Wednesday, December 17, 2014

CrowdFunding, Ethnic Profiling and the Axis of Evil Comedy Tour!


It was 2007 and it was a great night at the Warner Theater in Washington, DC. I had finally gotten a chance to see the funny comedians from the "Axis of Evil" group, a bunch of mainly American comedians of Middle East descent led by the Iranian-American, Maz Jobrani. They were funny, the crowd was engaged and overall it was a night to remember. I even ran into Queen Noor of Jordan! Of all the jokes I remember, is that, if you are a Middle Eastern descent, you always want to have a "white" friend with you specially if you are going through the security at the airport! Security will treat you better!! Of course we all laughed! it was funny and it was true...comedians are society's social commentators...racism and ethnic profiling have been an integral part of American history and culture, and in 2016 its making a big come back!
Whether you are going through security at the airport, or transferring money from one bank to another, or buying a phone at the Apple Store, or writing down math equation on a piece of paper, everyone is watching you as if you are a terrorist. Not everyone who is brown, black, and has an accent and speaks a language other than English is a terrorist, planning a terrorist act or financing terror!

Did you know race and ethnic-profiling has permeated fund-raising too! Really? yeah really! But please don't be surprised!




Recently I decided to raise funds for a development project for Shindand District, in Afghanistan. My first approach was using crowdfunding, where I could ask people around the world to help me raise the money to get our work started in Afghanistan. The project (if funded) would focus on education, health, agriculture and other relevant programs. Based on a brief review of crowdfunding website, I chose gofundme, the registration was easy and I registered and started to reach out to people and ask for funding. I knew it would be an uphill battle. But just few days into the campaign I got this message;

Hi Behzad,
Dec 16 04:41 PM
I apologize, but we’re not able to process payments for your account. Our banks and processors hold us to a strict guideline on what we can and cannot process through our site. Unfortunately, we will not be able to provide you or your donation campaign with our services. I do apologize again, and wish you and your efforts the best going forward.

Thank you for your understanding.

So I replied,

Dec 17 12:43 AM           

I received a reply. There is no explanation why you don't want to process my payments for my campaign. You have strict guidelines against who?

 Please explain.
Thank you.
B

I got the exact statement I had received previously!!

 Hi Behzad,
Dec 17 08:56 AM

I apologize, but we’re not able to process payments for your account. Our banks and processors hold us to a strict guideline on what we can and cannot process through our site. Unfortunately, we will not be able to provide you or your donation campaign with our services. I do apologize again, and wish you and your efforts the best going forward.

Thank you for your understanding.

--------------------------------

They could not give me an explanation on why they could not process my payment! I met all the requirements they asked for which is 1) Having an American address 2) Having a social security number and 3) Having an American bank account. So what is the problem? Why can't I be able to raise funds on gofundme? Is it because at the time I lived in Ghana? that I have a name that is not Bob, Brad or Billy? is it because I am raising money for Afghanistan? What if someone by the name of Richard Branson or Ben Afflack, Joe Smith, or Lisa Hightower was raising the money, would they block him/her? [By the way i tried to raise fund again this time from the US but same thing happened!)
It is disappointing but not surprising that people are profiled even when they are trying to educate, build and develop communities in a much needed area. I removed my campaign appeal on gofundme.


I look back at that night at the Warner Theater and sadly one of the new jokes can be about crowdfunding, if you are going to use crowdfunding sites and you are of certain ethnicity you might want to consider looking for other funding options. 


Sunday, December 7, 2014

Appeal for Our First Global Effort: Shindand Development Program!


Over the past few months I have shared with you my career and life experiences, from organizing a pre-youth football tournament in Ghana, to the struggle for girls' education in Afghanistan, from the bitter conflict in the Middle East to the triumphant efforts of a simple farmer in Burkina Faso.

My blog has and will continue to be about stories and topics that effect the average citizen around the world and his/her struggle to survive and contribute to the betterment of her/his community.

My interest, passion, and commitment is to lead a program that ensures humanitarian assistance and aid is delivered honestly and exclusively to people and communities that are in need. Aid whose planning is done in consultation with the beneficiary not the goals, and interests of the donor. Aid that is delivered by a donor that puts people central to its activities and not short term political or national interest goals.

It is against this background that, using the Crowd Funding option, I would like to raise funds to implement a development program in Shindand District, located in western part of Afghanistan. I chose this area firstly because it truly needs resources to improve the lives of the men, women and the youth. Secondly it is the strong bond that I cultivated with the people of Shindand when I worked there, and it is their current appeal directly to me to help their district.  Though it will be a challenging enterprise, I believe that together we and the people of Shidnand and Afghanistan can make things better and put this part of our globe on the road to recovery and growth.

I am not a famous person, a celebrity or a person of influence. I am not a non-governmental or a big governmental donor agency and I know raising this money will be an uphill battle. But I believe that your spirit of generosity and ultimately the human desire to help his/her fellow human being will triumph and we will get our first program underway! You will have an honest partner in me, my associates, and most importantly the people of Shindand.

If you want to know more about my background, please read About Me on this blog. Please contact me if you have any questions.

I thank each and everyone of you in advance.

Lets make it happen!



Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Inspired by Lucky Dube in St.Kitts and Nevis


“Freedom fighter standing on a mountain, in a foreign country, trying to send a message to his people…” Lucky Dube

The music blared from the mini-van’s tape player, as it got to Sandy Point... “Stay!” I said, asking the driver to stop. The vehicle stopped, I stepped out, and gave my fare to the driver asking him who the singer was? “Lucky Dube!” he replied with his thick Kittitian accent. That was my first introduction to the great reggae singer from South Africa. The year was 1991 and I was on the Island of St.Kitts, in the Eastern Caribbean. Living in St.Kitts connected me to the rich culture of the Caribbean and the West Indies, a culture that has taken in Africans, Ameri-Indians, Indians, Chinese, Lebanese, European and everything in between. In the one year that I lived and worked there, I played football for a second division club, taught pre-youth and youth classes, ate mangoes, skinips, drank coconut juice, Ting and ginger beer and enjoyed salt-fish, goat water and Johnny Cakes. All along, in this journey of discovery, were the songs of Lucky Dube that spoke about the human struggle for justice, search for peace and the individual’s spirit of triumph and failure.



Later on when I went to George Washington University, in Washington, DC, Lucky Dube’s music kept me company during the difficult days of writing the long term papers and the days when negativity overtook me. From Washington, I went to Ghana. At the time if you liked Lucky Dube, Ghana was your country, his music was played everywhere, If you were sitting in a tro-tro (a mini-van), on a bus going to Accra,  Kumasi, Takradi, Tamale, Kintampo, Bolgatanga, in a bar, restaurant or a chop bar, walking down the street you heard Lucky Dube. He kept me and millions in Ghana and around the world inspired.  
Years after I had returned from Ghana, driving on 495 in northern Virginia going to work, listening to the radio, the news came that Lucky Dube had been murdered in his home country of South Africa! Like millions around the world I was shocked and saddened by his death! How can someone kill a human being like Lucky Dube?!!
Seven years after his death, sitting here in Accra, I remember that bus ride to Sandy Point as the song blared from the tape player;
“All he dreams about is the freedom of the nation,
When every man will be equal in the eyes of the law;
As he closes his eyes
For the last time he said again!”  


Thursday, November 20, 2014

Ethiopian Airways: Building an Empire in the Skies!


Eighteen-Hundred years ago the disciples of the Persian prophet Mani, sat by his feet as he made his historical statement about the four great kingdoms of the time, The Persian, The Roman, The Chinese and The Axumites…
I walked towards the ticket counter at Dulles Airport, and was greeted by the ticket agent at the counter. Having experienced rude ticket agents for the past three years thanks to United Airways and “Fly America Act”, it was a pleasant surprise to finally encounter a normal, friendly airline employee who was not stressed out about providing service. The ticket agents were the employees of Ethiopian Airlines, and within a few minutes I got my assigned seat and my luggage taken care of.

 
 
Steeped in facts and mythology, Ethiopia and Ethiopians are part of an ancient civilization that stretches thousands of years. They have survived as a people and civilization, whether they were the great ancient Axumite Kingdom or the nation that gave us coffee, or the country that defeated Italy in 1896, escaped colonization with Emperor Haile Selassie, survived the Derg and recently experiencing the bane of tribalism nevertheless they survive and strive.
I walked into the plane and was greeted by the flight attendant who showed me to my seat. I took my seat and eventually our flight took off for Addis Ababa. During the flight I looked around the plane, in front of me was an old lady who looked stressed and kept on asking the flight attendant questions and asking for help, there was the couple with crying babies and finally the man who kept on getting up and opening his overhead compartment to take something from his bag!! Each and every one received the attention. During the flight I did not see flight attendant disrespect anyone and in fact they kept a smiling and respectful demeanor for the duration of the flight, which is long and tiring!
Ethiopian airlines, despite its limited resources as compared to its counterparts around the world, has had a tremendous effect on airline travel specially in Africa, connecting countries, people and delivering cargo, in an often challenging environment. If its ticket agents, flight attendants and pilots were indicative of the company culture then Ethiopian Airlines will have a bright future ahead. I would like to suggest to United Airline to look to Ethiopian Airways for training its ticket agents and flight attendants!!! 
As I ate my lunch listening to the great Ethipian singer, Mahmoud Ahmed sing the classic  song, “Tizita”, I imagined  the Persian prophet, Mani and  wondered whether the descendants of the Kingdom of Axum could one day become a great power again but this time up in the skies.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Listening to Dr. King's Advice!

I helped Dr. Dorothy Height to her seat and stood around looking for a place to sit and see what was next. It was a special night and through some strange circumstance I was part of it. It was a small dinner get together at the office of Mrs. Nana Konadu Agyman Rawlings, the First Lady of the Republic of Ghana, the guests were Mrs. Coretta Scott King, the wife of the late slain American civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Dr. Dorothy Height, a prominent leader of America's civil rights movement, Alexis Herman, Secretary of Labor in the Clinton Administration, amongst others. They were all in Ghana, to attend the 1999 African- African-American summit being held in Accra, Ghana. I was at this dinner because the US Ambassador to Ghana at the time, Katherine Dee Robinson, had asked some of us Peace Corps volunteers to help out during this summit. I was one of the chosen few! Ambassador Robinson, was from the American southern State of Tennessee. She possessed the southern hospitality, wonderful southern accent, and the diplomatic touch of connecting with people.
My main responsibility for that day was pushing Dr. Height’s wheelchair!  I took my place and after a few minutes dinner was served, which included some Ghanaian and non-Ghanaian dishes. I remember slices of Kenkey on a plate. Kenkey, a Ghanaian dish, is usually served in a ball form and eaten with your hand, but I guess because of the American guests, it was sliced and was eaten with a fork! I was the only one who ate the Kenkey.

I remember it being a quiet night, and Mrs. Rawlings doing most of the talking as she was trying to engage her guests and be a good host.

The other thing that stayed on my mind was the irony of history, that Mrs. King would be coming to Ghana and interacting with an American Ambassador that is from Tennessee, a state where, her husband, Dr. King, gave his last speech and was killed on the 4th April, 1968.



I often listen to that speech, usually referred to as, “I have been to the Mountain Top” speech, which was given a day before his assassination. In the speech, Dr. King talks about history, man’s struggle for freedom, a bit about his life and his own eventual end. The reason he was in Tennessee was to support the strike of sanitation workers in the city of Memphis.

We live in a world where everyday we face crisis, whether it is diseases such as ebola or security issues related to terrorism, wars or the migration/refugee crisis. There is a global debate about how much the international community must do. Some say only those who are effected by these crisis must deal with it and there are those who believe that these crisis effect us all and we must work together to address them and final solutions to them. 

I decided to go back and revisit the speech of Dr. King given more than 45 years ago. In one part he talks about the time he and Mrs. King, drove from Jerusalem to Jericho and he was reminded of the story of the Good Samaritan, and ties it to helping the sanitation workers;

“…That's a dangerous road [the road from Jerusalem to Jericho]. In the days of Jesus it came to be known as the "Bloody Pass." And you know, it's possible that the priest and the Levite looked over that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it's possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking. And he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt, in order to seize them over there, lure them there for quick and easy seizure. And so the first question that the Levite asked was, "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" That's the question before you tonight…The question is not, "If I stop to help this man in need, what will happen to me?" "If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?" That's the question”.

And taking the advice from Dr. King, the international community needs to reverse the question from, “If I stop to help the communities in crisis,what will happen to me?" to "If I do not stop to help the victim of war, the ebola patient or the refugees, what will happen to them?"

He further admonished his audience, “Let us rise up tonight with a greater readiness. Let us stand with a greater determination. And let us move on in these powerful days, these days of challenge…”

Fifteen years after that dinner with all the shakers and movers of their time, here I am sitting  back in Accra, eating a  ball of Kenkey, fried fish with pepper and wondering whether the international community will be the Levite or the Good Samaritan!

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Calling for Global Moratorium on Acts of Corruption!


It looked like a perfectly constructed water storage tower, it was funded by the international community and executed by the village Community Development Councils (CDCs) who were entrusted by their people to carry out their development priorities. Jambaran is a village located near the Shindand Airbase, its population is made up of the traditional landowners and sheep and goat herders. Jambaran was also known for being a place where rockets were launched by insurgence towards the airbase. The day I went to visit the village, I met with the village elders and as we sipped on the traditional Afghan green tea, they told me about a certain person who as the head of their CDC, had taken the funds from the National Solidarity Program (NSP) (as the name of the program was called) and split the money with his friends. They added that the CDC had put up a water tower which looked great from far but was nothing but a façade. The purpose of the water tower was to carry water directly to people’s houses. The only problem with Jambaran’s water tower was it did not have a generator to pump the water to the tower or the pipes to send it to the people’s home!!  

Of all the programs in Afghanistan, NSP was probably one of the best, because of its truly grass-roots focus. Based on the population and size of communities, each community would elect its CDC and come up with a project to do for their community. Again based on the size of the population, you either got 30 thousand or 60 thousand dollars. Unfortunately, that selection process became the starting point of corruption, because suddenly villages with population of 100 became 1000 and villages that had 10 houses now had 100 houses in them and they were divided into 2 villages!! You could change the size of the population and the size of your village by having the district government authorities, sign documents to show the implementing partners (those entrusted by the international community to carry out this project!) that your village had 1000 families and that you had 100 homes in them! Things would get interesting from there because after you were approved, the phone calls would start coming in…it was not to congratulate your village for the resources that you had received but rather for you as the member of the CDC to share a percentage of the fund with the person on the other side of the line! It started with local Afghan government official, then after agreeing to give him something (after all he had signed your paper work to increase the fund you received!), then the phone would ring again and it was the local Afghan insurgent who would threaten you in giving him something or else!! after him, it was the criminals and then your own members of the CDC discussing ways to get a piece of the action!!! After that the workers of the implementing partners would come in and question the wisdom of you not utilizing the opportunity to get rich quickly! “come on, really, let’s find the village that has the water tower take a few pictures and show the folks in Kabul, Herat or wherever they are and tell them the project is done, take the money and….hey don’t worry I’ll take care of that!”


Corruption in Afghanistan and throughout the world brings the worst in people, but more importantly wastes resources that can be used to build good roads, bring power, health, education and many other goods for the betterment of society. It allows for rivers to get polluted, building to collapse, and become a recruiting tool to for extremists to pull people towards violence.
I just wish that for one year all governments would call a “Moratorium on Acts of Corruption”. Perhaps led by the Afghan government! The statement to be signed by all the Leaders of the World would say something to this effective, “Because of the suffering caused by corruption, on our population and population around the world, and because corruption destroys communities and the chance for both the present and the future generations to live in peace and dignity, we call upon all our government ministries, officials, leaders and civil servants to refuse to participate directly or indirectly in any activity that includes actions that enhances corruption and waste resources allocated for the betterment of our people, society and the world. This “Moratorium on Acts of Corruption” will last for one year after which officials can go back to the status quo, should they wish to do so!

I don’t know how the leaders of the world think about my idea but I can tell you I would get lots of support from the people of Jambaran!

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

To Ensure Success in Afghanistan focus on Rural Afghans!


Over the past three decades the world has witnessed constant strife, war and violence in Afghanistan, the consequences of which we witness daily on our TV screens (when there is news about Afghanistan). News out of Afghanistan seems to always be about a corrupt government and violent insurgents who are vying for the support (by force or by choice) of a people who are caught in between unsure about their future and short on hope.


Despite the good intentions of the international community, the effort to develop Afghanistan and rebuild it has fallen short. Billions have come to Afghanistan and been squandered away through waste, corruption and apathy. Leaving many, both Afghan and non-Afghans, to ponder whether there is something fundamentally wrong with this ancient land.
There is little fate that Afghanistan will become the country the international community tried so hard to help it to be. This comes after the sacrifice of blood and treasure spend over a decade.
Myriads of writers and analysts have documented the waste of resources in Afghanistan which has lead to corruption of government, fueling of the insurgency and frustration of its citizens. 
Against this bleak background, the question that many are asking is, “Will Afghanistan ever recover and more important is it worth our continued support?”
Since of the start of Operation Enduring Freedom in 2001, steady progress has been made in terms of health, education and infrastructure. If compared to the dark days of the Taliban, we can consider development in Afghanistan a success but if we compare development in accordance to the money and expertise spend to improve the Afghan lives then a fair assessment is that we have fallen short.

Why have we fallen short?
Simply put development in Afghanistan has been ineffective because the average Afghan citizen has not been involved in the process.  Development programming focused on two parts of the Afghan reality, namely the government elites and the insurgents. Development programs has been used to bolster the government and weakened the insurgency. This approached has not succeeded since the money usually ends up in the pockets of government and government-related elites or in the hands of insurgents who use it to support their anti-government activities. Development money has in fact become the fuel to fan instability in Afghanistan. While the two groups vie for the resources, caught in the middle are average men, women and children of Afghanistan, who either have to join the corrupt ways of the government or join in the violence of the insurgence. 
After the Talibans fell many Afghans believed that with a new government and the commitment from the international community their country would see an era of peace and growth, an era which they would see changes in their lives and their communities. Many are still waiting.


But as we look to the end of this decade, there is still a chance to get it right. Focusing on the rural communities where majority of Afghans live and developing them would go a long way to bring the promise of a better life to the most neglected of Afghan communities, and using classic grassroots efforts make a long-term change in this long-suffering nation. Lets not abandon Afghanistan, remember the admonishment of the great Afghan poet, Rahman Baba;

Make your path straight now, by the bright light of day;
For pitch darkness will come without warning!

Now is the time...

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Living in Ghana: The Gateway to Africa.

When you tell people that you live in Africa, they want to know if you have seen elephants and giraffes! Yes, there is animals and there is lots of great safaris you can pay thousands of dollars to come and see. Here in Ghana too there is a national park that has animals people like to see including elephants! It’s called Mole National Park and it’s located in northern part of the country.


Ghana is like most countries on this planet. It is made up of several urban centers like Accra, Kumasi, Tamale, Takaradi, Cape Coast and Bolgatanga. There are rich people, poor people, there are malls, local markets, street peddlers, there are BMWs, Toyotas, taxis and mini-buses and people walking. And yes, there are also villages and small mud huts. There are paved roads and some very good and very bad side roads. There is electricity and there are power cuts too. There are lawyers, doctors, engineers, farmers, and every other employment you can think of. No not every Ghanaian and African is a wood carver and plays the drums! FYI, Accra even has three Turkish restaurants. I hope you are getting the picture! 

The things that I like about Ghana are the friendly people, the culture, the weather (it never snows!), the food, and most importantly people look out for you when you are part of their community.

I know some of you are still wondering about whether I have seen elephants, I have yet to see an elephant but I did have an encounter with a much, much, smaller species while living in Namoo, in rural Ghana as a Peace Corps Volunteer…and here is the story…   




It was 14th of February 1999 around 2am, when I was awakened by my landlord Mr. Tony to come and watch the Oscar De La Hoya-Ike Quartey live from Las Vegas! Being half awake and half asleep, I put my leg down looking for my slippers which I found but before I could wear them I felt a sharp sting on the bottom of my foot, I took my flash light and saw a scorpion running away!!! I had step on a scorpion…so what do I do now? Call 911! Go to the non-functioning clinic? Is this my end? It’s been a good life, at least I died trying to make the world a better place! Though the thought of death crossed my mind, I had bigger problems to deal with! How would I go and tell Mr. Tony that I needed medical help. Mr. Tony did not like to be disturbed when watching a boxing match….And especially now that a Ghanaian fighter was involved. I mustered up the courage after saying a few prayers and walked to Mr. Tony and told him what had happened…Mr. Tony quickly mobilized the family and asked everyone to go look for medicine. He gave me a black stone to put on the bite and told Azanpoka, one of my mothers to apply a local medicine on my foot….I had no idea what it was but I said if it works for the Ghanaians it will work for me too!! That night I survived two near death experience one was the scorpion sting and the other disturbing Mr. Tony during a boxing match.

As the sun came up that day my pain subsided and I got throngs of people who came to see me, having heard that Anamoo (my local name) has been stung by a scorpion! There was no phones and yet the whole area had heard the news! Don’t underestimate the power of the LNN (Local News Network)

I survived the scorpion sting, and now my only wish is to see an elephant!

Friday, September 19, 2014

Geography, Diversity and Jamaica!


“Can someone tell me the capital city of Jamaica?”, “Sir, is it King-Stone?” I replied. Our geography teacher replied, “No, but you are close, its Kingston!” This was my 7th grade history and geography teacher, Mr. D’Silva. He was one of my favorite teachers, his teaching style was exceptionally interactive and creative, specially for the India of the early 1980s. That day I learned that Kingston was the capital of Jamaica, and later found out that Michael Holding, Bob Marley and Michael Manley were all Jamaicans. 

One of the most important subjects we were taught as youngsters was geography. There is nothing that creates connection between two people than when you indicate to the other person you know where he or she is from. It’s often surprising to find out how ignorant people are about where other people live or where they come from. There are politicians, despite the many resources at their disposal don’t know the difference between Iran and Iraq or that Africa is a continent not a country, that Thailand is no longer called Siam and Aleppo is in Syria!

Our world has changed dramatically, with the constant movement of people either travelling, fleeing or migrating to new regions. This movement of people has brought change to places which for years were homogeneous.  Our uni-dimensional lingo has changed, we now have global village, diversity, interdependence, interconnectedness, and many more to indicate this change but yet we still lag behind when it comes to the appreciation of this colossal demographic and cultural evolution. A Jamaican who now lives in Northern Ireland, has to deal with a brick coming through her window, because there are many who have yet to understand, that yes, there are Irish of Jamaican or even Chinese descent who are now part of Northern Ireland.      

The shaping of this global understanding must start at a young age, where children in school are  taught geography that at least teaches them where countries and people are located in relation to themselves. This hopefully will be the first step towards a wider understanding of the global community and their relationship to it, whether they live in America, Ghana, Bahrain, Japan or Jamaica.
Now in 2017 and many years after learning where Jamaica and its capital are located, I am reminded of what Bob Marley, the great Jamaican Reggae singer, sang so many years ago and perhaps underlining the challenge that the global community faces today;

“Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another Inferior Is finally and permanently discredited And abandoned…That until there is no longer, first class and second class citizens of any nation, until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes…Until that day the dream of lasting peace, world citizenship, rule of international morality, will remain in but a fleeting illusion to be pursued, but never attained!”

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

US-Iran Relation Revisited: Look to 1909!


I ate the last of the popcorn laced with butter and got up from my sit and walked towards the exit door. I had just finished watching the movie “Argo”. The movie is about a CIA agent who comes up with a plan to free some of the staff of the American Embassy who had escaped when the Iranian students had taken over the American Embassy in Iran in November 1979. It was a good Hollywood movie and I enjoyed watching it, partly because I like popcorn laced with butter!

Argo is another example of how US-Iran relation is often explained and presented. From the American side it’s the 1979 hostage crisis and from the Iranian side it’s the 1953 CIA-assisted coup d’etat against Prime Minister Dr. Mossadegh. Some view these events as defining moments in the relationship between these two nations. Though those events are significant, it is not that significant to cripple and break relationship between 370 million people. The fact that the governments are not able to normalize relationships with each other speak volumes of the minority view that controls the conversation on both sides of this wall of separation. On the US side, it’s the image of the Iran of 1979 that is burning US flags and taking hostages, on the Iranian side, it’s the image of 1953 America manipulating and interfering in the affairs of the Iranian nation.

On September 11th, 2001, the only people in the Middle East that expressed support for New York and the United States were the people of Iran. The only thing that was burning that day in Tehran were candles lit up for the victims of that dark day in American history. On 26th December 2003, when the earthquake in Bam killed thousands of Iranians, the United States government, send assistance, to help with search and rescue operations. These simple examples show that things don’t need to be the way they are.       

Hollywood can also help! By making a movie about something that both people, Iranians and Americans cherish the most, search for freedom! For this story we need to go back to 1907, when a young 22 year old American by the name of Howard Conklin Baskerville, came to Iran to be a teacher at the American Memorial School in Tabriz. Howard was from Nebraska and a graduate of Princeton. He decided to come as a missionary to Iran and be a teacher. Tabriz in those days was a hotbed of political activity. Iran was in the middle of one of its first push for democracy, known as the Constitutional Revolution. It was a time when Iranians were fighting to turn the Iranian absolute monarchy into a constitutional monarch and introduce representative government to their nation.

Howard the American soon joined the movement in Tabriz and 1909 when the city was surrounded by the Shah’s army, he led a group of revolutionaries against the much superior government forces. The effort was rewarded when the revolutionaries were able to break the siege of the city. Their success came at the cost of Howard’s life. At the age of 24 this American kid from Nebraska was killed. Howard laid down his life for the cause of democracy in Iran. Howard Baskerville is buried in Iran and his name is still alive, and still inspires many Iranians who dream of a government of the people, by the people, for the people.

One day the relationship between the two governments will normalized and everyone will enjoy fully and freely the cultural and material wealth and resources that both countries have to offer to each other. Until that day, it will be the relationship between Howard and his Tabrizi brethren that will keep us believing that normalization is possible and around the corner. In the meantime I look to Hollywood’s version of the truth, with a box of popcorn laced with butter!!!  

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Eating Curry over the Friendly Skies of United Airways!


When you work for the government you are required by the “Fly America Act” to fly airlines that are owned by American companies such as Delta, United and American.


Whenever people ask me what was the toughest thing about working in Afghanistan, my reply has been, “Flying United Airlines!!” Getting to Afghanistan was the most traumatic part of my work there. My usual route was Washington, DC to Dubai. I remember my heart beat going up and starting to sweat as I thought of the more than ten hours of being stuck up in the air and having to deal with flight attendants who were one of the most irritated and agitated group of people I have ever met! When I would get to the ticket counter, I would try to smile as much as I could to perhaps create a good atmosphere and make the initial step of getting on board as pleasant as possible. It never worked as the ticket agents never smiled back, I think they got a bonus for not smiling. If they did, there are lots of rich United employees out there!!  

I would make it through security, comparing to the next step, which was boarding the plane, the security checks were much smoother and friendlier!
I would give my boarding pass to the flight attendant, who would point me to the direction where my seat was, as I entered the plane I could see the flight attendants all lined up and ready to provide the best service, “unfriendly” could deliver!!

The first couple of times I flew with United, I took my seat and asked for a new earpiece or a blanket or something very rudimentary and each time I stopped the flight attendant she/he would stop, look at me expressionlessly (as I smiled) and as I would finish telling them what I needed, he/she would just walk away and never bring what I had asked for!!!
My favorite time on United was meal time, when you were provided the “best” food ever! I agree airline food is not good but it tastes even worst when the flight attendant feels burdened by serving you. One of my most favorite experiences was when during one dinner, the flight attendant came by to serve food to our row! He looked agitated and was in no mood to waste time asking what I needed, having served chicken to the window seat and beef to the middle seat, he turned to me and said rather impatiently, “and you will take curry!” Perhaps thinking he was looking at an Indian, an Indian who is a vegetarian. He wanted me to have curry, I thanked him, smiled and said no I will take the chicken!

Though I see the logic of the “Fly America Act”, I am personally against it as it is contrary to the American value of free trade and fair competition! Fair competition is a concept which the United States is the leader of and is constantly promoting it throughout the world!! Why should anyone be forced to fly an airline that provides inferior service? There are lots of better airlines that fly from DC to Dubai, including Emirates.
I am no longer forced to fly the “Friendly Skies” of United Airlines. I end this piece with a big smile on my face and look forward to lunch tomorrow, perhaps I will have curry and rice!!   

Friday, September 12, 2014

The Day that New York Times Came to Town!


During my first trip back home to the US from Afghanistan, met with friends who looked at me pitifully and wondered how I was doing! “Being in Afghanistan must be tough, with all that’s going on!” looking at me and shaking their heads. “You must be depressed to work so much and see no results!” another friend wondered. My view of Afghanistan was different from my concerned friends. Since I lived and worked there, I gave them my version of events and explained that yes, it was a tough environment but things were being done that was bringing positive change to the country. Like most Americans, my friends got their news from their radio, newspaper, internet and other avenues. Where ever they got their news from, it occurred to me that the American tax-payers was not aware of how his/her tax was being used in the war in Afghanistan.
 

So when I returned back from the US, I decided to do my part, and bring some perspective to the happenings in the Afghanistan, or at least in the small area that worked in. The first thing I did was, I went to the USAID office in Kabul, and talked to the communication person. I asked if it was possible to send a newspaper reporter to Shindand District. I explained that the report would give a chance to hear from rural Afghans, talking about USAID’s and international community’s performance, in their district over the past decade.

Our communication person readily agreed and said that he would find a reporter. After a couple of months, I heard back from USAID saying a New York Times reporter would be coming to visit Shindand. I was very happy to have such a reputable newspaper like New York Times visiting our humble district! I went around informing various communities of the impending visit of a foreign journalist to their village, where they would be able to talk about the changes that they have seen in their area and also talk about other development concerns they might have. The communities gave their support and ensured me of providing security to the reporter.

A few weeks later, the New York Times reporter and his translator arrived and I picked them up from the Shindand Airbase. The next two to three days this young American reporter got an unprecedented access to rural Afghanistan, speaking to whoever he wished to speak to and go where ever he wanted to. I thought he was in Shindand to ask questions about development issues and issues focused on the lives of Afghans, ten years after the war had begun. The initial questions were a false dawn of things to come, “how are things going in your community?” and majority of people he spoke to talked about the transformation of programs that USAID had initiated and how things were changing gradually for the better. A couple of minutes later the real questions would begin which was about “who killed who?” Each group we met they were asked about a particular assassination that had taken place in Shindand in 2011, and most questions revolved around that issue! Some people asked me whether he was a reporter or a part of the US government or the military. I assured them that he is an American reporter with interest in finding out more about the lives of Afghans!! It would be safe to say that we all risked our lives to ensure the New York Time Reporter could speak to as many people as he could, in their own villages.


 
 
After dropping the young reporter back at the airbase to fly back to Kabul, I was still optimistic that a long article about Afghan’s view of how things have changed in their lives, would splash all over the New York Times front page or at least somewhere in the back pages! After a few weeks, not hearing back from him. I reached out to the reporter and asked what happened and when should we be expecting the article to be published! He said unfortunately, his editor did not find the story interesting and therefore they were no longer interested in writing about it!!!



I was very disappointed and informed my friends in Shindand about what had happened. Most people were not fazed by it, as it was not the first time a foreigner came to them disguised as someone who wanted to hear their views!

Well, at least the reporter had three cups of tea! Kim Kardashian is now married to Kayne West and The House Wives of Atlanta are coming back for another season!

Monday, September 8, 2014

Building Relationship, Building Trust from Rural Ghana to Afghanistan!


Atia entered the court yard of the house and sat under the tree. After a few minutes, Assibi brought a calabash of water and offered it to Atia.  Atia drank the water and sat the calabash down at the foot of the stool he was sitting on. Then the greetings started between himself and his host, Mr. Tony. Greetings in the city might focus on a quick “hi”… “how are you?” and a quick “goodbye” but in rural Namoo in Bongo District of northern most part of Ghana, it meant a long and comprehensive greetings that asked about the house, the wives, the children, the crops, the animals and so on. After the greetings were done, there was a short silence while both men looked around. Then Atia, resumed the conversation, this time focusing on his mission to Mr. Tony’s house. He was there to ask his host to help with his son’s school fees, which Mr. Tony obliged.

One of the most important lesson I learned living with Mr. Tony in Namoo, was how to approach rural population. While in the urban areas you can come and go as you please, in rural areas around the world, it’s all about establishing relationship and explaining ones’ mission clearly and sticking to that mission! Rural folks tend to be suspicious of outsiders and building trust is difficult and even more difficult is rebuilding a relationship when that trust is broken.


So it was that when I got to rural Afghanistan, I visited many villages, representing the diverse tribes of the area. Each village, I went to, I introduced myself, my position and what my mission was in their area. I said I was there to work with them and asked for their protection. My mission stayed consistent with both mine and their collective interest. Had they for a second doubted my reason for being in their community, it would have compromised the effectiveness of our program, which would harm both us the donor and them, the beneficiaries.


Today more than ever the success of any development organization doing work in smaller towns and rural communities depends on its ability to build relationship with the population. While many donors are coming up with ways to use technology to monitor their programming and interact with the beneficiary. The truth is that nothing beats the human interaction, just ask the communities that have been around for thousands of years!

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Lisa vs The Old Jordanian Taxi Driver!

One of the most knowledgeable and least trusted people in any country are the taxi drivers!! They might not know every address you give them and cheat you ones in a while, but they can give you a pretty good read on the mood of their city and their country. They can be the best newscasters, telling you all the news and rumors on the streets, the perfect cultural advisor and political pundit. During the petrol shortage in Accra, it was a taxi driver who told me about the oncoming petrol-shortage and after not believing him, it was he who found petrol to put in my car!!




In 2005, I had the opportunity to go to Jordan and participate in a training for the Iraqi government officials. The reason the training was taking place in Jordan was because it was too dangerous to conduct any training in Iraq.


As it is typical, we were told about some of the cultural do’s and the don’ts while in Jordan, a predominately Arab and Muslim country. My favorite is don’t shake hands with your left hand! OK, I won’t shake hands with anyone with my left hand….cultural crisis averted!! There were also other things told to us, as if Jordan operates on the cultural manual printed in the US for an American Foreign Service Officer!! Another advice I was given was Jordan is an Arab, Muslim country therefore listen to Lisa from Chicago who was in Amman for one year and is now an expert on Jordanian culture! OK, I will!!


We finally made it to Amman safe and sound!
Jordan was a wonderful country, some of us saw Petra and some saw the Dead Sea, but in that short, few days, for me it was the soul of the Jordanian people that stood out. In a region where intolerance rules, I had one of the most enlighten conversations and discussions with some wonderful individuals. I think I even shook someone’s hand with my left hand and they did not stop the conversation to tell me how much I insulted their religion and culture!
Here is the Taxi part...

Couple of days into our trip, we were walking in downtown Amman, there were four of us, including Lisa "the Jordanian cultural expert from Chicago", two men and two women. We flanked down a taxi, and the taxi stopped. We all jumped in, and as it happened, one of our female companion sat in the front and three of us sat in the back. As the taxi was about to take off, Lisa asked the woman in front to come and sit in the back! And asked one of the men to sit in front saying, “In Jordan women are not supposed to sit in the front seat!” So the woman came and sat in the back and I got up and sat in the front! Suddenly the taxi-driver, who was an old man, turned around and told Lisa in English…"who told you women in Jordan can’t sit in the front seat?”…"you go and tell lie to the world about woman in Jordan!”…"Jordanian woman can sit anywhere she wants!! In the front, in the back…why you lie?” Lets just say that was a very uncomfortable taxi ride back to the hotel!
Could it be that Lisa having spent one year in Amman was not an expert on Jordanian culture? Is it possible?...And what does an old Jordanian man who has spent all his life in Amman driving a taxi and whose great-great-great-great… grand parents have lived in that part of the world, really know about his own culture and civilization?
I plan to send the Jordanian taxi driver, the American Foreign Service Manual for living in Jordan, autographed by Lisa…he could definitely use one!!

Monday, September 1, 2014

Tribute To My Brother Abdul-Fattah Haidari


One of the struggles of working in Afghanistan with Afghans was the danger of violence that they had to face twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The Afghans were one of the most dedicated souls I have ever met and worked with.

One  such person was  Engineer Abdul-Fattah Haidari, who lived in the village of Shoorab in Shindand District. He had gotten his engineering degree in Herat, though he could have stayed in the relative safety of Herat City,  he decided to dedicate his young life to the improvement and empowerment of his community specially women. Haidari, set up his own NGO, called the Shindand Women Social Foundation (SWSF) and held many trainings, from literacy classes to sowing, computer training to English classes. In a country where educating women is challenging in the best of circumstances, Haidari was an embodiment of courage and did his work despite all the threat to him and his family.



He worked tirelessly and was always ready to give a helping hand wherever possible. Haidari understood that strengthening Afghan national identity was essential in creating a viable, strong society and nation. Haidari worked with all groups and reached out to all Afghans, regardless of their tribal affliation, to him all Afghans were his family.



Unfortunately, a year ago i got a phone call from Shindand, and was informed that my brother, Abdul-Fattah had been found murdered in his office in Shindand Town.

So on this one year anniversary of his death, we remember, Haidari, one of the millions of Afghans who made the ultimate sacrifice, with courage and dignity to make Afghanistan a better, a stonger and a progressive nation. May he Rest in Peace.



I looked at myself, I did not see me anymore,
For in that moon, my body turned as fine as soul,

The nine spheres disappeared in that moon,
The Ship of my existence drowned in that sea. Rumi





Friday, August 29, 2014

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".





Wednesday, August 27, 2014

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.