March 20, 2010
My blog has moved to a new site. Please go to: www.sehbasarwar.com/blog/
March 16, 2010
Dubai airport. I'd love to say that I'll never fly through there again.
As always, the plane journey between Houston and El Paso is short. Right at the end, a few minutes before landing, the airplane skids through a thick layer of clouds, making us hold on to our seats. And then, we land.
As I wait outside the airport for Caro to pick me up, I gaze at the blue and notice how much more sky there is all of a sudden. After she picks me up, the sense of scale and 
flatness is enhanced, as we drive through the city in search of a Sephora, where we can pick up a few things that I forgot in Houston. Once at the store, located in the middle of a JC Penny, Caro and I get rapid makeovers by our new friends Joe and Lily, who promise to do their best to attend the reading that Michelle and I will do tomorrow in celebration of International Women's Day. I promise them that I'll post this photo, so here it is. Thank you Joe and Lily for reminding us that there can be laughter in the middle of artistic creation and activism.
It feels good to be on this border again, and there are many new stories to share. Caro reminds me of the violence erupting just on the other side, where today things are escalating so rapidly that many residents of Juarez are just fleeing. "We don't go to the other side very often these days," Caro tells me. "Even my mother who used to go all the time has to pick select times of the day to cross. It's sad."
I just published an essay in The Mantle's online roundtable "Pens and Swords" organized by Shaun Randal. The roundtable was a virtual conversation between Tolu Ogunlesi (Lagos, Nigeria), Vicente Garcia Groyon (Manila, Philippines), and myself. We were asked to write in response to a question: "What is the role of a writer in a conflict zone?"
I began my piece with a conversation I had with a christian extremist who stood outside Houston's Planned Parenthood headquarters at last year's 40-day protests prior to easter.
Minal's homework in honor of Martin Luther King Jr: "Write or draw 3 of your dreams"
Dream #1: a magic pot so I can get whatever I want
Dream #2: a bed decorated with flowers for Nana so Nani can smile
Dream #3: wallet for (homeless) man so he doesn't have to clean car windows at street corners.
And on the way to school she asks: "What do dreams do in the daytime?"
Another blast in Karachi. Last year, Beena and I were in the thick of the Mohurram procession, photographing and videotaping. And this year: a suicide bombing, 30 dead, 70 injured, ambulances burned.
Today is Benazir Bhutto's second death anniversary, and she is being remembered and mourned around globe.
I clearly remember 5:30 pm, December 27, 2007; Minal and I were in Karachi, and I was blogging intensely at the time.
So much has happened over the past two years, but even now, Benazir's murderers haven't been exposed. But today, Pakistan is functioning under a democratically elected government, even as the country and government faces harrowing challenges from all sides. As a new decade unfolds, I hope democracy prevails in Pakistan, and that the country does not fall under military rule.
VBB's Honoring Dissent / Descent - November 7, 2009.
I still haven't fully processed the production. I think it'll take some time. More than 300 people showed up to view and participate in the production and so many more from other cities sent warm wishes.
Now, it's on to the next VBB event: our 10-Year Celebration. Again, it'll take time to process the work we've done over this past decade.
Two recent essays: - In the Houston Chronicle: "Education is the key to peace" (Outlook, Sunday October 11, 2009) - In CITE Magazine: "Sisters in Struggle: Karachi & Houston" (August 2009)
It's a cool night in Houston, and we are driving toward home. When we stop on Westheimer at a light, Minal glances out. It's dusk, and her gaze falls on the body of a young man lying down under a tree. He is surrounded by bags. Maybe he needs a ride to the airport, Ammi, Minal says. Why do you think he needs a ride to the airport? I ask. Because he needs to take an airplane home, she says. Airplane? I ask. Yes, because he doesn't have a home here. If he takes a plane, he can fly to his house.
I've been getting ready for the big production on November 7 and the blog's been pushed to the side -- temporalily. I miss it. Sometime soon, I will be getting back. In the meantime, Mayank Soofi Austen from New Delhi interviewed me for his blog. He says the response has been great. For me, I had fun capturing this moment in my life.
Today while I serve dinner, I suddenly put my spoon down and say: I miss my Ammi. Minal, hiked up on her stool, chirps: I miss my Nana. What do you miss about your Nana. There's a pause. I miss seeing him in the morning and how he asked me for a hug every morning. Another pause. I also miss how he always used to try to make me try his naashta.
Doc 101: Intro to Life and How to Live It Dr. Mohammad Sarwar 1930-2009 1. Friendship: Find partners, friends. Create relationships. Share passion-politics not geography age religion. Once connected, stay close. 2. History: Explore beneath it, around it over it, and read between lines. Once you think you understand, ask questions. Don’t stop questioning. 3. Work: Reach out to your neighborhood, your street, your city of the past present future. And organize with the world around you. 4. Life: Live, especially when reminded of your journey as a speck in the arc of time. Eat drink (smoke) breathe. Keep speaking out. —Sehba Sarwar, 31 July 2009
| ‘Time to create a left-oriented think tank’ |
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| Monday, June 01, 2009 By Shahid Husain Karachi Eminent jurist and former governor of Sindh, Justice (Retired) Fakhruddin G. Ibrahim said on Sunday it was high time a “left-oriented” think tank was established in Pakistan. Speaking at a memorial meeting for the late Dr Mohammad Sarwar at the PMA House Sunday evening, he said people said that Pakistan was a failed state but one should remember that it was the establishment and not the people of Pakistan who had failed. “Things are changing for the better,” he said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with us. Religion has become a cause of killing,” he remarked. He said people were ready to listen today and this was evident from the fact that there were few people around when the Judges’ movement kicked off but it culminated in a huge success. He said it was time to live up to the ideals of Dr Sarwar since “it’s our time to say.” He said the people of Pakistan needed a new leadership since the old leadership had failed totally. He said Dr Sarwar fought for a just society, a society free from exploitation and it was time to create a just society. Dr Badar Siddiqi, former General Secretary of the Pakistan Medical Association (PMA) said death was more universal than life because every body dies but there are people who live on even after they’re gone through their noble deeds and universal love. Dr Sarwar, he said, was one such person who strove for the establishment of a just society. He said Dr Sarwar established the Democratic Students Federation (DSF) that happened to be the first students’ organisation in Pakistan. Thereafter, he also established the All- Pakistan Students Organisation (APSO) and the Inter-Collegiate Body that comprised students unions from across the country. Dr Siddiqi pointed out that Dr Sarwar led the historic 1953 student movement that forced the authorities to accept many demands of the students, including the establishment of the University of Karachi. He said Dr Sarwar was injured when police resorted to firing on a student’s procession on January 8, 1953 in which seven students and a child were killed, and he also was arrested. He said after he was released from jail, he along with his colleagues, including Dr Adib-ul-Hasan Rizvi, Dr Syed Haroon Ahmed, Dr Moinuddin Ahmed, and Dr Jaffer Naqvi played a vital role in the affairs of the Pakistan Medical Association and transformed it into a strong and dynamic force. He said Dr Sarwar struggled for provision of health cover to the people and was never overwhelmed even by ferocious dictators such as Gen. Ziaul Haq while negotiating on behalf of PMA. “I will not classify him as an individual; he was an institution,” he said. He said the number of people who visited Dr Sarwar’s residence was unbelievable and they included Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Syed Sibte Hasan, Habib Jalib, Zohra Nigar, Ali Imam, and Bashir Mirza, just to name a few. Former student leader Mairaj Mohammad Khan said Dr Sarwar was an institution whose roots were very deep in society. He said 1953 movement led by Dr Sarwar was not confined to the students but impacted the entire society. “It was movement to change Pakistani society,” he said. He said the DSF was banned in 1954 because it was against imperialist military pacts and was against a dependent economy. Prof. Dr Jaffer Naqvi said Dr Sarwar was a phenomenon and a staunch enemy of dictatorship. Prominent singer Tina Sani sang a poem of Faiz Ahmed Faiz. Messages of Asif Hameedi, Eric Rahim, and Dr Mangi who are abroad were also read at the ceremony. A six-minute documentary on Dr Sarwar was also shown in the programme. |
Born in Allahabad, he came to Karachi for ‘sightseeing’ in 1948 and stayed on when he got admission in Dow Medical College. He was instrumental in forming Pakistan’s first student union, the Democratic Students Federation (DSF). He served as DSF’s President and Secretary General before the Mohammad Ali Bogra government banned it in 1954. He was also the driving force behind the Inter-Collegiate Body (ICB) comprising student unions in different colleges and the All Pakistan Students Organisation (APSO), established in 1953.
Sarwar spearheaded the January 8, 1953 ‘Demands Day’ that spelled out the needs of students, including the establishment of a full-fledged university campus (now Karachi University). He tried to prevent the students from surging forward in the face of the police threat when the procession reached Saddar. Sarwar was injured in the police firing that killed seven students that day, commemorated for years as a ‘Black Day.’
APSO brought together college students from all over the country to demand students’ rights regardless of their politics or ideology. The organisation’s influence was visible in the 1954 elections in former East Pakistan when a student leader defeated seasoned politician Noor-ul-Amin.
DSF also published the fortnightly award-winning journal Students’ Herald, edited by the well-known economist S.M. Naseem, then a student activist.
Dr Sarwar received his final medical college results in 1954 while he was in prison for a year — the McCarthy era in the United States impacted Pakistan as well and progressive elements here were rounded up and incarcerated. His elder brother, journalist Mohammad Akhtar (1926-58) was arrested shortly afterwards. Fakhruddin G. Ebrahim, then an upcoming lawyer, defended many of these political prisoners, including their friend Hasan Nasir who was later tortured to death.
After graduation, Dr Sarwar worked as a general physician with various health services until setting up his own clinic in Gulbahar (New Golimar) where he practiced for over forty years. He was also one of the pioneers of the Pakistan Medical Association (PMA) where he was twice elected general secretary. PMA played a vital role in progressive politics during the 1980s. During the Zia years, the PMA was one of the important ‘civil society’ organisations that consistently stood for democratic politics. Dr Sarwar will be remembered for his inspirational leadership, generosity of spirit, warmth of character and clear-headed political vision.
He is survived by his wife, well known educationist and teacher trainer Zakia Sarwar, and three children, Beena Sarwar, Sehba Sarwar, and Salman Sarwar and three granddaughters, Maha, Myah and Minal.
A memorial meeting is scheduled at PMA House on Sunday, May 31 at 6.30 pm.
The funeral will proceed from his residence (F-25/D, Block 9, Clifton, Karachi) after Asar prayers at Masjid-e-Bab-e-Rehmat (main Gizri Road near Kausar Medicos/Submarine Chowk) on May 26.
The meltdown in northern Pakistan continues. A high number of refugees have evacuated Swat and Buner and have moved into the camps set up for them, human rights activist I.A. Rahman reports in his opinion piece in Dawn. The Pakistani government is exploring ways to offer cash as relief for the refugees.
In the meantime, the situation in Balochistan, a province that has long been ignored by most governments is explosive, as an editorial in the News underscores.
On the personal front (which is always somehow political), the formal closure of our daughter's early education program was announced today. In the morning, Jeannette Doina, who has served as the Director of the program for almost 20 years, was led out of the building with a box in hand, and reassigned "somewhere else." At 1:00 pm, the school staff had a formal meeting with the Dean of UH's College of Education, as well as with UH Human Resources, and were informed that the school was closing as of July 31. As parents, we were given 2 months notice to find another space for our children. Over the last month, the Parent Advisory Board has repeatedly requested meetings with the Dean and has pressed for more information -- to no avail. Frustrated by the silence, we went ahead and posted a petition online. And then, late afternoon today, parents received an email from the Dean, along with the announcement of a 7:15 pm meeting tomorrow night. The Lab School has a history of forty years of serving toddlers. It is outrageous that one body of "education" administration can charge through a program and shut it down without once talking with families most served by the program. Now, like all the 4o families in the program, we are scrambling to find a space for Minal in the fall. And at the same time, we are still continuing to speak out against the lies we've been told for months, against the way the director and teachers were treated, and against the way our kids have been disregarded.
The news from Pakistan continues to flood in, underscoring Pakistan's nuclear bomb and the 'taliban's' proximity to Islamabad. I find myself asking where were these questions in
2007, when the Lal Masjid siege took place in the center of Islamabad? Musharraf was in power then, well-supported by Dubya.
Of course, it's important to report the growing power of extremists in northern Pakistan. The situation is increasingly scary, but as always, it's better to go to news sources that are closer to the areas of conflict. Yesterday, I was surprised to hear Free Speech Radio Network's headline news using the sensationalist language of "Muslim state" and "nuclear arsenal." And then, over the last few days, I've seen CNN report news on Pakistan with repeat rolls of film, and the images (surprise) include: beards, burqas and namaaz. If people want to see television news from Pakistan, they can go to Dawn (in English), Geo, or Aaj, or the many other channels that are broadcasting directly from Pakistan. And of course, there are many English print publications: The News, Newsline, Dawn and others.
In the meantime, in the States, newsprint reporting sources are struggling to survive. The other day a friend from the Houston Chronicle dropped by the VBB office and shared relief that she still had a job. But we also grieved the hundreds of Chronicle lay-offs that have taken place over the last year, including senior writers and editors such as Barbara Karkabi and Fritz Lanham. My friend shared her perspective that Hearst Corporation is using the national economic fear to cut down its costs and centralize its offices. "The Chronicle wasn't running at a loss--not until January," she told me. "But the layoffs were announced even before the losses were known." Sad to think that a city of 5 million people has just one limping paper.
This year, once again, there's been a national movement around the US to organize a 40-Day protest (the six weeks prior to the Christian Easter holiday) against institutions that provide abortion services. As always, Planned Parenthood, an organization that offers so many important health services to women, and has the courage to stand up against vigilantes around the country, is at the forefront of all actions planned. On Good Friday, a group of men and women camp outside Planned Parenthood's barricaded building on Fannin. A woman who stands holding a sign along with her ten-year old son tells me: "I have to talk to the women who go in there." She points to the barricaded building. "I don't want them to make the mistake I almost did. I do this because I love life." When I ask her if she's considered how her words might affect those who have given significant thought to the choice they're about to make (as all women do), she says: "Yes, but it is the child that matters." I guess, in her eyes, and in the eyes of others like her, the lives of women who have to make certain choices don't matter. The group that ran Houston's 40 days against abortion has already started organizing against Planned Parenthood's new building that is under construction.
A frightening video (shot by s
omeone using a mobile phone, who spoke to Dawn news) appeared on YouTube, depicting the flogging of a young teenage woman in Swat. The entire incident is reminiscent of the Zia era, but many times worse: extremist forces are more insidious and their reach is wider. Swat is already a lost region, but the effects are being felt nationwide. Today, talking to Ammi on the phone, I learn that some girls in Defence, Karachi were pelted with eggs and told to cover up.
Imran Aslam talking at the Station Museum, at a VBB event, Cultural Narratives. Documentation by Faroukh Virani.
It's been an intense month with so much happening on many different fronts. In Pakistan, the lawyers' movement escalated with the Long March, and on 16 March, Asif Zardari restored the Chief Justice Iftikhar Muhammad Chaudhary after nearly 18 months of lawyers' protest and his insistence to not give in to government pressure. Chudhary's reinstatement is an important step in the movement toward democracy and an independent judiciary.
The tow-truck driver strives to help me restart the car. "I don't want to tow it if I don't have to," he tells me. He urges me to push at the clutch while he pokes at the starter. "These Hondas. They're great cars. But it's always the battery or the starter." Despite the prodding, the car doesn't move, so he loads it up on his truck. Along the drive to my mechanic's shop on Stella Link Road, I chat with Ahmed, who offers more advice. "It's nothing but your starter," he says. "I would fix it for you if I had time. But I'm busy. I have to study for my mid-terms and I do this job full-time." Over the 30 minute drive, I learn Ahmed's life story: His family is from Egypt, and he and his siblings were born and raised in the US. "We go back to Egypt each year," he tells me. "As soon as I finish my education, I'm going to live there with my wife and kids." By the end of the drive, we've concurred that life in the US is difficult.
Quirky. But cool. That is the only way to describe Callaloo's conference Callaloo Salutes Texas Writers that took place earlier this week. On Monday, I drive up to College Station with Hosam Aboul-Ela who's also on the Tuesday afternoon panel with me, led by Rich Levy. It's my first time heading out that way even though I've been in Texas for 15+ years.
Dinner is at a winery. Sandra Cisneros, who's not in the anthology, drops by for a meal, and Ed Hirsch opens his keynote address by telling us that Texas has more than 500 birds that migrate through the state. Charles R. is amazingly warm. Just from my first encounter with him at the dinner, I can understand why people arrive from all corners of the country to be at College Station for the gathering. And the more I talk to Charles R.--that day and the next--the better I understand why Callaloo is what it is today. Hopefully, VBB and I will have a chance to work with him in the near future.
Through the 36 hours I spend in College Station, I meet many poets and writers that I know VBB will work with soon: Norma Cantú, Sahsa Pimentel Chacón, Daniel Chacón (who I interviewed many years ago for Arte Público Press on KPFT), and Rolando Hinojasa. The conversations shift from issues of identity, home, and where writers of color place ourselves in Texas and much beyond. It will resonate with me for sometime...
In the background, there is of course, A&M, and perhaps the reasons why I haven't ventured that way before.
Today's bombing of the Sri Lankan cricket players has left people both inside and outside Pakistan reeling. In her IPS story, Beena Sarwar says, "...(the) armed attack on the Sri Lankan cricket team in the historic city of Lahore in Pakistan has sent shockwaves through a country already racked by regular suicide and other attacks." In the Guardian, Kamila Shamsie says: "With the attack on the Sri Lankan cricketers in Lahore, that alternative narrative lies so wounded it's hard to imagine how it will ever recover. How can we ask anyone to visit us, if even cricketers aren't safe?" And from Swat, the silence continues, as Zubeida Mustafa writes in her piece, "For the Women of Swat." It's hard to know where Pakistan is heading. In the meantime, in Houston today, Karachi was celebrated as Houston's sister city.
minal: ammi, remember when i used to call you momma? me: i'm not a momma kind of woman. minal: yes, you're not a mom kind of woman either.
The Pakistani government has reached a 'truce' with the Taliban forces in Swat. Read more in Dawn, The News editorial and the Independent. The situation continues to be dire and there's no clear word on what this 'truce' means, or how the government plans to run parts of the country on different legal structures. And in the meantime, Obama is sending 17,000 more troops to Afghanistan...
On January 24, women in Mangalore were attacked by Hindu extremists for drinking at a pub. The protest in response to the violence has been powerful. To read more go to BBC South Asia or visit Youtube.
A group of Indian activists based in New Delhi have begun a campaign to present pink chaddis on Valentines Day to the Sri Ram Sena, the group that led the attacks. Their Facebook invitation list has exploded from 5,000 as reported last week to almost 30,000 individuals as of today. Check out their blog, Consortium of Pubgoing Loose and Forward Women.
The news from Swat continues to be dire. Beena's opinion piece was published today in Dawn and BBC News is publishing a diary by a schoolgirl in Swat. In another Dawn opinion piece, two weeks ago, Zubeida Mustafa writes what many are saying in conversations all around Pakistan: We are willing to stand on the street for Gaza, but why are the protests so muted when it comes to Swat? Ultimately, it's important to speak out against atrocities being committed in both places.
It's eerie to read Mohammad Hanif's novel The Case of the Exploding Mangoes in 2009, nearly two decades after that giddy August evening in Karachi, back in 1988, when we all raced to the streets and danced in celebration of the death of a dictator. It's a wonderful novel. And today, Pakistan is back on the frontline of another chapter of the same war, as the north collapses. And the international community once again watches silently as girls' schools are burned and closed, teachers killed and men forced to wear beards.
Much of the footage that I have been collecting for VBB's Pakistan Live Broadcast production (with the help of my sister Beena) has been at moments when people come over to eat at our house and we grab a camera and capture conversations. Much of the talk moves between what's happening in Gaza to more pressing local issues such as India, and of course, the continuing collapse of the north, especially in Swat. This week, I spent some time at the Lyceum School and interviewed the Principal, Scherezade Asdar, as well as some students who participate in the school's travel club. One student talked about how the school's rowing club's trips to India have been canceled because of all the ongoing tension between Pakistan and India. In a visit to the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture, the teacher Ayesha Dar directed the students' attention to Swat, and how militants have threatened a complete ban on girls' schools starting today.
At the very last moment, as my trip is winding down, the office of Constance Jones, Cultural Attaché at the US Embassy in Islamabad, sets up a visit for me at Government College University in Lahore and Fatima Jinnah Women's University in Rawalpindi.
It's difficult to capture everything that happens in the 36 hours after I leave Karachi for Lahore to the next night when I return to Karachi from Islamabad. In the discussions that ensue on both campuses that I visit, conversation rotates from questions about why Pakistani writers produce work in English, a writer's responsibility, why writers pick certain subjects, and the politics of language in Pakistan. It's exciting to see so much student enthusiasm about literature - and writing.
Mixed into the talks and readings are encounters with friends from different times in my life. At Government College, Fatemeh, a friend from school in Karachi (who now teaches in Lahore) appears, as does a friend from Houston, Shaista, who has recently moved to Lahore. In Islamabad, I see Tasneem Ahmar and Zaffar Abbas, old friends from The Star, and Quatrina Hussain, a friend from college.
And in both Lahore and Islamabad, there is more tension than in Karachi - a sharp contrast to how it was for decades when there was an ongoing civil war in Karachi. But now, given the Marriott bombing, the Lal Masjid debacle and the spiraling situation in Swat and Peshawar, Islamabad feels like a war zone. And in Lahore, following the bomb blasts at the movie theaters, every conversation touches back on the devastation in Swat and Peshawar.
These days -- and for some time now -- visiting newspaper offices in Karachi is different from how it used to be in the eighties. Now, to get into the Dawn office we have to show ID cards, and it's difficult to get into the parking lot (although Beena manages to sneak the car in through Idrees Bakhtiar who now works at the Herald). Once inside the building, I can see that not much has changed since I used to work there: the corridors are quiet and the library is in the same place. But now there is less activity, and the space where the old Star eveninger, where many of us started our writing careers, is now closed down and that space is being used for digital archiving. It's hard not to be in that space and not remember and mourn Star editor Saneeya Hussein.
On January 10, more than 800 people gathered at one rally that gathered at Karachi Press Club to protest the Israeli onslaught on Gaza. The march proceed down to main Saddar and down to Empress Market.
That same weekend there were at least four other marches, hosted by different groups. A few people were arrested at one rally that attempted to protest outside the US Consulate resulted in Karachi.
After the protest, Beena and I raced over to Geo to visit with Imran Aslam and collect some Geo TV archive tapes, which I can now use for my VBB project, Pakistan Live Broadcast.
During the first ten days of Mohurrum, there is an intensity in the air. It doesn't matter if one practices or not, we all conform to the notion of grieving. We are conscious of the colors we wear, the music we listen to or don't.
The procession in Old Karachi swarms down Bunder Road to the Jetty, and the road is closed off by trucks and old rail cars with policemen watching on all sides. Some even perch on the rail cars to redirect pedestrians and traffic. The group from Baltistan is large and their mourning the loudest.
Another day trip, this time to Sehwan Sharif, a city I have always wanted to visit. Here, Mohurrum is observed with dedication by all, shias and sunnis alike. The procession that happens on the seventh day of Mohurrum is led by camels.
In one afternoon, we visit two markets three miles from each other: Itwaar Bazaar, an outdoor Sunday market that sprawls over a large expanse, where one can purchase everything ranging from vegetables to cloth to second-hand books and magazines, all at cheaper rates, and The Point, one of Karachi's air-conditioned malls, where there are designer clothing stores, bookstores, and makeup.
Our expedition to Hala and Bhit Shah is born spontaneously. But that's how things happen around here. Sometimes, one can plan and organize, and even still nothing moves. But then, at the spur of a moment, at a gathering with friends, one simply says, I would love to go to Bhit Shah. And before you know it, the plan is made. And that's how it happened. It's a trip I would repeat many times over. Truly spiritual.
Yesterday was the first death anniversary of Benazir Bhutto. The government declared the day as a national holiday, and outside her home in Clifton, Karachi, people gathered to pay their respects.
In the meantime, tension escalated between Pakistan and India as there was talk of troops build- up on both sides of the border. For now, though, everyone recognizes this as media hype. The front-page headline, though, in today's Dawn was about the Israeli massacre in Gaza--and the story gives a different perspective from how the news is reported in the west.
It's been almost a week since we've been in Karachi. Saturday marks the death anniversary of Benazir Bhutto, and there are posters all around the city commemorating the loss - juxtaposed against the December frenzy of parties, weddings and shopping. In the house, electricity weaves in and out of wires, and one can never predict how much time there is to check email, charge phones and take care of business. And then, there is a different pace of living, where all plans are made to be altered, reconfigured, only to shift again. This is Karachi. Some things don't change. And I suppose I am happy for that.
A moment that's hard to record: Zainab Market with friends: A slender young woman guides us to a jeans store on the main road. Apparently the store has a following but it is known only those who are in the know. The young woman picks out a pair of slinky straight-leg jeans and the shopkeeper opens a tiny changing room behind the clothes rack. She pushes open the cardboard door and steps back into the store that itself at best can only fit four reasonably sized human bodies. She points to areas where the fit is good and where it's not so good. The bearded shopkeeper watches and listens carefully. Then he nods and shakes his head, saying: "No problem, we will fix it." Later, I laughingly tell the woman, a friend's cousin: "That was a funny moment." She tilts her head. "What do you mean? Mullah-type? Was he walking by?"
As we leave Houston, our bags get searched by a drug-ammo dog... The glittery Dubai airport where we spent an excrutiating 6 hours.
In just three hours, Minal and I will be flying out of Houston to Karachi to spend time with my family. I will also be traveling around the country so I can work on VBB's production, Pakistan Live Broadcast. I am ready. Check back soon for updates, images and videos.
Over the last few weeks, I've been asked by a lot of people to write my views about the bombings in Mumbai. While I've felt the same anger and grief as many others, I also have had misgivings about the terminology used in the west as a response to the violence. And then, yesterday, Arundhati Roy came out with an essay in the Guardian. She says: "We've forfeited the rights to our own tragedies. As the carnage in Mumbai raged on, day after horrible day, our 24-hour news channels informed us that we were watching "India's 9/11". Like actors in a Bollywood rip-off of an old Hollywood film, we're expected to play our parts and say our lines, even though we know it's all been said and done before.
As tension in the region builds, US Senator John McCain has warned Pakistan that if it didn't act fast to arrest the "Bad Guys" he had personal information that India would launch air strikes on "terrorist camps" in Pakistan and that Washington could do nothing because Mumbai was India's 9/11."
Visit the Guardian website to read more.a sunday morning conversation with minal: minal: who's that? me: george dubya. minal: why does he look sad? me: because he's not going to be president of this country for much longer. minal: why? me: because his time is running out. minal: but why is he looking so sad? me: because he has to leave his job soon. he hasn't done a good job. minal: has he hurt anyone? me: yes. minal: when i become president, i will do a good job. and i won't hurt anyone.
I travel on airplanes quite a bit, but I'm rarely searched as thoroughly as I am before I board the 2.5 hour flight to Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina. I'm running late, so I am jittery. Even when I fly back and forth between Karachi-Houston, I'm generally only surface-checked, but this time, I am pulled to the side for a "deep" search.
"It's just random," says the officer. "You ever been through this?"
"Not for a while."
He and his partner x-ray my body and she pats me down. Then, he begins to go through my carry-on luggage. He draws out one book after another. "Why are you traveling with these?" I tell him that I'm going to be giving a talk and a reading at a university. He draws out my DVD, turns it around and then puts it back. He looks through all my papers to make sure that the name that appears somewhere matches mine.
"Now watch me closely," he tells me. "I'll be going through your wallet so you need to keep your eyes on me. " He takes out my credit cards and stares at them one by one.
As he meticulously peruses my documents, I am aware that my flight will leave in 20 minutes-- and I still need to get to the other side of the airport.
"You'll make your f
light," he tells me. "We have to do this. It's random."
Another security guard comes over and starts to chat with me as he continues to search through my wallet and my backpack. She also assures me: "You'll make your flight."
Finally, when they're done, I race through the terminal, wondering why they picked me this time. Miraculously, I manage to make it to the gate, aware that I am the very last passenger. The moment gets increasingly surreal when a blond Continental Airlines attendant welcomes me on board and says: "Karachi? Shukria."
She only smiles when I ask her how she learned to say thank you in Urdu.
As I struggle to find space for my bags, I tell myself to remember not to wear my Karachi t-shirt (made by Daku) in US airports again.
I never thought about the squirrels, the possums, the grackles, robins, the doves or the fire ants. I never thought about them that day. But I do remember taking Minal to Idyllwood park and feeling a wind that was different and noticing a light that was yellow and pink. I remember looking up at the oak and pine trees high above and watching the branches sway in the gust. I could almost smell that wind. I remember wriggling my nose, trying to identify that smell. Maybe it was seawater, maybe just electricity. Or maybe it was Ike collecting the devastation in Haiti and the Caribbean, and bringing that Houston, past Galveston. Now, two weeks later, I can look back and recognize that while we were in the park 12 hours before Ike crashed into Houston in the early morning, the wind had to be different, as did the smells and the light. But that afternoon in the park, I doubted the hurricane’s splendor. Minal played on the swings and then, with some neighbors, we walked down to the bayou, swollen almost up to the top its banks. And I remember commenting on how there were no fish leaping into the water. And we couldn’t see any turtles or rabbits. Or even mice. They were all gone somewhere, and in that moment of hollow sound, almost like a yellow-pink tunnel through which we walked together, holding hands, marveling at the different light, I still doubted that there was a hurricane coming. “That water is from Galveston,” one neighbor commented as she stared at the bayou. And then we went home and we cooked and ate dinner: daal, qeema and bhindi. Every now and then, I opened the backdoor to look up at the sky. The Chinese tallow tree was now bending and the gust was harsher, stronger. I could no longer see the moon. There was no other sound but the gust and the rattling of falling acorns and small branches on the garage’s aluminum rooftop sounding almost like hailstones. But there was no rain. By the time I went to bed at midnight, the electricity had also left us, and of course, I had no way of telling that we wouldn’t be able to use a fan or a light bulb for 12 days after Ike arrived. I woke up at 4:30 the next morning to the sound of something hitting against the house. And the wind, now like an airplane, was roaring and pushing against the house. I got up and peered out of the window. All was dark. And the wind so strong it drowned out all other sounds. Every few minutes something thumped against the house, as if we were on a boat and a door had come unhinged and was hitting against our structure, or the cars outside were spinning and moving on their own, banging against our brick walls. At 6:30 that morning there was rain and still more horizontal wind. And that’s when the water rose as if the bayou had expanded past its banks and made its way to our home along the streets. Almost twelve hours later, when we went for a walk that afternoon, long after the wind and rain subsided, after trees and branches crashed and fell upon homes and cars, I once again thought of the insects, the birds, the animals, and I wondered how far ants floated with their legs curled into their bodies, and how many miles the robins had flown along I-10 to be free from the hurricane wind.
Voices Breaking Boundaries' Brown in the Third Ward Living Room Art show was awesome. Tons of people turned out to support us and participate in the conversation about race. Oskar, you were missed.
In the midst of Ike madness, this gun show was postponed and has been rescheduled for November. Maybe I'll check it out. I see billboards for these shows all the time, and I always wonder what happens there, and who actually pays money to attend.
Houston is slowly struggling to a semblance of normalcy. The sun is shining, and incrementally, rain water is being drained and fallen trees are being removed, though some roads are still closed off. Grocery stores have no produce, dairy, eggs or meat. Most gas stations are closed. The ones that are open have lines longer than 50 cars queuing up on the streets and blocking traffic. Police officers direct angry drivers as fights break out. The school district is closed for the full week, but today, the universities reopened, as administrators attempt to pretend that life in Houston is normal. There is nothing normal about today, a cool windy day in September. Our house has been without electricity for more than 4 days but we are lucky; at least we have water and our house did not suffer any damage unlike many of our neighbors. Café Flores is open, so we're camped out here catching up on email and work.
Fallen trees, destroyed homes, streets blocked off. And branches, so many branches. I have seen storms and I have seen flooding, but I have never heard the kind of wind that gusted through this city that early Saturday morning.
We are all right and our house is fine. Like half of Houston -- two days later -- we still have no electricity.
Now that the US is openly sending troops and airplanes into northern Pakistan, the situation is getting more tense. Pakistani Prime Minister Gilani has stated that Pakistan can defend its own borders (and his assertion has even made matters tense between him and Zardari, who was sworn in as President this week). Yesterday, when asked by a BBC reporter if the US government is resigned to the low regard people in Pakistan have toward the US, Richard Boucher, the US Secretary of State for South and Central Asia stated: "What are you going to do? You have to do the right thing no matter what...It's not done for short-term popularity or for political advantage. It's done because we have a fundamental interest in developing Pakistan as a nation and integrating these wayward parts into the nation into the whole system... "What we do for Pakistanis and what we do for people and for the nation of Pakistan is that if we can in the end produce a Pakistan for its people that has more opportunity, where they feel safer, where they have access to education, then we'll get credit for it. But we have to do the right thing whether we're getting immediate results on popularity polls or not...I think our fundamentals are good. I think we just have to keep doing it." I didn't know that bombings built a nation. I didn't know that the US was vested in "producing" Pakistan for the benefit of the Pakistani people. I'm learning more every day. (And trying not to scream as the larger scenario unfolds in front of us.)
Amy Goodman arrested at Republican National Convention. As of this morning, more than 300 have been arrested.
1931-2008
Poet Ahmed Faraz passed away today after a month of struggling with coma.
Faraz Chacha, you will be remembered with love and respect.
# #
(Photo by Paul Hester, shot at Voices Breaking Boundaries' Words for Peace 2003, when
Arundhati Roy gave a telephone reading)from You'll Be Forgotten, As If You Never Were By Mahmoud Darwish Translated by Fady Joudah I am for the road ... There are those whose footsteps walk upon mine, those who will follow me to my vision. Those who will recite eulogies to the gardens of exile, in front of the house, free of worshipping yesterday, free of my metonymy and my language, and only then will I testify that I'm alive and free when I'm forgotten. - posted in memoriam
Art in Houston short piece presented at Houston Center for Photography's Lens Libs Today I am remembering the sunny morning when William Pope.L began a crawl at Freedmen’s Town and made his way on his hands and knees all the way to glassy downtown Houston. Until that morning, I never knew how painful it was to crawl. I did ten yards and then got up with scraped knees and palms. I put on an orange blazer and helped Sixto with traffic, so William Pope.L and Laura Lark who were down deep on Dallas Street’s tarmac wouldn’t get hit by the SUVs that passed by. Today I am thinking about the time we took students to see FotoFest’s Guantánamo photo exhibition. I especially remember the open jaws of the teenagers from Pakistan, Yemen and Afghanistan when they learned that all Guantánamo prisoners were Muslim. And today I am remembering the tall black clothing installation that nearly scraped the ceiling at The Station during its “Made in Palestine” exhibition that heralded an exciting new art-space in Houston.
he performs his poem. when he is finished, he smiles and takes a deep bow. his electric words, his energy, and his appearance in sharp black pants and snazzy striped black and white shirt dazzle the women. afterwards, his caring teacher drives him back to school. but at the end of a day filled with applause and excitement, he returns to the homeless shelter where he's staying, because he's been evicted from his apartment, and before that he was evicted from his house by his mother, and in between he was evicted out of another teacher's house because he threw a party and the management told the teacher it's either you or the boy. so he goes back to the shelter and shuttles between shelter and school, school and shelter. and somewhere in between, he decides enough is enough, and so he gets into a fight, is arrested and is now locked up in a jail for "assault." today i am grieving for the boy, for the final straw that triggered him to react and do what he did. and now he has to find his way out of the corner in which he's locked himself. and we all know that even if he gets out this time, life will remain a minefield for him. there are no simple answers to this vicious cycle.
Years ago, while still a grad student, I remember driving through New Orleans and thinking that this is a city where things happen and people move.
And then, things did happen and there was devastation. The French Quarter is not how I remember it to be. Now, post-Katrina, this section of town has been cleaned up, designed for tourists, and residents are visitors, performance artists who provide entertainment for a few fleeting hours each night. Older couples dressed in suits + ties and lace dresses wander through the streets, holding hands. All around, there is street action: dancing, bare bodies (male + female), music and street theater. There is art and life in this city and there is heartache and pain.
The devastation caused by Katrina and its aftermath have now become tourist material. "They don't want to clean up," says a taxi cab driver. "Everyone wants to come to our city and see what was destroyed."
