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A Pakistani woman goes to school
Bablee’s husband was working in the US as an architect, on a major building site. He didn’t think she could cope with such a different culture, so left her at home while he was working. Unfortunately an accident on the building site left him in hospital, with a spinal injury.
The corporation picked up the hospital bills, and even sent flight tickets to his wife in Pakistan. They hoped her surprise visit would help him to recover more quickly.
She’d been born in a village and was innocent of the outside world. As he predicted, she was shocked and afraid on arriving at the airport, and that was just in Karachi. Arriving in Los Angeles, she was too tired to notice anything.
At least someone was there to greet her. The corporation sent a driver to take her to an apartment. He looked at the small, shy, woman, and slowly shook his head. This was a tough city to arrive in, especially as she spoke so little English. He carried her luggage, wondering if they gave tips where she came from.
He lugged them into the apartment, and when he put his hand out, she got the message. Instead of giving him five rupee’s she gave him five dollars. A lot more than she thought, but acceptable to the driver.
‘Look after yourself, you hear!’ his sing song voice warned her.
Too tired to unpack, or even explore the apartment, she fell asleep on the sofa. It was comfortable, and there was room for her slight fame to stretch out. She was small and thin, even for someone from her village. Her husband joked that it cost less to keep her clothed and fed.
Next morning she wandered around the apartment, amazed at all the space. They were saving up for their own home, while staying with his parents. Here she had three bedrooms, and no mother-in-law to boss her around. Someone had scribbled a welcome note, and left groceries.
It was early Monday and she was expected at the hospital later, to visit her husband. Carefully re-reading the note, it gave the telephone number for a taxi, and stated the visiting times for the hospital. She could visit soon, and in the meantime she had to figure out how to make tea, and breakfast.
The doctor was on his rounds, so she couldn’t visit him just yet. Afterwards he was sleeping, so a nurse told her to come back. Used to doing as she was told, especially by someone in authority, she went for a walk.
With money in her pocket she realised a coffee and a donut could be purchased, for a few dollars. The donut was too sweet, and the coffee didn’t satisfy like tea. A teashop seemed very expensive, and it was difficult to find a black Indian tea, among the many types. They just made it with a little bag and hot water. Not real leaves, and not even boiling water. At home she made it with milk in a saucepan.
Returning to the hospital, she was told to come back at the next visiting time. No one seemed to have time to stop and talk, and she found it difficult to understand the quick fire English. Getting a cab back to the apartment was easy enough, but what was she to do once there?
A bell rang and she diffidently picked up the phone. Feeling foolish, she went to the front door. A young woman stood there smiling.
‘I’m from Building Corp. Where your husband works?’ the girl said, and invited herself in.
‘My name is Bablee, welcome,’ she quietly spoke.
‘Hi, are you settling in okay? There’s a food store down the block. You should be able to get anything you want there. Did you go to the hospital this morning? Great. Well is there anything I can do?’ she asked.
‘I was wondering about some money. I have what my husband sent, but that won’t last long. I need a job, maybe you have something I could do at the company?’ Bablee asked.
Josie breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment she thought the woman was going to ask about compensation. Their insurance coverage was good, and something would be done for the poor guy. The last thing they wanted was an expensive law suit. The project was late, with financially crippling terms already digging into the profits.
‘Sure, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll get you the standard forms, and I’ll guide them through the system for you. Here’s my phone number, in case you need anything. It’s been great meeting you, Bablee,’ the woman gushed, and was quickly on her way.
A day went by and she still hadn’t been able to see her husband. The supermarket had been discovered, and she found it overwhelming. The girl was right, there was everything in there, but where? In the Mexican section she found the flour for roti, and many of the spices she was used to. Cilantro was a favourite, though she called it something else at home.
Bablee didn’t have a high school graduation diploma, so she couldn’t work for the corporation. Josie figured a clever way of keeping the woman out of the way, would be to send her to high school. That way she wouldn’t have the inclination to sue the corporation for compensation. bahis siteleri
In the office Josie told one of the human resource assistants to deal with Mr Khan’s case.
‘Send Bablee to high school, and we pay the fees. Absolutely everything, and an allowance. Make it a boarding school,’ Josie added, and smiled to herself.
That was a clever ploy. Keeping the woman out of the way, meant it would be more difficult to contact a lawyer. In the meantime she would have to visit Mr Kahn, and keep him happy with their thoughtful service. Mainly to keep his mind off lawyers and compensation. He wasn’t expecting his wife, so that wouldn’t be a problem. It would take perhaps a month for her to prepare for the exams, another couple of weeks to complete them, so she would be out of the way for long enough.
Eileen sighed heavily. It was a pain working for Josie. Fortunately she didn’t often take orders from the tiresome woman. Who Bablee Kahn was, she had no idea. A search in the corporation database came up with three.
Miss Bablee Kahn was eighteen, and was Mrs Kahn’s niece. He’d had an accident, and was in hospital, so it all made sense now. Mr Kahn couldn’t look after his niece while in hospital, so sending her to a boarding school solved a problem. Josie had a reputation for clever solutions, compromises, and tidying up loose ends. This was neat.
Eileen started to report back to Josie, but was cut short.
‘Is the school expecting her? Everything has been laid on? Then just go over to the apartment, collect Bablee, and deliver her to the school. I haven’t got time for details, just do it!’ Josie ordered.
Eileen fumed on the drive, from being dismissed so discourteously. Why the niece was in a corporate apartment, instead of Mr Kahn’s, she had no idea.
It was because he lived in one room, sharing with three other Pakistani friends, to save money. Of course, Eileen had no idea the well paid employee lived in a bad part of town. If she had bothered to check some details, she might have found Bablee was his wife, and not a niece. The niece was on the computer as she had a part time job in Karachi, working for her uncle Mr Kahn. Now he was in the US, there was no job.
‘Hi Bablee, I’m here to take you to the school,’ Eileen said.
This visitor didn’t look so happy as the previous one. The letter that arrived that morning explained she was being sent to high school, to gain a diploma. Then she could get a job as requested. In the meantime all her financial obligations would be taken care of.
It had been a worry, not knowing when, or how much money would be coming in. She didn’t know how to access her husband’s bank account, or even if he had one. It had been impossible asking that first woman any questions, even when she paused for breath. Most of the letter wasn’t understood, but it seemed to solve all her financial problems. Completing high school at the corporations expense was a marvellous opportunity.
This one, Eileen, didn’t know much. She was an assistant of some sort, and was just there to drive her to school, so didn’t answer questions. Worrying over going to high school kept Bablee quiet.
The building was imposing, which made Bablee feel small and frightened. The interior was nothing like a high school she had been to. It was richly furnished, and shouted money. The corporation would be paying for this, leaving her feeling as though the organisation owned her. She would feel in its debt for the rest of her life, even though all this was a gift.
‘I have all the details you emailed. The fees need to be paid in advance, and I have those,’ Mr Andrews the principal said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll have her quickly processed, so leave her with me,’ he continued.
He just trotted out the usual reassurances as though she were an anxious parent. All he was concerned about was receiving the school fees. Eileen repeated part of the email, saying the corporation was picking up the bill. He guided the corporate woman toward the front door, and sped her on her way.
‘Ah! Bablee, this young man will guide you to the matron’s office. He is to be your mentor. That means he will guide you as to our rules, so you must take notice of what he tells you. Make sure you obey all our rules, and you will be treated well. Now off you go, and be a good girl, as I’m sure you will be,’ he told her.
Bablee looked up at the big man, and quickly looked down at the floor. He was a large blustery authority figure, and didn’t look as though he would take any nonsense from her. He was used to dealing with boys and girls, and treated her like one of them. That was understandable, and in front of him that is how she felt. Like a naughty little girl in front of the headmaster.
‘Yes, sir, headmaster, I mean, Principal, sir,’ she spluttered in confusion.
It made sense to have one of the boys look after her. Her English needed improving, and in this country she needed to learn the rules. Everything was so very canlı bahis siteleri different.
Bablee hoped she would be in an adult class, to complete her education. Sitting with schoolgirls would be embarrassing. As a married woman, she should have a broader experience of life, though in this country she doubted that. Even in her own country she had a sheltered upbringing.
Young women here seemed to have far more freedom than she could have imagined. Their clothes were brief as well as their manners. They didn’t show their parents, or even each other the respect people were due.
‘Here, this is the matron’s office,’ Adrian told her.
He told matron her name and went to sit outside. Her size was checked for a uniform which she changed into. The woman didn’t wait for her to explain she was an adult student. Bablee would ask the boy who to speak to about this. With books, and everything else needed, she emerged from the matron’s office.
Bablee was relieved to find the pinafore dress went down to her knees, and with a blouse, it covered her top half well. The matron called it a pleated jumper, so she’d learnt something already. It was a shock seeing women baring their flesh so brazenly, and she still hadn’t got over it.
For her to dress like it would be impossible. What would her husband think if she exposed her legs, and arms? Even exposing her knees would be impossible at home. As a married woman, she must dress appropriately, and adhere to her husband’s wishes at all times. It meant life was simple and trouble free.
‘Adrian, this clothes, not right?’ she asked, too nervous to say what she meant.
‘It’s the school uniform for girls, so get used to it. It’s the rules, all girls wear it,’ he said.
He looked her over, and found nothing of interest. She was dressed as a junior, and therefore beneath him. It wouldn’t do to be seen by his friends, becoming involved with a young girl her age.
When he looked her over she felt shy and awkward. She looked down at her feet, squirming like a silly schoolgirl. Why she should be like that in front of a young boy she had no idea. At least the clothes decently covered her. Her small breasts disappeared, and just her thin legs stuck out with long white socks. The only thing showing was her knees.
There was no way she looked sexy to a handsome boy. Oh! Dear! What a naughty thought!
The boy took her to a classroom, and introduced her to the teacher. Looking around she found they were all young schoolgirls, not adults as she had hoped. At least being dressed the same, meant they wouldn’t pick on her for looking different.
Western adults dressed and acted far too indecently for her. It wasn’t that she was afraid of being led astray, it was the fear of conflict between them. Refusing to dress badly, and join in their social network, wouldn’t please them.
Aware of being small and submissive hadn’t helped at all. Over the years she learned to withdraw into a shell, and took the strategy of doing as she was told.
‘Yes, miss,’ Bablee replied, and sat at a desk next to another student.
This was a bad start, as at home boys and girls were kept apart. Sitting close to a boy, even if it was in class, felt wrong. She reminded herself she was now an adult, so there was no problem at all. Listening, trying to take in the lesson, she found it hard to understand. The teacher started writing on the board, and this made it easier.
Bablee got the feeling she was being treated like a young girl, rather than an adult. Of course, the teacher was used to dealing with youngsters. Treating her the same as the others was no bad thing, as preferential treatment would cause a problem with the other students.
‘Thirty-six, miss,’ Bablee answered.
‘Well done, girl. You’ve had a good education. I’ll inform the principal you can stay in ninth grade,’ Miss Stevens said.
‘Thank you, miss,’ Bablee quietly said.
Unaware of what that meant, she was at least pleased to be accepted into the class. The others whispered their approval, including the boy sitting next to her. Philip quietly talked to her while the teacher was busy, though she didn’t understand much of what he said.
The end of the school day approached and Bablee wondered how she would get home. Would that girl from this morning be driving her each day? It didn’t seem likely. Maybe she could get a ride from one of the students, near enough to home to catch a bus.
Trying to ask someone about arrangements for transport, the girls laughed at her accent and terrible English. They were making their way to the food hall, so at least she wouldn’t go hungry. Lunch was the usual bland American food. Tomorrow she would bring some chilli sauce to spice it up.
Her mentor’s name was Adrian, and he seemed not to take much notice of her. He did guide her to classes, and helped sort out the books she needed. What he didn’t do was inform her of her position there. Trying to explain she was an older canlı bahis married woman was difficult, as he just smiled when she told him. If she couldn’t explain it to him, how could she get it across to the teacher.
‘Am I in the correct classroom?’ she asked.
‘Of course, that’s the one administration put you in,’ he said, and continued eating lunch.
Trying to push her point was awkward, but she needed to know something.
‘Am I supposed to be in ninth grade?’ she persisted.
‘You’re with eighteen-year-olds. If they thought you couldn’t cope, they’d put you in Miss Jenkins class, and you really don’t want to be put in with that lot. If you fail the exams, you stay in that class, and re-take them next year. Best study hard, and pass all the tests,’ he explained.
Bablee stopped eating to work out what he was saying. It didn’t make sense. At home if she failed the annual exams, she would be placed in a lower stream, rather than kept back. Why was she placed in a class of eighteen-year-olds? Looking like one of them, because of her size, and baby-face looks, wasn’t enough of a reason.
‘Why am I in that class?’ she asked.
‘You’re lucky. There was a space for you, otherwise you might have been in Miss Jenkins class,’ Adrian said, and started a conversation with a couple of friends.
Clearly she’d been dismissed. He was a young man, not wanting to be seen talking to an old woman. Though she did look young enough to be placed in a class of eighteen-year-olds. Besides, it didn’t look as though there were separate classes for adults in this school.
Looking on the bright side, she could cope with the lessons, and the uniform wasn’t so revealing. Some of the other girls wore short skirts, and left the top of their blouses undone. That could never be done in a school back home.
At last it was home time. Bablee felt exhausted trying to keep up with the new environment, and language. The course work was familiar, and a higher standard was expected in the school at home. She just hoped her English would improve quickly. Words hit her hard all the time, and she didn’t have the vocabulary to explain what she meant. Especially talking with the girls she sat with.
Instead of going to the exit, they walked to the canteen. Adrian fell in step beside her, to make sure she stayed with the others. To her surprise another meal was offered. She thought a school assembly was to be held. All she wanted to do was get home, to rest, and cook a decent meal. At least this was paid for by the corporation, which would help make her savings last longer.
Following the girls in her class, shepherded by Adrian, she wondered where they were going. Extra classes probably, but she hadn’t been upstairs before. Walking into a dormitory was unexpected. Turning around she meant to leave, needing to find out what was happening. There was no way she wanted to spend the night with a bunch of adolescents.
A girl blocked her way with a hand on her shoulder.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Paula asked.
‘To find a teacher, please,’ Bablee stammered.
‘No way are you leaving. You’ve got to pass our initiation first,’ the big white girl said.
Taking hold of Bablee’s arm, she pulled the woman to the centre of the room, where everyone was waiting for her. Bablee tried to get away, but she was surrounded.
‘It’s a mistake,’ she clearly stated. ‘Please, I mustn’t be here,’ she added.
She didn’t sound like a mature woman. Her voice lacked self-assurance, and showed she was scared. All of them were taller, looked stronger, and acted more confident. They twirled her around, from one to another. They thought she was just another schoolgirl, and could be easily intimidated. They were right about being intimidated, for she was terrified.
Two of the biggest girls began to strip off the uniform. When she tried to resist they roughly shook her. Completely stripped, they held onto her arms, so she couldn’t cover her nakedness. Paraded around the circle of girls, they commented on her small body, saying how undeveloped she was.
‘She has a nice firm pair of tits,’ one of the girls commented, and they all laughed.
‘The boys will like them,’ another added.
‘Don’t you shout or scream, girl. Hold your tongue,’ the big girl told her.
‘Yes, miss,’ was all she dare say.
Bablee wanted to fall through the floor, or disappear completely. Fainting might be an option, but that couldn’t be achieved either. She was alive, and very aware of their mocking voices.
Pushed to the floor, she almost wet herself. Four girls held her limbs out, splaying her wide. Too frightened to even try to fidget, they complimented her for cooperating. One of the girls knelt between her legs, and now she was really worried. A buzzing noise stilled the assembly, and she held her breath.
A razor was pushed down from low on her tummy, to her crotch. It took several goes to cover everywhere. She lay very still. Partly from fear, and partly from being aroused. The vibration would be nice under different circumstances. The attention, with everyone staring at her sex, mysteriously excited her. There was too much going on to stop and wonder.
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