Khalida Brohi : 2010

Sohni 3: Life Inside a Flood Camp

Friday, November 05, 2010

This is the story about a young girl from the small village of Jhongal in Upper Sindh. She among the thousands from her village who was baldy effected by the floods in Pakistan, and hence having lost everything to water she and her family now live in a flood camp in Shikarpur, until life decides for them what they ought to do. Now as she shares her life with me and I feel like there couldn't have been a better way to look at the life of flood survivors in camps through her own eyes.
Sohni is a short series of blog posts which would bring forward the life of this girl to every reader and would be the window to what disasters struck the flood survivors after the major disaster of "floods in Pakistan".

Adjusting to a new world

Sober looking men in gray suits were the ones who ordered our family to live inside this “camp”. “They are the army”, Sajid my six year old brother whispered in my ear rather proudly. “They are going to take care of us”. And we were taken care of. We were made to leave the Masjid-Mosque to go to a Boys school in Shikarpur. Even though I had never imagined a school to be as big as this, but I was seeing it finally, with clear open eyes. Big as a bunglow rich people live in, with so many rooms, stairs and toilets with water taps in them and doors that lock! And more importantly it has a big open-agan- ground without any dust, as its cemented.

In fact all that was happening to us wasn’t anything that any of us has imagined. Four days of living in Masjid camp, the clean marble floored holy place of Allah, which was different from the Masjid in Jhongal where even girls came to read from their Siparas-Holy Quran- this was rather filled with men and boys. Huge crowds gathered when it was the time for Namaz. And those were the times when Amma with her angry-mother eyes search through the tiny room for me and my sisters, “Chori-Girl”- she would say, “don’t go out until its really necessary”, and we would sit quietly huddled in a corner waiting for the men to finish their namaz. I envied Sajid for being able to stroll around the whole place as if he owned it and came up every two hours to shriek on top of his lungs about what new he found about this beautiful place.

School Camp was what I liked at the first sight, although I never expected so many people had their homes flooded as large number of families already made home of the place. I saw some girls washing clothes in small buckets and a few making rotis-round patties of bread- while children in every shape and size ran frantically about the ground chasing each other, laughing, not knowing and certainly not caring.

That morning of the fifth day after the floods destroyed our home, village and my dreams, with my potli- cloth basket- on top of my head, Amma holding my two little sisters and the two elders walking closely with her, Abba, who along with all others including Sajid on his shoulders entered this new world. My phuphis-Fathers sisters- and Chachi-Uncles wife- have become weak in the past days, they had been constantly crying about their houses and their belongings back in our village while Amma was the one to console them and ask them to eat. Amma was in charge once again, she had strolled off quickly scanning the area for possible spaces we could use and it turned out that 2 rooms were completely isolated but only had the school desks, black board and chalk in them. Women would use one of the rooms as it was decided and second one would be for men, including Tahir (my fiance) I was glad.

We spread rilis-blankets- and put our stuff in a corner. Tiredly and sore I glanced around my new surroundings, I could see various girls glancing inside the room from the open windowsill, the shouts of children outside dissolved with this environment now and the fan above made a gut-gut-gut to join in the rhythm and I had my first slumbers in this new home.

I was feeling really damp, hot and scratchy…I opened my eyes, the fan wasn’t moving anymore, flies buzzed close to my ears as if to annoy me and I saw Amma sitting near me fanning Sajid who was still asleep. It was mid afternoon yet; my sisters sat in a corner of the room murmuring to each other while phuphis and chachi slept on the floor without any rili underneath them. They found them hot in this warmth of the building.

What is going on? was the first question in my mind, the heat was unbearable now and I was sweating so much that my dress clung on me damply making me feel uneasy and frustrated. Stomping my feet I walked out of the room, halted near the door when I saw two girls almost my age with dupatas-head scarves- clutched in their mouths and eyes trying not to glance at me, shyly walked past me. I later found out that they had their room close to ours.

The floor of the hallway was wet, someone had just spilled water which mixed with dust falling on the cemented ground made it slippery, I started walking slowly dragging my feet without any chapel-shoes. Just close to the corner two huge machines stood near the wall, it had taps attached to it and a glass hung with a wire to its end. “Drinking water”! I thought gleefully and I stepped closer. Water was cold and refreshing, feeling really happy I drank two full glasses of water and suddenly felt the urge to go to the toilet. But how? And where? I rushed back to the room and saw Nasima (my second elder sister) still talking to my other sisters and shouted to come with me quickly as I had to go to the toilet. The search began soon and we found three small rooms, with wooden doors that had to be locked from the inside. I instantly had a feeling that I would be locked inside as soon I close the door and decided not to go, Naima demonstrated a closing of the door without being locked and asked me to experiment it but I still left it half open while used the toilet and two sisters stood on guard.

Things started to become familiar for us finally, The wet floor wasn’t a problem, Sleep time wasn’t decided, anyone could sleep anytime, no one feared from being locked in the toilets, although I still was afraid as I felt that I would be killed in the worse smell, would be locked, or suffocate to death, so kept the door open and asked my sister to guard me. We had soon found out that this was a two-story building, a huge number of families lived on the top level rooms, I wished we could too; it must have been so much fun to be above the ground! I sneaked up there sometimes when Amma Abba weren’t looking and strolled past the packed rooms where even three to four families lived together in one room, their newly washed cloths hung near the ceiling on a rope, and some had been able to bring a lot of their pots and pans which scattered around the place. Once I almost fell on my face hinged in one of the pots and a very thin girl holding her dupatta to her neck came running and took it away, I wasn’t going to steal it I was about to say, but she vanished in the crowd.

One day while strolling along these rooms and using a stick as a musical instrument to slide up on the window jars of the walls I came across a pace of boys and rushed back to our room downstairs, they made faces and laughed behind me and I almost lost my balance down the stairs.

Amma and my sisters also seemed to have found people to talk to and they were always speaking to someone down the hall, Sometimes I would find them crying and talking about their homes and villages and it would heartbrokenly remind me of the neem tree….the cow dung patties....star filled sky…there was nothing like my village Jhongal here, only babies were something I found similar. Cute little crying babies. I would run around across to the other side of this camp school to carry Majid, a 1 year old infant, or Sajjad, Yousif and Sidra. One day I noticed bumps on Majids head and after my asking, his mother merely said that it’s due to the heat. She is right we have three times electricity failures in Shikarpur and the close suffocating condition of people living together along with the dirty walls of the school room made it really hot, I started noticing the bumps on other little children as well and some burst with skin peeling off them. The mothers of these children used talcum powders on them to dry, they say it was good if the skin was peeling off, that means the bumps were going.

Mother had stomachache one day; she kept changing sides lying down without any rili underneath her but still bolted with pain. It’s from the food, Chachis and Phuphis declared, but what about the food? I thought, I loved this food! I had never eaten anything spicy and delicious like this. I especially waited for the two times of meals that were provided. I knew Sajid and Naimat( my youngest sister) felt the same way too. But I had to believe my phuphis soon, almost all of us had these stomach pains, and we found out that many others had too. We tried to skip a few meals and prayed for something else to be provided to us to eat. Once in a while a rich looking man wearing black jacket trying to look kind, along with 4 other people who had huge boxes on top of their heads came to visit. They gave away milk in boxes! In the past days Amma like other women showed us angry eyes to suggest we don’t go near these men, but these days we rushed to have those milk boxes and drink to console our burning stomachs, Amma and my Sisters hid their boxes away to make tea.

One Baba along with my uncles decided to visit our village, I waited all day for them to come back but they arrived next day, tired and sad. “Sohni” Abba called sadness visible in his voice and I hurried to give him water in a bowl that we had brought. He took it from my hands tiredly and started taking big gulps…I felt so sorry for him right then. Abba used to be the source of fright for all of us and there were times when we sat still unable to breath when he was around the house now he was in a condition where we could feel sorry for him, this thought made me even more sad and sorry. “The whole village is under water” he told Amma, heartbrokenly while brushing his beard with his fingers, Amma could only give a moan to that, while sitting along the wall watching her fingers. She had given up hopes already to be in our home before eid (Muslim festival for celebrating after 30 days of Ramadan).

Many people visited the camp daily, sometimes it was hard to even keep track and we could only see huge number of people coming and going out of the school. Whenever people with boxes arrived, we knew it was something to be distributed and hurried to get our share, girls kicked and shouted to make way, once I got a shove in my ribs and felt a wave of pain journey though my body. No one was polite when it was something to eat. Once trucks stood near the school, filled with stuff, baskets, blankets, water coolers, plastic rugs and even more. Everyone ran towards the huge gate to the trucks and as usual they were stopped by many men dressed in Pants and shirts who were doing their best trying to keep the crowds calm. In this mob I saw a few women draped in black burqas-veils-Crazy I thought, we are dying of heat and they are walking around wearing their burqas. They too were fighting their way to the trucks, but later I saw them take these goodies with them and walk out of the gate.

Taking a bath was the worst in this camp, first we had to fill a bucket of water, pull it inside the tiny bathroom, close the huge door and bath in small chunks of water until suffocate from the heat. The headmasters who had made it their duty to walk around the school were always angry about everything, don’t use all the water! They would shout and mom would nod to us to make sure we understood, don’t peel off the paints! They growled and I didn’t understand when we did it, don’t make stains on the walls, what is this stain of black smoke?! Black smoke! he repeated shouting like a maniac until Amma and Chachis stood like helpless fools near the door unable to say anything as they were the ones making tea by burning wood.

But then again it wasn’t only them, more them 20 more stains were to make this headmaster angry and I could laugh at his red face but was afraid to do so because what if he decides to kick us out of this school?! Village is still full of water as Abba had said.

Where would we go?!

__________________________________________
The first two episodes of Sohnis story are as under:

Sohni 2: Floods Came in middle of the night

Sohni 1: My Small Village Jhongal

Children

I Search for Water: Voice of Indigenous

Friday, October 15, 2010

“I Search for Water”

A nomad in my own territory

The dust flies above, heat and sweat unbearably rapid, blisters formed beneath my feet, breathing…softly, harshly sometimes cant…a hoarse breathing….like a request, tongue dried and feathery, and the sun up on me: I SEARCH FOR WATER

I am an indigenous girl from Balochistan, Pakistan. The land with diverse tribes and the province bordering with Afghanistan and Iran. Belonging to a nation with such diverse colors, traditions and culture I have always been fascinated by Balochistan but yes sometimes confused from all this tradition because ever since a child I have witnessed a strange pheno- menon with our indigenous culture. The constant search for water.

Almost all the cultural and trad- itional fables have stories of water, rain, clouds and monsoon. Rivers are discussed in poetry; happy endings mean it “rained”. Stories my grandmother tells me of people praying, fasting and asking God for rain, for a drop of water and then it would rain, they would be happy and celebrate.

Songs from years ago would chant the hearty songs of ever joyous traditional singers, who would constantly repeat and I say repeat the incoming of clouds, the possibility of rain and then the celebration by wedding the daughters. The daughters, who with two braided heads would stare at the clouds rather shyly and with hearts pounding in their chests, Indeed Its not the rain only that they celebrated, it was the water, the drops of water that fall upon the thirsty lands and their crops danced green in the brightest of days and then is when a family was called prosperous, prospers enough to give back loans, wed their girls and to build their houses from new mud with the glint of red.

Now when the still beautiful chanting from traditional songs urge us to dance with their beautiful beats, we don’t take time to ever halt and concentrate because in those hearty words is the reality of Balochistans future. A Climatically Challenged area where barren lands have already given up struggling to live and are Turing to desertification. The province is going to be and perhaps already is an exposed vulnerability in the face of Climate Change.

Balochistans traditional forms of livelihood and using of agricultural land have now slowly been changing, The two methods Khushkaba and Sailaba of agriculture are diverted, the usually making of bands to use up flood water for lands doesn’t work because floods have change course as now even the ingenious knowledge can’t predict from where the flesh floods would be attacking, once a blessing to the people of valleys in Baluchistan, mountains are now a danger of disaster them.

In all this we are aware that indigenous people are the first ones to be worst hit by climate change and its already started to happen all around the world and in Balochistan as well. The search that started from time we don’t even know of is still going on, the search for water and it is not estimated when this search actually becomes a “fight” for water. But I know one thing, today on the blog action day for water as the world talks about water; don’t forget the people deep down in the dry hard lands, walking miles in the heat and dust for the search of water.

Khalida Brohi

culture

Sohni 2: Flood Came in Middle of the Night

Saturday, September 18, 2010

gender justice

Sohni: Story of a young girl from the flood survivors in Pakistan

Sunday, September 05, 2010

Sohni

A tale of survival from the floods in Pakistan

1. Jhongal, my small village

Millions of shimmering stars gather upon Jhongal, my small village in the heart of Rahim Abad, as the night settles in. Lying in my cot in the veranda of my open house, with the leaves of our large neem tree swooshing in the calm breeze, I imagine the world in the shape of a bowl, with stars falling in it for all of us.

I am always the last one to fall asleep – Even this soothing breeze and the night with its glimmering of stars have me awake. Besides me Sajid my six year old brother peacefully sleeps not looking a bit like he was the one who stole my clay dolls. Near our cot is Amma, Baba and all of my 4 sisters’ cots. When the breeze hits cold, Rozina and Naseema sleepily snatch the rili - blanket - from each other, finally agreeing – Still sleeping, while I am awake.

I lay there in the calm of the night, listening to the utter silence and then to our neem tree, as in the nights stillness its leaves start speaking to us slowly, telling us so many things quietly, and in the perfect rhythm of its leaves singing to us, everything and everyone is lulled to sleep … but I am awake, always there to listen, smiling, listening and slowly drifting to sleep.

Mornings are the best in my village. The breaking of dawn brings the loud and shrill morning calls of the roosters along with it the clattering of tea cups, a faint scent of the tea that Naseema my second eldest sister makes. Though I liked Tahira, my eldest sisters’ tea best, but after her marriage and sending her off, Naseema’s tea is what we drink only.

Sajid is the one, who brings the Chabi, and together we look for broken pieces of left over rotis’ from the past night. Sajid tries to trick me by hiding some of the rotis’ in his side pocket but I am always clever to sneak up beside him, snatch the roti and run. He bawls and I don’t care. Only Amma cares and runs after me to beat me. With the sudden death of my elder brother, Amma seems to have found jewels stuck in Sajid, caring for him more then any of us six sisters. I being the middle one at the age of 11, ought not to care but I despise the fact that my two little sisters, Sumera and Naimat who are only 9 and 7 years old don’t get that attention.

As dawn fades in Jhongal, heat starts to grab us. These are the days of summer in my village, hot and sweaty. That is one of the reasons I dislike going to Masjid, so many girls packed together in the heat chanting loudly from their Siparas, I would rather play marbels with Sajid. Amma beat me once with Jharu, until it left marks on my back, and I decided never to go to Masjid.

Its that time of the day I run to Puphi Hajra’s house, passing through the dirt roads, with walls crammed with round patties of cow dung that neighbors girls make and leave for them to dry. Sometimes I find the streets dusty and know that the herd of cows just moved and churned up the dust, I run through the streets to find the herd and lope behind them making the cows dart faster through the small dirt road leaving huge mass of dust flying in that makes homes of my nostrils and eyelashes and I laugh even louder scaring them away, and the poor shepherd tries his best to calm the beasts and swears on top of his lungs catching after them.

That is when I reach Puphi Hajras house, to carry her little newborn. Samra with her toothless smile is perhaps the cutest kid I have ever seen, carrying her in my arms I love to feel the soft small hands touching my cheeks or sometimes clutching a few strands of my hair. I love her small fragile body, in fact I love all the little newborns of my neighborhood, when ever I know there is a new kid born in one of houses nearest to us, I rush to go carry the fluffy thing in my lap, telling them everything thing about me, laughing with them, singing to them.. until it’s time to go home.

Towards the noon my little sisters arrive home, with their scarves tied tightly around their heads, and Siparas in their hands, I know what Amma is going to say then, one word: “Nibhag”, my sisters, and Amma always tell me that I have Nibhag – misfortune - that I don’t go to Masjid, don’t wash the dishes or even when I refuse to wash my face.

Amma, always promises to tell Baba about my being a Nibhagi and as soon as Abba comes, she forgets. In fact we all forget everything and run for our duppatas. Everyone assumes my father to be a mullah, with his long beard but I would have disliked it if he was a Mullah, that way I would have been forced to go to Masjid. He rather is a peasant working on Zamindars – landlords - lands, sometimes he takes me and my sisters at the time of Labaro – harvest - for us to help him and all of us have fun together. That I think is the happiest moment of my life. But for now, we sit silently trying to sound like the good behaved girls he wants us to be, until he calls “Sohni”, and I run to give him his dinner, after he finishes, we eat, then all of us go to bed on our cots in veranda and I lay awake.

Stepping Out

Random Strangers in Life ~ A learning experience at The Unreasonable Institute

Saturday, August 07, 2010

It indeed was a strange place, very strange....first of all too big, a lot of

corridors, and various rooms. It was the middle of the night and everything and everyone seem to have fallen a sleep with even the leaves outside silent for some reason...far away a car would pass down the road and there would a sense of life available. My bags surrounded me in the dark room like shadows starring at me while I stood there starring out of my room window. It was full moon or almost full...perfect time to think..to ponder about lives most strange and unfamiliar places and people and there I was starring out at the moon and asking myself many questions...one among all was, am I going to be able to get what I want from the Unreasonable Institute?

That was the first night at the Unreasonable Mansion, My doubts, fears and confused inquiries to myself nagged at me repeatedly, until I assure myself of various things or maybe just wait for all these questions to be answered. I waited.

In fact, I never asked myself again as there never seemed a need for that. Things started to happen, schedules started to roll, days passed, each second bringing
something new and fresh to my life... until here I am. Today, just before hours to my departure... after 10 weeks.... I am unable to even count down apparently all that I have got from this Institute.

My first tutors were Maria and Trina, My roommates I was blessed to be living

with. I learned from them about love and sharing from the very beginning of the days, about times when I would be reading holly Quran and they would be silent with respect, of times when not even understanding a single word of the music Trina played, Maria would dance and say she is totally ok with bollywood music rocking down in the room, of times when I would feel a little tired and would find Trina sitting near me with a plate of food and glass of water insisting me to eat. Those are my first learnings...

Then there were classes at the University Campus, That amazing morning at the session about legal structures and I remember being amazed at all the options available for any organization to choose from, the possibility of hybrid structures and the opportunities in non-profit and for-profit sector. I was taken aback by the importance of values and legal structure of an organization which to me before have never been of importance. I am now fully aware of where and how legally Sughar can be a strong organization to be able to create high impact social change and become self-sustainable also.

The sessions of measuring impact, did I ever knew how much of a great impact we made until I knew how to actually measure it! The traditional methods of monitoring and evaluation with Sughar have always been a part of everything we did but the impact which is invisible but strongly contributes to the mission of the organization is now the main thing I am focused to measure

I remember having trouble understanding "Market Research", while now my whole business model depends on that! From using media as a powerful tool to pitching to investors I feel the strength of my existing knowledge a lot more better then what I had.

The 30 minute office-hours were the best, but those were the times when I used to think that I may never be able to tell my story even in 30 minutes while going back now I am able to define the whole story with clear structure in 2 to 5 minutes, this is the type of clarity we have got within what we do. Thats not all that we are clear on the most of course, as I am deeply impressed with myself to now define my business model on a napkin to anyone, bring out the financial projections for the next years to come at any point, prove the urgency of the issue by providing data right from the grass root level, while show the success of the venture by providing every single number available of beneficiaries to benefits!

The formal learning at a side, I haven't spend one day here without learning something "informal". Those sun sets at the Mansion when fellows were playing volleyball and I stood looking at how fun it might be, and all of them shouting me to come play... of course I have never HELD a volley ball in my hand and playing is something of different universe. But Benjamin and Ullas had different thoughts, they used to stay after games to help me play, running frantically after the ball each time I would hit at the wrong side.

Everyone have taught me something, looking back I laugh at the fact that it was rather a joy for them to know that I am an ignorant at somethings and every single one of them had volunteered to teach me these things. Rafael was a good tutor, he introduced me to peanut butter and jelly sandwich with double bonus, that is a huge glass of milk and the peanut butter song along with it. cant forget the way everyone starred at me until I took the first bite to declare if I like it or not. Rafael was successful.

Teju, taught me to play Racquetball! one of my favorite experiences, I remember

playing for an hour by throwing the ball at the wall and rushing behind it to hit it again and so on until after wards Teju taking me to a place where some other people were playing racquetball, and when I say playing I mean putting the ball on fire! the ball almost would have blown and ripped apart from the rapid and extreme hitting of these people, I decided I may never be able to play that again....

Trampoline was a wonderful experience, Jasmine was the master to teach me how to "have fun" on it. But before that we needed a trampoline and the irony that our next door neighbors owned one, while we stood here on our porch to stare at it, until a dog came rushing inside the lawn of the Unreasonable Mansion and so did his owner to catch it who happen to be our next door neighbor and grasping the opportunity we asked to use the trampoline which we did use for about an hour until we felt like our bodies didnt have any bone left in it.

I also learned to play Frisbee, by the Frisbee master Daniel M.M, I learned how to make coffee in the coffee machine by Vlad, I learned how to be sarcastic, by

Nikhil. I remember him feeling weird once defining that sarcasm have nothing to do with offending people, "you see", he said "we can be sarcastic by saying, oh its cold when its warm", I hadn't got it till then.... Daniel Epstein and Tyler were good tutors also! "So when you see a car and are the first one to say Shot-gun, you would be able to sit in the front seat". Daniel had said and afterwards I had said shot gun at every single ride out anytime and had enjoyed great views and sent heartily wishes to Dan. Tyler was the one who introduced the famous ever place Target to me, we went into the toy section and he told me to push the huge red buttons of the toys from toy-story and I did that for about a dozen and the whole racks of toys filled with chants of BUZZ LIGHTYEAR!

Jehan was the cultural tutor, I respect his efforts of searching and sending me the whole lyrics of Fresh Prince and helping me sing it the way it is, making me a master in it by the time of Etans birthday so I sing it for him. I cant help singing each time time I hear the words, "Fresh" or "Story" and I would go: Now this is the story all about how, my life got flipped turned upside down.

Justin showed me all kinds of high fives, while one of the best is when hands blow up after a fist high five. I enjoyed learning riding the bike the most also, Maryam was my tutor and I don't think there is any best tutor then her.... I remember her words, "control khalida is what matters", its like how you control like and not let it control you. if you control where the bike is going and know what you do when you are about to fall", you have got it and I did...

Among all the knowledge, experience and information that showered upon me,

One of them I really feel like have changed all my perspective towards the work that I do. Its the power of 1 on 1's. Of relationships built to last... I remember hearing, why does it matter a lot for us to learn as much as we can to be effective in our family relationships. But actually to ignore the ones where we get to spend more then half of the day which is with colleagues and co-workers. And this is what I have learned from the Unreasonable Institute, that taking time to understand, and learn about someone at your workplace can change the whole mode of everyday life.

I always feel like its never about places, nor about time, experience or exposure...its about people. The human beings that surround us are the ones who make a difference in our lives at the right time, sometimes they are officially called tutors while many times they are just random people...more like strangers.

I did live with strangers for 10 weeks, with a culture not my own, where things were unfamiliar for me, sometimes odd and yet awkward for me...but all of these transforming to become my one new family. A family where each single person matters, where everyone is ready to sacrifice anything to help other, anyone is ready to be of service to other and more then anything where every single member is filled with care, support and encouragement for other member. Thats how my family is, My Unreasonable Family.

And now within a few hours I am leaving my family, I am leaving behind the doors where some one would peek inside the room and say, are you up for volleyball? I am leaving behind the porch where all the girls sat to talk, gossip and laugh... no more of running down the stairs to find a bunch of people playing card games at the dinning table... nor would there be the smile of Etan entering the kitchen, the huge pile of cups to take, fill with coffee and walk out to the lawn to be greeted by a group of people sitting and laying on the grass... I am leaving

behind all those moments... the beautiful times at the Unreasonable Institute.. but I am taking back with me something more important. I am taking along with me the memories, the happy and joyous memories which would fill my heart and life with happiness for the days to come and would remind me that somewhere in each corner of the world someone of your family lives who also misses you the most.......

A temporary farewell with deep admiration for all my family members~

3rd August 2010

Global Summit

Unreasonable Global Summit and A Week of Exceptional Mentors!

Friday, July 30, 2010

Its the week before the last one.... Cant believe how quickly the days passed by and how soon all of us have become a big family... and then again will have to go our separate ways within 10 days..

However then again we fellows don't know whether to be sad at this idea of leaving the Institute or to celebrate the wonderful times yet prevailing at the Unreasonable Institute, because this week had a lot in store for us! More then anything the first ever Unreasonable Global Summit in the history of the world!

Other then that as always this week have had some the greatest mentors coming in at the Unreasonable House! Such as;

Rafe Furst. A world class poker player and Angel Investor, Rafe is the co-founder of Presumed Abundance (forward-thinking investment fund).

David Bornstein. The author of How to Change the World and perhaps one of, if not the most, connected and well-known people in the social enterprise space. He's also the author of the new book Social Enterprise: Everything You Need to Know and most recently founded Dowser, uncovering stories of change..

Casey Verbeck. Founder and CEO of Touchpoint Trust Group, Former Founder and CEO of Partners in Music. Driving awareness and capital to triple bottom line companies through the i4c campaign.

Hunter Lovins. The author of Natural Capitalism along with Paul Hawken and the co-founder of the Rocky Mountain Institute (freeing the global economy from dependence on fossil fuels).

Marc Mathieu. The former head of Global Brand Marketing at Coca Cola. Marc is the reason Coke is in every village, every shanty town, and every slum around the world. He's going to talk about how to build such an incredible brand and distribute effectively in the most remote parts of the world.

Nathaniel Whittemore. Amongst the most connected people in the social enterprise space, Nathianiel is the founder of Assetmap Strategies, the Global Engagement Summit (a 5-day Unreasonable Institute at Northwestern University), and blogs for Change.org.

Greg Miller. The former co-founder of Google.org. Need more be said?

Graham MacMillan. Former Senior Director of VisionSpring, a social enterprise producing affordable glasses for low-income customer, Graham is now Program Officer of the Citi Foundation, managing philanthropic investments for them.

Kevin Starr. The founder of the Mulago Foundation and the Rainer Arnhold Fellows program. He's the guy that wrote that incredible article on impact I sent out and is absolutely obsessed with how to measure it - he funds ventures that produce measurable social impact and will ask you very basic questions to help you understand if your efforts are actually making a profound difference in the world.

Jalak Jobanputra. The senior vice-president of the New York City Investment Fund where she overseas digital media and technology investments. She's been a VC focused on early stage funding for quite a while now and sits on the Echoing Green Social Investment Board.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

And now here we are, just one day before the Global Summit to happen, all the fellows, mentors and founders at the Unreasonable Institute believe that the day will be marked in the history as the most unreasonable day ever!

As Nnaemeka puts it, Let it Come~

America

Boulder to San Francisco~ One Bus, 22 Unreasonable People, 3000 miles and Road to West Coast

Monday, July 26, 2010

My World

Heart of an Entrepreneur~ Confession to the world

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The calm wind of Boulder fills my room as the soothing sound of each leaf from the tree branch against the window whooshes slightly to my thoughts telling me so many things...... I half listen as my gaze strolls up to somewhere in the space at nothingness... and my eyes fill with tears and my heart fills with longing.... I confess, I miss my home, my land and my people back in Pakistan.

It feels like an eternity now... too long for me to be away from those noises around the house, from kids who surround me and their beautiful voices running down the house make me feel alive each moment. The soft morning breeze hiting the trees in the haveli, while tea pots with stains of black on them from the fire wood would whistle for me to have a cup of tea of which each drop is filled with love that asks for no return...

That long of the night when I would sit with my sisters till really late watching tv, gazing each second at dad's door not to wake him up, while on the other hand dad fully awake from the sound of tv would stay in his room to allow us time to watch...

My heart fills up with love when I recall mom, her sound in my ears each morning, the warm morning sunlight shining on her hair and her face bent towards me with a smile...... I never told you mom but I loved it when deep in my work or reading something I would look up and see you... Its worth anything in this world. I know I am really busy most of my time when I am around but with those paperwork, those books surrounding me or those sounds of my typing in my room, my ears always search for your sound around the house and your existence...

I remember holding dad tightly while sitting with him on the back of the motorcycle, he would take me to my favourite book store, deliberately riding down the road where my favourite food place is and would say, "you dont need anything else do you"? and I would just laugh and wouldnt say anything becuase he would have already stopped there to buy me something to eat and we would end up having dinner out in the damp nights of Karachi....

And there are those moments of celebration when driving fast to the villages in Sughar's vehicle, the only second vehicle on the road is of mama noor's... my heart would skip a beat to look at him behind the steering wheel, his vehicle filled with people and wood that he would have to take to several places, but most especial of all the honk of his vehicle while crossing ours to let me know he cares.... I would gaze back at the dust flying from its wheels until it disappears.... Another of the moments I would never stop celebrating is the morning of these villages... several small and tiny feet would make their way to the school which is very far.... the sky blue government dress with white scarves I would stare at the little faces of these girls and my heart would weep with happiness....

The scents..... The mud kitchen of our haveli, smoke flying through the chimney while delicious aroma of friend chillies would fill the air... I would run and hug chachi so close because her every other day of frying chillies have to do something with my love for them.

The sun half setting, cow would be milked and I would stand there to get the first fresh glass of milk... I never get tired of doing it and love it when the foamy milk would remind of my childhood when I and my cousin would walk miles to go buy milk and lick all the foam on top while coming back. I would smile at the irony of everything in life and would laugh at the reality of it all that happened...

The dry and hot days when weeping willows in my village would whoosh so hard compelling me to stand under them forever listening to them... imitating them... The sound of the rushing water would grasp me and I

would run towards the river and would stand there filled with awe at the beauty of something as magnificent as nature...I remember Ali and me standing there once, I really wanted a picture of me in the river and he refused it because it was so cold... until we came across a rock and he finally got my picture but making my way out of the river I slipped in the water, soaked and freezing and he making a miserable face at me... I never told you this my brother, but I believe you are best brother one could ever have... I am blessed and fortunate to have you. while coming back home after a long day I love the tired face of you smothered with a forced smile, when I am filling you in on every single thing that would have happened.... I miss those moments...

The smallest moments, when I would rush out of the door in fear of being late for office and Tata would grab me by the elbow to go take me to her hut and give me tea, fried fish and roti. "don't work so hard", she would say and I would just smile. Its become a tradition....

There are so many things that have become a tradition, including the warm, comfortable house at night when kids are preparing to go to bed... dad walking around the house dimming the lights, while mom would bring warm milk for all the kids before they fall a sleep, she would tuck in all of them and looking at my bed wouldn't find me....Because I have always been gone.... long time ago I separated from all this.... chose to take a path that made me miss moments of warmth, love and comfort... moments when all the family would sit around the tv to watch movies and I wont be there....because I chose not to be there.... as I chose to be an entrepreneur...

Another peaceful breeze enters my room and the wind brings me back to today.... sitting at my desk with the computer in front of me... papers and books surrounding me.... my entrepreneur heart longs for the wind from my village... my feet longing to touch the dusty ground and my hands want to feel the mud walls... but instead my hands go up and wipe off the tears and turn back to the keyboard and back to work.... for many reasons.....one of which is because I have to make another tradition... tradition of consistency and persistence... the tradition of entrepreneurship to make this world a better place for all of us.

4th of July

I am from Pakistan, I offer peace. Happy 4th of July!!!

Sunday, July 04, 2010

It was my first day in Colorado, US, for the Unreasonable Institute. The beginning of a beautiful day, sun hadn't gained it full power and thus the sky was clear with patches of white floating... I perhaps never had seen anything as beautiful as this, the green of Boulder with the blue of sky reminded me of how perfect Nature is.... I had gone for a long walk. Coming back I didn't have to worry about time and was walking slowly. Up the road, back to the Unreasonable Institute where all of the wonderful fellows from around the world stayed together.

As usual I was wearing my traditional shalwar qameez with scarf wrapped around my hair... I was walking with deep satisfaction, taking in all the beauty of the nature, until... I started feeling awkward. my hands clutched my bag tightly, my eyes promised not to look up... Some people were walking up the street, American people. I had no other choice but to pass through them... I know I have heard wrong... I kept telling myself I have heard wrong of people disliking diversity and especially hating Pakistani culture.. I knew they were going to do something.... or say something... or probably laugh.... feeling oddly weak my pace started to slow down... either this way or that, I had to walk past these people... and thus we approached each other, my eyes down, my heart beating loudly and my feet denying further steps and these people approaching more closer, closer, until they were shoulder to shoulder with me, and then...each of them chanted, good morning! oh you look nice! have a great day!:)..... I felt ashamed of myself.

From that day on, till today, that makes a month of staying in America... I have seen respect, love, and smiles in return to my differences, I represented Pakistan the whole month of June in the Unreasonable Institute, where ever I went in Colorado, in Tennessee, meeting hundreds of people, I gained love in return.... and thus I decided to offer the same, respect to Americans, love and peace to every single person I come across on 4th of July, I decided to represent America and spreading the message of love by wearing American attire and walking down to people to personally tell everyone how thankful I am to be here.

Just this morning of 4th of July, I woke up with a mission, and dressed in a big gown with colors of US flag and a cow boy hat with neckerchief. It was perfect. The long walk started just after lunch, I needed my strength:) and taking along my beautiful friend+room mate Maria with me, we headed down to down the street first to have a cappuccino (I had waited till this day to try what it is:). "Are you really going to do it", Maria asked smiling, "yeah why not", I said and there a lady coming down the street toward our way, coming closer, I smiled with gratitude and chanted my first: HAPPY 4TH OF JULY! she was in thoughts at first, shocked second, smiled later and laughing waved with happiness and said, "happy 4th of July to you too"!!! I couldn't have been more proud. I told this to 13 more people walking across the street all of them waving and smiling, some laughing and wishing a great day. my heart was filled with happiness and yet it was only the beginning..

We walked inside a few shops to greet people, having chances to speak further then the greetings, I told them I was from Pakistan and offered peace and love to everyone in America because we all know humans speak one language before all and that's the "language of love". With misty eyes some of them hugged me, some shook hands, I got blessings, and took pictures and I think there wouldn't have been a day like this when I felt such strong connections with people even I didnt knew them.

I found out Cappuccino is actually coffee with foam on it, oh well I thought as Maria and I started walking to the Pearl street. Which is the main busy and most amazing place in Boulder where I can greet about hundreds of people all together. Soon it was huge masses of people walking across streets I sensed we are there. I felt my heart take leaps of joy, approaching the first person there who was offering ice cream samples I tasted mango ice cream and told him about my mission for today, he was happier then ever, waved to us for a long time until we disappeared in the crowds of people, watching street performers, children playing, elderly people sitting and talking, In short it was all HUMAN, every single one of them with a desperate need to give and get love.

People saw me walking, some waved, some smiled and some approached me themselves before I did. It was all overwhelming.... about more then 80 people who have smiled and greeted back, I had simply washed away perhaps years of sadness in me as the deep feeling of happiness made my heart warm with each smile that came across from people. I chased kids, took pictures with them, some got scared and others clapped... I wasnt able to hide my tears when their parents waved back when we walked away...

"You are a blessing", one of the old ladies said sitting along with 5 others on a bench, gave me warm hugs as I shared my mission... more then 100 people now. I saw people wearing flags on their shoulders, ran to them, wished them and saw them being really happy... I waved to street performers, approached many and took pictures and shared my mission. Some times passing people I didnt have to say anything at all, it was just smiles, warm beautiful smiles, from older people, from small kids, from mothers and fathers, from everyone and it said: you offer love, we offer love.

More then 150 people by now... about hours of greeting everyone, sharing the connections, love and the pure sense of belonging. I felt filled with emotions, the happiness that at first was just within me, flowed through the crowds of people that were there.... Now as I and Maria made our way back home a bunch of people waved from behind, smiling and yes feeling the love that I felt towards everyone~ +++++++

I keep learning from people, from every single being, because each one of us comes with unique identity and that when shared becomes a source of energy to live and a reason to celebrate. The more I learn about humans, the more I want to show my gratitute and respect to the differences which unite us all.

I am from Pakistan, I offer peace. HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!!!