Foodora Diaries # 2

Have you ever watched a professional chef make a pizza? It’s a beautiful sight, especially when it’s an Italian chef. The chefs are quick and professional, as they play around with the balls of dough in their hand as they read the new order slip stuck up for them. They gently mash it on a surface and spin it around in the air, like a saucer in the blink of an eye, to make perfectly shaped circular bases. The base glides over like a frisbee to the next fellow, who quickly adds the toppings, meat slices, tomatoes, basil leaves, mushrooms and a variety of cheeses, before its pushed into a big oven. The kitchens of famous pizzerias in Milan are placed along its adjacent street with a glass fa?ade and I stand watching the show often, with my tummy grumbling at the sight as I wait for my delivery order to be ready. The aroma of the various dishes mixed together makes me gulp and wonder what was left from lunch at home for dinner that night.

Fridays and the weekends normally attract the most crowds to the famous spots and this in turn used to increase the waiting time for our orders to be ready. A bunch of us delivery boys, always used to wait outside alongside the customers. We have gotten lucky a few times at certain restaurants, where the restaurant staff were kind to offer us a few slices of pizza with a smile, especially on rainy nights, when we used to wait there drenched in our jackets. This short snippet is about Ali, let me call him that, his story which he shared with me one such rainy night, as we shared the pizza out of the plate and waited outside the restaurant.

A young boy, in his early twenties, Ali came from Pakistan. We had started the same day for the delivery job and I remember him with someone whom he introduced as his uncle. Over the months, we crossed paths during our deliveries multiple times. The riders have a brotherhood feeling, irrespective of which company you work for. If a delivery rider crosses by as you cycle, there is this gentle nod of the head, as if we are tilting our gentlemanly hats to show respect, or at times we have the very vocal greetings quickly given to each other as we ride past each other on opposite lanes. This used to happen at least half a dozen times, each day and yet, I used to make it a point to respond to each gesture for it gave a feeling of being part of something unique. Ali and I used to greet each other and have small conversations as we waited. That night, we both had a big order and it was quite evident the wait was going to be long. Least expecting the story ahead, I casually opened up the topic of what brought him to Milan and if he was a student like me. 

I remember his laugh as he said he wished he was a student like me. Probably the joy of getting someone to share your story with after a long time, he opened up very quickly. My eyebrows first shot up, when he said how he ended up in Milan through travelling by road, all the way from Pakistan. Seeing that I was a bit perplexed, without me asking, he continued. His uncle had been in Milan since the last many years and his family as much as him, wanted a better future for him and decided to send Ali to where his uncle was.

There his journey began, at the age when I was probably joining university. The journey went well for the first few days after which he was arrested by the border police in Afghanistan, which kept him in prison for almost 4 months he said. I stood there holding the slice of my pizza and biting my lip wondering if I should have started this conversation, but curious to know more.

On the occasion of some festival, he along with some others were let off as a good gesture he said and though it was easier and closer to return home, he decided to move forward to face the rest of the journey. The rest of the journey, I tried to picture the world map in my head and count the number of countries between Pakistan and Italy, Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece, Serbia, Croatia hmm more than 6 for sure and not the kind of Euro trip that one would wish for. I wondered if I would have chosen to head back home faced with such a decision.

He was again put in jail somewhere near Greece when they caught him without papers and with the increasing refugee migration tensions in Europe, it wasn’t a great sign. He was put up in that prison for almost a year he said and smiled as he compared which of the two prisons had better food and living spaces. Didn’t you miss your family, facing all of this on your own I asked. He shared, how he was very frightened at first, but picked up strength and courage on the way, through the journey. He had occasional chances to call home and talk to his family, but what feared the most for him was being sent right back to his country at that point of time. I’m not sure if to use the term lucky, but he was released yet again and this time, given papers to continue his journey as a refugee and he finally ended up in Milan and met his uncle. He right away joined the food delivery job, where I first met him and he currently worked morning, noon and extended night shifts in this job.

I wasn’t worthy enough to comment anything, I hadn’t gone through one tenth of what he had and all I could build up to say was that, he has been very brave and that I was really happy he shared his story with me. All this conversation was in Urdu/Hindi since he knew just a few words in English and I’m sure I saw his eyes slightly watery as he finished, telling he does miss his home and family at times when he goes to bed. He immediately shook it off, smiled, and his eyes glistened as he said , ‘ Ab toh sab teek ho jayega, mein confident hoon, mein toh lucky hoon, bahut lucky! ’ (Everything will now be fine, I am confident, I have been lucky, very lucky). He went on to stress how he had gone through so much, that now that he had reached here, he was certain he will do well for he had the grit and determination to work for this new opportunity and that he will make the most of it. He shared plans of how he intends to save up money and send it home like his uncle, who hadn’t travelled back home for the last 12 years. 12years! He was positive however that he will get his documents sooner and he will travel home for sure or send tickets for his family, he said with a big smile.

I noticed then, of how he wasn’t the same person I had met on the first day, his hard work reflected in the better clothes he wore and the confidence with which he spoke, he had indeed turned his life around. His order was ready and I watched him leave, ‘Mein toh bahut lucky hoon’ (I have been very lucky) he had said, I hung on to that statement for a long time and I still do, to remind me of my blessings, whenever I feel like complaining about anything. Ali taught me many valuable lessons that night, one of courage, determination and most of all, to put up that smile and to face the situation bravely.