There was never any silence. There was never any time for that. Instead we set up a magnificent stage. And the show began with the loud banter of pots and pans.There were anxious looks all across the set, but even in that, the excitement hung heavy in the air. And it infected us all.
And in that chaos there was a welcoming. And what a welcoming it was. The wheels of the bus rolled in, and the crowd gathered round. The old welcomed the new with all the enthusiasm they could muster.And so, color texploded everywhere and the set was richer and livelier and fuller than ever before. It seemed as though we had imagined this whole thing, because it was almost too good to be true, and we were left gaping. Had it not been for the hard stones of the castle, we would have believed that this was a dream.
And so began the days in-between. It was in those days that our feet walked on Main drive and softened its concrete, Our names appeared on the castle walls in permanent marker. And we found comfort in people who we now call friends. Our judgments shattered before us, they were reduced to ash. And in that pile, a spark was seen. The spark of friendship set ablaze. And so, in the days when we were ready to fall back with exhaustion, drowning in the waves of commitment, we found our anchors. Our friends became our rocks and we leaned on them.
And in that we learnt how to love and give and most importantly, we learnt how to live.
That was how we started our show.
And now. Tonight, is when we beg leave. This is our grand finale.
The stage is now empty, but there is a table standing under the spotlight where we once sat together and it speaks of our former glory. There are tall glasses, empty on the table. They tell a tale of when our lips touched their rims. The napkins are stained, and the plates are now clean though once we ate from them. And the sky is now dark and cloudy, even though when we sat there it glistened with stars. It witnessed the strengthening of friendships and the eternalizing of memories that are now a permanent part of our lives.
And in the silence of this leaving, the table spoke of us. It spoke of the show we had put on. For we all assumed roles within the production. And now, each one of us takes away a different memory. For each one of us has known and loved a different part of this universal experience.
And we committed ourselves to the execution of this show completely. We have known it on a more personal and even more deeper level than anyone in the audience. Because we gave ourselves over to it fully in the hope that one day, it would come back to us. That one day it would matter. And today it has mattered. Because our show has only known magnificence.
As the curtains are being drawn, the applause is deafening. And it echoes into the distant future. Its memory still lingers in our minds.
For we put on the most glorious show, and we did it together.
To those that are left behind. Make sure that you bang your pots even louder. That you write your names in ink even clearer, That you dream even greater, and in that unite together to execute your own show that is even more magnificent than ours. So that when you bow before the audience, you don’t just get an applause, but a standing ovation.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
There is always HOPE!
I was busy catching up on missed lessons when the phone rang. I tried to ignore it but finally had to pick it up. It was Faryal Minhas , another Pakistani lady living in Sana’a, Yemen. She sounded very upset. She said she had called me because she could think of no one else to talk to. She had just returned from a work related visit to the central jail and unexpectedly, met several Pakistani prisoners, men of varying ages, allegedly guilty of trafficking drugs. Except, Faryal was convinced they were not all criminals, a belief strengthened by the prison official’s insistence that they were “maskin” (innocent).
The Pakistani consulate staff had only been once to see them. The conditions in the prison were basic and these people needed everything. One of them had handed Faryal a letter, which was a detailed account of the incident that had bought them to the prison. He had written it when he had come, several months ago, and since then had been waiting in hope to give it to someone who would pass it on to those who could help him. Even he had not anticipated that this letter was going to be read out a couple of weeks later, at the Senate in Islamabad and enlist instant favour. Faryal was particularly, moved by the sight of a sixty five year old man who was suffering from unbearable abdominal pain. The cause was unknown and required detailed check up. He begged her for help. This was Nabi Baksh Ibrahim, the man who became the impetus behind our effort. His need was urgent.
This was January last year. I had been living in Sana’a for a year. On that particular day, I had been engaged with a backlog of course work, which I wanted to complete before the culminating session, online at six that evening. It was based on a series of lectures outlining the Muslim noble character, by a Yemeni scholar, Habib Omar from Hadramawt in the south of Yemen. My reaction to Faryal’s news was directly inspired by these lectures.
We decided to go through the proper channel and approach the embassy. We did not have an ambassador in Sana’a at the time and the counselor shrugged off our concerns. He was convinced that they were all guilty and would be sentenced to death. Apparently, apart from the 36 in Sana’a there were more in another prison, near the border with Oman, and far worse off. The court hearings were underway for one of the groups, and they had no money for appointing a lawyer for others. The lawyer seemed to be charging an unrealistic amount of money. The prisoners were poor fishermen who had been caught in the waters by the International coalition forces that are regularly patrolling our waters and bought to Yemen when evidence of drugs was found. Here the penalty for trafficking is death and at best 25 years imprisonment.
The counselor’s verdict bought home a sad reality. We have begun to believe the worst of our own selves. We have become so wary and suspicious. How can we blame others for exaggerating evils within us? The prisoners were guilty before even proven to be so. They were Pakistani and hence capable of no good. An Australian child voiced a similar sentiment, just a couple of days ago, when surprised he turned to my son and said, “You’re Pakistani!... but you seem rather nice.”
The letter written by the prisoners were heartrending. I sent it on to a relative senator, Wasim Sajjad. I have found him to be very humane and thought he might help. I attached a covering note from us, some members of the community who had been briefed by me, and I thought to have done my duty. Little did I know that I had just committed myself to the cause!
I was strolling in my garden, admiring my roses, only a day later, when I received another frantic call from Faryal. The news had leaked into the Pakistani media and the issue was being taken over by the Senate that night. Of course, the counselor was furious. He had been contacted by the Foreign office and the Foreign Minister had begun to question.
I found out that in reality, Wasim Sajjad had allowed the media to get a whiff of the issue, no doubt in order to incite favor and subsequent pressure for the cause. I was a bit taken aback - that only a letter could do this… !
92-21-5610388 Ext. 201
I had sent the mail to some other contacts, including my own brother. He had redirected it to our ambassador at large, Shah Mahmood QuereshiNadir Khan and his advisor, Nasir Ali Khan. in response, they began to question. I believe they even asked all consulates around the world to give figures for Pakistani detainees in their respective countries.
The matter had been taken up on my word. I was worried. I thought it was important to get some more facts. Though I had not meant to harm the counselor, I had put him in a spot. I contacted an acquaintance who had mentioned that her sister was a lawyer. It was when I met her that I realized that she was none other than Shada Nasser, leading lawyer and activist who has become a celebrity when she won the fight for a child bride in Yemen. She immediately phoned the Prison Superintendent, who confirmed the information we had received before and that I was within the law to help them, guilty or not.
Shada took me to the prison. We took some necessary stuff, as indicated by the official. I talked to the prisoners and collected relevant information. I did not want to get involved in legal matters and that was clearly what they wanted. The embassy had sent the lawyer to visit the second group of prisoners (11 in all) and they were being asked to pay a ridiculous amount, apart from the what the government had released for their case.
I met Nabi Baksh Ibrahim. His pallor was enough to confirm his illness was serious. He only asked for medicine. There was another 65-year-old man whose twinkling eyes and warm expression reminded me of Santa. He just requested me not to forget them. A young boy made an impression when he struggled to control his tears and pleaded with me to call his father. I knew what the prison official had meant. These were not the faces of criminals.
Next Shada suggested I meet a Kazi, in order to know the exact nature of the charges against them. Kazi Rizwan Nimr was a formidable surprise…most upright and correct! He informed me that from among the group of eleven that were being tried in his court, two had pleaded guilty and confirmed that the others had been used as camouflage for their operation. In any case, it was most probable they had not been caught in their waters which effectively put an end to their trial. The case was straight forward and the delay had resulted due to the absence of a defense lawyer which in this case was to be provided by the consulate. They had not responded to the summons but hearings had nevertheless, been going on.
Meanwhile, instead of redressing the neglect, the counselor began to propagate that we were looking for publicity and possibly held some grudge against him. He began to gather his own support group, in order to thwart our efforts. Clearly there was division in the Pakistani community. This was so unfortunate and yet so typical. The embassy even called the prison official and told them to close doors on us. It bothered me and I was never able to explain that in all the drama, I felt truly humbled. Things just happened and I was forced to do my bit and where I gave up someone else moved matters on. It was as though it was meant to be.
The Senate appointed a committee to oversee the issue of the prisoners but it soon dissolved with the reshuffling of the Senate late March. The interest waned. It was henceforth, our Foreign office that took all necessary measures. I am told that among others, Haroon Shaukat, now special secretary to the Foreign Office and Omer Sherazi, currently Ambassador to Saudi Arabia played a vital role in dealing with the issue. Money was released for the cases. However, the lawyer was able to walk away not only the money the government had released but also around twenty thousand dollars from poor men whose families sold everything to raise the money. We did not hear of this till the transaction was complete.
We took a doctor to see the prisoners. Most of them were suffering from eye and skin infections and cough. The prison was in a dismal state. Nabi Baksh Ibrahim was prescribed thorough medical investigation, and we needed the consulate to take charge. They were incensed with us and not at all forth coming. The committee had dissolved and I guess they felt secure. The last time I met the ailing prisoner was the 25th of March 2009. He looked at me accusingly and said, ‘You never bought medicine for me.” I hadn’t, even though I was pushing matters and urging all concerned for his sake. He was the hero of our story but he did not know that. A couple of weeks later, I got a call informing me of his death. His autopsy confirmed that he had been suffering from stomach cancer. His treatment had been an occasional tablet of aspirin. That was the day I bitterly cried. The regret of not having done anything for him will stay with me forever. This is the reason for this article. I could not let him die in anonymity. His death must at least serve a greater purpose – of caution for other fishermen, and a reason for redressing weaknesses in our own system.
Due to bad defense, the lawyer lost the case of the initial group of 18. Among these was the man whose letter had moved the Senators. The news was all over the newspapers in Yemen, Pakistan and the Gulf. It felt as though it had been given more than necessary publicity. Naturally, it seemed to all that I was wrong. My in laws were most concerned and felt I was putting my family at risk. I was leaving also and felt there was little more I could do. I decided to take a back seat. Surprisingly, the death of Nabi Baksh had a great impact on the others. The embassy had conducted the whole business in great distaste. Others within my support group became more active. Among them were executives form companies and particularly, a Pakistani lady who runs a school in Sana’a. They believed in me and were quick to finance the needs of the prisoners.
Also, I mentioned the story to a classmate of my daughter’s. He in turn, mentioned it to his father and Mr Abdul Ghani Al-Eryani came to see me. The latter is the son of a well-respected ex-president. Apparently, he had chanced upon the Pakistani prisoners in the prison when detained for writing an unacceptable article against the state. He believed they were innocent. He was willing to take on the cause, with the support of human rights NGO and a related newspaper. Likewise Activists from Pakistan wanted to get involved. However, since the Foreign office was willing to take responsibility, I kept their interest in reserve.
This was obvious because the counselor was recalled. In spite of all that is said there is accountability and there are enough people willing to re -address wrongs. The actions of the Senate, the Foreign Minister and the Foreign Office and Activists have proved that. This episode has given me so much hope. All is not lost. We all need to put in our bit. That is what is missing. We keep saying the system is so corrupt. We lull our conscience by asking what can we do, that will make a difference. That is where we go wrong. We can make a difference. Never doubt that.
Ahmed Ali Sarohey was appointed as Deputy of the Head of Mission with careful consideration. He has a legal background, was fluent in Arabic and was willing to resolve the issue. He verified all my claims and wrote to the Ministry informing them that between the lawyer and the Mission they had done grave injustice to the prisoners. He said he had been actually moved to tears when he had sought an audience with the prisoners.
Under his scrutiny, better defense was prepared and the cases appealed. Some were re -appealed and it was found that the majority were innocent. There were some Pakistani fishermen who were caught In Iranian launches and their case was being handled by the Iranian Consulate. The latter dealt with the matter with such efficiency and humaneness. The Prison officials were always comparing. The guilty were sentenced and the innocent were allowed to return to their homes with names cleared. The consulate has now turned attention towards the others outside Sana’a.
A new ambassador soon arrived as well. It is heartening to know that people like Alqama Khawaja are still around. He simply believes the best of Pakistan. In the face of all our upset within and negative image abroad, he continues to propagate hope and a serious patriotism. They say in olden times before felling a tree they used to curse it. This would cause it to shrivel and so, easier to cut. This is what has happened to us. The malicious propaganda is sapping away our belief in ourselves, and our people. The fishermen prisoners belonged to Karachi and Baluchistan. Much to my husband’s annoyance, I called the relatives of some prisoners. The latter had been begging me to re-assure them. Calls from the prison were expensive and often there was a waiting period. The relatives wanted to know about me. Inevitably, they were surprised that I was a Punjabi. This really bothered me because it made me realize the deep estrangement within the people. I had not even cared what provinces the prisoners had belonged to. They were Pakistani’s and that is all that mattered.
During this whole episode, I have seen the best side of Pakistan and Yemen. I have learnt to have faith in our people. Most importantly, I have realized that miracles begin to happen only when we take responsibility.
The Pakistani consulate staff had only been once to see them. The conditions in the prison were basic and these people needed everything. One of them had handed Faryal a letter, which was a detailed account of the incident that had bought them to the prison. He had written it when he had come, several months ago, and since then had been waiting in hope to give it to someone who would pass it on to those who could help him. Even he had not anticipated that this letter was going to be read out a couple of weeks later, at the Senate in Islamabad and enlist instant favour. Faryal was particularly, moved by the sight of a sixty five year old man who was suffering from unbearable abdominal pain. The cause was unknown and required detailed check up. He begged her for help. This was Nabi Baksh Ibrahim, the man who became the impetus behind our effort. His need was urgent.
This was January last year. I had been living in Sana’a for a year. On that particular day, I had been engaged with a backlog of course work, which I wanted to complete before the culminating session, online at six that evening. It was based on a series of lectures outlining the Muslim noble character, by a Yemeni scholar, Habib Omar from Hadramawt in the south of Yemen. My reaction to Faryal’s news was directly inspired by these lectures.
We decided to go through the proper channel and approach the embassy. We did not have an ambassador in Sana’a at the time and the counselor shrugged off our concerns. He was convinced that they were all guilty and would be sentenced to death. Apparently, apart from the 36 in Sana’a there were more in another prison, near the border with Oman, and far worse off. The court hearings were underway for one of the groups, and they had no money for appointing a lawyer for others. The lawyer seemed to be charging an unrealistic amount of money. The prisoners were poor fishermen who had been caught in the waters by the International coalition forces that are regularly patrolling our waters and bought to Yemen when evidence of drugs was found. Here the penalty for trafficking is death and at best 25 years imprisonment.
The counselor’s verdict bought home a sad reality. We have begun to believe the worst of our own selves. We have become so wary and suspicious. How can we blame others for exaggerating evils within us? The prisoners were guilty before even proven to be so. They were Pakistani and hence capable of no good. An Australian child voiced a similar sentiment, just a couple of days ago, when surprised he turned to my son and said, “You’re Pakistani!... but you seem rather nice.”
The letter written by the prisoners were heartrending. I sent it on to a relative senator, Wasim Sajjad. I have found him to be very humane and thought he might help. I attached a covering note from us, some members of the community who had been briefed by me, and I thought to have done my duty. Little did I know that I had just committed myself to the cause!
I was strolling in my garden, admiring my roses, only a day later, when I received another frantic call from Faryal. The news had leaked into the Pakistani media and the issue was being taken over by the Senate that night. Of course, the counselor was furious. He had been contacted by the Foreign office and the Foreign Minister had begun to question.
I found out that in reality, Wasim Sajjad had allowed the media to get a whiff of the issue, no doubt in order to incite favor and subsequent pressure for the cause. I was a bit taken aback - that only a letter could do this… !
92-21-5610388 Ext. 201
I had sent the mail to some other contacts, including my own brother. He had redirected it to our ambassador at large, Shah Mahmood QuereshiNadir Khan and his advisor, Nasir Ali Khan. in response, they began to question. I believe they even asked all consulates around the world to give figures for Pakistani detainees in their respective countries.
The matter had been taken up on my word. I was worried. I thought it was important to get some more facts. Though I had not meant to harm the counselor, I had put him in a spot. I contacted an acquaintance who had mentioned that her sister was a lawyer. It was when I met her that I realized that she was none other than Shada Nasser, leading lawyer and activist who has become a celebrity when she won the fight for a child bride in Yemen. She immediately phoned the Prison Superintendent, who confirmed the information we had received before and that I was within the law to help them, guilty or not.
Shada took me to the prison. We took some necessary stuff, as indicated by the official. I talked to the prisoners and collected relevant information. I did not want to get involved in legal matters and that was clearly what they wanted. The embassy had sent the lawyer to visit the second group of prisoners (11 in all) and they were being asked to pay a ridiculous amount, apart from the what the government had released for their case.
I met Nabi Baksh Ibrahim. His pallor was enough to confirm his illness was serious. He only asked for medicine. There was another 65-year-old man whose twinkling eyes and warm expression reminded me of Santa. He just requested me not to forget them. A young boy made an impression when he struggled to control his tears and pleaded with me to call his father. I knew what the prison official had meant. These were not the faces of criminals.
Next Shada suggested I meet a Kazi, in order to know the exact nature of the charges against them. Kazi Rizwan Nimr was a formidable surprise…most upright and correct! He informed me that from among the group of eleven that were being tried in his court, two had pleaded guilty and confirmed that the others had been used as camouflage for their operation. In any case, it was most probable they had not been caught in their waters which effectively put an end to their trial. The case was straight forward and the delay had resulted due to the absence of a defense lawyer which in this case was to be provided by the consulate. They had not responded to the summons but hearings had nevertheless, been going on.
Meanwhile, instead of redressing the neglect, the counselor began to propagate that we were looking for publicity and possibly held some grudge against him. He began to gather his own support group, in order to thwart our efforts. Clearly there was division in the Pakistani community. This was so unfortunate and yet so typical. The embassy even called the prison official and told them to close doors on us. It bothered me and I was never able to explain that in all the drama, I felt truly humbled. Things just happened and I was forced to do my bit and where I gave up someone else moved matters on. It was as though it was meant to be.
The Senate appointed a committee to oversee the issue of the prisoners but it soon dissolved with the reshuffling of the Senate late March. The interest waned. It was henceforth, our Foreign office that took all necessary measures. I am told that among others, Haroon Shaukat, now special secretary to the Foreign Office and Omer Sherazi, currently Ambassador to Saudi Arabia played a vital role in dealing with the issue. Money was released for the cases. However, the lawyer was able to walk away not only the money the government had released but also around twenty thousand dollars from poor men whose families sold everything to raise the money. We did not hear of this till the transaction was complete.
We took a doctor to see the prisoners. Most of them were suffering from eye and skin infections and cough. The prison was in a dismal state. Nabi Baksh Ibrahim was prescribed thorough medical investigation, and we needed the consulate to take charge. They were incensed with us and not at all forth coming. The committee had dissolved and I guess they felt secure. The last time I met the ailing prisoner was the 25th of March 2009. He looked at me accusingly and said, ‘You never bought medicine for me.” I hadn’t, even though I was pushing matters and urging all concerned for his sake. He was the hero of our story but he did not know that. A couple of weeks later, I got a call informing me of his death. His autopsy confirmed that he had been suffering from stomach cancer. His treatment had been an occasional tablet of aspirin. That was the day I bitterly cried. The regret of not having done anything for him will stay with me forever. This is the reason for this article. I could not let him die in anonymity. His death must at least serve a greater purpose – of caution for other fishermen, and a reason for redressing weaknesses in our own system.
Due to bad defense, the lawyer lost the case of the initial group of 18. Among these was the man whose letter had moved the Senators. The news was all over the newspapers in Yemen, Pakistan and the Gulf. It felt as though it had been given more than necessary publicity. Naturally, it seemed to all that I was wrong. My in laws were most concerned and felt I was putting my family at risk. I was leaving also and felt there was little more I could do. I decided to take a back seat. Surprisingly, the death of Nabi Baksh had a great impact on the others. The embassy had conducted the whole business in great distaste. Others within my support group became more active. Among them were executives form companies and particularly, a Pakistani lady who runs a school in Sana’a. They believed in me and were quick to finance the needs of the prisoners.
Also, I mentioned the story to a classmate of my daughter’s. He in turn, mentioned it to his father and Mr Abdul Ghani Al-Eryani came to see me. The latter is the son of a well-respected ex-president. Apparently, he had chanced upon the Pakistani prisoners in the prison when detained for writing an unacceptable article against the state. He believed they were innocent. He was willing to take on the cause, with the support of human rights NGO and a related newspaper. Likewise Activists from Pakistan wanted to get involved. However, since the Foreign office was willing to take responsibility, I kept their interest in reserve.
This was obvious because the counselor was recalled. In spite of all that is said there is accountability and there are enough people willing to re -address wrongs. The actions of the Senate, the Foreign Minister and the Foreign Office and Activists have proved that. This episode has given me so much hope. All is not lost. We all need to put in our bit. That is what is missing. We keep saying the system is so corrupt. We lull our conscience by asking what can we do, that will make a difference. That is where we go wrong. We can make a difference. Never doubt that.
Ahmed Ali Sarohey was appointed as Deputy of the Head of Mission with careful consideration. He has a legal background, was fluent in Arabic and was willing to resolve the issue. He verified all my claims and wrote to the Ministry informing them that between the lawyer and the Mission they had done grave injustice to the prisoners. He said he had been actually moved to tears when he had sought an audience with the prisoners.
Under his scrutiny, better defense was prepared and the cases appealed. Some were re -appealed and it was found that the majority were innocent. There were some Pakistani fishermen who were caught In Iranian launches and their case was being handled by the Iranian Consulate. The latter dealt with the matter with such efficiency and humaneness. The Prison officials were always comparing. The guilty were sentenced and the innocent were allowed to return to their homes with names cleared. The consulate has now turned attention towards the others outside Sana’a.
A new ambassador soon arrived as well. It is heartening to know that people like Alqama Khawaja are still around. He simply believes the best of Pakistan. In the face of all our upset within and negative image abroad, he continues to propagate hope and a serious patriotism. They say in olden times before felling a tree they used to curse it. This would cause it to shrivel and so, easier to cut. This is what has happened to us. The malicious propaganda is sapping away our belief in ourselves, and our people. The fishermen prisoners belonged to Karachi and Baluchistan. Much to my husband’s annoyance, I called the relatives of some prisoners. The latter had been begging me to re-assure them. Calls from the prison were expensive and often there was a waiting period. The relatives wanted to know about me. Inevitably, they were surprised that I was a Punjabi. This really bothered me because it made me realize the deep estrangement within the people. I had not even cared what provinces the prisoners had belonged to. They were Pakistani’s and that is all that mattered.
During this whole episode, I have seen the best side of Pakistan and Yemen. I have learnt to have faith in our people. Most importantly, I have realized that miracles begin to happen only when we take responsibility.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)