The Lahore Journal #2: Learning to trust: the back story

My great aunt was rescued during the violence of the Partition by my grandfather. 

She was studying to be a doctor. Her aspirations and dreams were to help others. To repair, help and heal. 

She was displaced again when living in Uganda during Idi Amin’s expulsion of Indians. She moved to the UK this time helped by a church in Sevenoaks. During her time in the UK she become a teacher right up to the time of her stroke in 80s.

She never went back to the medical degree.

I recall once sat on the sofa with my Papa watching India play Pakistan at Cricket. He used to come back on his lunch breaks. Rarely, we'd watch together, not that I was into cricket then, but we were there together on this one occasion. He was not only glued to it he was very animated. I asked him, whilst he was eating, why do Indians dislike the Pakistanis. He quickly responded it was because they left when they should have stayed together. He continued eating and cheering as the match continued.

This hatred, rivalry and deep mistrust is something that I never wanted. I don’t like nor do I wish to entertain it. But all of sudden it is confronting and defining me just by mere virtue of my ethnicity.

It was there whilst trying to obtain a visa.

It was there when determining whether I should go on a forthcoming trip to Lahore.

It was there when I shared with my family that I am going to Pakistan.

It's there.