“Thank you for having me here.” The politician waved his hands to the massive crowd and exited the stage.
Some soldiers organized the people into lines and gestured them to leave. Shireena’s father stood right behind his friends, crushed two fat men. It wasn’t only Shireena’s father who stood uncomfortably, there were many that fell. The line was having slow progress since the men stood to collect their rations and money.
Finally after all of them had received their money, Shireena’s father and his friends walked towards their camp. The speech of the politician was held far away from where the camp was situated. Estimating, it was almost a mile away. Most of the men that accompanied Shireena’s father didn’t come to gather money and food that the rich politician was distributing, however; they wanted to get some news about their possible departure. None of them had any idea of when they might return back to their homeland but they wanted to, they desperately wanted to return to Waziristan. They wanted to return back to the land of valleys, lakes, greenery and humbleness, leaving the barren land that was in their camp.
The men walked continually with a rapid speed, stopping only when they had to catch their breath. Within the next half hour of their journey, the camp came into sight. They had intended to return to their tents but they changed their plans. They decided to spend some time in the Hujra with each other.
They walked to the Hujra that the men used to gather in. The hujra was almost ten minutes away from where they were so none of the companions minded to walk a little more. The Hujra that the men used to gather in Waziristan was huge. It had dozens of trees and some pillows lying on a mattress that lay on the ground. The one near the camp was not huge or pretty nor was it extremely ugly. The man had occupied a school as their hujra. They had a pretty good resource as they would unbolt the wooden furniture, and use the wood for fire. The school had a small garden for children to play, unfortunately the garden had no plants, except for grass on the floor, occupied mostly by wild plants. Together all of them sat on the hard ground in the hujra, leaning against the cylindrical shaped pillows. The small boy that stood besides the garden was requested to bring some water from the water pump while the men talked. Shireena’s father noticed that since the first day of the coming to the IDP camp, the men didn’t talk about happiness or peace that would be restored in their homeland, instead; they would discuss the possibilities of worse situations that they would experience.
“There was no need to go to the speech. He said nothing so important.” One of the men finally said, breaking through the silence.
The other men nodded in reply and continued sipping their water. “I say if he does accomplish to make 2000 houses for us that would be incredible.” The man continued.
“He seems to be a man of his words.” The man beside Shireena’s father said, giving a satisfying nod.
“All of them ‘seem’ to be. None of them are.” Shireena’s father added. “None of them had done something to make the situation better, nothing done for their own nation yet.” He sighed. He looked away from the men with one expression visible on his face: Hopeless.
“Oh no-no!” a silly man from the back interrupted. “I voted for that-that rich man the last time and he is a good man.” The man seemed to be proud of his decision. His decision of choosing a politician and voting for him.
“Who are you talking about? Which rich person?” Asked Shireena’s father. The man unexpectedly turned pale. He was staring at the ground beneath his body, lost for words.
“Yo-you know the person that is rich. I-I forgot his mighty name.”
Shireena’s father demanded for an appropriate answer and he yet had not got it.
