One Day a Girl will Become a Mother

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Sister Zeph

President and Founder of Zephaniah Women's Education and Empowerment Foundation.

Posted to Sister Zeph’s Journal

By Sister Zeph

On 05 May, 2014

( Written by my Student Iqra Dawood Aroop Gujranwala Punjab Pakistan)

It was an unusually hot day, and my thirst was unrelenting. I walked barefoot on the scorching roads, knocking on the doors of people comfortably nestled in their air-conditioned rooms. There was no one to care for my children except me. The suffocating grip of poverty, helplessness, and the relentless hunger in my children’s bellies compelled me to resort to begging. Their emaciated faces and vacant eyes pierced my heart. Although I loathed the idea, circumstances left me no choice—I had to beg for my children.

The shame weighed heavy on me. With no education or skills to my name, finding gainful employment was out of reach. Despite my feet bleeding from walking on the searing ground, I pressed on. That’s when I arrived at a grand bungalow. I knocked on its opulent door, seeking assistance. However, before I could utter a word, I overheard these heartless words: “Oh, these impoverished people, they disturb our peace; they are nothing but a burden on the planet.”

I couldn’t find the words to explain that my children at home were starving and to please offer something to feed them. I left, my bleeding feet carrying me away. Something inside me shattered, and I felt my heart wither. My mind echoed with countless thoughts: What would I tell my children now? How would I provide them with food? How could I face them when they would realize that I had nothing in my hands? Their trust in me would crumble, their hearts would break just like mine, and I couldn’t bear to see them suffer the pangs of hunger.

Lost in despair, I reached the platform and gravitated towards an oncoming train from the opposite direction. It happened in the blink of an eye. I could hear people crying out behind me, and then everything went dark.

I thought that arriving in heaven would bring respite, but it isn’t so. I can still see my children from here, their tears flowing unabated. They are all alone, with no future to look forward to, no path to follow, no dreams to chase, and no careers to pursue. I wish I had been educated and skilled so that I could have saved not only my life but also the lives of my children. I often recall the words of my parents, who believed I didn’t need skills because I wouldn’t be working. Little did they know that their decision would ultimately devastate the lives of my children and mine.

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