Rukshana and Me: A Story of Family Ties from Pakistan

By Donald Lieber
Web Exclusive

Islamabad. March 2004.

The spicy varieties of fresh tea served to me during my recent visit to Pakistan, in numerous cafes and street stands throughout this diverse and misunderstood nation, made me realize that there was, finally, much more to a cup of tea than Mr. Lipton and a slice of lemon.

My epiphany of tea was among many fond memories I recall from my first visit to Pakistan - a venture made necessary when my six year old daughter moved there with her mother, an American aid worker.

While enjoying the exotic teas, the hospitality of the Pakistani people, and the joy of being with my daughter for the first time in six months, I thought about the unpredictable events that led to my visit here: a divorce; the need to travel around the world to visit my only child; and a lifelong involvement in world affairs and human rights issues.

I pondered the ways in which world events – often with huge international implications - can also create profound connections between individuals that otherwise would not occur.

I began to think deeply about my relationship with Rukshana - the nanny taking care of my daughter in Islamabad, Pakistan’s capital city.

That’s why Rukshana watches my daughter…

Some 3 million Afghani citizens, maybe more, are estimated to have fled their homes in desperation over the past two decades.

A succession of violent and oppressive foreign interventions created one of the most largest, rapid, and forced population shifts in history. In just over twenty years, three distinct historical events created recurring surges of massive civilian displacement, nearly unprecedented in history. The 1982 Soviet invasion, the 1996 Taliban takeover and, finally, the massive American military assault of 2002, caused millions of Afghani citizens to flee their homes in fear and misery.

By the end of 2002, some 2.5 million displaced Afghanis accounted for one quarter of the entire global refugee population, according to the U.S. Committee on Refugees. Over one million of them fled to neighboring Pakistan.

That’s why Rukshana watches my daughter...

Rukshana and her husband Rustan used to live in Kandahar, Afghanistan’s second largest city. Rukshana looked forward to raising a family in the land their family called home for generations.

Rukshana, her husband and their 7 children (five girls and two boys) now live in a one bedroom flat in an overcrowded section of the Pakistani city of Rawalpindi known as “Muslim Town.” A majority of the residents of “Muslim Town”, she said, were illegal Afghani refugees.

Rustan was a high school teacher in Afghanistan. Now, as a refugee with no permanent legal status in Pakistan, he cannot find significant and legal employment.

Rukshana, however, is paid the equivalent of about $60 US dollars per month to care for the four-bedroom, three-bathroom, security-perimeter home where my daughter lives with her mom – an American relief worker - in Islamabad, Pakistan’s capital city.

Everyday Rukshana keeps the marble floors clean, washes the clothes, cleans the dishes, buys groceries, cooks upon request – and cares for my daughter after school. Sometimes she helps my daughter start her homework.

Watching my daughter is the only source of income for Rukshana’s family.

Rukshana’s understanding of written and spoken English is self-taught and intelligible, if elementary and awkward. Her native tongue is Pashtun, a common language among many of Afghani refugees now living in Pakistan.

My 6 year-old daughter, Tess, is now learning French and Urdu. She previously knew a little Tigrinian – a result of her previous foreign living experience in the African nation of Eritrea. Tess has repeatedly been placed in advanced reading classes.

It would be dishonest to claim I have not been not bothered that my daughter could read and speak English better than her nanny. The mindset of a protective daddy, hardened further through divorce, fought very hard to guilt me into believing that this would somehow stunt my daughter’s intellectual potential. This has been largely balanced, I wish to believe, by my awareness of the immeasurable benefits afforded to children when exposed to different societies and cultures. Tess is happy and as bright as ever.

It takes Rukshana one hour each way to commute between her home to my daughter’s house in Islamabad. She uses public busses.

Rukshana calls me “Sir” unless I ask specifically not to.

In the month that I lived in Islamabad I saw Rukshana almost everyday. During this time, she initiated conversations with me a grand total of two times. Once she scolded me for not locking the door of the house when I left. The other time was to report to me that Tess pushed her away, physically, when Rukshana tried to hurry her before school one morning.