Meet Shakib

UNITED NATIONS ASSOCIATION
“COFFEE TALKS” SPEAKER’S SERIES
celebrates International Education Week

Imagine that you are an Afghani teen who has never known life without war.
You are given the opportunity to live in the United States for a year 

with the intention to develop your leadership skills 

and return to Afghanistan to make a difference.
What would you do with that 

one precious year?
 

Meet Shakib, a high school junior, who is making the most of his year as an International Exchange Student through the YES: Afghanistan* program. Shakib will speak about his experiences growing up in war-torn Afghanistan, the cultural differences he has encountered in the U.S., and his hopes for a brighter future for his countrymen.



Shakib will be joined by his host parents, Jon and Maureen, who will speak about their experience as surrogate parents to this extraordinary young man and their choice to create an interfaith household where a Christian, a Jew, and a Muslim live in harmony.



A representative of American Councils for International Education will also be on hand to answer questions about the YES* program and the opportunity to host students from Afghanistan, Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Kosovo, Macedonia, Montenegro, Russia, Serbia, and Ukraine.


When: Tuesday, November 16th at 7:00 pm
Where: The New York Deli
25 N. Raymond Avenue, Pasadena, CA  91103

Suggested donation: $10 adults / $5 for students

Proceeds support the work of the United Nations Association.

For reservations and information contact (626) 449-1795 

or visit www.unapasadena.org

Parking is available just north of the Armory for a flat fee of $6.00.

*The Kennedy-Lugar Youth Exchange and Study (YES) Program was established in October, 2002, to provide scholarships for high school students (15-17 years) from countries with significant Muslim populations to spend up to one academic year in the US. Students live with host families, attend high school, engage in activities to learn about American society and values, acquire leadership skills, and help educate Americans about their countries and cultures.

Will you still need me? Will you still feed me?

Today is Jon’s birthday. He is 64.

It seems like only yesterday that we walked down the aisle together. But I guess it’s been a while.

On our wedding day in 1993, 64 seemed so far away. Who knew that at age 64, Jon would be parenting a 17-year-old Afghani boy? Or that he would be training for his 4^th full marathon, having graduated from running half marathons (13.1 miles) to the full 26.2 at age 60?

That I would still be in love with this man 17 years later was never in question.

I often say that I married the best man on the planet, and I mean it. For sheer goodness, I have yet to encounter his equal. Jon Charles is kind-hearted, generous and good-natured. He loves people, and he lets it show.

Marriage to Jon has exceeded my expectations. In him I have a partner and a best friend. He does the laundry, pays the bills, manages the auto maintenance, picks up the dry cleaning, shops for groceries, and runs me a bath when I can barely move another muscle. And he is so cheery about all of it.

Jon is a fabulous father. No, Shakib didn’t come to us in the usual way, and yes, we got to skip diapers, the terrible twos, broken bones, fistfights, and a host of other childhood milestones. But he is a teenager and there are challenges. We jumped into the middle of Shakib’s life, and I cannot imagine anyone I would rather have taken that leap with than Jon.

When Shakib was fasting during Ramadan, it was Jon who arose daily at 3:40 am to make him breakfast – for an entire month. And it is Jon – the morning person – who now gets up with Shakib at 6:00 am and sees to it that he gets off to school on time.

Because of Jon, I have a musical life.  He is a gifted musician and arranges and orchestrates music for television, films, and live performances.  He started out in his early 20s as the arranger for the Dick Cavett Show – working with living legends night after night – and recently finished his sixth season as an orchestrator on American Idol. You can read his professional bio here.

Not only do we attend wonderful shows and concerts, but we also share a love for good melodies and clever lyrics. What a boon to have married a straight guy who knows the lyrics to so many Broadway tunes!

Rarely does a day go by that we do not sing to each other. Sometimes one of us makes up lyrics to an existing song to fit a situation or topic of conversation; sometimes, we just make up melodies from scratch. Mine are usually terrible, Jon’s often brilliant.

Jon volunteers his time with the local United Nations Association where he served for 6 years as Board Secretary and is extremely active on committees. He has served as a precinct inspector, managing our local polling place and greeting voters with a smile, every election day, large or small, for 18 years. And he serves on the Board of the American Society of Music Arrangers and Composers, where he is also a past president.

My husband has other skills. One taste of his homemade cheesecake and you will want to marry him too. He is has a talent for drawing.  And he can name all Seven Dwarfs.

Anyone who knows Jon would acknowledge that he is very funny. And he is. But beyond that, Jon has a sense of humor about himself, about life, and about the world. It is hard to stay angry or upset around him and easy to laugh at yourself. In his world, all really is well.

For our wedding day, Jon wrote string quartet arrangements to be played before and after the ceremony including a phenomenal arrangement of Prince’s Kiss. Yes, with cello, viola and violins.

I’ll never forget walking up the aisle toward my future husband to a lively string arrangement of Chapel of Love as our wedding guests spontaneously broke into song: "Going to the Chapel and we're gonna get married..."

After the ceremony, we walked down the aisle as husband and wife to Jon’s arrangement of the Beatles’ When I’m 64.

So here we are, 17 years later, and one of us is indeed 64. Do I still need Jon? You bet.

So now it’s my turn to ask, with a little over 13 years to go, Jon:

When I get older losing my hair
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine,
Birthday greeting, bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me?

Will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

You'll be older too…

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say.
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away

Give me your answer. Fill in a form.
Mine for evermore?
Will you still need me?

Will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

Babel

"What country are you from?" Shakib asked the boy behind the counter.

"Pakistan," came the reply.

"Do you speak Urdu?"

"Yes."

And that was the last word that Jon and I understood. As we waited in line at school for his ASB photo to be taken, we watched in awe as Shakib and Uzair, a student council officer, gabbed excitedly in Urdu, the national language of Pakistan.

Shakib has been in the US for 6 1/2 weeks now. When he arrived, we knew that he was multilingual, but we did not know the extent of his abilities.

It turns out that he is conversant in at least 8 languages. Besides Urdu, Shakib speaks the 2 official languages of Afghanistan - Dari and Pashto, the language of the Pashtun, his tribe; Hindi and Punjabi - Indian languages; Farsi - the Persian language spoken widely in Iran; Arabic - the language of the Qur'an; and English.

I have read enough to know that this is unusual for an Afghan - most of whom speak one, two, maybe three languages - so last night over dinner I asked Shakib how he had come to speak so many idioms. It turns out that, with the exception of English, which he studied formally, Arabic, which is read in the Mosque, and Dari, which is spoken in his home, he is pretty much self-taught.

He said that from a very young age - 3 or 4 - he was fascinated with the many languages that he heard around him - especially on the television and often tuned in to language-learning broadcasts on the education channel and followed along. As he grew older, he deliberately sought out people in his neighborhood who spoke other languages and attempted to converse with them. In Shakib they found an apt and enthusiastic pupil. In Kabul, where his satellite hookup receives 3500 stations, he watched movies and television shows in a variety of languages so as to improve his listening skills.

His aptitude is clearly enhanced and driven by his interest in people and his authentic desire to connect and communicate. During the month that he lived in Punjab, India, he was able to converse very well in Hindi and Punjabi and was often called upon by the other students to translate. He glows warmly when sharing about the relationships that he created with the local merchants and townspeople there.

Here in the US, when meeting friends of ours from Iran, he effortlessly switches to Farsi.

As for English, he studied in a private English language class for 3 years. In Central Asian languages, books are written from right to left and read from back to front so he had to reorient himself directionally in order to read and write. Mastering English also required learning a whole new script -- our alphabet, punctuation, numeric characters, and mathematical signs.

He told us that to sharpen his receptive language abilities in the months before he traveled to the US, he listened nightly to recordings of American dialogs.

So how good is his English? He gets along very well in conversation. Occasionally, he becomes frustrated because he does not know a word. However, in daily conversation most of the misunderstandings between us are due to pronunciation errors.

Of course, he has huge gaps in his vocabulary, but he is building it daily. Why just yesterday he asked me what the English word was for people who eat other people.

In his English immersion reading class he is zooming through the Accelerated Reading books he checks out from the library. He says that the other kids don't read during reading time but he does. He is competitive and enjoys being a star student. (Aha, he IS my long-lost Afghan son!)

Shakib is here to learn, and I expect him to improve rapidly. His first STAR Reading Exam score was 2.4 (2nd grade, 4th month). That means that Mom gets to work with him on his reading. 

Dual oral reading is recommended so that he gets practice and direct input as well as the opportunity to follow along with a good role model. A former bilingual educator, I am far more adept at teaching reading than algebra - which we are also working on - but that's another blog topic. Meanwhile, I can't wait to see how far he progresses by his next reading exam.

Want to experience just how different English is from his native Dari? Go to Dari: A dozen simple words for the linguistically challenged and see how you do.

As for Shakib, I don't think we have a comprehensive list of his linguistic accomplishments yet. 

I just discovered that for a few years he lived in a neighborhood with a lot of Turkic inhabitants. Turks reside in northern, central and western Asia, Mongolia, southern Siberia, northwestern China, and parts of eastern Europe. Those he knew came to Afghanistan from Uzbekistan. Shakib spent a lot of time with the Uzbeki Turks and picked up their language along the way.

I'll add that language to my list...

...as soon as I learn how to spell it.

Bacha Posh

Today the New York Times posted an eye-opening feature about the Afghan practice of disguising young girls as boys. In a society where boys are prized, these bacha posh ("dressed up as boy") girls allow families without male children to save face. They also give poor families another breadwinner.

Times reporter Jenny Noroberg interviewed a number of girls and their families about this custom and unconcealed a reality that is nearly inconceivable for westerners.

I asked Shakib if he knew any girls like this. He said that there are many in Kabul. "They do this because they prefer to dress like boys and to please their parents who have no son. Then they can say, 'Here is my son.'"

Shakib grew up with a neighbor girl in this situation. Now 18, she dresses like a woman. Shakib says that this is commonplace and didn't seem to think much of it.

The practice has nothing to do with sexual orientation but is rather a pretense born of societal pressures.

In a land where most girls are covered up and kept out of sight until they reach a marriageable age and being a boy ensures freedom of movement, employment opportunities, and other privileges, most bacha posh girls seem to welcome the opportunity to gender switch even for a short time. Wouldn't you?

Read the full story here.

Buff 'N' Tough

“Bodybuilding,” said Shakib.

“Bodybuilding? Really?” I asked.

“Yes, lifting weights. It is very popular in my country, and it is my favorite sport.”

“Not cricket? Not buzkashi? Not soccer?”

“No, bodybuilding.”

Looking at Shakib’s slight frame, I had my doubts. But I was impressed with his determination so we agreed to locate an appropriate gym for his after school workouts. At least he knew better than to take up weightlifting during Ramadan.

Why bodybuilding? 

Is it because…

    a)  Shakib admires Arnold Schwarzenneger and Sylvester Stallone?  
    b)  He wants to appear strong and able to hold his own in the streets of Kabul? 

    c)  Some of the Afghan girls teased him about being skinny, and he wants to put on some weight before he sees them again?
    d)  All of the above?

It’s d...all of the above.

Shakib’s favorite American movies are Rambo I, II, III, and IV. And he has already inquired as to the likelihood of meeting Sly, or perhaps the Governator, while he is here.

He has also spoken candidly about the mean streets of Kabul where boys are kidnapped and sold every day. In his country, it is prudent to be buff and tough.

Deciding that the YMCA within walking distance of his school was a wholesome choice, we arranged for a partial scholarship for Shakib. In his eagerness to bulk up quickly, he overdid it on the first day. Too many reps with too much weight left his arms stiff and sore. Of course, it didn't help that he also carried around a 5-pound Algebra book in a loaded backpack all week.

When we asked Shakib how he had determined how much weight to lift, we discovered that he had consulted his friends. So much for Plan A. Shakib now has an appointment with a trainer to design a sensible plan for his workouts...and he gets to leave his algebra book at home.

Shakib has asked a lot of questions about what he should eat to build muscle. Given his zeal, we will be vigilant about shortcuts, i.e. steroids.

On his first day, a big culture shock awaited Shakib in the locker room. “The men were naked,” he told us. Afghani standards for male modesty are very different from US norms, and Shakib acknowledged that he had never seen an unclothed man.

“Well now you have.” I said.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I looked away.”

School Daze

Shakib was nervous. It was 7:00 a.m., and he was due at school in 30 minutes. 

"Sit down and eat your breakfast," I commanded, and he obeyed. I knew that he would need all of his strength for what lay ahead – the first day of school.

Heeding the advice of our neighbor Kathy, a teacher at Shakib’s high school who volunteered to drive him in the mornings, Jon and I took him to school on that first day. A mother herself, Kathy knew that we would worry otherwise. She also suggested that we might want to take pictures. Remembering the excruciating embarrassment that parental hovering can cause, I skipped the photos. Let's face it: The universal goal for all 17-year-olds is to blend.

Fortunately, I’d had the prescience to set up a school tour for Shakib on the Friday before and to request that a buddy be assigned to assist him on the first day.  Although he looked like a deer caught in a headlight as we approached the campus, I knew that Shakib would be all right. Sure enough, his escort was waiting out front. The second Shakib spotted him, I no longer existed. Fair enough. Who wants your mother to walk you to class?

It was a long day for me – wondering how he was doing. When at last he came through the door, Shakib was exhausted. I know how fond teens are of being grilled by their parents, but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to know everything and bombarded him with questions.

The bottom line is that he liked some classes and was a little skeptical of others. The first day of school being mostly about ground rules, syllabi and school supplies, I reminded him to stay open and taught him the old axiom: Don’t judge a book by its cover.  

Shakib likes all of his teachers, and as the week progressed he found something to like about all of his subjects as well, all except algebra. He was very intimidated by a series of tests that he took in algebra class, but I have since learned that the purpose of these benchmark exams is to find a starting point for each student. No student moves on to the next skill until he succeeds. Shakib will be just fine.

His favorite class so far is the computer class, which turned out to be focused on Film Making and Video Production. Perfect. Like drama, a close second in Shakib's estimation, Film class will entail cooperative learning.

He is also making friends in English class where most of the students are native Spanish speakers. I had to explain that they were not from Spain.

It turned out that Shakib had no homework on that first day. Mom was not so lucky. There were papers to read, sign and return to his teachers, supplies to compile for each class, and the first request that I contact a faculty member.

Shakib's US history teacher had told him she didn’t think that her class was the right placement for him due to his English proficiency. I was concerned since the US State Department requires Shakib to take US history or government. But when I spoke to his teacher the next day, all became clear. He had been placed in a history class for English learners. She felt that his English was too good for the class and wanted to transfer him to mainstream history. Proud Momma syndrome instantly ensued.

We expected some culture shock with the onset of school. And we were right. His biggest surprise on the first day of school was the aggressiveness of the girls. 

“A girl laughed at me," he said. “She saw me in the hallway and said ‘You look lost.’ I wasn’t lost. And she walked right up to me and laughed.” He has a lot to learn about American mating rituals.

Once again, Shakib revealed his empathy and compassion as he contrasted the girls in his US high school with the female exchange students from Afghanistan whom he met at the program orientation in India. He described quiet girls who cover their heads, segregate themselves, and do not easily make eye contact. He said that he now understood why the Afghan girls were so homesick.

More opportunities for cultural understanding unfolded during the course of the week, including a misunderstanding with his drama teacher. He thought that she had used the term “Muslim terrorists” in an offensive manner and communicated this to Jon.

When I spoke with the teacher the next day, it became clear that she had actually been distinguishing stereotypes as part of a lesson on improvisation and had said, “We know that all Muslims are not terrorists. This is a stereotype, and stereotypes are not the truth about people.” A professional, enthusiastic and dedicated teacher, she was completely willing to straighten out the misunderstanding. She also recommended that I write a letter to the entire faculty informing them of Shakib’s presence in the school and his unique background.  

I ended up directly contacting 3 out of 5 teachers this week with issues to resolve so I paused to check in with myself. Was I being one of those dreaded helicopter parents that teachers complain about – the kind that hover close and swoop in to protect their children at a moment’s notice? Maybe. But Shakib is not used to standing up for himself with adults or talking something through with a teacher. Twelve years of schooling in Afghanistan have taught him that teachers are to be feared.

In Kabul, Shakib’s school day is shorter -- 7:00 am to 12:00 noon. The averages class size is 200. All 200 students sit together on the floor in one room for the entire five hours. No breaks are given for any reason. The teachers are strict. And they carry whips.

Shakib showed me scars where he had been injured by these whippings. I asked if he had been whipped because he did not know an answer. “No,” he said. “If a teacher hears a noise in the class, he will go around whipping all of the boys.”

Shakib demonstrated having his fingers forced back with a pencil woven between them. He also talked about his first year of school at age four. The teachers in that school whipped the boys on the bottoms of their feet. He says that this infuriated his mother, a teacher who does not whip her students, and that his feet have never been the same.

“This is why the Afghan students want to stay in America,” said Shakib. “I tell them that we must go back. I tell them also that it is possible to return to the US. I tell them that everything is possible.”

Cancer

"I never met anyone with cancer before," said Shakib. "Children in Afghanistan do not get cancer."

We were on our way home from a Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (LLS) potluck - following an 8.5 mile run. The event was an opportunity for our marathon team to meet our “honored teammates” - blood cancer patients in various stages of treatment - giving those without such ties a direct connection to the cause.

Jon and I have known far too many people with cancer. Some have won the battle. Some are still fighting. Others have lost their lives to cancer including Jon's sister Wendy. 

But this was Shakib's first encounter with cancer patients. He got to meet 8-year-old Tyler Cordova who has been in treatment for Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma since 2007 and hear his mother speak of the many breakthroughs and set backs that the family has weathered. The mother of Alessandra Sanchez spoke of her teenage daughter's courage as she faces a relapse of Hodgkin's disease and prepares for an impending bone marrow transplant. 70-year-old Roger Klinkhart spoke of living with chronic CLL, a form of leukemia. Roger, who has been through a research study and 2 clinical trials, acknowledged that without the funds raised by people like us, these studies would not be possible.

A pair of physicians from City of Hope - Dr. Ravi Bhatia and his wife Dr. Smita Bhatia spoke of their research efforts. A pediatric oncologist, Smitra’s particular area of interest is long term cancer survivorship. Ravi conducts bone marrow transplants and stem cell and leukemia research. 

A representative was on hand to register people for the Bone Marrow Registry. This effort is critical to blood cancer treatments. While millions of people are registered to donate marrow, matches are not easily made. What a gift it would be to be able to extend someone’s life by donating blood stem cells or marrow! Recovery is quick and the discomfort is short-lived. 

And of course Shakib got to meet our dear friend and Mission Captain Virginia Garner, a chronic myelogenous leukemia patient who - thanks to a clinical trial funded by LLS - has been effectively treating her disease with a drug called Gleevec for 11 years. While CLL is not curable, hundreds of thousands of people now live with chronic CLL thanks to Gleevec. While Virginia has herself run dozens of marathons, half-marathons, and other races, personally raising hundreds of thousands of dollars for LLS, and mentors newly diagnosed leukemia patients on a regular basis, perhaps her greatest gift has been in championing thousands of marathoners in our community over the last 10 years. We all know that if Virginia can do it, we can do it.

So there we were on our way home from this inspiring afternoon, and Shakib told us what he knew about cancer. "I never met anyone with cancer before," said Shakib. "Children in Afghanistan do not get cancer." He also believes that only people with great sorrow in their lives develop the disease. He was especially insistent that Afghani children do not get cancer: “I have lived in Afghanistan. I would know.”

Shakib and I will have to have a conversation about his personal test for reality. Meanwhile, we did explain that this business of cancer being caused by sorrow is a superstition. But you have to be careful of taking away people’s superstitions. He thought he was protected from harm. Now he wanted to know how people got cancer. Our explanations further shook his confidence in his immunity, and his insistence that Afghani children do not get cancer grew stronger.

Ultimately, I know that the truth shall set you free. So I did a little research. 

Dr. Nadera Hayat Borhani was one of the few doctors able to treat women under the Taliban rule.  She is now the Afghan Deputy Minister of Public Health. Dr. Borhani says: 

“Nobody in Afghanistan has access to health facilities for cancer. It’s the same situation for the children, the men, the women, the elderly -- nobody has access. Thirty years ago we had a centre for radiotherapy and a centre for diagnosis. But unfortunately during the war everything was destroyed...the infrastructure, the equipment, everything....So nearly we are starting at zero again.

“When the doctor sees some sign or symptom that a patient has cancer – the option is to send the patient to Iran, or to go to Pakistan, or to India, as their economic situation allows. But Afghanistan has a low economic situation, and most of the people are very poor, so most of them don’t go….

“We need a cancer registry in Afghanistan to see the numbers and different types of cancers in the country. Sadly in Afghanistan we do not know this. We need this information to make our policy. We have some data from the pediatric hospital in Kabul. They now have about 75 children with leukemia. But the real number I think is much greater, because the doctors send cancer patients to the foreign countries for treatment, or home to die.”

This is a country of 26 million. Life expectancy at birth is 42-43 years. 26% of the nation’s children do not make it to age 5, giving Afghanistan the highest infant mortality rate in the world. Maternal health is a national crisis. As for cancer rates, nobody knows. (Source: World Health Organization) 

I explained all of this to Shakib and suggested that perhaps he might study to be a physician. When one is 17, seven years of college can be daunting, but who knows where his interests and kind heart will lead him?

The great thing about life with Shakib is not that he has all the answers about Afghanistan, but rather that he gives rise to great questions.

“I was born in June. I was born under cancer. Do you know what is this?” he asked. 

“Yes. The word cancer has more than one meaning. In this case, Cancer refers to a giant crab. Do you know what a crab is?” Jon and I make claws with our hands. No pass. “Well, Cancer is the name of a constellation of stars that look like a giant crab.” Still no pass. 

[Note to self: Take Shakib to the Griffith Park Observatory and the Long Beach Aquarium.]

“Is there an immunization against cancer?” Shakib wanted to know. 

“No, not yet, but they are working on it. That is why we run marathons and raise money for research.”

Inshallah – God willing – we will have one soon.