New Coastie – Sibling duties

On the busy streets of Karachi, Pakistan, as a young teen, I was burdened with a responsibility I didn’t choose: being the eldest sibling in a joint-family household.

My days were often filled with unwinnable arguments over chores that my role as the eldest child had forced onto me. 

“Why do I always have to get the naan?” I’d protest, only to be met with my mother’s response: “because you are the eldest”.

In my teenage world, where fairness seemed a distant concept, my bitterness seethed silently beneath the surface.

But it wasn’t just about naan runs and sibling squabbles. Karachi was a city with its own challenges and dangers in the 1990s, especially for a teenager navigating its streets.

As I trudged through the bustling streets to do multitudes of mundane chores, my mind would often wander to the cricket game that I was missing out on while I guiltily had a smoke – a fleeting moment of solace amidst the chaos. 

In Karachi, every corner held a story, every face a secret. From the neighbourhood cobbler with a perpetual cigarette dangling from his lips to the local tough guy armed and dangerous yet somehow a symbol of protection in a city rife with uncertainty. This was my world. I knew my city didn’t care for me, but I had the deepest love for her.

It was a common occurrence in the midst of everyday life for tragedy to strike. While on chores, on the way back from school, or hanging out in front of a friend’s house having sand baked sweet potato, I would hear gunshots leading to chaos, and find myself in the heart of a drive-by shooting. I was always faced with the choice of rubbernecking or running for my life. I was a child; I chose the latter.  

In the end, instinct always guided me home. My home was my refuge amidst the familiarity of my family and the comfort of a cricket match playing out on TV. The experience would always leave me feeling small and shallow. Suddenly, my gripes with my family about the unfairness of doing chores would seem tiny and frivolous.

Home, untouched by the turmoil out in the city, was something sacred to protect. I couldn’t have my little brothers out there. As I grew older, I resolved that it was my responsibility to protect them. However, I continued to argue with my mother about the unfairness of it all because who doesn’t enjoy teasing their mum a little?

In the end, it is not about responsibility but about resilience and strength in the face of adversity. We all have different roles in our families. Sometimes, we complain about them. We feel constricted by them. But family is all we have. 

Unlike the city that didn’t reciprocate the love I had for her, I always found love in my family, and I would do anything in my power to protect them.