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17-Sep-2018 20:25 by 4 Comments

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Hi here is Ali Hassan Waqar want to make long term relatiionship which will u remember all life becasue know how to respect female and how to care them just give me one chance for nice friendship i assure you will never seen before like me i hav...We provide you only smart educated genus and young escorts. I am from Islamabad and looking female for long term relationship from Islamabad/Rawalpindi . So you can find only able the best models on our Lahore Escorts... please contact to me for further details and discussion as well...... A couple of days later, my mother took me home to a tiny, overcrowded terraced house.I was her third child, born with Pakistani values and a Muslim soul. For most of the time, I couldn’t forget what I was, who I was.By the mid-1970s, it was obvious that we, the Pakistanis, were not here just on a temporary basis to work in the mills and on the buses of Ingerlernd (as Umejee called her new home) but that we were now Here To Stay. In fact, Bradistan has expanded – so there are now even more neighbourhoods and schools where you’d be hard pressed to spot a white face.

And that Here To Stay didn’t necessarily mean Here To Integrate. I certainly didn’t want to be like my Dad, who treated all white people with the utmost respect and deference. I need apple, please.’ I had no friends at school because, quite frankly, the girls there all thought that I was weird, what with my failed attempts to explain to them why I had two Christmases a year called Eid, the dates of which were set by the sighting of a full moon in Saudi Arabia, my lack of participation in extra-curricular activities such as nightclubbing and boyfriends, and the addition of flared trousers to my school uniform. By now, I found ‘the community’ that I had grown up in too stifling, too set in its adhat, its ‘back-home ways’, and too reluctant to integrate. Leaving the city’s bus station on my way to Umejee’s house, I pass the solid bronze statue of JB Priestley, who once said that ‘The England admired throughout the world is the England that keeps open house,’ and ‘History has shown that the countries that have opened their doors have gained.’ And I wonder what he would think of this place now, where just under 20 per cent of the population is Pakistani. Still the main language you will hear among shoppers in the city centre is Punjabi; still the taxi drivers rant on about who assassinated Benazir Bhutto before they opine about Cameron and Clegg’s coalition government; still the Aunties insist on sending their offspring back to Pakistan proper to get married.

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For the 30,000 or so of us in the city, there was a process of ‘settlement by tiptoe’ – we took on some aspects of British life by working in its factories and sending our kids to its schools, but preserved Pakistani life through language, religion and culture. ‘Mr Councillor Sir’, ‘Mr Police Officer Sir’, ‘Mr Plumber Sir.’ Or to be like Umejee – who had adopted a strategy of ‘smile and ignore’ for years, so that even when she knew that market traders were being racist by ignoring her or throwing her change at her, she just grinned at them and called them ‘Dahling’ or ‘Love’. By the time I’d hit my late teens, I’d had enough of this conflict, of trying to please everyone, of trying to find some workable balance between my home life – imported Lahori TV dramas, the constant odour of frying garlic and ginger, matchmaking Aunties and my school life – David Bowie albums, Vogue magazines and Madonna lookalikes. Yes, I knew that I had been born with Pakistani values and a Muslim soul as everybody kept reminding me – but I was also born with British citizenship. Still it is the flag with the crescent and star you will see proudly displayed in shop windows, alongside bargain offers for international phonecards that allow you to keep up to date with all the latest gossip from relatives back in Lahore or Sialkot.

We set up our own mosques and madrassas, ran our own businesses – goldsmiths’, curry houses, fabric shops. So I left Bradistan in 1989 – the very same year that hundreds of Pakistani men gathered in the city’s centre to set light to Salman Rushdie’s ‘Satanic Verses’ and in so doing, emphatically stated that they were not like the people of Ingerlernd – that they still had their own separate identity, culture, language, religion and customs even though they had lived here for decades. For years, Bradford has been seen as a city of discord, a city of racial and religious tension.

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