Daughter Of Coffee And Chocolate
Story Of A Refugee
Five when she fled Motherland with her mother
Nothing on her back except quilted clothes
Two years of living in hills
Camp to camp
War to war
Finally, the call came
Ammi smiled through her tears
You’ll be American, she said
Heena smiled
We’ll have a home?
Ammi shook her head
They’re taking you before me
Don’t worry though
She said, her voice strange and heavy
I’ll be there before you know it
She was seven years old then
Didn’t think to question
Twenty-four hours later
She stood in NYC
Eyes filled with tears
Nothing on her back except quilted clothes
And a blue blanket with some change in a worn sack
A couple came
Two beautiful women
We’re your mothers they said
Kind smiles
Hope in brown eyes
How can you be my mothers?
I’m like snow on Hindukush
You’re like milk coffee
And dark chocolate
The women smiled
You grew in our hearts
Our heart is filled with colors
Chocolate took her sack
Coffee held her hand
Together they marched to a deep blue van
Blue
Heena smiled
She knew blue
Of the wide blue skies atop cold mountains
Blue firoza from deep icy caves
Thick blue rivers
Hammering through steep hills on their way
Blue booties she was wearing
Blue blanket in her sack
Blue like her mother’s eyes
Blue like her laughs
Night came
She curled up
On a too-soft mattress
In a dark, empty room
So many voices
So many lights
So many sounds
Whirr-whirr-whirr
Chop-chop-chop
Honk-honk-honk
She cried
Feet ran in the hall
The door slammed open
Coffee curled up on her right
Chocolate sang her through the deep night
Heena relaxed
When she woke
Four arms held her tight
Mother?
She wondered
Over the next few days
New mothers became Chantel and Teisha
Harsh names
Strange clothes
New foods
Wide roads
Heena slept every night
Held by Coffee
Sung by Chocolate
She dreamed of her mother’s blue eyes
When would she come?
Why hadn’t she called?
Was something wrong?
Coffee and Chocolate took her to the embassy
Tens
Hundreds of times
Heena had no mother they said
There was no Aisha Pathan
Coffee and Chocolate raged
Threatened to sue
But Heena knew
Her heart sank
She tugged their hands
They went back to the blue van
She’s dead
Heena whispered in the silence
Chocolate took her hand
Coffee took the other
Nothing else was said
They had one another
Later that night
Sobs came
Harsh and weighed with pain
Heena cried
Coffee held her
Chocolate sang
It rained
The storm raged for days on end
When the sun came
Snow, Chocolate, Coffee
Stood by a fresh grave
A grave with frayed quilted clothes
A blue scarf and some change
A headstone that said
Aisha Pathan
Warrior-Mother of Heena
Daughter of Coffee and Chocolate
May you be free
Fly safe
~
Radha
There is an all-time high of refugees and IDPs at the moment in the world. Millions of asylum-seekers are looking to escape wars, persecution and certain death. They are being turned away by the countries that instigated the problems in the first place. Most have nowhere to go like Aisha Pathan.
The ones like Heena Pathan that do are just numbers for the machine. We’re not monsters, the machines say. Look, we took in a refugee girl child.
Governments are separating children from their families at borders and in camps not just in the USA but also in China with Uighurs.
Governments are rolling back policies and decreasing the ceiling value of refugees they’ll accept. They’re refusing to let mass media cover these topics. Blocking reporters and concerned politicians’ access to these places while they profit off of the backs of refugees and IDPs.
All colors, orientations, ethnicities and gender identities coming together in support of one another is more important than ever.
It is a heartbreaking time. I stand witness. I hope you do too.
In response to Vaishali Paliwal ‘s Diversity For Real call.
