Being the middle child, Fawzia was the playful tomboy. In family circles and among friends, she was known as Linda. She attended two Catholic schools—St. Anthony’s Convent and St. Matthews College--both in Colombo. She was also the Head Prefect and feared by younger students as a strict disciplinarian. She was a Gold Medalist in oratory.
We met as teacher trainees in 1970. It was love at first sight. The two-year training program was a breeze, and we found much time for sports, drama, and romance. Fawzia acted in two Shakespeare plays, “Merry Wives of Windsor” and “A Midsummer Nights’ Dream”. She also captained the Girl Guides and took part in athletics and table tennis.
Our romance was frowned upon by both families, and, to escape their meddling, we sought teaching appointments 200 miles from our home towns. In the salubrious hill country, green with tea plantations, our love thrived. We married in January 1973. Roy was born later that year.
Fawzia followed me to the Sultanate of Oman, enduring the harsh conditions there in the early 1980s. She taught English there for a number of years. Later, she and Roy joined me in the States. Life was a struggle, and, as graduate students, we lived in a small flat and each worked at two jobs. She changed careers in the States, earning a Masters in Library and Information Science from the University of Texas at Austin. Unfortunately, her fellow workers at libraries were not the colleagues she would have preferred.
Fawzia’s life changed dramatically when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1999. I was in Hong Kong and did the long, round-trip only once a month, and Roy was also away in Florida. With the help of a few devoted friends, she fought the cancer, going through a bilateral mastectomy and chemotherapy. Insurance companies throw every obstacle at patients because cancer treatment is expensive, so for every doctor’s visit, every test, and every therapy, Fawzia had to go through numerous loopholes. Once, I listened as she negotiated on the telephone with an insurance agent for a whole hour in order to be approved for a procedure. I couldn’t have endured it.
During this period, she began to attend St. Jude’s church in Maryland, not far from where she lived. Fawzia found great strength in the saint and solace in the congregation. Whenever she visited Hong Kong, she would insist that I attend Sunday service. When friends saw me in church, they knew Fawzia was in town.
After the cancer treatment, she joined me in Hong Kong. We lived in Clover Lodge, a small development close to the Sai Kung Country Park. Ours was a lovely home, with a view of the water in front and shielded by the hills behind. Fawzia lovingly tended the tiny garden. Often, after dinner, we would saunter into the country park to enjoy the serenity of the evening. As we lingered on a bridge, gazing at the stars above, we wondered if the occasional motorist thought we were ghosts. We made good friends at Clover Lodge. Mark and Isabella were caring neighbors, and so was Gulsen Demoken, with whom Fawzia visited the nearby beach club two or three times a week.
A few years ago, Fawzia began to teach English at Shue Yan University. Teaching, more than librarianship, was her forte. At Shue Yan, she found caring administrators, friendly colleagues, and students who liked her. She was devoted to teaching, spending many hours preparing for lessons and grading papers. She commuted all the way from Sai Kung to North Point and Wan Chai, because she loved both Sai Kung and Shue Yan. Between the two of us, she was the better, more enthusiastic teacher.
If my motto was “Simplify”, Fawzia’s was the opposite. She wished to acquire more properties, more clothes, more shoes! She hid these clothes, away from my prying eyes, at six houses in three countries. She juggled bank accounts. Her travels rarely took the shortest route. She also collected hats, candles, shawls, hand bags, and shoes. Her shopping sprees were legendary.
Fawzia was also a remarkable person. She spoke five languages: English, Sinhala, Tamil, Malay and Arabic. Although brought up as a Muslim, she enjoyed a glass of wine and the occasional beer. Her favorite cocktail was the Margarita. On her last flight from HK to Sri Lanka, she enjoyed not one but two Singapore Slings. She openly cheated at cards. She loved music, food, and flowering plants. She was a rugby fan from her schooldays.
Fawzia’s loyalty to her family was absolute; her energy and love of life simply boundless.
In recent years, two events brought her great happiness. The first was the birth of our granddaughter Nelum 19 months ago. Even seeing her on Skype or video transformed Fawzia into a little girl herself. Her happiness was almost unreal. The second event, more a relationship, occurred when Fawzia began to worship at the Alliance International Church. Fawzia blended in, making friends, joining in the fellowship, and finding a haven of peace. For her, Sunday became the most important day of the week. The congregation became her extended family. She became a better person.
Fawzia spent her last Christmas in London with my aunt Bridget, and we traveled together from Hong Kong to Sri Lanka on January 6. The renovations to our homes were complete, so, without the cacophony of hammers and drills, we first enjoyed “Pondside”, our favorite home, for ten days. The garden is home to a variety of birds, and mynahs, bulbuls, kingfishers, robins, and woodpeckers flew around us the whole day. To our delight, the Asian Paradise Flycatcher, a dazzling migratory bird with two long white tail streamers, made an appearance. There would be a flash of white across the greenery, and, like a little girl, Fawzia would be off running beneath the mango and cashew trees, trying to catch a closer view of the bird. Then, we spent a week in the hills of Kandy, where monkeys came to steal the mangoes and avocados from our garden, and porcupines and wild boar visited at night to feast on the fallen fruit. A family of leopards had been spotted not 200 meters from our home. We went for long evening walks, and dined out with old friends.
I had no inkling of the tragedy that was to follow. Her sudden departure has taken the light out of my life. The spirit of her family and close friends is broken, the landscape empty. We are left only with grief and memories.
May she rest in peace.
Beautifully written blog! Love to read each post. Beautiful memories are to share! Please keep on writing...
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