PukhtunWomen

(this article first appeared in The News)

Children often developed a closer attachment to their foster mothers than to their real mothers, writes Samar Minallah , looking back on a tradition which dates back centuries

Like many customs of bygone days, the institution of the losing it spirit and prominence. Amina Dai, in her late 70s says mockingly, “We used to give a child our own milk, whereas dais nowadays are ‘feeder-dais.”

Even in pre-Islamic times, it was the custom for newborns to be fed by a foster mother. The Holy Prophet (PBUH) was cared for by his dai, Halima Sadia, who was a Bedouin woman. This relationship earned a special place for her in Muslim folklore.

Dai Maham Anga, the dai of Akbar the Great, was one of the powers behind the throne when Akbar was made the third Moghul emperor at the age of 13.

According to child psychologists, a child's first five years are crucial to the formation of personality. Thus traditional dai have played a significant, role in imparting not only values, but also supersititions and cliché-ridden beliefs.

In Swat, right up until the time of the last Wali (ruler), the dai was not just a helping hand, but ‘the hand that rocked the cradle' (and thus ruled the world).

The arrival of a newborn baby in a prominent family necessarily meant the selection of an appropriate dai. The procedure used to be a stately affair. Hundreds of women thronged the house hoping to be chosen for the much coveted job. Some even made supplications at shrines.

One of the main qualifications was physical fitness. The dai had to undergo a seris of medical examinations.

When the choice was finally made, great celebration and festivity used to take place in the zenana (women's quarters). Decked out like a bride, the dai was given a dupatta of pure Banarsi silk, a kimkhaab suit, and a piece of jewellery.

After being adorned, she would offer her prayers, and an elderly lady from the nobility would present the baby to the dai, who would welcome it with, “Bismillah.” Goongree, a traditional dish of peas, kidney beans, chickpeas, corn and wheat, was served, and lambs were slaughtered for the innumerable guests who had come to witness the occasion.

With great pride, Amina Dai states how honourable it was to be a dai during Wali Sahib's time. “I had a lot of power. People would approach me for sifarish (favours) and shower me with gifts wherever I went.”

Reminiscing about the good old days, Amrojana Babo described how well the dai was looked after. She was given three kilos of milk every day, chicken to eat, and pure ghee. In the evening her bed, covered with a mosquito net, was put in the courtyard. Beside it was placed the baby's zaango (cradle) by the maid servants, who were at the beck and call of the dai.

Before taking up the job, a dai had to pledge that she would abstain from having a child for at least two years. Thus, while visiting her own family, she was always accompanied by some maidservants. Often a dai's husband would go ahead and remarry while the dai kept her solemn pledge.

Amina Dai's own daughter was seven months old when she took up her job. Another dai was rarranged for this child, paid for by the family employing Amina Dai.

A dai and her foster child develop a very strong bond-stronger, many children confess after they have grown up, than the one they share with their actual mothers. About her foster daughter, Amina Daid says, “While I would be offering my prayers she would com and sit on my lap. She would not part from me for a single moment.”

Amina Dai recalls how her own daughter suffered after parting with her dai. Physically, she came back to her brothers and sisters, but emotionally she was unable to detach herself from the house where she spent the first three years of her life.

In many cases the real mother and the dai develop a love-hate relationship. As one mother put it, “If she was upset about something the dai would threaten to leave. This was a nightmare for the mother, because the child could develop an ailment called jabaee due to missing the warmth and touch of the dai.” This, she explained, only happened to children who miss a dear one. Their sadness transformed itself into physical symptoms such as pain in the throat or loss of appetite.

Another mother confided, “When a dai gets old she becomes very demanding and difficult. In addition to giving her respect and honour, we even have to find jobs for her children.”

Chatting with a group of dais who are now the aging remants of this ancient custom, one can see in them both signs of contentment and a touch of arrogance acquired due to the immense honour and respect bestowed on them by the families whose children have been brought up in their care.

Amina Dai proudly displayed an imported walking-stick and some tight-fitting gold rings given to her by the girl she reared. “Now she has promised to send me some vitamin pills from abroad,” she announced.

Lying comfortable on a charpay, Braikhan Babo, shrunken with age, held a tasbih (rosary) in her shriveled hand, glared at me significantly, then pointedly snubbed me for resting my chin on my hand, as this invites a bad omen. She went on grumbling while I was taking her photographs, saying, “Why on earth are you taking my picture? Am I that beautiful?”

The dai had their own classic ways of comforting, swaddling, protecting and healing a child. Ornay suzni was an old custom or swaddling an infant. Ornay was the cloth is which the baby was wrapped, raking it unable to move its limbs. Such immobility did not seem to cause any discomfort. In fact, the dais believe that an infant is happier if it is bundled up tightly. They believe it straightens the tender limbs and prevents the child from being frightened during sleep.

The dai seldom, if ever, referred to the child by name. instead, she would use such expressions as zamaa stargay (my eyes) or zamaa day zra sara (tip of my heart). To ward off nazar (the evil eye), a dai muttered certain imprecations. To annual the effects of the evil eye, the dai relied on a variety of counter-charms, in addition to prayers. Counter-charms included a tawiz (verse pouch) obtained from a pir (saint), or a black thread tied around the child's left leg.

Spalanay, a mixture of dried herbs, was burnt as incense to drive awary evil spirits and avert the evil eye and other calamities. After the smoke was given to the child, the ashes were left in a place where others would benefit from them.

To put a child to sleep, a dai would lay the baby down it its cradle and sing Allaho, a lullaby, or chant a soothing sound, “Kooorrrr,” which would lull the baby to sleep. Amina Dai says, “I used to shut the child's eyes with my fingers while the maidservants rocked the cradle. I sang an Allaho which went like this:”

Allaho sha Allaho

Bibi daasay ooda da

Laka gul day neemo shpo

Khob day raashi

Pa waro waro laymo

Moong kara ma raaza toto

Pa bara koosa ma raazai ghlo

Da garwanj pa sar mangee dee

Hagha dak da ashrafo

Allaho sha Allaho.

(Bibi is asleep like a midnight flower May sleep come to your tiny eyelids

O puppy, don't come to our house

O thieves, don't come along this way

The earthen pots are placed on their stands

Full of gold coins.)

The dais were expert storytellers. They used to tell the child famous folk-tales like ‘Yusuf Khan and Shehr Bano,' ‘Gul Salombar,' and ‘Sher Alam and Memoonai.'

Another field of expertise was knowing ijaazay (remedies) for almost any common ailment. For zyaray (jaundice), a dai would take three small branches from a fig tree. One by one, they would be passed over the child's head. Then the branches would be cut with a lor (sickle) and thrown on top of the roof. For toray (stomach-ache or appendicitis), some dough would be flattened and placed on the painful part while a dum would be recited. Meanwhile, with a knife, cuts were made on the dough.

For nazar (evil eye), khaaoray (alum) was heated until it melted. If, after melting, the alum acquired a longish shape, it meant the evil eye had been cast by a man, whereas if it melted in the shape of a circle, this meant it was a woman's nazar. While performing an ijaaza for nazar, a dai would mutter the following words:

Pa hukam day Khudai

Pa barakat day Quran Majid

Da toro stargo, da shin stargo

Da khpalo, da prado

Da laaro, da kooso

Da mor ao do plaar

Nazar maat, maat, maat.

(By the will of God

By the grace of the Quran

Evil eye cast by black eyes and green eyes

By relatives and strangers

By streets and lanes

By mother and father

Break, break, break.)

For zair (tantrums), a child would be taken to a pir (saint) or a mazaar (shrine) for a tawiz (verse pouch).

Although the dai was not a child's biological mother, in the eyes of the child she was the undisputed parent. By virtue of her status she exercise a certain matriarchal authority.

Today, the dais of a bygone era sit back and cherish the memories of their unparalleled times. With sarcastic grins on their faces they watch their successors sterilizing feeder bottles ad replacing folktales with cartoons, lullabies with pacifiers, and ijaazas with commonly available medicines.