next show’s episode. Once again, this is the Raphael Khalid show! I remember it so you don’t have to. This is me, signing out. (audience starts clapping) (lights go out)