I can't "leave" Pakistan without saying that one of the things I witnessed in my time with Mansoor was the capacity for men, besides my father, to be proud, curious, loyal and warm. It reminds me again of how important it is for kids to experience these attributes in people of other races. This is what builds trust, respect and empathy. I know now that the closeness I had with Mansoor and Philomena was much like that of Scout with Calpurnia in To Kill a Mockingbird. I believe that they had true affection for me, but they were not allowed to deviate much from their role. Their impact on me was significant, but in some ways they didn't have a choice. And yet, Mansoor did allow me to follow him around and he did insist that I treat him with respect. I believe that he knew he was educating me.
I was heart-broken when we left Karachi. It was home and the people were family. We didn't have skype, email or texting, and even letters were limited given how long letters took to get from one side of the world to the other. So once we left, besides some minimal updates through other Americans, I heard very little about Mansoor and Philomena.
I did not return to Minnesota, but instead, I moved to Barbados with my mom and her then boyfriend. I attended an all girls school called St. Winifred's. This is the first experience of racism that I had as a more mature kid. I knew what was going on when the black girls in my class were shamed and called "stupid" by our teachers. As a class, we rebelled in the only ways we knew how. We passed answers around and interrupted teachers. We had inside jokes and rebelled in every small way possible. I wore a small thin braid in my hair on the side. I wore earrings in my second piercing and hike my skirt up every day despite the fact that the headmistress would tell me to take the braid out, the earring out and pull down my skirt most days. The schools insisted on calling me "Elizabeth" because my name, Jordan, was considered too masculine. I wonder now who else's names were changed.
I was only in Barbados for one year, but it was an education. I was repulsed (as only a teenage girl can be) by white Americans who would get off the cruise ships at the docks and walk through the shopping malls, grocery stores and markets in their bikinis and swim trunks. I went from one country with no tourists to one that was overrun and it was a hard shift. By the time I returned to Minneapolis the following year, I was certain it was not a place I wanted to be.
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