GARHI HABIBULLAH: Every day since a devastating earthquake struck Pakistan last year, Bilqees Khatoon has visited the grave of her youngest daughter, a teacher killed when her school collapsed.
Bilqees weeps and prays at her daughter’s grave which is surrounded by an iron grill and bedecked with flowers. The air is scented with ittar perf-
ume.
Bilqees’s daughter, Saima Irum, is buried in a cemetery for victims of the Oct 8, 2005, earthquake that killed more than 73,000 people in Pakistan.
The cemetery is next to the site of the government high school in North West Frontier Province where she used to teach senior girls.
“I can’t get it out of my heart, the circumstances she died in. She could have survived but chose to die to save the lives of her students,” Bilqees said.
When the earthquake struck, soon after classes began on a Saturday morning, Saima was out of danger. But she dashed back into the school to help her students.
“The students had panicked and clutched on to her as the roof collapsed on top of them,” said Zakir Shah, who lives next to the school.
“We found her body in bad shape after a few hours. Her mother was distraught and is still the same,” he said.
Garhi Habibullah, a small town in the scenic Balakot valley, was near the epicentre of the 7.6 magnitude quake.
About 17,000 schoolchildren across northern mountains of Azad Kashmir died when their schools caved in. Nearly 900 teachers died with them.
The conservative values and traditions of rural areas mean that most women stay at home and look after their families in this part of Pakistan.
Saima was different.
She had an education and, at the age of 28, she had the world at her feet. A popular teacher at her school, she was engaged to be married immediately after Eid to a Pakistani businessman in London.
The earthquake came three weeks before Eid.
“She was such a dutiful and nice girl. We had arranged the marriage for her and she was looking forward to her new life outside Pakistan,” said her brother, Babar.
Saima’s old school is now running out of pre-fab classrooms.
Her students hold regular fateha, or prayers for the dead, for Saima and on the first anniversary of the disaster they will hold a commemoration.
“She was a wonderful teacher and very caring. We miss her a lot,” said Maria Zakir, who was lucky to escape when the building collapsed.
Every day the students see Bilqees tidying up her daughter’s grave.
Every day Bilqees grapples with her grief.
“Only someone who has lost a daughter who was as close to me as Saima can understand my pain.
My heart still does not accept she is no more,” she said.
“I come here daily to seek comfort and patience. Sometimes I visit the grave two or three times in a day when it gets unbearable for me,” she said.—Reuters
