Building a Bridge E-Book

Maria Soulful

• Herausgeber: novum publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 136

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Imagine opening yourself up completely to the unknown. This is the story of a friendship between two people who couldn't be more different. They have nothing in common: not gender, age, family status, culture, or religion. Between them lies a chasm of ignorance and prejudice, and a pandemic that gives them the time to build a bridge. It is the story of a change of perspective and what can come of it. This book is also a socio-cultural reflection on the question: What would be possible if we broke down enemy stereotypes in the world in order to solve the world's problems together? It is a plea for acceptance, openness, and humanity, and for discovering the gift that lies hidden in these values for all of us.

Leseprobe

Foreword

When Maria first shared with me the idea for this book, I didn’t know that our story—born from an unexpected friendship between two very different worlds—would travel so far. Now, as Building a Bridge appears in English, I feel deeply honored and grateful. Thank you to everyone who made this publication possible.

This book is not just about two people. It is about what becomes possible when we meet each other with open hearts instead of judgment. It is about crossing borders—not just physical ones, but also the invisible walls we build out of fear, pride, or misunderstanding.

As someone who grew up in Pakistan and now sees the world through a broader lens, I carry one simple hope: that we all recognize the humanity in one another. My personal motto is humanity first. No culture, religion, or passport should stop us from treating each other with kindness and respect.

I am human, and we are one. These words remind me that beyond all labels and languages, we share the same sky, the same longing for peace, and the same beating heart. I believe in a world where cultures do not clash, but meet like rivers—different in color, yet flowing together toward the same ocean of peace.

May this book encourage you to build your own bridges, especially in times when it feels easier to turn away.

Thank you for walking a few steps of this journey with us.

With hope and sincerity,

Zahid Ali

Let's write new stories.

Zahid Ali Yousafzai

Table of Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

Step 4

Step 5

Step 6

Step 7

Step 8

Step 9

Step 10

Step 11

Step 12

Step 13

Step 14

Step 15

Step 16

Step 17

Step 18

Step 19

Step 20

Step 21

Step 22

Step 23

Step 24

Step 25

Step 26

Step 27

Step 28

Epilogue

Sources

Image rights & further information

IMPRINT

Landmarks

Cover

Prologue

We all have dreams. I'm not talking about our goals or the secret desires within us but the dreams that come to us at night. We often forget them, but some are special. You wake up with a racing heart. Every cell in your body knows that this dream was extraordinary. Not a subconscious rehashing of experiences, but a message for you.

About 10 years before the beginning of this story, I had a dream. I am standing on a precipice. A valley. A river rages below me, wild and full of currents. Before me is a bridge. It's a rickety rope construction, connected by rotten planks. Then a voice comes from the other side, but somehow also from everywhere: "Come!" it calls to me. It is such an urgent command, softly spoken, but nevertheless absolute. I am afraid. I stare into the raging river below me. At the sight of the abyss, my breath catches. The water is loud, like a spitting monster. I can feel the spray on my legs. Seeing the rotten planks in front of me, I freeze. "Look at me, not at your fear!" says this voice. Now I see a figure of light on the other side, warm, arms outstretched, urging me forward. I clutch the rope on the right and left and put my foot on the first plank of this fragile connection. On the warm, bright face at the other end, I see a gentle, contented smile. At this moment, the scene changes. I am sitting in a barren, stony landscape surrounded by children of all ages. They are wearing shalwar and kameez and the boys are wearing caps. They are laughing. We all laugh, freely and joyfully, a connection that triggers a deep longing in me.

I wake up, my heart racing. I sit up in my bed and my husband sleepily asks me what's going on. "I have to go to that bridge." This dream has planted a longing in me, a longing for connection and this childlike joy. Something was calling me. And the call did not stop.

This dream was unlike any other. It made me actively search for similar bridges. I traveled to Peru, to a nowhere place in the deepest Andes, just to walk across a rickety old suspension bridge that resembled the one in my dream. I said, "I am ready. I have enough confidence to follow the invitation from my dream and enter this connection here."

But it didn't work like that. The dream bridge needed to be built. The fragile construction would come from the souls of two people forming a deep, unique friendship across a supposedly insurmountable abyss. This is the story of a friendship. A friendship that builds a bridge. Between worlds. Between cultures. Between religions. This is a story of two people. But deep down, I believe it is God's longing for a loving and respectful connection between all people.

Step 1

Friend requests

One evening, I was lying alone on the sofa, bored, drinking wine and scrolling through Facebook. There were hundreds of friend requests. Unfamiliar faces. From foreign countries.

I don't know why I suddenly had this impulse, but I uploaded a post saying that everyone deserves a chance to be met and then I accepted one friend request after another. My inbox exploded. Within a very short time, hundreds of people wrote to me, "Hello,” "How are you?" I initially tried to reply to many of them but quickly lost track. A friend added a comment under my post, an emoji holding her hand to her forehead. As the evening progressed, I understood what she meant. My "Messenger" was boiling over, full of curious people. When I opened a chat, they were usually quite demanding. When I explained that I couldn't write back more than a quick "hello" and "welcome" at the moment, some became quite rude, some cheeky and over the evening I learned about "dick pics."

Finally the wine bottle was empty, and I felt the same way. My mood was at rock bottom. I had opened the digital door to hundreds of people on social media and slammed the same door in hundreds of faces blocking their profiles. In my dark mood, my cheerful and positive openness at the beginning was just the wine’s idea. Discouraged, I finally fell asleep.

It must have been that evening when, among the flood of friend requests, I had accepted the one from Zahid. One afternoon I received a message.

"Hello, my name is Zahid. I live in Pakistan."

A man with a relatively large nose was standing somewhere outside in a mountainous landscape and smiling cheerfully.

"Yes, hello too. I'm Maria and I live in Germany."

I was a bit annoyed because, to be honest, I didn't feel like writing to this person.

"I am an engineer and have worked for the Pakistan Red Cross."

Again he sent some pictures. This time he was wearing a red vest with the internationally renowned Red Cross symbol on it.

"The Pakistani Red Cross collaborates with the German Red Cross."

What does he want from me?

"Yes, fine. I'm sure your work is exciting, but I don't have time right now. I have to get going. Bye."

"That's all right. Have a good day."

Phew, just got my act together. I looked at the pictures.

He looked confident and proud. He stood in the middle of some work and pointed his finger at something. In another picture, he grinned broadly into the camera.

I had to laugh. His character reminded me of Balou, the bear from The Jungle Book.

What a freak. I went offline. With a smile.

Zahid did not look unhappy in the photos he sent.

Again and again he took me into his everyday life by sending me pictures, initially of his work.

Step 2

The pandemic

Over the next few weeks and months, messages from Zahid appeared in my inbox. He mainly talked about himself and his work as an engineer for aid organizations. He also kept sending pictures. I found them interesting, but my replies were short and to the point. Nevertheless, he remained polite, and I always found a message from him.

I remember that in January 2020, I was lying relaxed in the bathtub and reading the news on the internet. A virus had been reported in China since November 2019, and now the first cases of Covid-19 respiratory infections were appearing in Germany. I had a premonition that these events would have a major impact on my life.

Confirmation came over the following weeks, as this topic dominated the internet. There was speculation, discussion and division on social media. In March 2020, Germany imposed the first contact ban to stop the rapid spread of the virus.

Zahid continued to report, and I did too. The pandemic brought many changes. In our culture, we spent a lot of time alone at home, often online. As our chats became more frequent, I became curious about people in Pakistan and their way of life.

The pandemic was the dominant topic. Zahid continued to send pictures. I still remember one that showed two protective masks hanging in his house, which he shared with his brothers. When someone went to the market, for example, he would take one and hang it up again when he returned. I discussed with him whether a brother could potentially be a carrier of the virus, but he didn't go into it. He talked about visiting his aunts, uncles, cousins or when he visited them. I saw pictures of many people in his house laughing, hugging and eating together.

A lockdown was also officially imposed in Pakistan. In practice, however, it looked very different from Europe.

"That's Pakistan," Zahid laughed in our discussions. "Families can't be separated in Pakistan. And many consider themselves family."

That often made me angry. I explained the chains of infection and hygiene measures to stop them, but it didn't change the behavior.

A neighbor of his died of Covid-19, and everyone went to support the family in their grief.

"What about the lockdown?" I asked.

"Yes, it exists, but this is more important," he replied.

Being there for people is more important. Family is more important. Coming together as a family is more important.

I told them about our lockdown. Children were not allowed to visit their parents. Hospital patients and residents in retirement homes could not receive visitors. Families and neighbors who no longer saw each other. I told him about the fears of many people, the widespread sociophobia and aggression.

I had the impression that Corona had also arrived in Pakistan, but people weren't really impressed. Perhaps it was because there were so many other existential threats.

"In the end, Allah decides whether I die or survive," said Zahid.

In these chats, I felt I knew best about everything. I made sarcastic comments about what was happening in Pakistan. But to be honest, somewhere deep inside me was sadness and envy of a togetherness that transcends the fear of death.

The pandemic measures had also reached Pakistan.

The aforementioned masks in the background, Zahid's sister in the foreground, trying not to be photographed.

Zahid also showed more and more of everyday life in his home.

Step 3

Abysses

The differences between Western and Eastern cultures are countless. You don't have to go out of your way to find them. But we have at least one fundamental thing in common: we are all human.

During the pandemic, Zahid and I chatted as narrators. We each reported from our respective religious, social, political or personal perspectives. We attempted to understand each other, or at least to respect each other.

That wasn't always easy. When I think about it, I felt superior from the very beginning, when the pandemic took hold and we compared the way societies dealt with it. I assumed that I live in the society that does it "right." We in Western culture are supposedly better educated, more successful and financially stronger.

We had many arguments. But both of us were always open to forgiveness and rapprochement.

"I love people," Zahid often said and his social media profile states:

"I am committed to humanity, equality and respect."

I was the one who had prejudices. I waded knee-deep in the vanity that I could explain life to him, drawing on the knowledge and achievements of the civilized world.

If we want to build a bridge between cultures, this can only succeed if the same conditions exist on both sides. Equal rights, equal respect and equal appreciation.

My perspective on Zahid and his world was none of this. I was already judging internally. Isn't this an intercultural, global problem? This assumption that you yourself are right and judging or condemning people who are different.

I am not an expert. I'm not interested in politics, and I don't read newspapers. In this case, it may have been fortunate.

Step 4

Trust

"You can ask me anything. We can argue and you can even call me names. But there are three things you must not do. Insult my religion, my family or my country."

These were Zahid's clear guidelines. In all three cases, I would be violating his honor, that of his family, or the sanctity of Islam. I had no intention of doing this.

Nevertheless, we each stood symbolically on a precipice. In addition to the obvious differences, this was fueled by politics and the media, by a history of terror and the fear that this has left behind. It was based on a feminist image of women on one hand and a patriarchal social structure on the other. There was a woman on one side and a man on the other plus a generation of age difference between them. Not only did age, height, skin color, marital status, language, faith, and world view stand in the way of friendship, but we even traveled in opposite lanes.

Yet we both had a great drive to introduce ourselves and our cultures to each other and to overcome our individual abysses.

It is generally easier to condemn an anonymous group. Being face to face with a person in a personal exchange about prejudices, changes a great deal. A look in the eyes, the personal experience of the other individual makes understanding so much easier.

Forgiveness is another key. Forgiveness for yourself and for the other person.

We act from the resources we are given. This also applies to beliefs. Sometimes it takes time to change these to break down barriers.

Zahid's country, his religion and living together as a family were the topics that interested me.

At first, he took me into his everyday life. And I took him into my world. This is what the market in my town looks like, this is our supermarket. This is my walk with the dog. Here the dogs run free in the streets. I ride my bike, I ride my moped.

Many things repeated themselves over time. Became more familiar. Trust built. Space was given to important things, such as the people close to me. I gradually got to know his family. And the most important person in his life, his mother.

He told me about his father's death and how much he misses him.

We carefully explored differences in our chats, but we mostly focused on the things we all have in common as humans: joy, sadness, love and the longing for recognition.

Step 5

Living conditions

"What's it like living in a home with so many people? I mean, it must be hard to share a room with other family members."