India 1981:Riding the Train with the Leper!

We stood there waiting for the next train to get to the station. The train station was not any ordinary station, it was Dardar Station in Mumbai, one of the busiest stations one will ever see. The masses of humanity going and coming, and like a mechanized assembly line in a factory, trains would come in, and get filled up with travelers. The train bursting at the seams would then proceed out of the station, towards its destination.



If you like people and hanging out with them in tight spaces, then India and specially Dardar Station is the place for you!

My mother, sister, brothers and I, were part of the millions that were trying to get on the train. The long awaited train finally arrived, we were trying to go from Mumbai to Pune. As soon as the train stopped on the platform, people poured in the train, it was like opening the dam, and the water rushing out! We literally poured into the train. The compartments were now packed to the brim, men, women, young and old, squashed together in a can. We did not care much about how close we had gotten to so many strangers, we were just happy that we were in! As everyone was starting to find their places and settle down, the train conductor with his khaki uniform and his ticket puncher walked in and started to shout something at the top of his lungs! Indian train conductors like their bus conductor counterparts were amazing, there could be millions of people on a train or on a bus and they knew who had and who had not paid for their tickets! I don't care where you hid and how you looked, they would catch you and get the fare from you.



Our conductor shouted, "Women Only Compartment, All men get out!!". He started to push the men out of the compartment. My older brother told my mom we have to leave, so me and my older brother left the compartment and we were back on the platform. Now we were trying to get on again, on another compartment, but they were all packed, every inch and no one could get on and those inside would not give an inch. We looked on the top of the train, there were people. Even the open gap areas between the compartments were pack with people. We kept walking nervously looking for a space to jump on. And finally there it was, we saw an open space between the compartments, just enough for two people! There was one man sitting there, so we ran hoping nobody would take it...As we jumped on, we realized why that space was available. The man that we saw siting was a leper, his fingers were gone, his face was disfigured, the tip of his nose was missing and he sat there just looking straight at us, perhaps shocked that we had decided to spend the next four hours with a leper! And we looked at him shocked that we were going to spend the next four hours next to a leper! We had seen lepers in Pune, who would sit down, lined up in the street begging, but I never thought one day one of them would be our travel-mate! But here we were, me a 13 year old boy and my brother 16 year old with our new best friend. We spend the first minute exchanging stares, and eventually we said hi, thinking that as the youngsters we should greet our elder!

The train started pulling away from Dardar and we were on our way to Pune. The train we took had a couple of stops along the way. Each stop was colorful and each station has its own character, most had the guys selling drinks and snacks, chai, nescafe, bhel puri, bananas, and everything else in between. Usually the seller would shout out their product, and one of my favorite was the banana seller who used to shout, "Ek Rupee Ka Chaar" that meant for One Rupee you get four [bananas]. On hearing the banana seller, I started to imitate him, "Ek Rupee Ka Chaar" and then I continued "Do Rupee Ka Aat"!, which meant for two Rupees you get eight and on and on...suddenly the leper with his disfigured face started to laugh loudly and seeing the leper laughing, my brother started laughing too (my brother's sense of humor was not as keen as the leper's!).

And at that moment, I learned that inspiration, laughter and comradery amongst humans can be created in the strangest of places with the strangest of people! And how lucky I was to have had the experience of sitting next to a man shunned by thousands of people on the train, who considered him worst than an untouchable. Ultimately, because of our own circumstance my brother and I were forced to sit next to him and now here we were laughing together! We found out his name was Arun.

By the time our train got to the station, Arun, my brother and I had spend a memorable ride back to Pune, a ride that included humor and a lesson in humility and humanity. As we said good bye and parted ways, I turned to my brother and said, "was that joke funny?", and he said," no, I think Arun just laughed to make you happy!"

Today as I recall this moment in my life and my encounter with Arun, I am reminded of these wonderful words of Rumi,

"If you could see the ugliest leper with the eyes of Love,
His beauty could out-dazzle in your eyes the starlit sea.
If one drop of the Wine of Vision could rinse your eyes,
Wherever you looked, you would weep with wonder".

A Persian and an Arab: Friendship on the Plains of Khuzestan

Our car came to a stop and my dad announced our arrival to the house of Khalaf Shabani. I jumped out as quickly as I could, as the youngest child I was always stuck in the middle of three other siblings and any car ride longer than an hour was a torture. Khalaf Shabani was an Arab, who lived in the predominately Arab village of Khalafabad. He was a respected member of his community since he was both the elder and the doctor of the community. Khalaf Shabani, always had a double-barrel gun around his shoulder with bullets hanging next to it. I remember how people in Khalafabad would look at us as our car pulled into the village, we looked and dressed differently and usually they would not see anyone from outside coming to visit their village. Khalafabad did not have much to see, it was very much rural, with mud compound houses, where human and animals lived in closed proximity. I remembered going over to see the water buffaloes that Khalaf Shabani kept. As kids we played with Khalaf Shabani kids who were many, since he had more than one wife. We ended up sitting around and eating a simple meal together and then leaving.

I never understood why my father would drive over 100 kilometer on a Friday to visit a rundown village in the middle of nowhere, and spend time with a person who he seemly had nothing in common with. But whenever we went there, Khalaf Shabani and my dad would embrace like two brothers, then sit down and drink tea and talk about the things that had happened since the last time they met. Khalaf Shabani would talk more since his life seemed more interesting, in his Arab-Farsi accent, he would tell my dad about the cow giving birth or taking care of a patient on the other side of the village. My dad would tell him about the happenings in Ahvaz or about the workers he supervised at the National Iranian Oil Company who were always doing something crazy.

Today as the region struggles to find peace and curb intolerance, I look back at those days when my dad, a Persian and Khalaf Shabani, an Arab lived in peace with each other and interacted in a way that their differences seemed insignificant though they came from two different worlds. As a child those experiences shaped who I am as a grown up, perhaps brainwashed to think that it is a man's goodness that is important not the name of his religion, his language, his ethnicity or his economic status!

Both men are deceased now but theirs was a friendship that transcended culture, class, language, ethnicity and neighborhood. I am amazed by the bravery of both men to break down the walls that society had created to keep them apart and yet they boldly brought it down and chose to walk that extra mile to ensure that their children would not live apart.

I only hope today more will walk that extra mile that a Persian and an Arab did four decades ago.

Dari, Italian and the Project Lost in Translation!

As part of my responsibilities as the USAID field program officer in Afghanistan, I served as the development advisor to the Coalition Forces that operated in Shindand District. One of my favorite experiences was working with the Civil-Affairs Teams (CAT) of the Italian military. If you were with the Italians on a mission, they were friendly, hospitable and saw you as part of their team, whatever your nationality or background. They valued your input and consulted you on anything related to community relations and development programs. And at the end of the day when we would come back to the base, they invited you for pizza and coffee, "Behzad, you come tonight we eat the pizza and drink the cappuccino" said with the best Italian-English accent!

I met my first Italian CAT leader, Captain Francisco, on the Italian side of Shindand Airbase. We sat down, and he asked if USAID could assist his team with one of the villages that fell in his area of responsibility. I asked the name and he said "Shoorab". I told him that I was familiar with Shoorab. Shoorab was located about 20 minutes to the west of the base, and I had met their main elder, Haji Safdar Khan, and visited the village.

The Captain went on to add that the people of Shoorab needed clean drinking water! And that the Italians had dug three wells in three different parts of the village and so far they had not been successful. I asked why is that? He replied because everywhere they dig the water is salty! I was surprised by what he told me! So I asked him, "you dug three wells in a village called Shoorab and each time the water was salty?" he said "Yes!" I then asked "do you know what Shoorab means?" He replied, "No"! I said, Shoorab means "Salty Water!!". Sometimes the most obvious things in life seems hidden!! As we continued the conversation, I advised the Captain, that first he needed to get was a new interpreter! and after that he needed to stop wasting money digging wells in a place where the problem was so obvious that they named the village after that problem!!!



Once we figured out what was clearly lost in translation, we decided to revisit Shoorab. They told us that their village clean water source was a few kilometers away and they just needed to get it to the village. Using USAID funding and American (New Mexico State University) and Afghan expertise, and local input, a four kilometer pipe scheme was build. The pipe connected to the clean water source and brought the water directly into the village.

Today, hundreds in the village of Shoorab enjoy the flowing clean drinking water.

Shoorab is an example of the lack of communication that can make a seemingly easy project into a complicated one. A simple word that can't be translated can lead to waste of resources, and many unhealthy communities.

As time went on our working relationship with the Italians continued to be well coordinated and productive. As always it ended well as we sat down at the end of the day, talked, laughed, ate our pizza and drank the cappuccino! 

Global Warming is Over, ISIS is Defeated! And Some More Good News!

Of course we hope that was the headline splashed all over our newspapers but alas that is not the case. As I have gotten older, two things have gotten worst one has been the weather and the other has been the violent potency of terrorist groups.

Remember when everyone was talking about the destruction of the ozone layer and protesting the destruction of the rain forest. There were conferences, concerts and creation of groups and organizations to create awareness of this phenomena and suggest ways to handle the ever-changing weather patterns.  Then those who wanted to destroy the environment and those who wanted to protect it got into a fight and started to pour money and resources into marketing their point of view and make nice brochures. And then religion got involved and how God controls everything and if He/She wants to increase the temperature and make it a beat balmy in January that is not for you to question, just move over and let me build my mansion in a place where there use to be a forest and a bunch of animals roaming around! At the same time those who happened to be the biggest advocates for protecting the environment also created nice, glossy brochures  but lived in huge mansions that could hold ten extended families from the developing world! In the meantime more water systems were polluted and the modern woman instead of walking five kilometers to fetch water from the river, had to drive 5 kilometers with her SUV to her local grocery store and pack her car with ten bottles of water which she could not get from the tap that was in her kitchen because she polluted her waterways, by the chemicals that the company she worked for send up in the air which in turn came down as acid rain into the river . After all those years, thousands of expert analysis and billions of dollars we have turned the regular storm into a super storm...I just say well done!

And about terrorism, this is what I remember, first everyone talked about fighting terrorist groups, but then no one could agree who a terrorist was. So countries got together at the UN and other nice places and buildings and argued and fought about who is a terrorist and how to deal with them.
While countries stood divided on dealing with this phenomena, and pointing fingers at each other, the terrorists, like the weather evolved from a regular seasonal storm to an unpredictable super storm, causing massive destruction in their path. The terrorists of the past did kill innocent people and caused damage but no could imagine that after decades of trying to curb their activities terrorist groups would evolve into such a sophisticated, ideological, brutal killing machine.

Whether dealing with the weather or terrorist groups, they don't know borders! The super storm does not operate only in one country and stop at the border of Country A and say I will wait for my visa to come before I proceed to destroy Country B! Same thing can be said of the fluency by which terrorists and their extremist ideology crisscross  the globe. Today there are thousands of non-Syrians, non-Iraqi and non-Afghans fighting in these countries from as far as America and Europe. The new terrorist, like their super storm counterpart act decisively, destructively and ensure maximum damage. While the international community wants to think that its thinking globally, the fact is that its still stuck in the realities of the world controlled solely by national interest. The bitter truth is that the terrorists are much more global in thinking that us the normal people living under the "national interest" governments! Though the extremists want to bring back their fictional 7th century heaven, they are in fact using modern 2015 tactics to obtain it.

We must broaden our visions and encourage and pressure our governments to increase global cooperation and provide real resources to battle with the issues of the time. Citizens around the world must be encouraged to engage each other and be able to communicate freely and share solutions to the problems of daily lives. A new determination to create networks amongst the governments and peoples of the world is the only way to tackle obstacles that ails our planet today be it global warming or terrorism.

I have some more good news for you but I will save it for next time!!!

From Asia to the Americas: How Cricket Helped me to Break Down Cultural Barriers!

I was first exposed to the game of cricket in 1979 when I arrived in India as a young kid. There is no better country to get your first exposure to cricket than India. Passion runs high for cricket and its passion will consume you. Cricket was everywhere, on the playgrounds, under the banyan tree, in the class room and in our dormitory. We found a piece of wood and any type of a round object resembling a cricket ball and there was a game to be played.

When India was playing, and you were walking in the market, everyone's radio was blaring as commentary was given in both English and Hindi.   Since I lived in India, I was naturally cheering for the Indian team who at the time had the legendary batsman Sunil Gavaskar and the great all-rounder Kapil Dev. Cricket was still a radio/newspaper sport in India, unlike today very few games were broadcast on TV, specially those played overseas. It was a thrill to listen to radio commentary broadcasting on the All-Indian Radio. There was the Indian tour of Australia in 1980-1981 and of course one of my most unforgettable experience was listening to Tony Cozier when India toured the West Indies in 1983, me and my friend Faez would stay up late in the night and listen to the broadcast.  And the unforgettable 1983 cricket World Cup and India's upset win over the West Indies in the finals. It was a great era for cricket with incredible players such as Ian Botham, Imran Khan, Lillie, Chappel, Haddlee and of course the whole of the West Indian team which at the time were the Masters of the Game, Lloyd, Richards, Holding and Marshall.

Coming to the US put a stop to that as cricket was replaced by the American sports of basketball, baseball and American football. I use to only think of cricket and listen to the BBC cricket commentary whenever possible. But years later as my life twist and turned I ended up going to areas that were cricket playing nations. The first one of which was in the Caribbean, where I spend a year on the island of St. Kitts and Nevis and Guyana.

One day as I sat in front of my house in Challengers, St.Kitts I saw a few guys down below by the basketball courts who were playing cricket. I ran down and asked if I could join them, they agreed and when I faced the first ball after all those years, to my great relief I did not lose my wicket and embarrass myself and in fact I drove the ball nicely pass the bowler, which made everyone realize that this American/foreigner/whatever knew cricket!!! Talk about breaking the ice...and on to Guyana, where they would come and get me if I missed a day of street cricket.

When I got to Afghanistan living in Shindand Airbase there were lots of workers from eastern Afghanistan and since most had at sometime in their lives  lived in Pakistan, they had been exposed to cricket and played every evening. Coming from the United States and speaking Farsi and they being mainly Pashtu speakers there was a barrier, which unfortunately was based on their own assumption of who I was. So one evening seeing them playing cricket I approached them and asked if I could play, they asked, "you play cricket?" I said yes and asked again "really you play?" still not convinced!!! Reluctantly they let me join their game. So after a few overs the captain came to me and asked "do you bowl? I said I can try!!! and as fate (and luck and poor batting!!) would have it I took two wickets and from then on, I was invited for tea, lunch and became the recipient of the great Afghan hospitality...

Though most who don't know cricket call it slow, confusing, and overall a boring game! I feel lucky to belong to a large global population that plays and follows this wonderful game.
I don't know where I will end up next but be sure that I will try to hit the ball over the boundary line for a six!!!

America's struggle for Racial Equality and Justice!

Nothing embodies the greatness of the American society than the following sentence from its Declaration of Independence, written in 1776 "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness". The pursuit of this ideal within the American society, has been a long and often bloody path. The people who first got to America and constituted the first settlers within the United States, were the European Americans who fleeing religious persecution found protection and freedom in this now called the New World. The other people who were also the first arrivals to America were the Africans who as time went on were brought in by millions as slaves. As the native population of the New World was being eradicated and displaced, America as a nation was being born and taken shape by these new population.  They created a nation, one having all the privileges of citizenship and the other being second class citizens. For a couple of hundred years, the Africans in America were legally not considered as full human-being. As it has happened many times in this young nation, individuals and small organizations have risen to rally society towards fulfilling its promise to all its citizens, as declared in 1776. Both in the 1860s and a century later these efforts turned into massive societal and political movements. One was the American Civil War which brought US Northern States against Southern States over the issue of slavery. A war which eventually brought an end to slavery. In the 1960s another massive movement started that led to unrest. The unrest and protests brought about laws that protected the Civil Rights of  all citizens, regardless of their race and color.

Though one should not ignore the progress in racial equality, the high point of which was the 2008 election of the first American president of Africa descent, the fact is, the United States continues to struggle with this issue. What we all witnessed in Ferguson, Tulsa, Charlotte and  other police shootings in the US is a reminder that though the law protects all citizens, there are those Americans whose racists attitudes retards their true understanding of what the Declaration of Independence means when it says, "that all men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights". That this declaration applies to all citizens. These Americans are politicians, policemen, judges, doctors, professors,  neighbors, teachers, work colleagues who are afraid of the "other" which in the case (and for most of the time) of Ferguson is the young African-American male. The question is how will individuals, agencies and organizations within United States government and non-governmental entities work to make sure that those who are suppose to uphold the law and provide protection to all citizens can look at that individual simply as another citizen and not assume the worst based on stereotyping.

Looking at the statistics for young African-American male, "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" continues to elude them. Efforts must also be put in place to identify parts of the country that need help the most and come up with a concentrated effort with private-public partnership, civil-society organization, and all stakeholders to ensure America's promise is fulfilled for every member of its society. The fact that the world's biggest economy and a country blessed with unlimited resources can't come up with a viable solution to provide protection and develop opportunities for one segment of its population is inexcusable.

     

Playing Football on the Edge of the Sahel!

Adongo was next to be measured for his height as he walked over to the dried up millet stalk. "Sorry too tall, you can't play" said Mr. Wise, the Namoo Junior Secondary School (JSS), sports master. Adongo protested briefly and eventually walked away disappointed. The measuring of height was part of the selection process of allowing young boys to participate in a village wide under-12 football tournament called "Unity is Power". The reason for using a dried up millet stalk, was that, most of the kids did not have birth certificates, and did not know their age, so the best we could do is find someone who looked 12 years old, measure him and then bring a stalk, break it to match his height, if you were below or same height you played otherwise like Adongo you were out!! This football tournament held in year 2000, was one of its first kind held in that part of Ghana. The purpose was to teach the young men, leadership, responsibility, organizational skills, unity and collaboration, respect and most importantly give the pre-youth and the youth an avenue to express themselves.

Most of the players came from the Namoo primary school. We gave the Namoo older middle school students, the responsibility to form the teams, name them, make their own uniform and be the managers of the teams. Each team found a creative way to make their own uniforms and write their names on it.

The week-long tournament brought out the best in this often divided village, the young and the old, men and women each participated in this activity whether as players, managers, referees, financier of teams, or just spectators.

That tournament became the stepping stone in the development of the game in Namoo, and though just a rural community, it was able to compete in the higher level tournaments in the Upper East Region (the most northern region in Ghana).

But the real story was the participation of the pre-youth and youth in an activity that build life-skills and allowed them to express themselves. This group is often forgotten and it is this population that are the first recruits and victims of vices and extremist voices.

Today millions and millions of youth around the globe are at risk. Risk of the usual issues of gangs, drugs, violence and the like and now more than ever, recruitment in insurgency and extremist groups. This challenge is not restricted to a particular economic group or a nation or society but everyone is being effected by it. The youth in Nigeria who is recruited by Boko Haram to carry out a terrorist attack on a school to the young American girl who is manipulated to join in the blood-letting of Syria and Iraq , from all four corners of this planet the youth are under constant pressure and are being pulled towards the darker side of life, innocence taken by recruiters of death.

Nations around the world must prioritize the youth population not just with a slogan that the "youth are our future", that slogan is too old and frankly the future is too late!!! Unprecedented focus must be put on this vulnerable population and resources dedicated to them for their development. The unfortunate truth is that, the extremists, have done effective programming to win the youth on their side. We see that in Syria, Iraq and Nigeria, where its the youth who are carrying out the goals of their leaders and the mission of their organization. Sadly  the governments and nations around the world have a long way to catch up.

Fourteen years after that football tournament in Namoo, I ran into Adongo in Accra! He still remembered that day when he was not allowed to participate in our football tournament!!! Fortunately, he had forgiven me but most importantly he had grown to be a mature young man who works hard and looks after his family.

Millions like the young Adongo fourteen years ago in Namoo stand at the cross road of a choice. Which way will they go...That will depend on our guidance and the resources which we will or won't allocate for their future.