English Recordings

Novel
Timkey and Pinkey

by Rizwan Ahmed Memon

Chapter 1: The Dreams

My sister and I were playing with dolls in the street under our favorite siris tree, eating candies that tasted like soap, and waiting for our friend Popri. That day we planned to marry our dolls to hers, but the intense background noise coming from our house wasn’t festive.

My father and uncle were arguing. This was nothing new. Their almost daily shouting and bickering had become part of the ambiance of our home. Like grizzled veterans who had become inured to the unusual, we experienced the arguing as an unremarkable part of life.

Growing up in a combined, dysfunctional family in an underdeveloped village called Akil in Sindh, Pakistan, life wasn't always so easy, especially having to share the same home with other families. My sister, brother and I lived with our parents in our paternal grandparents’ home. We referred to my grandmother as Aman Wadi, senior mother, and my grandfather as Baba Haji—in Islamic cultures, a man who has traveled to Mecca for a pilgrimage is called Haji, and Hajani is a word for a woman who has traveled to Saudi Arabia for the same purpose. My father's brother, Uncle Arbaaz, and his wife, Aunt Fariha also lived there along with their three sons. Living with seven other people could be stressful, yet with God's help, we somehow managed.

Our home was well built; at least it was better than the other houses in the village. Our house was large with three rooms, a kitchen, a family room, a little farm, and an Otaq. In Sindhi culture, an Otaq is a particular place in or outside the house for males to sit and chat. Pinkey and I slept in the family room since my parents’ room was narrow, so there wasn’t much space. As we were always under the same roof, everyone knew everyone else’s business. We couldn’t make a move without being criticized, especially by my grandmother.

As the matriarch of our family, Aman Wadi was extremely strict. She wasn’t easy to get along with either, but her traditional sense of style, stemming from her roots in Iran’s Soomra tribe, and in line with the Makrani family culture, certainly made her stand out among other women. She would never be caught without wearing one of her standard Makrani dresses. The geometric shapes and colors made her stand out within the family unit. Her dark hair added to her bold look. It often brought out the stern lines and creases on her face whenever she was angered. Otherwise, her face usually appeared flawless.

Coming from the same tribe as Aman Wadi, Aunt Fariha also wore the traditional Makrani dress, but I believe it was her way of showing respect for Aman Wadi's position within the family. Her attire wasn’t as flashy in regards to patterns or colors, but she was very noticeable. Mother also wore a traditional dress, but one that reflected her own Sindhi tribe. That didn't make grandmother happy at all.

My mother, whose name was Muskan, once told me that because my father didn’t want to marry into the Soomra tribe, he went against tradition and married her, an ethnic Mirbahar of a Sindhi speaking tribal group, people who are also known for their much darker complexion. My mother’s father was a fisherman. Just to be known as a fisherman was a reflection of the dark skin color. Because of the tribal group my mother came from, she, my siblings, and I were darker. Coming from the Soomra tribe, my grandparents, their children, and Aunt Fariha and her children were all white. My mother always felt like an outsider in this house.

We continued playing with our dolls. Popri’s brother Manan, who was passing by, lingered for a moment and asked, “Why don’t you come over to our house anymore?”

“Our grandmother forbids us,” Pinkey said.

Manan had a parrot perched on his shoulder which repeated Pinkey’s words: “Forbids, forbids.”

“I’ve made a new swing for Popri. You should come someday to try it out, if it’s okay with your grandmother,” Popri’s brother said while leaving.

After 15 minutes, Popri finally arrived at the street corner carrying her doll box. “Are you ready?”

Hands on her hips, Pinkey feigned a scowl at Popri. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

Popri took her female doll out of the box and smiled.

I squinted at Popri. “Where is your second doll, the groom for my bride?”

She looked at me and pursed her lips as though she were about to tell me a secret. Her eyes turned dejected and fixed on the ground. “Sorry, Timkey. I lost it.”

“Meaning Timkey’s doll can’t get married today,” Pinkey said, talking to her male doll, whom she called ‘Hero.’ “And if Popri doesn’t find her groom doll, Timkey’s doll might be alone for the rest of her life because we don’t have any other male dolls.”

I grew forlorn and imagined my doll felt miserable, too. Her groom wouldn’t be there on her wedding day. At the same time, I thought my doll wasn’t yet ready for some reason. Maybe she wanted to do something in her life, like me. My doll had long black hair like mine and she was taller than Pinkey’s male doll and Popri’s female doll. “Your doll seems too young for Pinkey’s male doll,” I said to Popri.

“Yes, but I’ve heard my father say to my mother that girls must be married as soon as possible.”

“Well…” I wanted to explain my feelings when it came to marriage, but I didn’t know how.

Just as we performed the marriage ceremony for our dolls, Azeem, our cousin, came running toward us. He put his hands on his knees and gasped. “Timkey, Father and Uncle are yelling at each other again. It sounds bad. I mean, worse than usual.”

I grabbed my doll and prepared to go home.

Pinkey looked at me, with a worried look on her face. “Timkey, do you think Uncle and Aman Wadi will kick us out of the house this time?”

“No. Baba Haji won’t let them. It’s just that Uncle and Father can’t stop arguing over their wealth.”

I was 13, two years older than Pinkey, who was 11, and a year older than our brother, Waseem, who was 12. My cousin Azeem was just a month younger than me. His brother, Kareem was the same age as Waseem, and his other brother Naeem was some weeks younger than Pinkey. These ages were according to the school record, but I was always doubtful of our ages because we looked older. However, we didn’t worry about our ages. My father and uncle had gotten married on the same day; filling the house with children seemed like a competition for them.

Wiping sweat from his eyebrows with a handkerchief, Azeem said, “Aman Wadi is furious at your mother.” Pinkey and I quickened our steps and didn’t reply to Azeem. Entering the house, we saw another everyday scene: Aman Wadi shouting and scolding my mother.

As we entered the oppressive, loud, biting presence of Aman Wadi, we ducked our heads and attempted to make ourselves small and unseen. But with a vision as keen as a hawk hunting mice in the field, Aman Wadi focused her attention on us and called out to us. “Hey, hey, wait! You, black girl! Where did you go? Were you playing in the street again?” Her eyes focused on me because I was the eldest.

Abject fear gripped us so tightly that our lips couldn’t utter a word, as if someone had sewn them together. Our grandmother continued scolding us for a minute or two. She didn’t forget to mention the Sindhi proverb, “Rann ruly ta bhuly, mard ruly ta khuly.”

It could be translated as, “If a woman wanders, she will go astray. If a man wanders, he will gain experience.” This was a proverb she quoted every time we ventured outside. We were too young to question the gender roles in our society at that time; the emphasis was on obedience, not on understanding.

Mother asked us to go to our room. We obeyed her directives and waited for her to tell us when we could leave.

Pinkey threw the doll box on the cot. “Aman Wadi doesn’t allow Popri to come to our home,” she whined. “and she forbids us from going to her home as well.” She crossed her arms. If we can’t play in the street, then where can we play?”

I took my embroidery and started working on it, ignoring what Pinkey had uttered. My brother, Waseem, came and sat beside me. It was March, and spring had arrived—perfect weather to play in, but unfortunately, we weren’t allowed to enjoy our childhood.

My father and uncle kept arguing with my grandfather, and my aunt, Fariha, and my mother with my grandmother. The house seemed like a battleground from the depths of hell. Their hatred was like the hatred between rival nations, like the animosity between many Pakistanis and Indians. Each person had become their own country and fought viciously to advance their territory. Their words were like barrages of artillery and their bodies were like menacing walls covered in barbed wire. No one dared to approach them and no one escaped the furious blasts of their outbursts.

“Why don’t you distribute the property, Father? It’s better to live separately than be together and fight like enemies every day,” my father said, his voice tired.

Baba Haji made a fist and shook it. “You’ll divide my land and money over my dead body!”

“Yes, we need to get that black bitch out of here. This Mirbaharyani has ruined our peace since the day she came,” added Grandmother, referring to my mother.

I drew near to the window and kept gazing at them.

Mother stared at Aman Wadi, but respecting Father’s instructions she didn’t react much. Father had become a religious fanatic, in contrast to Uncle Arbaaz. In addition to that, Father followed local customs and was often misguided by the Imam of the mosque. He’d grown his beard and regarded his parents as God-sent visionaries. He always apologized to Mother for whatever Grandmother said and asked Mother not to retaliate. Aman Wadi often criticized Mother for giving birth to only one boy, while on the other hand, she praised Aunt Fariha for giving birth to three boys.

Uncle Arbaaz fumed and grew violent, throwing a chair and turning over the table. Father walked toward the street to allow the situation to cool, but his tired face reflected his anger and worry. Father knew Uncle had a temper and would strike him without a second thought, even if Father was seven years older. During times like this, Father went to his usual refuge, the mosque, to avoid a physical fight. The serenity of the mosque helped him ignore my uncle’s unkind words, keeping peace at home and Grandfather's feelings unhurt.

My elders’ belligerent attitudes distressed me, fighting over minor issues while ignoring our education and future. I wished I could sink into the floor and avoid even a glimpse of those angry faces that seemed to be a threat to my dream of becoming a doctor. I wanted my elders to see the bright side of life and live in harmony, but I was powerless to influence them.

Cat - Cut - Cot - Caught

Listen to a talk given to a group of new international students.

Hi! Welcome to State College! My name is Suzanne Irish, and I’m a senior here at the College, studying Business and Administration. I’m originally from New York, but I’ve grown to love Vermont very much, so I consider it my home – and I hope that you will, too.

I work for the International Student Advisor, Mrs. Stoke, whom you have just had the pleasure of meeting. If you have a problem and need assistance, you can always call or find me. I’m in Mrs. Stake’s office from about 3:00-6:00 p.m. or you can call me at home. My home number is listed in the folder I’ve just passed out.

Let’s look together at that folder now. In the left side pocket, you will find information about the College, including important schedules and phone numbers. Please note the hours that the cafeteria is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Also, notice that the bookstore opens at 8:30 a.m. and that it closes at 4:30 p.m. sharp. A piece of advice: The hours never change, so don’t plan on going to the bookstore after 4:30. Also included in this side of your folder are descriptions and schedules for the classes you’ll be taking. Another piece of advice: Try to be on time to class. You might want to set your watch ahead by ten minutes if you are the type of person that always runs late.

On the right hand side of the folder, I have placed tourist pamphlets on Vermont for you to read or save for your parents when they come to visit you. I especially recommend the Blue Map of Vermont and the Seasonal Guide because they both give information on a wide range of restaurants, museums, and attractions in Vermont. If you would like to discuss any of the attractions with me, I’m always available.

Oh, we’ve run out of time! We should get ready to go on our campus tour.

[Please pause about 5-10 seconds between questions.]

Who is Suzanne Irish?

What is the purpose of Suzanne’s talk?

What two pieces of advice does Suzanne give the students?

What is going to happen now?

Listen to a radio talk about robins.

The American robin, a member of the Thrush family of birds, can be found throughout most of North America. It is commonly seen on neighborhood lawns where it runs to and from looking for juicy worms and tasty insects.

In the fall, many robins migrate from the north to spend the winter in the warmer climate of southern states. However, not all robins migrate that far or that direction. Some birds migrate east or west rather than from north to south.

In the spring, males arrive back in the north before the females to select nesting territories. Once the females arrive, and a male has successfully acquired a mate, construction of the nest begins.

Robins’ nests are neatly molded cavities of mud and sticks which are lined with soft grass and down from the breast of the female. Robins’ nests can be found in a variety of locations, including trees, window ledges, and even on the tops of outdoor lamps.

The female lays between four and six bluish-green eggs. Once laid, the eggs need to incubate for twelve to fifteen days before they hatch. While the female does most of the incubating, sitting on the eggs day and night to keep them warm, the male does relieve her from time to time so that she can eat. It is common for a pair of robins to produce two sets of eggs in one summer session.

[Please pause about 5-10 seconds between questions.]

What does the robin eat?

Why do many robins fly south in the winter?

Why does the male robin arrive back in the north before the female does?

Why does the male robin relieve the female during incubation?

Listen to a social studies teacher tell her class about what they will be doing in the coming year.

Welcome to introductory Social Studies 101. My name is Professor Barrett. Let me tell you a little about myself, and then we’ll go over the course syllabus together. After that, I’d like you each to introduce yourselves and talk a bit about what you hope to get out of this class.

I have been teaching in the Social Studies department here at Johnsville College for thirteen years. This is my first year of teaching the introductory course, though, which is one of the reasons I want to know about your expectations.

I did my undergraduate work at Burke College and got my advanced degrees in modern American history right here at Johnsville. I worked for several years at the Social Science Research Center in Washington, D.C., but I wasn’t able to teach there, and I decided that my first love is teaching. So, I came back to Johnsville.

Normally I teach a modern American history course, and a senior seminar. This year Dr. Wilkins is teaching the senior seminar, and I have taken over this introductory course for him. I welcome the change and look forward to some lively discussion in this class.

One more thing before I distribute copies of the syllabus. As most of you know, starting this year, we are introducing a community service requirement to the social studies curriculum. In order to get credit for this class, you will be expected to complete ten hours of community service with one or more service organizations of your choice. If you have questions about whether a particular organization qualifies, please see me individually.

Now, here is the syllabus. You’ll see that this is the first half of a two-year survey course on world civilizations. Let’s look at the details of the syllabus so that you will get a sense of the pace and sequence of the subjects we will cover. When I’m finished, I’m sure you’ll have lots of questions.

[Please pause about 5-10 seconds between questions.]

What was one of the reasons that Professor Barrett said she wanted the students to talk about their expectations?

Why did Professor Barrett decide to leave the Social Science Research Center and return to Johnsville?

What will Dr. Wilkins be doing for the coming year?

What new requirement has been added to the social studies curriculum?

Dolls have always fascinated me, and that's why, five years ago, I was delighted to be offered the job of running a doll museum.

Dolls have existed for thousands of years, and the earliest dolls we know about were found in graves in ancient Egypt. I only wish we could get one or two for our museum, but we haven't unfortunately got anything as old as that in the museum.
All the same, we have got examples from Europe from the twelfth century, but my favourite early dolls are actually from the seventeenth century. They interest me not just because they are early, or fairly early, but also because of the clothes they're wearing. They have their original clothes, and from them we know what the owners wore, since dolls in those days were always dressed like their owners. They were made of the only material readily available for things like this at the time: solid wood, and they were painted in great detail. In fact, on the best examples, like the ones in the museum, the detail includes the seventeenth-century make-up.

Dolls like these were very expensive then, and only the very rich could afford them. These days, they're popular with collectors and if you want one today, you have to pay anything up to ten thousand pounds for a doll in perfect condition from this time!
By the way, what makes them so valuable is that, as far as a collector is concerned, a doll is only worth collecting if it is in perfect condition, and that means having the original clothes.

Doll collecting has become very fashionable since the museum opened, with people interested in dolls from every period, including later dolls. There's great interest in nineteenth-century examples, when dolls were no longer made of wood, but began to have soft bodies and real hair. They were very delicate and few have survived, meaning such a doll would be worth about two thousand pounds, perhaps a bit more. Later, in the nineteenth century, you could often take off the doll's hair. If you can, you can often see the maker's name underneath, and of course the right one increases a doll's value.

There was a really big change in dolls at the beginning of the twentieth century. In the museum we have one of the earliest examples, from about 1909, of a doll that's a model of a baby. Previously all dolls, the earlier ones, were little adults. That's just one of the changes that have ocurred in the last hundred years.
Another, again, is to do with what dolls are made of. Although dolls with soft bodies continued, after about 1930, plastic began to be used. In fact, dolls from the 1930s and 40s are now very popular with collectors, some of them selling for very, very high prices.

1. You are all ears when you are very interested in hearing about something.
2. To see something with a naked eye means to see it without an instrument.
3. You raise your eyebrows if you are surprised or shocked.
4. To keep someone’s fingers crossed means to wish luck and hope for a
good result.
5. You pull or tear your hair out when you feel very worried about something
because you do not know what to do about it.
6. People who have a thick skin don’t care when someone criticises them
while people who have a thin skin are easily hurt by someone’s words.
7. When you keep your chin up, you stay cheerful in a difficult or unpleasant
situation.

Something which has to do with economics is economic.
Our use of the central heating is fairly economical.
Europe is more than an economic community.
Are electric cars economical to run?
If you've got a large family, it's more economical to travel by car than by train.
The country is in a bad economic state.
We cannot afford to employ more stuff in the current economic climate.
The major part of the population is against the government's economic policies.
It is not a very economical method of heating buildings.
Of course the plane is not the most economical form of transport.

In a few seconds, there was a crowd of about twenty people clustering around Charlie, and many more were pushing their way in from the street. Everybody wanted to get a look at the Golden Ticket and at the lucky finder.

Everyone who is not in the army is a civilian. Someone who has been forced
to leave his or her country either because there is a war there or because
of his or her political or religious beliefs is a refugee. Someone who has been
captured by a person or organization and who may be killed or injured if
people do not do what that person or organisation demands is a hostage.
A soldier who has been captured by the enemy during a war is a prisoner.
A written agreement between countries in which they agree to do a particular thing
or to help each other is a treaty.
Formal discussions, especially in business and politics,
in which people try to reach an agreement are negotiations.
A meeting, often lasting a few days, which is organized on a particular subject or
to bring together people who have common interests is a conference.
A meeting at which the leaders of two or more countries discuss important matters is a summit.
The power that a country has to govern itself is sovereignty.
The state of being united or whole is integrity.
Something that you morally or legally entitled to do or to have is your right.