Three Generations of Heroes We have a tradition that articulates that the ‘gates of heaven’ are found at the footsteps of your mothers. I definitely took this to heart growing up. Although I have to be honest … heaven seemed far off … but nibbling while she was cooking was the heaven I was looking for! I was a mama’s boy and a happy - and chubby - youngster! I know this frustrated of my sister, but we were still always very close. Today I was super proud of Zarqa as she travelled through Burlington on her cross Canada book tour. She has published her first book – a memoir after her acclaimed TV series – ‘Little Mosque on the Prairie.’ She was doing a book signing at the Indigo in Burlington. Ruqaya was thrilled and came along to be the self-proclaimed assistant as she handed out bookmarkers and introduced herself to everyone passing by the table. At one point she whispered in my ear, ‘Dad, I am practicing for when I get to be famous!’ I have always been proud of my sister – not just for her film exploits or the release of her book but for being my big sister growing up. Many do not know the entire story what lead to my career in professional fighting. In many ways I credit Zarqa for this. When my parents came to Canada they had a knack to moving into some challenging neighborhoods. We grew up in an area that had a gang called … believe it or not … ‘the Paki destroyers!’ Now you have to picture an 8-year-old chubby brown boy with a samosa sticking out of his mouth as he walked to school. I might as well have had a target on my forehead! The taunting was fairly regular … but sometimes we would get beat up. But every time I was bothered my sister would come flying to my rescue with fists flying. She was so courageous. She saved me many times. Luckily she also saved my samosas too so I was happy! But after a few bullying incidents my father sat me down and we had a man-to-cubby boy talk. ‘Son you have to take care of your sister, not the other way around.’ I could not see myself in that role. Then my father did what most immigrant parents would do – he enrolled me into karate. After a few classes of being thrown around like rag doll, and missing my Saturday morning cartoons, I accepted my fate of relying on my sister. My father did not given up and kept me enrolled. That humble – and painful start – lead me towards a career in professional kickboxing. The rest is history. I am proud of Zarqa’s career accomplishments, but I am still indebt to her for just being my big sister. She is my hero.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 01:41:00 +0000
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