Aiza [The Palestinian Orphan]

"Salaaaams girl!”

“Hey, walaikum Asalaam, Aiza.”

“Did you get a good nights sleep last night?” I questioned as I continued chopping the vegetables.

“Not really." She paused.

"I was just thinking about Rimsha all night. What happened yesterday triggered so many painful memories.” Aiza kept her head lowered as she sat on the chair in front of mr.

“Oh, yeah I do feel sorry for her… “ I said as I cleaned my hands with a tissue. "May Allah grant her patience."

“Ameen."

"Right…” Aiza prompted. "How can I help?"

"Carrots?" 

"Sure!"

Swiftly, she began chopping away.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Aiza lowered her eyes, dropped the knife she was holding, and began to fiddle with her fingers. Her mood suddenly turned solemn and sorrowful.

“Umm… is everything ok Aiza?” I asked spontaneously.

Aiza didn’t say a word and continued twiddling her fingers.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” I said for no reason except that I felt so uncomfortable.

“I miss my parents, Inayah.” Aiza sighed and the turned her head, staring out of the nearby window, as if she was lost in her own world…her own thoughts.

I lifted my head and gazed into Aiza’s grey-ish eyes. A soft smile formed on her angelic face. I stared back at her, wide-eyed, as a a stab of fear penetrated through my heart as I prepared to hear what was going to come next.

“I’m Palestinian.”

I opened my mouth slightly in curiosity; somehow getting the vibe that what she was going to say next would hit me hard.

“It was a sunny day in the city of Gaza, me, my older brother Yusuf and my two beautiful parents…”

She stopped and smiled again as she recalled memories of her mother and father.

“We were sitting in one of the parks in Gaza. It’d been a while since we had stepped foot out of the house due to all the violence that was spurring up.”

I sat silently, taking in each word that was leaving Aiza’s lips.

“When suddenly…”

Aiza swallowed. He eyes began to well up and a quick tear rolled down her rosy cheeks.

“Aiza…don’t cry dear. Aiza…” I continued but she shook her head.

More tears began to fall down her face.

Taymiyyah, who was standing on the other side of the kitchen rushed over to see what was going on. I mimed and signaled to her that everything was ok and that I was dealing with it, and so she rushed back.

“Oh, I am so sorry Inayah.” Aiza lifted her head and grabbed a tissue to wipe her eyes.

“No, don’t be sorry. I understand how you must be feeling right now. Don’t hold it in. Let it out. I am here for you.” I reached out my hand and grabbed hers. We sat there silently for a few seconds. 

“Thankyou. It’s just that… I still remember that moment the snipers started shooting at my family and me. All I could hear was the sound of bullets and painful screams of my older brother and my parents."

I bit my lip. My eyes were filled with tears. My heart was racing as she began to recall her story.

Aiza wiped another tear. 

"But you know what…. God saved me. As soon as I saw them, I went and hid in our picnic basket I was only young at the time, but small enough to fit in that big basket my mum would take with her.” Aiza let out a slight chuckle.

“O, Ummi  loved that basket you know.” Aiza turned to me and looked into my eyes. She wiped the tears from her eyes again, which were now red and sore from crying so much.

“It was a long, cold night. Spending a night in a park, on my own, with my families bodies right next to me. It was only when a nice passerby came and saved me and took me into his care that I felt an ounce of hope enter my heart…”

I stood up and went to sit next to Aiza.. What I was hearing was unbelievable. I was so shocked that I was speechless. I was trying my best to stay strong for Aiza, trying hard to fight back those tears. She was an orphan and a scarred refugee.

“Long story cut short… Alhamdulilah, my relatives here in the UK, Hafsah, and her sister fostered me. They treat me, as I am their own. Yet, no matter how much they did and still do for me, nothing can repay what my family did for me, and absolutely nothing can beat my childhood memories in my beautiful hometown, Gaza. I miss it so much, Inayah.” She turned to me and dropped her head on to my shoulder.

I drewAiza close to me and reached out to give a hug. She hugged me tighter and I could sense she just needed someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on.

A tear slid down my cheek as I imagined Aiza’s story. I was so touched. My heart felt so soft as though it was going to melt. I was truly humbled. The pain Aiza had gone through seemed so severe that it had struck a cord in my heart.

“I am so sorry to hear all of this, Aiza. You story has moved me so deeply I said.” My voice was quivering.

Aiza turned to face me. A smile formed on her face.

“Alhamdulilah. Everything happens for a reason, right. If it wasn’t for what happened, I wouldn’t have met such awesome people, nor would I be volunteering for this organisation right now, nor would I have set-up my own charity to help the people of Gaza.”

I was shocked by this young girls wisdom and contentment.

“Wow… you have your own charity?”

“Yes. I made a firm promise that when I grew up I would dedicate my efforts into starting my own charity to help my people.”

“May Allah bless your efforts and may He bring ease to the people of Gaza.”

“Ameen.” Aiza replied.

“Yusuf was such a great brother you know.”

I could see that Aiza felt so much better talking about her family. It somehow consoled her heart and so I was ready to hear all she wanted to say.

“We used to play together all the time. Fly kites in the neighborhood, race each other and have water fights in the gully of our home!”

“That sounds so fun!” I said, smiling a huge smile.

“It was… and ummi and baba were the best. They were the best parents I ever had even though I only knew them for 7 years.”

I smiled.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to spend eternity with your parents in Paradise, InshaAllah. Just imagine, you, Yusuf, your parents, walking hand in hand into Paradise, eating from its beautiful fruits, drinking from its rivers of milk and honey and then together getting to see your Lord.”

“That’s a moment I make Du’aa for every minute of every day.” Aiza exclaimed.

“May Allah make it a reality, ameen.”

Aiza’s face was now lit up with joy. All the pain she was feeling moments ago was wiped away by one discussion on Paradise and its unimaginable beauties.

“JazakAllah Khair, Inayah.”

“No, Jazakallah Khair to you for sharing your story with me. For trusting me. Wallah, you have inspired me so much and I will keep you and your family - who are now flying in the hearts of green birds, in my precious Du’aas.”

“Aww, your amazing. Thankyou so much. Please do keep us in your Du’aas.”

“You’re the amazing one!” I retaliated.

Moments later, myself and Aiza decided to go for a walk outside to feel the breeze of the fresh air.

As we sat on the green grass, my mind was still on what Aiza had just told me.

It goes to show, sometimes you may meet a person whose smile radiates the room, yet through those beautiful eyes and huge smile, may be a dark painful story, one which hurt to tell but leaves millions inspired when told.