When I was told that I needed to interview a cute and friendly kid, who was abandoned by his stepfather and mother because he was born with club feet, the adrenaline pumped in and I wanted to meet with him ASAP, like there was no tomorrow.
All this time that I was preparing to interview him for the newsletter, I was trying to make sense of how a stepfather could throw a disabled child in the middle of nowhere and not worry about him. I was also thinking whether it would have been possible for Nazeer’s stepfather to do what he did without Nazeer’s mother’s consent. As you read through this article, you will realize that his mother wasn’t that fond of him after Nazeer’s father and her first husband passed away, either, so you can make a classical judgment.
No one’s sure about the kid’s real name. Some call him Nazrullah while others call him Nazeerullah. He pronounces his name as something in between the two names. After talking to him and listening to him very patiently, I realized that Nazeer would be the name everyone should call him. I needed to use all the patience that I had to get answers from him as he would go off track easily all the time and tell me things that weren’t related to my questions, but since he was very cute, funny and smiling all the time, it wasn’t difficult to rephrase questions and wait for the right answers.
It was a chilly morning. Nazeer was sitting on his bed wearing a blanket on his legs. As I sat close to his bed at Ala-ud-Deen Orphanage and was getting ready to talk to him, he said “What is your phone number?” to which I replied “Why do you need to call me when I am here?” and he said, “I will call you when you leave”. I told him that I would give him my phone number once the interview was over. He didn’t have a phone or access to one, so I can’t tell why he wanted my number. One of the reasons that I can think of is the fact that I had a mini sound recorder, which I put on his legs before starting to ask questions. He must have liked it very much thinking it was my phone.
After doing the brief introduction, I asked him where he was to which, he replied, “Upstairs. I was watching TV”. As it turns out, Nazeer is very much fond of watching TV. When I asked him how old he was, his answer was “3”, but someone in the room said he was 12. Then, I asked him what he liked about the orphanage, he immediately told me that he was a good boy and that he urinated in a bottle and defecated in his pot. It was very difficult to imagine life with such difficulties for a kid of his age and it made me realize how grateful I should be that I never had to go through such things in life.
Nazeer studies in the 2nd grade. When you compare his age with the class that he studies in, you do realize that Nazeer may have more problems than just club feet. When I asked Mohsen Arif, PARSA employee that has worked a lot on Nazeer, he told me that there were marks on his head, which apparently meant that he was struck in the head during the years he lived with his family and that might be part of the problem.
Nazeer considers Habib, Jawad, Omaid, Haseeb, Shamshad and Omar his friends. The good thing is that his friends never ask him what is wrong with his feet and why he cannot walk. Ms. Belqees (has one name like most Afghan women and even men) looks after Nazeer. He loves her as she brings him ice-cream, Bolani and chocolate.
Nazeer has learned Sura-e-Fateha, counting from 1 – 22 and can sing a couple of Naseem Hashimi and Valy Hejazi’s songs. I asked him to recite Sura-e-Fateha for me. He slipped on one occasion while reciting it, but he recited it so beautifully that I loved it. Then, I asked him to start counting for me. He counted from 1 – 22, but he left out 16 and 18. However, when I asked him to sing songs for me, he started singing the songs that he knew flawlessly, which reminded me that Nazeer might have “Actor Musical Intelligence”. The song that he loves the most is Kamar Bareek-e-Man (my slim waist), which is actually sung by the famous Afghan Zahir Howaida and then re-sung by another famous singer, Naseem Hashimi, who lives in Kabul. He sang it so beautifully and flawlessly that everyone in the room could not stop smiling at his talent. He knows the song Bia Tu of Valy Hejazi by heart, too, but cannot sing it as beautifully as he sang the former.
Nazeer claims he is from Kunduz district of Takhar province, which made me smile as Kunduz and Takhar are two separate provinces. I told him that if he became the president of Afghanistan, he would surely merge a few provinces unlike the present time where more and more districts are trying to become independent provinces. Completely oblivious to his past and fate, Nazeer smiled and told me, “When my father calls, I will tell him that I will return in a couple of years. I will go to my home [in Takhar].”
I dared to ask him one of the probably hardest questions I have ever asked, but I needed to get a feeling of what status of mind he was in and how he was dealing with it, so I asked him what he thought had happened to his legs. He replied:
“When I came here, my legs were twisted, but then the doctors fixed them. They broke my leg bones and straightened out. They stuck a ramrod, put my legs in a frame and plastered it….I can’t walk, but when my legs are fine, I will start walking again.”
I asked him what games he would play once his legs were fine to which he replied, “I won’t play [any games] because my legs will be broken. Their bones are already broken.”
I asked Nazeer if he remembered his parents and whom he loved, to which he replied,
“My parents are dead. I loved my father. He would go grocery shopping and buy rice, meat and oil. My father was sick, so he would take medicine. Once he took it and he was fine. The next time he took it, he went to sleep and he never woke up. He was dead. He was taken to graveyard and buried. My mom didn’t go, but my grandmother went to bury him.”
Nazeer does not have very fond memories of his mother. He was trying to tell me a story of him trying to lock the door of his house and going to meet a Parwez or Payeez in bits and pieces. Because he could not pronounce the name properly, that is the most that I got from the conversation I had with him in spite of asking him to repeat himself several times.
On another account, Nazeer told me how his nose started bleeding when his mother beat him. Nazeer knows that he has a grandmother and even claims that he talks to her, but the reality is that no one from his family is in touch with him, so he must be either imagining having a grandmother, or he might have a grandmother whom no one knows about.
Nazeer claims both his parents are dead, but from what I gathered from individuals who knew him, Mahaz-ud-Deen, an employee of Tahya-e-Maskan Orphanage, brought him to the Ala-ud-Deen Orphanage. Some told me that Mahaz-ud-Deen had found Nazeer in a farmland in Takhar as he is actually from Takhar while Mahaz himself told me that he had nothing to do with Nazeer as he was brought to Kabul by the social workers of the Ministry of Labor, Social Affairs, Martyrs and Disabled, which makes the whole case sound fishy. Someone who spoke to me on the condition of anonymity told me that Mahaz-ud-Deen might be his stepfather and hiding. Nazeer seemed to be too scared to mention his stepfather’s name, too.
Me: “Do you call your grandmother?”
Nazeer: “Yes.”
Me: “What do you tell her?”
Nazeer: “I tell her that I will come after 10 years. I won’t be here and my granny tells me ‘Ok. Come after 10 years.’ I miss my granny too. I talked to my mom, too. He asks me to hurry up and come. [When I go home and] if she beats me, I will beat her, too. Once she beat me and my nose was bleeding. When I become a doctor and go to Takhar, I will call my mother and ask her why she didn’t come to see me [at the orphanage]. I will be mad at her.
Me: “Why doesn’t she call you or visit you?”
Nazeer: “That is because I don’t have a phone and my home is far.
It took me a minute to digest what he told me. My throat was getting choked up every time he spoke about his family and how cruelly he was dealt with. I would take my time, gather my scattered emotions and then ask another question. In order to change the topic, I asked him what his favorite game was and he explained to me that he liked to play with water guns. He liked it very much when he shot his friends with the and got them wet and mad. Nazeer likes to wear masks and scare his friends, too. According to Nazeer, it can be bought at Najim’s store, which is apparently close to the Ala-ud-Deen Orphanage, where Nazeer lives.
Nazeer likes to watch TV a lot. He has learned all the songs he knows by heart by watching TV. He likes the Mickey Mouse cartoon, too. Just like a typical Afghan kid, Nazeer enjoys watching action movies. To my surprise, I found out that Nazeer was politically very active, too. Every time the news or any breaking news comes on TV, he asks everyone else in the room to keep quiet. Apparently, he was the first one to know about Rabani’s assassination and broke the news to the rest of the orphanage, too. Nazeer likes beans, rice and meat, but he hates dhal and peas.
Later, I asked Nazeer the usual question that kids are asked. “What do you want to be in the future?” And his response was, “Doctor and teacher. I will be a doctor and break the bones of the kids who have twisted legs like I did. Then, I will straighten and plaster them. I want to be a teacher and teach the students “Sura-e-Fateha” and “Kamar Bareek” song. I will go to Takhar and never come back.”
I told him that Ms. Belqees, her assigned caretaker, would cry after him if he leaves and his response was “No. She won’t cry because there are other boys like Shamshad here. I will go outside and have Bolani, chocolate and ice-cream.
Nazeer claims he is a good boy and a student, which makes one hopeful about his future. “If I am given a notebook, I don’t rip it. When someone gives me a pencil, I don’t break it. I write Alhamdulellah (Sura-e-Fateha) with it.”
I sat down with Nazeer’s caretake-cum-teacher, Ms. Belqees, to know more about Nazeer.
“When Nazeer was brought newly, no one wanted to take him in or be his guardian because he was in such a horrible condition. I agreed to look after him in the room that I was assigned. I became his godmother, teacher and caretaker. I fretted that if someone else were to look after him, they would probably punish him when he would dirty himself or his clothes. I talked to PARSA about him so that his legs could be operated and he could walk normally. Now, after he has been operated four times (two operations on each leg), I see glimpses of hopes in him walking normally. I love Nazeer a lot. He is a clever, talented and friendly kid; he is smiling all the time. If you tell him something, he takes his time, reflects upon it and comes and asks questions about what you told him, later. The first operation was very tough. It lasted 7 hours. It was done during the Ramadan. I sat in the waiting room of the operation theater, prayed for the operation’s success and his well-being and did not eat anything until I heard that Nazeer’s operation was successful... He is a very strong kid. When he was operated, he suffered a lot of pain, which would make him cry. Seeing him in pain, I would cry with him, too. Every time I started crying, he would stop crying, smile and ask me to stop crying, too.”
Later, I caught a few of his friends and asked them what they thought of Nazeer. The funny thing was when I asked his little friend Omar how long he had known him for, he said, “Since this morning” although they been friends for quite a while.
Me: “Why are you friends with Nazeer? What do you like about him?”
Omar: “He is a good boy and because of his legs.”
Me: “So, if his legs were fine, you wouldn’t be his friend?”
Omar: “No.”
Omaid: “I like him. I like talking to him. I play puzzles with him.”
Sharifullah: “I have known him ever since he was admitted at the kindergarten. His legs had problems, so they were bandaged. I play with him and stay with him. Nazeer runs after us, catches us, beats us and even threatens to kill us. I don’t reciprocate.”
Rohullah: “Nazeer was my roommate and that is how we became friends. I would play with him and we would run around the classroom. I and the other friends do not allow anyone to beat Nazeer. I would like to see him write good things in his notebooks that he has been given and not be mischievous.”
Shamshad: “I have known him for a year. We live in the same dorm and are like brothers. I play football with him.”
Shamsia, her kindergarten teacher, “He is attentive. He learns lessons well and can work better by himself. He can learn math well. He sings well during our play time. He is mischievous, but since teachers are like mothers, they shouldn’t be bothered.”
Because he showed a lot of interest in Naseem Hashemi’s songs, I asked him how he would feel if Hashemi would come to see him. He loved the idea and his eyes went sparkling. Through one of my contacts, I found Hashemi’s number. When I spoke to him, the celebrated signer quickly agreed to meet up with him and said it would be wonderful if we could arrange it through Bamdad-e-Khosh (Good Morning) program of Tolo TV. I quickly agreed and arranged for them to visit each other right there.
The program was arranged on Saturday, October 15, 2011 at 0800 hrs. The joy and jubilance in Nazeer’s face was worth watching that day. He was hosted by Mustafa Azizyar and Hadia Hamdard, the two anchors of the morning show. Naseem Hashemi was gracious enough to come but he was not alone. He had bought Nazeer expensive gifts and gave him almost 5,000 AFS. I really loved Hashemi’s gesture. He sung for Nazeer the song that Nazeer often sings Kamar Bareek. Then, the very song was played on TV. Nazeer could not help smiling. It was such a satisfying and gratifying experience for me. I had not been feeling well for the last two months, but that day after taking Nazeer back to Ala-ud-Deen Orphanage, opening his gifts, taking his pictures and saving the donated money at PARSA for his future use, I recuperated and felt completely fine. If you believe in God, in Karma or anything in that line, you will know what I mean.
I cannot imagine how Nazeer’s parents did what they did to him, but one day when Nazeer grows up, literally stands on his feet and becomes a doctor, they will surely regret their wrongdoings to the cutest, friendliest and nicest kids I have ever met. Looking at Nazeer’s demeanor and conduct, I am sure him will forgive them, rejoin them and look after them, but will Nazeer’s mom and stepfather be able to forgive themselves? Only time will tell.
Want to read my other blogs:
1. http://afghanism.blogspot.com/
2. http://loveinmyperspective.blogspot.com/
3. http://6yjokes.blogspot.com/
4. http://afghansingers.blogspot.com/
5. http://innercalls.blogspot.com/
6. http://afgiw.blogspot.com/
7. http://afgman.blogspot.com/
8. http://afgsecurity.blogspot.com/
9. http://theindianvisa.blogspot.com/
10. http://nazeerstory.blogspot.com/
11. http://ustadrasool.blogspot.com/
