Thomas Sankara: Africa's Real Life Superhero

We encourage aid that aids us in doing away with aid...Welfare and aid policies have only ended up disorganizing us, subjugating us, and robbing us of a sense of responsibility for our own economic, political, and cultural affairs…”  Thomas Sankara

My son was overcome with excitement when I told him that I was taking him to watch the “Black Panther” in 3D. It’s a movie based on a superhero, who rules a country called Wakanda (don’t look at a map, it does not exist).  As I sat there watching the movie with my son and spending $20 on just the popcorn and soda (movie theaters are now so expensive, they should consider having financial aid offices…just saying), I remembered one of my own superheroes, who unlike T’Challa, lived amongst us!!  His name was Thomas Sankara and was the president of Burkina Faso from 1983-1987.

Sankara ruled a country that unlike Wakanda did not possess Vibranium! It was a country short on natural and human resources, dependent on food aid, dealing with harsh weather conditions and steeped in corruption. Sankara took over and was determined to uplift his people, his nation and his continent. So he started with himself and his cabinet, he cut his own salary to $450 per month. Now that’s superhero right there, to have access to all your nation’s wealth, however small it is, and refuse to put it into your own bank account. No one in his government could fly first class anymore, Sankara said, “whether you are in first class or economy, everyone gets there at the same time!!” and all government expensive cars were to be sold and only the cheapest cars were to be driven by government officials. Bottom-line, everyone in power had to sacrifice and lead from the top. 

The limited resources were used to empower the farmers to free the country from food aid and increase agricultural production to improve the economy of the country.  Have you been to Burkina Faso? If you have not been please google it (unlike Wakanda, it exists). It has low and erratic rain fall, and limited, poor arable land and yet during Sankara’s presidency (in 4 short years) he was able to take his country and make it food independent. Food production went up and eventually Burkina Faso became an exporter of agriculture products!! So how did he do it? 

Besides, not sitting in his office all the time under air conditioning (he actually refused to have AC in his office) and not flying to Europe and Asia for vacation, he went out amongst his people and tried to first harness the human resources within his own nation. Sankara, was a hands-on president that got out there and worked on projects, whether it was laying down rail-roads, or planting trees, he was there. When people saw that, they came out and by now the whole nation was building their own country. 

Thomas Sankara, did not need to bring experts from Washington, London or Paris to tell him what was good for Burkina Faso, when the experts were right there in Ouahigouya, Ougadougou and Po. He did not have to attend conferences half-way around the world and collect per diem to know that stealing from your own country was wrong.  

He understood the power of unity within an African Union (AU) which would be independent and unify within itself to empower its citizen and continent, an AU that would move away from a dependency mentality that enriches a few and subjugates the rest. I wonder what Sankara would say that a country that has no resources (China) build the new AU building for a continent that has all the resources! Perhaps he would say something that would get him killed!!       

And that’s what happened to my superhero, he was killed in 1987, by a coup orchestrated locally, regionally and internationally.  The true nature of his super powers was his actions, which like Vibranium, if applied can transform Africa, or for that matter any region or any country into a fully-functionally, strong, healthy and rich society.  The ideas of Sankara sits ideally, to be emulated by the wise leaders yet to come.

As I held my son’s hand on our way out of the theater, I told him to remind me to tell him about my superhero named Sankara… 

There Was Once a Lake Here; Journey Through the Water-Ways of Iran!

Every summer my father planned a trip that took us around Iran. That meant over the years we got to visit more that 75% of the land mass of the country. Our journey started from the southwest city of Ahvaz and took us all over, from west to east, south to north. We crisscrossed the mountains, the rivers, the greenery and the dry landmass that represented the amazing and eclectic Iranian topography.  From the Zagros to the Alborz Mountains, from Karoon to Aras River, from Kavir to the Lut desert, we climbed it, swam in it and drove through it. One of my most memorable part of these voyages through Iran (though not always my favorite!) was my dad stopping the car in the middle of nowhere and giving us a bath using the many small waterfalls that flowed out of the mountains, all I remember is how much I hated the cold water and how clean and refreshed I felt after the bath. When we found a river, we would stop by and eat our breakfast or lunch next to it, enjoying the clean, clear water and the soothing sound of water flowing...sitting under the tree that provided us the shelter.

On one of the trips we went to an amazing body of water located in north western Iran called Lake Urumiyeh. As soon as my dad had parked the car we ran out towards the lake. As we got closer we felt the heaviness of the air. We got to the edge which was full of green algae, with a bit of encouragement and pushing from my older siblings, I rushed into the water. As soon as I plunged in, I felt a strong burning sensation in my eyes, no one told me that lake Urumiyeh was a salt lake. My eyes were burning and I decided to come out quickly and try to fix it. A local guy standing there seeing my agony approached my parents and gave them a cucumber and told them to put it in my eyes and that would sooth my discomfort. That day I was introduced to a water system, that held a prominent place not only in Iran and the middle east but globally too. Lake Urumiyeh was the biggest salt lake in the Middle East and the sixth largest in the world.

Lake Urumiyeh 1980s

Tragically, over the past few years, Lake Urumiyeh along with the many water ways of Iran are either in decline or dying. Though climate change can be blamed for some of the declining water levels and river beds in Iran, the main culprit is the mismanagement of water. There are many experts both in Iran and from outside that are warning about the water crisis and the long-term consequences that could lead Iran to become a “water-insecure” nation.

Lake Urumiyeh today

A serious commitment to addressing Iran’s water crisis by the Iranian authorities and utilizing both domestic and international expertise, will be go a long way to prioritize water on the national dialogue and policy.

For thousands of years the people of Iran used engineering ingenuity to manage water to be able to live and thrive in an otherwise harsh environment. This ingenuity is still there and must be allowed to express itself to solve this crisis and revive Iran’s water system.

The threatened River Karoon 

I think of my days as we crossed the bridge over the once mighty River Karoon and with that image in my mind recall the beautiful poem of the late Iranian poet, Sohrab Sepheri who writes…

Let's not muddy the water.
Imagine that close by a dove
is drinking from it,
or in a distant grove a finch
is washing its wings in it,
or in some village it fills a storage jar.
Let's not muddy the water.

Perhaps this flowing stream runs
by the foot of a poplar tree
and eases some heart's grief.
A dervish, perhaps,
has moistened his crust in it.
A young woman stood on its bank---
the water doubled her beauty.
Let's not muddy the water....

Once Upon a Time in the Middle East!

Mr. Ameri greeted my parents with his loud voice and distinct accent as he entered our house with his wife and children. Mr. Ameri and his family visited us at least once a week. In addition to being our next door neighbor, their house did not have a phone line, the wire ended at our house and the phone company had yet to extend the line to theirs! So every week, the Ameris would walk over to our home and call their daughter who studied in the state of Oklahoma in the United States. The calls usually took place early morning and since the connection wasn’t very good, Mr. Ameri who already had a loud voice, had to speak even louder to ensure his daughter in America could hear him well. Mr. Ameri, an Arab-speaking Iranian, happened to be the wealthiest man in our neighborhood, his wife was one the most elegant woman I have ever met, her beautiful jewelry dazzled, and the fragrance of her perfume filled the air like freshly cut roses!

 

 

Our Arab neighbors were just one part of the diversity of our neighborhood. On the other side of our house, were the Hakoopians, who were Armenians and whose kids we spend lots of hours playing with. Scattered all over our neighborhood were families from nearby regional cities of Abadan, Masjed-Sulayman,  Khoramshahr and other parts of Iran, from Tehran, Esfahan, Mahabad, Tabriz, Arak, Shiraz. Then there were our Americans and European neighbors who kept to themselves but were nevertheless part of our neighborhood's landscape . And amongst the movement of people in and around our house were the Lor laborers and the Arab watchmen.  

The ethnicity, cultures and belief systems represented in our little piece of the Middle East, resembled the diversity that you might find in neighborhoods in United States and phone-lines or not, would have been the envy for many around the world.

Maybe one day all the leaders and all the peoples in the Middle East from Tehran to Baghdad, Damascus to Beirut and Amman to Riyadh will try to emulate my neighborhood and appreciate its beauty and understand the true benefit of its diversity. Until that day, I will sit in Washington, DC and think about it like a story that starts with, “Once Upon a Time…”     

 

An Italian Captain, Inter Milan, and the Afghan Football Club that Could!

I sat in the dining hall of the Italian military unit enjoying my pasta, chicken and a bottle of Italian lemonade. The Italian dinning hall on the Shindand Airbase was run by a dedicated group of staff who ensured that their soldiers were fed the best home-cooked meal thousands of miles from home. I usually stopped at the Italian dinning facility when i met with Captain Simone, the civilian-military team leader and his staff. On this day, I sat across Captain Simone, as we talked about a possible project that we had discussed since the first day we met. The project focused on youth and football (soccer) development. Simone agreed that such a project would be useful. We also agreed that any project to do with strengthening sports in Shindand District, would help the youth, from the feeling of belonging to a group (to counter insurgent groups) to cultivating good, healthy habits, to building organizational and leadership skills.  The only problem for Simone was to convince his commanders that the project would fulfill the goals of their mission! I thought that any project that would strengthen the Afghan youth and give them an avenue to express themselves positively, was a good project. Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way.

Simone, went to work and after months of back and forth, begging, lobbying, pushing and perhaps crying he was able to get a whopping one thousand Euros! I looked at Simone and Simone looked at me, and he said, “can you get someone to do this project for 1000 Euros!” I said, “Sure!” and then thinking to myself, “how the hell am I going to get someone to fix a football ground in this country for less than 10,000 Dollars?!”

I immediately called a couple of contractors and asked if they would do this project. We needed the contractors to roll and fix the pitch, put official size goals with nets, and build two benches on either side of the field! Both contractors agreed to do it, with lots of enthusiasm, and promised they would do the best, most professional job ever… Then I told them how much money they would get paid for it and after, there was a long silence, and then they said they needed to check on something and get back to me!!! That was their way of saying No!

Finally, I called Karim, a friend of mine and Atiq, the captain of Maiwand Football Club, the club which would use the football pitch. I gave them the good news and the bad news that the Italians agreed to help the team but could only come up with 1000 Euros. After taking in the news and asking over and over again about the actual amount, Karim and Atiq said they would do it! I knew 1000 Euros could go a long way in a place where the price of bread was .05 cents, but after a decade of hyper-priced projects where things costing $1.00 were quoted as high as $100, no one would agree to do anything for 1000 Euros!

Karim, Atiq, and others from Maiwand FC, got to work and slowly, and with whatever equipment they could get their hands on, including a tractor, they shaped a patch of wilderness into a football ground. Every evening I would come by to inspect their progress and I saw about 20-25 young men working on flattening the bumps on the field, some mixing the cement and some picking up the stones and cleaning the field.  I would report back to Simone about the progress of the field and grab some Italian food in the process!  

Then one day something incredible happened…Simone called me in and said that he has some good news to share! When you are in Afghanistan, good news is something you don’t hear much of! He said that the great Italian football club F.C. Internazionale Milano, aka Inter Milan have agreed to provide the uniform for Maiwand FC….What? I asked, thinking maybe something is gone wrong with my hearing (I am getting old!). He said, that he wrote a letter to Carlo De Medici’s office, the president of Inter Milan asking if his club would donate uniforms for this projects and they agreed and the official uniforms are already on their way to Shindand District!!!

So finally the ground in Shindand was ready and the uniforms from Italy had arrived. On inauguration day, as a strong wind blew dust around, Maiwand FC lined up…local dignitaries, Captain Simone, the Italian military and spectators gathered around on the field. After a short speech by the Italian Commander, the uniforms were handed out and the faces of the 22 young men lit up as they were told about the gift from Inter Milan and the authenticity of their uniforms.

Weeks and months after that, the 1000 Euro field, became a haven for young men, who came by to play football or cheer on their team. Maiwand FC hosted many games there and showed off both the field they had build and the beautiful uniforms they had received. And at least for a while they became the kings of Shindand, thanks to their resourcefulness, the support of an Italian captain and the generosity of a millionaire in Milan!

The Syrians at Our Thanksgiving Table!

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Quote from Emma Lazarus used for pedestal on the Statue of Liberty

One of my favorite American holidays is Thanksgiving. It’s a day where family and friends all over America gather and share a meal together and in their own way express their gratitude for whatever they are thankful for. Some are thankful for democracy and freedom, some are thankful for having food on their table and some are thankful for good health.

My first Thanksgiving was spend at the house of an American family who had at her table a hodgepodge of people of different races and ethnicity, she was Italian, her husband was Dutch-Indonesian, there was a German, English, Russian an African American, a native American and of course us, Iranians! Bottom-line, we were all Americans gathered around one single table and sharing a meal. One of the things I remember before we partook of our food, was that we went around the room and mentioned one thing we were thankful about and most were thankful for being around that table with their friends and loved ones. I think I was just thankful to have survived my first year in America! Just like the first settlers who came to the United States fleeing persecution and yearning freedom.

Every Thanksgiving I am reminded of that first Thanksgiving where I was introduced to the diversity of America, where America’s unique make up and identity was represented around that table. We were all from different parts of the world and somehow through destiny, through the uncontrollable historical and personal events, we found ourselves becoming citizens of one nation. With all its greatness and shortcomings, America is a place where people from far and near and from all four corners come to seek refuge. America’s strength lies in its ability to open its arms to people who seek a better life and a better future. It is this openness that makes America the great country it is. Its diversity energizes its growth and fuels its ever-advancing progress in creativity and innovation.

As we approach this year’s Thanksgiving my thoughts are with thousands of refugees who are struggling to survive the harsh realities of a life without a country and without a future. There are many amongst us that don't want the Syrians in America. Their opposition not to allow them in is based on fear perhaps based on their forgotten family history that they too came to the US from another part of the world, either fleeing war or economic deprivation.  

They believe that amongst the thousands of Syrian refugees that might come to the US there might be some who will commit act of terrorism on US soil! 

Refugees who come to the US go through special security screening, people don’t just get up and buy a plane ticket and get here. Syrians will go through the same process. Most of them are families, mothers, fathers, children, no place to go…How can we as a nation think of them as terrorist and keep them from our shores? Were all the previous groups that came to our shores seeking refuge… perfect? Let’s not open our nation’s can of worm!!!  

As Americans we should step up to the plate and lead all nations in accepting the most number of Syrian refugees! Because where else would a refugee seek refuge other than a nation founded by refugees? 

The Syrians are culturally diverse and culturally wealthy people who are descendants of an ancient civilization. How can a people who have kept cities bustling for thousands of years be a liability to a young nation such as ours! How can a people with great cuisine, a great sense of style and sophistication and a thirst for knowledge and education not be allowed to find safety and a place to strive in America?  

We are a nation of abundance not only in material wealth and resources but more importantly in compassion.

So this year at our Thanksgiving meal let’s remember the thousands of Syrians fleeing war and violence and pray that by next year we will have a place for them at our Thanksgiving table.

Afghan Government and its Population Must Create a Peace Partnership!

Karim Afghan was one of the first people I met when I arrived in Shindand District in 2009. He was in his late 30s, an Afghan nationalist, and a community leader. He wrote and recited poetry in both Pashto and Dari and had a great sense of humor. Karim had a music shop in Qanati market and hustled day and night to provide for his large family. As the USAID Representative, I relied much on Karim’s contacts and smarts when doing my work. He was one of main reasons for the successful execution of our programs in Shindand.

One day I asked him, “Karim, why doesn’t the violence in Shindand and Afghanistan end?” He replied, “Because you foreigners don’t want to end it!” He went on to say that the usual suspects, Pakistan, India, Iran, US, the Russians, the Jihadists, use Afghanistan to wage their wars against each other. He said the worst part is not only that the Afghans suffer the brunt of this violence in terms of loss of life but it also fragments and divides the population. These scuffles and the games played by various powers push individuals and groups to become agents of these governments and do their bidding. It becomes a daily game of survivals for the ordinary Afghan. Karim went to on to say, throw in a weak Afghan government, which is corrupt, lacking resources and politicians who are incapable and at times not interested to unify their people, and that is why this cycle of violence, instability and war continues. He ended by saying, “Let’s forget about these things, lets drink some tea and listen to Naghma (Afghan singer)!”

What Karim told me that day is believed by many Afghans and non-Afghans. Afghanistan is located at the cross-roads of civilizations. Its a place where competing powers come to settle their scores. It was England vs. Russia, US vs. USSR, Pakistan vs. India, US vs. Al-Qaida and so on. Throw in the Afghan struggle to run its own affairs, create a modern state with its own national identity and a society in the era of globalization, and you can appreciate why peace, security and stability continues to elude this ancient land.

So what is the solution? Today, as the violence continues, the Afghan government has tried to engage the Taliban and their main sponsor Pakistan in peace talks. Though that’s a start, the fact is, those talks have not yielded any concrete results. The senseless killing continues.

To bring peace, the Afghan government must make its own population, its main partners in the peace process. Afghan traditional local peace councils must be re-established from the Kabul-level to the village-level. Those who are part of this violence and its enablers, both as Talibs or other groups in each community must be invited to lay down their arms and brought back into the fold. And unlike other attempts made previously, those who come back must see their acceptance back by their community as a reward. In other words their bad behavior is forgiven, they are now again a full member of the community and should in no way be rewarded by been given land or any other resources.

It’s time the Afghan government turned to its own population to bring peace to the land. Pakistan or any country will not give peace to Afghanistan, it’s only the Afghan government along with its population that can demand it and bring it. This action if taken by the leaders of Afghanistan will strengthen nationalism and unity and create an avenue for those gone wayward to return to their communities. Prioritizing peace will ultimately and in the long run bring all the business and development needed to pull Afghanistan out of the poverty that ails most of its population.

For those of you, who want to know what happened to Karim Afghan. Karim was killed a couple of years ago by the Taliban while on his way to his shop. Let’s work for peace in Afghanistan for Karim Afghan’s sake and the millions that have been killed senselessly during the past decades.

Amitabh Bachchan: Our Hero for All Times!

It was January of 1979, I was 11 and our Air India flight from Karachi was about to land in Bombay (now named Mumbai) International Airport. Our trip had taken us from Tehran to Karachi and after two days in Karachi we made it to Bombay. After we landed there, we were driven to Poona (Pune) and onto to Panchgani, a hill station in the western State of Maharashtra where my sister, my brother, I would attend, New Era High School, an international boarding school.

One day we were in Ahvaz, in the comfort of all that was familiar to us…our city, our home, our language, our food and above all, our family and friends…in what seemed to be, a blink of an eye, we were taken away from it and put in India. Fortunately for us, we went to a boarding school where most students were our age and came from all over the world, from Iran to Canada, United States to Ethiopia, and Somalia to Australia. Exposure to this rich mixture of diverse cultures at a young age developed within me the ability to mingle with all peoples and see diversity as a strength and looked for it rather than avoid it! Give me a work force from 10 countries, 50 cultures/tribes and a table with chicken briyani, Awaze tibs, chelo-kabob, goat curry, and Tuo Zaafi with bito soup and Guinea Fowl meat on it and I am as happy and productive as can be!

That was the campus of New Era High School….But outside of that, there was India. India with its populations of 700 million (1979)! The wealth of Indian culture was immense, this wealth was a direct reflection of its diverse population. Different languages, nationalities, tribes, religions, food, music and geography, all within this huge land mass. For me as a kid, nothing and no one brought these difference into one arena as did Bollywood and its incomparable hero, Amitabh Bachchan.

 

 

Amitabh Bachchan became our hero. I remember the first movie I saw with Amitabh in it. It was in the city of Sholapur and the name of the movie was “Suhaag”. The movie was “house-full”, no seats available! A few minutes into the movie, Amitabh finally appears on the screen, with him drinking a bottle of whisky and the theater erupted…as if he was standing on the stage in person!! People started to throw coins towards the screen! The best a Hollywood megastar could do was get a clap or two!! Whether you were an 11 year old kid like me or a 50 year woman sitting behind us, we were all taken over and mesmerized by Amitabh baritone voice, acting, singing and dancing. And when the movie came to an end, it was as if you woke up from a dream! It was an amazing feeling. The songs from the movies were all around us, whether walking in the bazaar or in school. We would try to imitate Amitabh’s dance moves and the term “hero” and “Amitabh/Amit” were interchangeable in our lingo…Ultimately, Amitabh’s heroism on the screen infused some of us with the wealth of Indian music, and our love for it.

 

In 1984 when my siblings and I left India for the United States, we brought with us a piece of India, which was our love for Amitabh Bachchan, Bollywood and its music which had sustained our childish spirit during the five years we lived in India.

Till today, when the times are tough or when my days are not going well, one of the avenues I turn to for spiritual upliftment and motivation is an old Amitabh song and dance number! So it was in 1989, my first semester at Holyoke Community College, when taking one of my first international affairs classes. It was mid-terms and we had to write a paper. Let’s just say my professor did not like my paper, she came quite hard on me, and told me “what the hell is this?” She used the word “hell’ because she was too polite to use the “F” word! I took the paper came home and just fell on the couch, depressed and looking at the ceiling. Not knowing how to get myself up and motivated after that very negative encounter with my professor!  I simply got up and took a cassette and put it in the video player and turned to Amitabh, the hero of my childhood to save the day and put some motivation back into my being!! It just took a song from the movie “Mr. Natwarlal” where Amitabh Bachchan and Rekha sing and dance to the song, “Oonchi Oonchi Baaton Se”! A week later I stood in my professor’s office and she turned to me and said, “This is what I was looking for, much better…good job”.

If I told her what was behind the better performance, she would have never believed me!