This post is by Rich.
Tomorrow is game time! The "Arts Without Boundaries" ABL-TSW Conference is about to begin!
It’s 10:45pm on Sunday, July 29, in Karachi, and we’ve just
returned to the Guest House after a fantastic day. Our colleague Brendan
McGrath, longtime Bread Loafer and 3rd grade teacher from Boston,
who has accompanied us on trips to India and Haiti in the past, arrived at 2
this morning. Both of us exhausted, we slept past 9 this morning before
beginning the day. Mohsin arrived about 11 and we went to a lovely pan-Asian
restaurant for lunch, then took Brendan to the Dunkin Donuts, around the corner
in the part of the Clifton neighborhood called “Boat Basin.” A Dunkin run is a ritual for new arrivals
now. Brendan observed that once you are inside, this Dunkin Donuts could be
anywhere in the US, or anywhere in the world. You really wouldn’t be able to
tell. The one exception, as Brendan pointed out – there were 9 people working
there. In the US, there would have been 2 or 3 at the most. This country has
lots of people, and some are clearly under-employed. The folks working there
were very nice, and Alan explained that some of us were from Boston (Dunkin
Donuts originated in Quincy, Mass.) The
staff agreed to take a big group picture with us.
Once caffeinated, we headed to the place known as T2F – The
Second Floor. It’s a community literacy center, part of a non-profit
organization called PeaceNiche. This is now my favorite place in Karachi, and
one of my favorite places in the world. Readers familiar with Lawrence will
understand when I refer to T2F as the “El Taller of Karachi.” The first floor is a large open space with
hardwood floors, a small bookshop and gift shop featuring peace-related
memorabilia. The second floor is a small café. The non-profit PeaceNiche that
operates T2F runs a variety of arts, literacy, activist, and peace projects. We
arrived about 1pm on a Sunday and there was a guitar class going on. The place
hosts open mic events, political information sessions, arts classes, and
community gatherings. Their rules are simple
- no drugs, alcohol, or guns. All are welcome. The place was founded by
a woman named Sabeen Mahmoud, a friend of Mohsin’s. Due to her public beliefs
in peace and justice and open dialogue, over time she became considered an
enemy by some who wished to silence such thinking, and was assassinated in 2015.
Her story spread throughout the world, including through a brilliant article in
the US magazine The New Yorker https://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/the-life-and-death-of-sabeen-mahmud. Today, PeaceNiche is run by a board of
directors in her memory, which “promotes democratic discourse and conflict
resolution through intellectual and cultural engagement.” One of their goals is
“intellectual poverty alleviation.” It was special just to be in the space.
Once I saw the café I became ashamed of my Dunkin Donuts cup. On Friday, August
3, we will hold the final exhibition of our week-long program in the T2F space,
open to families and to the public. It’s a special space.
Indeed, if reading these stories move you to action, please
donate to these two organizations: The School of Writing (www.tsw.org) , and PeaceNiche (www.peaceniche.org). Both are worth it.
After our visit to T2F, we drove 5 minutes to The School of
Writing offices, which are on the 4th floor of a 4-story building.
There is an office space, a small-group working space, and a larger exhibit
space, all air conditioned, plus a rooftop. After years of hearing about TSW
and supporting its work, it was a thrill to finally be there! The School of
Writing has engaged in numerous brilliant projects with teachers, young people,
and community leaders through the years, notably Yeh Heh Karachi, a photo
documentation project, and Badal Do! (Ignite the Change Within!).
From 2-5pm, we planned. There were 10 of us present: Mohsin
Tejani, founder and director of TSW; Basil Andrews and Husnain Raza from his
staff (Husnain is also the son of Mohsin’s cousin); Mohsin’s son Ali Tejani, a
recent graduate of Habib University with a degree in social policy; Mohsin’s
daughter Quratulain “Annie” Tejani, who handles communications and
documentation; Antul Baweja, a comedienne, actor, consultant, and theater
teacher; plus us visitors: Julia Perlowski, Brendan McGrath, Alan Nunez, and
myself. Annie is a brilliant 29-yr-old
digital media consultant who blogs at www.blissofverbosity.blogspot.com We definitely want to keep her involved in
our network.
I know from our work on other conferences that meeting time
such as this is the real work. The ten of us spent three productive hours
talking, theorizing, planning, disagreeing, agreeing, and finally settling on a
loose plan for the next five days. We want it to be structured enough to work,
but flexible enough to allow creativity and student choice. Collectively, we
felt good when we reached the end of our day’s work. Julia and Antul bonded quickly and developed a
brilliant plan for co-teaching a one-hour drama workshop.
And so on Monday morning (tomorrow, that is) we will
assemble at The School of Writing at 8:30am for a final planning meeting. We
expect the participants (22 students and 5-6 adults) to arrive between
9:00-9:30. At 9:30 Mohsin will open the session with introductions, review of
the agenda, and a name-game. From 10-11, I will run an opening writing workshop
designed to build community. (The first thing I will do is review the Bread
Loaf Rules for Writing, in both English and Urdu: Speak Your Truth, Be Kind, Don’t Fear
Mistakes, Write in any Language, Have Fun, Share if You Want To.) We will have
a tea break (Pakistan is really civilized in many ways) at 11, then Julia and
Antul will run a theater session, followed by a photography workshop with Basil
from 12-1. A lunch break will follow, then Brendan will lead a writing workshop
from 2-3, then Alan a music workshop from 3-4. We will have a final reflection,
led by Annie (who is also handling documentation), and end about 4:30. We plan
to spend Tuesday and Wednesday traveling around the city of Karachi to various
locations to make photographs, take notes, make videos, write, interview
people, and generally collect data about life in Karachi. On Thursday we will
re-form into small groups to examine, process, and curate the data to create
products (films, writings, dramatic and musical performances) in preparation
for the final exhibit at T2F on Friday, and for the electronic book. The Family Literacy Night is Tuesday, at the
Pakistani-American Cultural Center. I plan to wear my new kurta.
A highlight of the day was posing for a group picture in
front of the giant backdrop, designed by Mohsin’s son-in-law Shari.
Funniest part of the morning: Learning the Urdu slang term “Gora”
– which means, “white man.” Realizing
that my proper name is Richard Gorham, and a slight variation makes my name “Rich
Gora,” or, in Urdu slang, “rich white man.”
I’ve decided to own my privilege and go with it. I can’t exactly pass as a local, anyway.
Also cool was our foray to the rooftop, which afforded great
views of the Karachi skyline. The sudden proliferation of tall buildings is
startling. Until perhaps 15 years ago, the tallest building in Karachi was
perhaps 5-6 stories. Now there are dozens of 20-story buildings popping up, and
one 66-story building that once completed will be the tallest in Pakistan.
Growth and construction and concrete dust is everywhere. There is a substantial
amount of wealth running around – it’s not clear how much is trickling down to
the average person, but this is clearly a city in the midst of a growth spurt.
With that growth comes growing pains – lots of concrete dust, a severe water
shortage, problems with sanitation.
I’m concerned that the growth and the money are not staying
in Karachi – foreign chain stores such as Burger King, Pizza Hut, Sizzlers, and
Sunoco are everywhere. Dunkin Donuts, is of course, my classic example. Are the
profits made at these places leaving the country? Pizza Hut is an interesting story. There are
many Pizza Hut stores around Karachi. I theorize that they are the lingering
results of Pepsi Co.’s visionary former CEO Don Kendall, who when he was
running Pepsi established Pepsi-related businesses in many countries, including
the former USSR, knowing they’d lose money for years, but would eventually earn
the company big profits when those nation’s economies developed and the
population had become used to those products. Thus, you see a lot of Pepsi,
Pizza Hut, and Burger King. However, folks tell me that Pizza Hut is declining
in Pakistan, due to the growth of local pizza places. It turns out the
Pakistanis have figured out how to make and profit from selling pizzas
themselves, and are doing better at it than the foreign chain. I, for one, hope
that as the Pakistani economy grows, it grows its own businesses, rather than
serving foreign interests.
A quick diversion for something interesting I learned today:
In May, the Pakistani National Assembly passed a law ensuring rights for
transgendered persons. The law guarantees all people the right to declare their
own gender identity, as male, female, or a blend of both, and to have that
gender represented on all their official documents, including their driver’s
licenses. I don’t know of any place in the US with such a progressive law. Back
in my home state, Massachusetts, we are fighting a ballot initiative to remove
transgender rights. Check out this article from Al Jazeera on the Pakistani law
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2018/05/pakistan-passes-landmark-transgender-rights-law-180509095207950.html
After our planning session and many pictures, including a
brilliant rooftop selfie with the irrepressible Alan, we headed to a local
shopping mall. Inside it looks a lot like shopping malls in many countries. We
went to a store called Khaadi, a clothing store, where Brendan and I each
bought a kurta and shalwar, the traditional Pakistani clothing. “Shalwar” is
loose-fitting cotton pants, a “kurta” (sometimes called a “chemise”) is a
loose-fitting long cotton top. I settled on a basic blue outfit. Brendan went
for a decorative white number with a fitted brown waistcoat. His outfit looks
awesome – I wish I was cool enough to pull it off. We plan to wear out new
clothes at the Family Literacy Night on Tuesday evening. Alan already owns a
custom-made kurta he bought in India a few years ago. The three of us made a
pact to each wear our kurtas to teach at our respective schools one day this
fall.
After the mall, we headed to Mohsin’s place for dinner. His
wife, Sakina, had spent hours cooking and cleaning to prepare for our arrival.
Mohsin lives in a very nice, large, three-bedroom apartment on the top floor of
his building, with a bonus rooftop patio. In the US we would call it the 3rd
floor – in Pakistan, it’s considered the 2nd floor – their counting,
from the traditional British system, refers to Ground Floor, then First Floor,
Second Floor, etc. Alan and Julia estimated that if the apartment was in New
York it would sell for around $2 million – in Karachi it would be more like Rs
400m ($350,000.) The home-cooked dinner was exceptional, featuring ten courses
served buffet style. Alan and I were particularly enthralled by a chicken and
cheese dish, but everything, including rice, nan, chick peas, beef, and other
items, was fantastic. We were also able to spend time with Mohisn’s mom, Her
name means “sweetness,” and she is indeed sweet, as well as strong. Also
present were one of his three brothers, M_____, and Mohsin’s four children and
son-in-law. Annie is 29 and works with The School of Writing. Seema is 24 and
works in advertising. She was recently married (700 guests!) to Sheri, who also
works in advertising. Ali is 22 and this spring was part of the first
graduating class from Habib University, the first truly liberal arts university
in Pakistan, founded by Mohsin’s friend and occasional partner Wassif, with a
degree in social policy. Ali is 15 and will enter the 11th grade
this fall. All five young people are brilliant, thoughtful, and loving. It was
a joy to spend time with them. Interestingly, they all follow professional
football (what we call soccer) but each has a unique favorite team, from
Barcelona to Real Madrid to Manchester United. Annie, Seema and Ali remember when
I and others from Bread Loaf visited their home for dinner back in 2000. When
Mohsin was out for the room, I asked his younger brother, M_____, for
embarrassing stories about Mohsin from childhood, but he could not think of
any. “After my dad, I consider Mohsin my dad” said M_____, “I love him.” His
smile was genuine. This is a 48-yr-old man who openly expresses his love for
his 53-yr-old brother and cannot think of a negative word to say about him,
even in jest. I should not be surprised – Mohsin is all about love. About the only embarrassing things we could
find about him were a few unflattering pictures of he and I from our times at
Bread Loaf. Both of us have become much,
much more handsome since, despite our loss of hair
A word about Mohsin’s parents. His dad moved to Pakistan at
the time of the partition from India in 1947. A gentle man with the soul of an
artist, he worked as a banker to support his family, and four sons. Mohsin’s
mom was educated only to the fifth grade, but became a voracious reader, and a
strong advocate for her children’s education. When Mohsin was a little boy, she
became determined that he would attend Habib, the best local school in the
city. Many laughed at her, since the family did not have connections, or money
to pay the fees. She refused to take no for an answer. She met with the
principal and secured her son a scholarship. Mohsin attended Habib for grades
1-10, then went to college, became a teacher and principal, and completed his
master’s degree by graduating at Oxford.
He made his mom proud, and considers attending Habib to be the
transformative experience of his life. During his time in graduate school,
Mohsin considered attending school in the US for a Ph.D., but family
responsibilities precluded it. At the time he was unhappy, but in the end, he
founded The School of Writing, and has had an enormous impact on education in
Pakistan and across the world. I think things turned out better. Had he gotten
a Ph.D., he might have gotten lost on the faculty of a university. Instead, he
has created something extraordinary, and I am glad to be a little part of it. His dad died in 2008, but his mom’s smile as
she welcomed her son’s guests today told part of her story. She is an
exceptional woman.
Thanks for reading,
Rich
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