Neighbor’s thoughtfulness a reminder of why I love America

Gholam Rahman

We chickened out and fled the fury of Hurricane Irma to presumably safer grounds in Central Florida. Although the storm’s force was probably more intense there at the end, we had a good time with loving hospitality; but what made it a picnic was the company of two young children.

The decision to leave was a last-minute one — mainly under pressure from our sons, Saif and Asad — and there were things we left undone in our hurry. When we came back, the garden hose was gone, and so were the eight expensive solarpowered lawn pathway lights. The winds, which we learned at times gusted to hurricane force, probably carried them away; but we were puzzled about the hose which was firmly connected to an outside wall spigot.

The puzzle had a happy ending. One of our neighbors, who must have observed our unceremonious departure, had graciously straightened up our front yard – what we should have done before hitching a quick ride out of town. Our heartfelt thanks to her.

This is the America I had always admired and idolized since I came of age. My mother used to rib me that one day I would end up in the land of my dream. As fate would have it, and as I have written in previous columns, it happened that I have always worked for Americans, even before coming here.

Straight out of college I was hired by the

U.S. Information Agency as a writer-editor in my hometown of Dacca (now spelled Dhaka), East Pakistan, where I worked for can, put fish in a bowl; flake well and set aside. Heat oil and saute the sliced part of the onion until translucent. Make a curry sauce by adding garlic, ginger, coriander and cumin powders, the paprika, cayenne and salt to the pot. Cook stirring frequently, adding some water until a fragrant sauce forms, about 10 to 12 minutes.

Add the salmon flakes and the diced ½ onion; cook, stirring, until thoroughly mixed. Add the green chilies and the lime leaves, torn. Add a bit of water if needed. Cook a couple of minutes until the fish is fragrant with lime and the onion bits are translucent. Serve with steaming basmati and sliced lime. 17 years. The U.S. State Department sponsored my immigration to the States when my safety was threatened during turmoil in Pakistan.

West Palm Beach drew me and my family because it is almost on the same latitude as Dhaka, with the same flora and fauna, mango and lychee trees, and heat and humidity; they all made me feel right at home. And best of all were the kindness and open arms of the American people.

I had also spent more than four months traveling all over the country in 1962 as a foreign journalist and worked for nearly a month as a guest reporter at the Boulder Camera in Colorado. I met the same genuine welcome everywhere. I loved the experience, but didn’t think of a permanent transition, until forced by circumstances, I landed in New York in mid-December 1972 as an immigrant.

The next chapter began in 1973 at The Palm Beach Post as a copy editor and later, this column. That was nearly three decades ago and I continued to write it after retiring in 1995.

But, back to the business of Irma. We had no electricity for almost two days when were on the run. We had quite a bit of food, mostly in the freezers, which were never opened during this time. The items all remained frozen and safe. Even if they had thawed almost 50 percent – which they did not – they would have been safe to refreeze.

For our lunch the next day (we returned late in the evening), my wife Kaisari chose to open a can of salmon and make a curried dish after flaking and almost mashing it, sloppy Joe style, and serving it with basmati rice.