Street Children

Dear Fiza,

Your FB share of Lewis Hamilton taking a picture with street children in the Philippines (UNICEF) gave me a major flashback to the street children I saw in Pakistan, Karachi and Quetta when I visited back in October 2006. All this time I had buried those images of small children scavenging through dumps and street litter for food, clothes or god knows what but now I feel like I need to write to you about that heart wrenching experience which I never shared.

Over time I have been curious about what leads innocent children to the streets in “3^rd world” countries. If I run into a documentary or an article I have to stop and read and educate myself. Deep down, I feel good that I am learning about the suffering of these young souls but then I am now feeling like something more actionable has to be done on my part. It is a sad fact that violence and poverty is driving these children to homelessness – they run away due to harsh family lives or abuse from extended families. It is estimated that in Karachi alone, approximately 10,000 children between the ages of 7-17 are living on the streets. Unfortunately, they eventually fall prey to coercion by street gangs who end up abusing them physically and sexually. In addition, the police add to the abuse because there are no consequences for their actions and biased beliefs. Hence, these lost souls live in the most extreme state any human being can live – no love, care, true companionship but mere fear. It is no surprise that their harsh realities turn them to substance abuse. Sniffing, smoking and injecting drugs such as glue, hashish, heroin etc. which are cheap to find in the streets and substance abuses seem to be their only escape; it helps them starve off hunger, loneliness and fear. Such a heartbreaking reality!

In 2006, when Noor and I arrived in Karachi – I was so thrilled to visit my old home town of Gulshan Iqbal-Johar Square and possibly see the old parks and shops that I use to visit with my mom, family and friends. My memories of Karachi were so fond – I always felt like a princess living there because everything I wanted was readily available to me; fun outings and picnics with the family, great friends whom I played with outside all day long without any supervision and the unforgettable months of Ramadan when neighbors would wake each other up for Sehri, Eid shoppings late into the nights. Life was very safe, secure and enjoyable as a child. I was only nine years old when we left Karachi to come to America in 1990 but those memories stayed with me and I always missed Pakistan. Now to think about it, I don’t remember street children from my childhood. I don’t know if I was oblivious to them or maybe so few existed and weren’t in the area that I grew up in. Johar Square was fairly new so maybe the later was true. Well, going back in 2006 my expectations, out of ignorance, were high. I thought I would find that town exactly the way I had left it. Clean, happy, green with little girls and boys running off to school in their neatly pressed uniforms and shops opening up to sell goods to the locals and those same Suzuki’s exclusively escorting travelers from the main roads to our town because cars were not allowed on the road to our “Johar Square” complex.

When we arrived at Karachi airport in October 2006, my aunt, her son and husband picked us up – it was night time so I didn’t see much as we were passing through some towns to go to Surab-ghot where they lived. I did notice lots of people on the street but thought it was normal because it was the last days of Ramadan and people usually would be out in crowds shopping for Eid. A few days past and I started learning more and more about the conditions in Pakistan and the amount of fear that existed. My aunt and uncle were very weary of their children going out to the streets to play, they were reluctant to Noor and I going out without an escort and they made sure to have a Taxi ready right in front of the house if we did decide to go out. I questioned the fear and they explained in very little words that it was due to the “street children.” I didn’t understand but basically the explanation was that there were many groups of gangs out there on the street near their house and they were always ready to steal or mug if they detect that someone had “goods” on them. Out of respect, I stayed cautious and listened to their guidance around the city. It was October but boy was Karchi HOT and super humid. Luckily I didn’t have to wear the burqa or full covering but was able to get a way with a long scarf with my cotton Salwar Kameez. This gave me the ability to view and take in how the area I grew up in had changed so much. On the second day of my arrival, I asked my aunt to take us out – I wasn’t really looking forward to the shopping but really taking in what I had left behind so long ago. As we ventured out to the main roads I noticed so much rush, so much pollution with trash burning on side roads and so much poverty. Immediately my attention went to the litter filled sidewalks/streets with dozens of children, boys and girls, ages ranging from 4-12 maybe older but because they were so malnourished I couldn’t tell. I saw young children smoking, some lying around/sleeping, many with ripped clothes grazing through the litter. It was the most painful scene and experience I had encountered. I asked many questions but was never given true answers, I realized that maybe it was due to ignorance on my families part or they had learned to accept it as a norm just like we here in the US have accepted gangs/drug dealers in inner cities as the norm so I stopped the questions and just observed. I was quite affected by these street children’s realities; I couldn’t sleep well or eat well because my mind would drift outside the gated house into the streets and think of what those young kids may be up to at that hour.

It was then that I contacted you to come take me to Defense so I can see a friend who could understand the emotions I was going through. I had never visited Defense before but when I entered the city I thought I had stepped back into my memories of Karachi and Johar Square from my young days. I was so happy inside because for once I was enjoying my trip without being reminded of the poverty that did exist in Karachi. Defense truly was beautiful, like a little cocoon and so perfect. I loved visiting you and meeting your beautiful mom and dad…meeting the generous and happy cook and driver. I mostly loved going upstairs to your room – it brought me back to the Mills days when we would visit each other’s dorm rooms and sit on the bed chit chatting or just sitting around trying to figure out what to do. I have such fond memories of my visit with you in Defense. The shopping mall, drive around Defense in the air conditioned car and me worrying the whole time about your driver waiting for us to shop (I thought, how cruel he must think we are to make him wait!) and of course the lovely dinner outdoors that your parents treated us to at the local club (can’t remember the name). It was fun to see all the snobby (no offense) aunties with their daughters by their sides like they were showcasing their prized possessions. It sure was an experience, truly loved every bit even the new money aunties – too bad I can’t recall the little jokes we made here and there but it was quite some fun. So thanks to the one day adventure with you, I felt more balanced and relaxed. I finally thought I could enjoy the rest of my trip. Maybe it was then that I shut out those images of street children deep within – a state that most will fall into when they feel helpless, hopeless and powerless.

The next few days passed and Noor and I headed out to Quetta, Pakistan to visit his siblings. I was happy to find that the weather was not as hot and humid – a great relief but it sure was more conservative then Karachi; I couldn’t get away with just a headscarf anymore but I didn’t mind because I truly wanted to experience the full living style of the area and it wasn’t as hot as Karachi. There was a huge Pasthun population there and of course the streets were busy and bustling with vendors, young and old shoppers and just people carrying on daily lives. It was nice to visit because I was also looking forward to meeting other cousins of mine and of course meeting the rest of my In-Laws. Everyone was so happy and hospitable; I felt very comfortable and felt genuine love from the young and old. Noor’s brother lived on the outskirts of town so every time we wanted to go to town, we would get a rickshaw or taxi to venture out to town. Poverty existed but it wasn’t as much as Karachi or maybe I didn’t witness it as much because we were staying outside of town, I felt quite comfortable – for selfish reasons. I couldn’t bear to see anymore suffering; I was enjoying the nice weather, cheery faces and young kids that were playing in the streets. We celebrated Eid in Quetta. Eid in Pakistan is amazing! So different from how we celebrate here in the states. Kids from all over the neighborhood came to visit my brother in law’s house. We had them come in and some came and sat in the family room for a cup of tea. We laughed and joked and shared stories about our new Eid outfits, henna paintings and preparations for this big day. I can not describe the giggles and smiles on their faces as I stood there chit chatting with them and complimenting them. It was truly a joy meeting all the kids from the neighborhood the funniest part was when they started comparing my looks to some Hindi movie star – I thought it was the most hilarious and cutest thing...good times.  

My month long trip was soon coming to an end and I had learned and seen so much. In Quetta I hadn’t experienced any major sufferings. One day I was going out to town and my eyes turned to some street litter. The images of those children in Karachi started re-appearing. To my surprise I saw young kids about 4 of them scavenging in the waste. Towards the last few days of my trip I again noticed a few children out on the street late at night. My cousin took Noor and I out to an ice cream parlor. When we were heading back home right there in the middle of the street laid a baby – maybe at the age of 3 or 4. I didn’t realize it was a child and when I did I wanted to run over and grab him/her my cousin re-assured me that they were not alone that the parents were nearby but usually put out their kids on the street like this to beg. To this day I think about that baby and why I didn’t stop. I should have stopped, I should have showed some love and care, I shouldn’t have been so fearful of the night or the possibility of what could have happened if I had stopped. That regret and guilt will forever be with me, those innocent children’s realities will forever haunt me and their images will forever strike me.

In 2008 when Slumdog Millionaire was released, I went to the theaters with Noor to see the movie. The first half of the movie just triggered my memories of Pakistan’s street children. The brutal lifestyle, inhuman treatments etc. were all replaying in mind. I sat there in the dark sobbing – not of what I was seeing on screen but of what I was reminded of. It sure was deep pains. I hope and pray for the young and innocent that fall prey to poverty and helplessness. I find great comfort when I hear of great organizations like UNICEF who are out there bringing light to these issues around the globe and helping fight unjust realities of our times.

In June of 2004 there was great study done: United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime - Solvent Abuse among Street Children in Pakistan. It outlines the drug abuse among this group of children. It also provides some viable recommendations of how local and international awareness is necessary in order to bring about an organized strategy around solvent abuse which would include prevention, rehabilitation and support to the affected street children.   

Stories that make it and those that don't

Dear Zarena, Sorry for writing back a bit late - I had been unwell the last week so it took me a while to recharge my batteries. I am so glad you went to the vigil and wrote to me about it. I could completely imagine myself being there - you described everything so touchingly. It was indeed a very sad news and I couldn't help but notice the discrepancy in the way media portrayed the news.

I really don't understand why at times media so blatantly plays a biased role. Like you mentioned, what was hurting them to show that there were double the number of people attending the vigil. Just a week before these ruthless killings, there were 3 British soldiers that died in Afghanistan and the media really picked up on the news rightly so. Like you mention it hurts whenever a mother's son is killed in a war that makes no sense. There were interviews of their parents, stories of their times outside of the military and their achievements within military. This also called for the commemoration of every other soldier that unfortunately died in this war in Afghanistan. They called it "the club no one wants to be a part of" (I.e the parents of the soldiers who gave up their lives for their country's war).

 It hurt me to watch that news but then it hurt me more when so ruthlessly were innocent civilians, majority of them mothers and children, murdered at the hands of the soldier or perhaps soldiers. We heard enough about the soldier who killed the Afghans, he was portrayed as a Victim of the war! He had already psychologically suffered in Iraq we heard and had seen his friend killed some time ago in Afghanistan. We are meant to sympathise with him and the only question that was raised in media was why the US military allowed him in Afghanistan. This too was portrayed as an "accusation" - I heard this term "accuses US government" so much in the news. Automatically we were made to believe that this is merely an accusation and not necessarily the truest portrayal.

 But somewhere along the story we heard nothing about the real victims. Who were these mothers, who were these innocent children? What were they doing? Who were their families thinking? What were their dreams? It was sad to hear recently of a school bus from Switzerland that ran into an accident and scores of little precious lives were lost. We saw hour by hour story of the one British child whose life was lost in this fatal accident. I cried. But do the kids, the precious innocent lives in Afghanistan not deserve my tears. Why? Because its their fault they are worthy of being attacked? It doesn't make sense.

 We are meant to sympathise with the enraged soldier who murdered these innocent lives because perhaps he saw his friend die at the hands of the war and it messed his mind up. What about the fathers and brothers of these women and children. Will I be told that their minds were messed up because of this incident when they pick arms up against US soldier or will they merely be portrayed as Taliban and Al-Qaeda terrorists. The soldier who took up arms legally, can be sympathised with but the common man who took up arms cannot be studied.

 I am lost for words. And then we wonder why hatred has increased in this world! We wonder and wonder why we have come to a stage where the Norwegian killings of teenagers happened, why innocent lives of Jews were met with hatred. Why there are radical parties coming up in Europe and America hating Romas and Mexicans and banning, ranging from banning halal meat in French schools to minarets in Switzerland. If media had a soul it would understand what it was doing to aggravate this venom. If all of us played our part in shutting out hatred in an unbiased fashion, cutting it from its roots, we wouldn't be crying over the innocent lives lost in Afghanistan today.

Vigil and Awareness Rally - Reflections

Dear Fiza Jaan,

This past weekend (3/17/2012) Noor and I attended a Vigil/Awareness rally for the murder of innocent Afghan civilians. It took place in Fremont, Ca at the Bill Ball Plaza. We chanted, prayed, mourned and remembered the innocent lives that were brutally killed at the hands of an Army Staff Sergeant, Robert Bales, 38. Of course the media is covering that it was the work of only Bales but as details of what took place is revealed, it is quite impossible that one man was able to commit such a heinous crime.

When we arrived at the rally, it was right before 2pm which was the noted start time. Everyone that was present seemed so in tune, the organizers had done an impeccable job of setting up and creating a peaceful environment, there was a sense of warmth even though we had an overcast weather, with chilly winds and sprinkle of raindrops here and there.  

There was a turn out of close to 300 people (Media unfortunately estimated 100-150 which was wasn't surprising). Anyway, about 30+ of us took signs that had peaceful, moving and invoking messages and stood by the street sharing our purpose. It was quite moving to see all young, old, men, women, Afghans and non-Afghans come together in solidarity spreading the message of peace and justice. The message that stuck most with me was “books not bombs” that was held by a child. It was hard to look at him directly because I was constantly reminded of the children whose lives were taken during that night raid, reminded of the young children who pick up grenades thinking they are toys and get their limbs blown up and reminded of those children who have forgotten to hope and dream because their daily lives are disturbed by foreign terrorists. 

The second half of the rally consisted of a prayer for the dead (Salat Al-Janaza). This was my first Janaza prayer and it was quite touching; may peace and justice come to the dead souls. Then we heard from community leaders, activists, and our elders who shared stories of atrocities committed against the Afghan people in the past and prayed that our people get through this one. The cold wind was picking up but we stood there united, calm, remembering what those families and children may have experienced during the night raid when these soldiers barged into their bedrooms and snatched them out of their warm beds and killed each child in front of their mothers/family members. I can not bring myself to write down for you the details that were shared at the rally of what took place that night. All I have to say and do is pray for those mothers and fathers who have lost everything in just one night; their lives will not be the same.

There was also presence of the Iraq war veterans who shared a moving message. I connected with one of the veterans and she said, “We are promised the world when we join but end up with nothing in the end.” How can a country that calls itself democratic and “forward thinking” allow such immoral practices? We have done away with the draft process but indirectly we still follow it by making the journey so enticing to our youths and promising the world to them. Thinking back to high school days, I remember being very confused about my after high school journey and how I was going to survive in the big world out there-it was quite scary to think of life after school and the realization that my incubator was going to be no more. I only wished for someone to “guide” me and “hold my hand” after I walk that stage with a diploma in my hand – being the first in my family to go to College, I had no sense of what to expect. Now as I put myself back in those moments of thoughts and fears of the unknown, I can only imagine what a youth in that state would do if someone from the Army approaches them and promises them just that – safety, hope, dream, direction etc – why wouldn't a confused, lost, scared youth join in hopes of “finding their purpose in life.”

It was disheartening to hear the Vetran talk at the rally and share how good people who join the army turn into monstrous soldiers. He shared that these soldier’s daily language and thoughts turn to pure hate because that is the only survival mechanism for them and their harsh reality. In order to meet the demands of their daily duties they are forced to flood their minds and hearts with pure hate, anger and fear. No wonder these soldiers who return have severe forms of depression; they either end up committing suicide or murdering their family members. With war, every life that is involved gets shattered all the while the leaders sit comfortably in their cozy homes strategizing and profiting at the expense of innocent lives.    

Afghanistan has seen so much devastation for the past 30 years; once at the hands of the Russians our motherland was destroyed, families displaced and hopes shattered and now because of America. I love this country and it is too bad that the image we draw of our people, values and ethics is compromised in other parts of the world. It is wrong that our government draws a nasty picture of Americans across the globe. We all should stand up together and chant “Not in our Name.” We are peaceful and loving people and that is the face that the world should see not the terrorizing images of night raids and drone attacks experienced by the innocent. The question that we Americans need to ask ourselves before we follow blindly is, “if war was so right and these policies and values that our leaders preach are worth fighting for than why is it that their own children are not out there on the front lines? Why are they not out there in the line of fire, why does it have to be my brother and sister fighting while these cowards sit comfortably in their extravagant offices making “good” policies for our future and envisioning "democracy" for their futures.” STAND UP I say to those who are following blindly and fighting senseless wars – your lives are not worth it, promises are only made to lure you in and then you are on your own! stop letting these callers of war shove fear into your minds and hearts. As one of the speakers, Abobaker I. Mojadidi, said so eloquently, "stop shoving (your concept of) democracy down the Afghan people's throat" through terror, fear and war. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH is my message to the world.  

Response to: of everyday battles and women

Dear Zarena, Sorry for writing back a bit late - I had been unwell the last week so it took me a while to recharge my batteries. I am so glad you went to the vigil and wrote to me about it. I could completely I imagine myself being there - you described everything so touchingly. It was indeed a very sad news and I couldn't help but notice the discrepancy in the way media portrayed the news. I really don't understand why at times media so blatantly plays a biased role. Like you mentioned, what was hurting them to show that there were double the number of people attending the vigil. Just a week before these ruthless killings, there were 3 British soldiers that died in Afghanistan and the media really picked up on the news rightly so. Like you mention it hurts whenever a mother's son is killed in a war that makes no sense. There were interviews of their parents, stories of their times outside of the military and their achievements within military. This also called for the commemoration of every other soldier that unfortunately died in this war in Afghanistan. They called it "the club no one wants to be a part of" (I.e the parents of the soldiers who gave up their lives for their country's war). It hurt me to watch that news but then it hurt me more when so ruthlessly were innocent civilians, majority of them mothers and children, murdered at the hands of the soldier or perhaps soldiers. We heard enough about the soldier who killed the Afghans, he was portrayed as a Victim of the war! He had already psychologically suffered in Iraq we heard and had seen his friend killed some time ago in Afghanistan. We are meant to sympathise with him and the only question that was raised in media was why the US military allowed him in Afghanistan. This too was portrayed as an "accusation" - I heard this term "accuses US government" so much in the news. Automatically we were made to believe that this is merely an accusation and not necessarily the truest portrayal. But somewhere along the story we heard nothing about the real victims. Who were these mothers, who were these innocent children? What were they doing? Who were their families thinking? What were their dreams? It was sad to hear recently of a school bus from Switzerland that ran into an accident and scores of little precious lives were lost. We saw hour by hour story of the one British child whose life was lost in this fatal accident. I cried. But do the kids, the precious innocent lives in Afghanistan not deserve my tears. Why? Because its their fault they are worthy of being attacked? It doesn't make sense. We are meant to sympathise with the enraged soldier who murdered these innocent lives because perhaps he saw his friend die at the hands of the war and it messed his mind up. What about the fathers and brothers of these women and children. Will I be told that their minds were messed up because of this incident when they pick arms up against US soldier or will they merely be portrayed as Taliban and Al-Qaeda terrorists. The soldier who took up arms legally, can be sympathised with but the common man who took up arms cannot be studied. I am lost for words. And then we wonder why hatred has increased in this world! We wonder and wonder why we have come to a stage where the Norwegian killings of teenagers happened, why innocent lives of Jews were met with hatred. Why there are radical parties coming up in Europe and America hating Romas and Mexicans and banning, ranging from banning halal meat in French schools to minarets in Switzerland. If media had a soul it would understand what it was doing to aggravate this venom. If all of us played our part in shutting out hatred in an unbiased fashion, cutting it from its roots, we wouldn't be crying over the innocent lives lost in Afghanistan today.

Of everyday battles and women

Dear Zarena,

Sorry for writing back a bit late - I had been unwell the last week so it took me a while to recharge my batteries. I am so glad you went to the vigil and wrote to me about it. I could completely I imagine myself being there - you described everything so touchingly. It was indeed a very sad news and I couldn't help but notice the discrepancy in the way media portrayed the news.


I really don't understand why at times media so blatantly plays a biased role. Like you mentioned, what was hurting them to show that there were double the number of people attending the vigil. Just a week before these ruthless killings, there were 3 British soldiers that died in Afghanistan and the media really picked up on the news rightly so. Like you mention it hurts whenever a mother's son is killed in a war that makes no sense. There were interviews of their parents, stories of their times outside of the military and their achievements within military. This also called for the commemoration of every other soldier that unfortunately died in this war in Afghanistan. They called it "the club no one wants to be a part of" (I.e the parents of the soldiers who gave up their lives for their country's war).

It hurt me to watch that news but then it hurt me more when so ruthlessly were innocent civilians, majority of them mothers and children, murdered at the hands of the soldier or perhaps soldiers. We heard enough about the soldier who killed the Afghans, he was portrayed as a Victim of the war! He had already psychologically suffered in Iraq we heard and had seen his friend killed some time ago in Afghanistan. We are meant to sympathise with him and the only question that was raised in media was why the US military allowed him in Afghanistan. This too was portrayed as an "accusation" - I heard this term "accuses US government" so much in the news. Automatically we were made to believe that this is merely an accusation and not necessarily the truest portrayal.


But somewhere along the story we heard nothing about the real victims. Who were these mothers, who were these innocent children? What were they doing? Who were their families thinking? What were their dreams? It was sad to hear recently of a school bus from Switzerland that ran into an accident and scores of little precious lives were lost. We saw hour by hour story of the one British child whose life was lost in this fatal accident. I cried. But do the kids, the precious innocent lives in Afghanistan not deserve my tears. Why? Because its their fault they are worthy of being attacked? It doesn't make sense.


We are meant to sympathise with the enraged soldier who murdered these innocent lives because perhaps he saw his friend die at the hands of the war and it messed his mind up. What about the fathers and brothers of these women and children. Will I be told that their minds were messed up because of this incident when they pick arms up against US soldier or will they merely be portrayed as Taliban and Al-Qaeda terrorists. The soldier who took up arms legally, can be sympathised with but the common man who took up arms cannot be studied.


I am lost for words. And then we wonder why hatred has increased in this world! We wonder and wonder why we have come to a stage where the Norwegian killings of teenagers happened, why innocent lives of Jews were met with hatred. Why there are radical parties coming up in Europe and America hating Romas and Mexicans and banning, ranging from banning halal meat in French schools to minarets in Switzerland. If media had a soul it would understand what it was doing to aggravate this venom. If all of us played our part in shutting out hatred in an unbiased fashion, cutting it from its roots, we wouldn't be crying over the innocent lives lost in Afghanistan today.

Why the urge to burn a Holy Book?

Salaam Fiza...

Lately I have been disgusted with the ignorant act of burning the Qur'an in Afghanistan. Recently, I started seeing posts pop up on Facebook stating that the incident was a political stunt and may have been Afghans themselves who set the book on fire etc etc - totally dismissing the fact of how un-Islamic and inhuman it is to not even defend and safeguard a holy scripture no matter who may have done it. Therefore, in my baffled state...i wrote a small piece that I wanted to share with you.

It has been a few years now that we hear talks of the Muslim holy book, Qur’an, being put on “trial” and then burned. Lately, an unsettling feeling has overcome me after hearing about the Qur’an burned in Afghanistan on February 20^th by U.S. soldiers. My belief in extreme human ignorance has been confirmed by the level of insensitivity that is on the rise in our society and around the globe. I am baffled by how easy it is for a human being to disrespect a holy scripture that is believed by billions around the world to be the divine words of God and a book that teaches only generosity, kindness, modesty and submission to One God. Have the non-Muslim ever picked up a copy and read a verse for themselves, or better yet, have they heard the book be recited which has left billions of people around the world humbled and moved to tears. Could the reason of attempting to destroy or burn the Qur’an just be that--Ego, Ignorance, hate or is it something deeper? 

In 2010 Reverend Terry Jones, pastor in Florida, announced that he was on a mission to burn the Qur’an on September 11, 2010. There were many pleas from government officials which enticed him to back down from the radical “stunt.” We thought that story ended but were unfortunately wrong. Mr. Jones came back in January 2011 and “put the Koran on trial” and continued with his rant of showing the world what a “dangerous book” this was and on March 20, 2011 in Gainsville, Florida Mr. Jones did the unthinkable and burned the holy book in front of 50 people inside his church. What was gained from this cruel act, some say it was fame or fortune but I think it was mere unrest in the world. Our job has become harder in light of these events in continuing to preach the core principles of co-existence, peace and tolerance. Teaching hate in the name of religion is unacceptable and every peace loving human being must stand up against people like Mr. Jones and his followers who think it is quite okay for youngsters to wear T-Shirts to public schools that read “Islam is of the Devil.” 

All this has been on my mind along with the talks of soldiers flushing the Qur’an in toilets in Guantanamo Bay etc. when most recently on February 20^th 2012 in Bagram Air Field-Afghanistan several soldiers out of “ignorance” decided to dispose of the Qur’an in a burning garbage pit even after being warned by fellow afghan soldier. This ill-mannered act has sparked violent protests in Afghanistan and unrest around the globe. With these tragic events unfolding in my life time, I question how much is known about this book and what it means. Do these lunatics not realize that the stories of all the prophets including Jesus (Peace Be Upon Him), Abraham (PBUH), Moses (PBUH) and our beloved Mary are all revealed in this book by the supreme being. This makes me wonder about the motives – is it true ignorance or is it coupled with the fear of knowing more than our comfort zones, digging deeper and learning about a religion that billions have accepted as a way of life; a religion that has given many a purpose for life, tranquility and happiness.  

The Qur’an is a final revelation as believed by Muslims and is the literal words of God, revealed over many years (approximately 23 years) by Angel Gabriel himself to the final prophet, Muhammad (May the mercy and blessing be upon him). The Qur’an is full of wisdom and full of Gods unparallel mercy and justice on his humankind. This book is core to Islam, one can not call themselves Muslim if they don’t believe in it. Qur’an is considered very unique in its content and style to the point that it can not be translated; therefore, any translation is considered an interpretation of the meaning of Qur’an. As Jesus (pbuh) was given the miracle of giving the blind site and Moses (pbuh) given the miracle of parting the red sea as such Muhammad’s (pbuh) miracle was the Qur’an. It is a miracle that has sublime tone and beauty. It is possible to see Muslims moved to tears when they hear or read the Qur’an. It has been over 1400 years that the Qur’an has not been tampered with, remarkably, Muslims read the exact words that were revealed by God himself; a Muslim on one end of the world will read the exact words in the holy book that another Muslim will read on the other end. For these reasons, the Qur’an is a highly respected and revered book which is why there are outcries in the world when Muslims hear talks of the Qur’an being burned or unfortunately see the scripture thrown into fire pits. This book is not a symbol like a man made flag but rather a divine revelation – words of God himself. 

   

September 11, 2001 was very tragic, many innocent lives were lost including Muslims and many more innocent lives were impacted by its after effects; either through wars, direct discrimination, racism or profiling. When I first heard of September 11^th, it was around 8:00AM and I was walking to my Accounting class at Mills College with a friend. It was a beautiful crisp morning and Mills is full of some amazing and very tall eucalyptus trees which give off this sweet dewy and nutty smell early in the morning. My friend started to tell me about what had happened in New York and seemed so worried; I am very visual so I had to see on screen for myself but nonetheless that walk to class was interesting. Since I hadn’t yet witnessed the plains crashing into the twin towers I couldn’t grasp what had happened on the east coast. However, during that walk to class, as Economic students, we started analyzing the incident in economic terms and its ramifications on the country and the world’s economic stability. I recall my friend exclaim “imagine what will happen if everyone looses all their money in the bank” we might go through a depression again! Now that sounded scary to me. Later as I saw and learned more, it was all so devastating. My heart went out to those that were impacted and at the same time fear over came me not of what will happen to the stability of the economy but the stability of peace around the world. I found myself pray that “please don’t let it be Muslims.” I found myself glued to the radio (I didn’t have a TV in my dorm room) as days went by there were talks of Afghanistan and Bush going to war and life as a Muslim as I knew was no more. Being the only Afghan on campus at the time, I started to become fearful for my safety. I became fearful for my parents who lived in a predominately right winged, Caucasian neighborhood at the time. I became fearful for my family members who still resided in Afghanistan.

My fears were slowly surfacing, one day I remember my little brother, who was in 4^th grade at the time, run home with a pant and shouting in the living room, “Guess what our neighbor’s bumper sticker says?” I thought it would be something fun and unique, forgetting the political state we were living in currently, and asked what! To my dismay, he said that the bumper sticker read “Kill ‘em all and let Allah sort ‘em out” I was shaken and decided to go outside to read for myself. The impact of those words was so strong. I stood there reading and re-reading that sticker with a wave of electric vibes running through my veins. Since then those letters imprinted to my memory. At that moment I developed a sense of panic, not only for my family who had to deal with these neighbors but the realization that life as we knew it was not going to be the same for Muslims in this society or the world. That fearful state has never really left me and those words from the bumper sticker continue to echo each time I hear of hate crimes towards Muslims or those perceived to be Muslims, hateful words towards Islam and violent acts towards the peaceful religion.  

I have asked myself over and over again how I can overcome my deep fears and have realized that if I can only reach out to each Muslim and Non-Muslim and explain to them to judge Islam by learning about it through the Qur’an and not judge it by the acts of a few shallow minds or a human being who may claim to be “practicing” Islam. Burning a holy book will not accomplish much but understanding it will help one become a more tolerant human being which may be preached by the very religion they follow. There are many people out in the world who will do unacceptable acts in the name of religion, be it Muslim, Christian, Jew, Hindu, Sikh and etc. but best are those who step out of their comfort zones and challenge themselves to learn about their neighbor through text, history, poetry and build respect. 

“Say, ‘If all mankind and the jinn would come together to produce the like of this Quran, they could not produce its like even though they exerted all and their strength in aiding one another.” (Quran 17:88)

“Or do they say that he has invented it? Say (to them), ‘Bring ten invented chapters like it, and call (for help) on whomever you can besides God, if you are truthful.” (Quran 11:13)

“And if you all are in doubt about what I have revealed to My servant, bring a single chapter like it, and call your witnesses besides God if you are truthful.” (Quran 2:23)

So glad you wrote

Hey lovely Zarena,

Love love your thoughts. To add to the list when I met ur cousin and he so innocently said ure muhajir but we are muhajir too! Completely pure of all ethnic politics he pointed at the commonality of our lives and histories and whatnot.

Do u remember in Mills College I asked you once if I could write a book on your stories and you told me a couple about ur mum and grandmom. So in simple words answer is "yes". I really think we can start as a blog where we can write letters to each other, that will be our place to express ourselves to each other which due to our distances we haven't done for years but I miss so much.

It is sad how our countries, neighbours, have become so lost in all the politics that we are slowly forgetting the deeper love our peoples have but perhaps forgotten. I also think these letters will be a great way of us preserving these parts of history for our children and children-to-be too :) It's absolutely sad they will be coming into this world which is so deeply marred with 9/11 and its repercussions and events that followed, that they will never have the historical understanding of people on the grassroots level that we probably take for granted. 

I am scared to see the days to follow. Hopefully soon we will see the allied forces leave Afghanistan but what happens between our countries then is something only time will tell.

Lots of love,
Fiza

Thinking of you - Khor Jaan

Hello Fiza Jaan,

This morning I was getting ready for work and was just thinking about YOU and how much I admire your writing style-so captivating. Recently I have had this urge and desire to capture moments/memories/stories etc. My dream would be to start writing and compiling Pashtu lullabies and stories for babies (comes from being a new mom!).

But then I was just thinking about your post about your Nani (grandma) which had me thinking about my Nani and what a ding dong I was for not writing down her amazing and moving life stories or even recording them on a cassette. I had the privilege of spending a whole summer with her in 2003 while she was ill and coping with her hip replacement surgery. Every day my Babo would tell me stories of her upbringing, hardships, connections and losses. Her stories were so captivating and moving that I would just cry inside in her presences but shed tears when I was out of her sight. 


That post of yours gave me a major flashback and made me start to think of our parents and how one day their stories may also be lost and with it a big part of our histories if they are not captured. All this started to make me think about you and me - how two neighboring countries are tied politically, economically, historically and through us emotionally. We both have families and countries that have gone through many struggles and challenges but somehow I feel like the neighbors may be oblivious at some point to that. I believe that there is a grassroots dialogue that may be missing between the two cultures, countries and neighbors...a genuine from me to you kind of conversations. 


Then I remembered our experiences together, our times, our laughs and exchanges which made me think, well, wouldn't it be nice to share with the world how two neighbors meet in an unexpected place...America! The background we each come from, the web of stories from our parents, families and ancestors that have shaped us and how that became an integral part of our being today but somehow have linked us into ONE as Neighbors.

I hope all this is making sense to you because I feel like I am rambling now and am still kind of making sense of the idea...but I guess my point is that it would be awesome if somehow we collaborate on a book that defines these two neighbors who meet overseas to understand eachother and grow love for one another - home away from home.


Peace & Love,
Zarena