Today my uncle took me for a walk around the city and to his and my fathers primary and secondary school. The playgrounds where they used to spend their afternoons after school. The fishmarket where they got free fish from their friends father when they climbed over the fence of the school at midday and skipped some classes.

We strolled untill we reached the graveyard in the middle of town. I could not have recognised it on my own, for it is just a large field with occassional lumps in the ground with no apparent regularity. There are barely any gravestones to be seen, apart from a few severly damaged ones in the distance.

We walk through these lumps of earth carefully and respectfully to the middle of this field. Next to a ditch, which I am told it was a pool of water, and a dried out treetrunk, I find three graves one above the other two. All of them being my ancestors. They have large pieces of polished stone on top and brightwhite marmer gravestones with black engraved letters standing proud and tall amongst their surroundings.

We kneel before the graves and say our fatiah's. "My dear father, look, I have brought you your grandchild..." he says out loud whilst he is still resting three fingers on the polished stone. "...he is here to see you. To make you proud. He's here in this ruin..." he pauses and looks around and up, then he again looks at the stone and continues "...instead of seeing you as I have ... In your time of glory and greatness!"

All this time I'm looking at the polished stone with my head down. I raise my head, see the gravestone, read it in silence and say out loud "khuda biamorza shomar baboo (may you rest in peace oh grandfather of mine)"
He puts his hand on my shoulder and says "let us go" and smiles upon me.

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