Good bye, New York!

It is almost time to say goodbye to New York! It feels bittersweet. The friendships I have made, the valuable experience I have gained and just the feeling of being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of New York will be greatly missed. However, it has also been four long months since I have seen my family and friends in Canada and a part of me cannot wait to set foot back home. All the employees at the Canadian Mission were invited to a holiday dinner at the Ambassador’s residence today and I could not have imagined a better way to say goodbye to my New York family.

Now to continue from where I left off my last blog post…

I mentioned last time that I had started representing Canada in some informal negotiations of draft resolutions. As Thanksgiving weekend started, there was real pressure to finish discussions on these drafts and begin the silence procedure (this means that the draft resolution has been agreed upon and countries have 24 hours remaining after the resolution has been put to silence to voice out their concerns. If the silence is maintained for 24 hours, the resolution is ready for action in the general assembly). One of the negotiations that I attended before that hectic Thanksgiving weekend was on a Commodities resolution and I was told to say that Canada reserves its position for deletion of a particular paragraph. Let me tell you that even though that is all I had to say, I learned a lot about diplomacy even through that experience. There was so much pressure to end the negotiations and broker a deal and all of our like minded countries gave into a compromised text proposed by the Group of 77 (developing countries), which made things a bit awkward for me. I soon learned that even in the diplomatic world, you are nothing if your friends do not stand by you. Another interesting thing that happened that day before Thanksgiving started was that the Group of 77 wanted to introduce a new paragraph last minute on the International Decade of Soils resolution (prior to this, the resolution had almost been finalized and was ready to be put under silence). The G77 delegate actually saw me and asked me if Canada could support their new text. Even more amusing was the fact that he asked for my business card to send the text and since I am an intern and I do not have a business card, I told him I was all out! Anyways, I gave him my email address and we didn’t have any further comments to provide, so it all worked out in the end.

My most interesting experience, however, was on the draft resolution on the promotion and protection of telework. Even though most delegations were skeptical of the purpose of the resolution and no one could agree to the text, I learned and grew a lot from attending the negotiations on this resolution. Since I was the only one from Canada that ever attended the informal negotiations on this resolution, I would get emails from other delegates that had been present at the meeting in the middle of the night about certain problems they faced with regards to the resolution. I was the direct point of contact for Canada in those negotiations, which made me feel quite important!

As second committee resolutions wrapped up, I was again tasked with attending various side events and briefings for second and third committee and reporting back. Just the other day, I attended briefings on the Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA)’s work in Somalia and the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC)’s work in Mali. More recently, I also attended a meeting convened by the Open Working Group on the Sustainable Development Gaols on measuring progress in the implementation of the development goals and a briefing on the situation in the Philippines and the response of the international community. While my work has remained more or less the same on these side events and briefings as I am tasked with writing a report at the end, one thing that I would like to mention is the humbling experiences that I have run into with our Ambassador.  As I was sitting in Canada’s seat for the briefing on the situation in the Philippines , the Ambassador walked in as he had to deliver a statement on behalf of Canada later on. As I offered him my seat, he declined and made me stay seated until it was his turn to give Canada’s statement. In today’s staff meeting, the Ambassador again reiterated his appreciation for the work that the other intern and I have done for the Mission. No matter what their rank or position, one thing I have learned is that everyone here is so down to earth and wonderful to work with that it will be hard leaving these guys behind. Hopefully, I am able to work my way up and come back soon!!

Au revoir!

Rabiya

As Pakistanis, we are a diverse beautiful bunch!

The recent sectarain violence in Rawalpindi, Pakistan has once again left me puzzled. Everytime violence like this occurs, I am left to wonder, this is not the Pakistan that I remember. This is not who we were. We are a diverse, beautiful bunch. And that should be a cause of celebration, if anything. As someone who moved to Canada from Pakistan at a tender age of nine, I often think about how my own Pakistani identity is a mishmash of many other identities, which is perhaps my favourite thing about Pakistan itself-the fact that each one of us has so many stories to tell about who we are. 

As I think back to my own childhood, I am reminded of my grandmother who came to Pakistan from Hyderabad, India and who I never saw wear any dress other than a sari. Heck, my grandmother was so cool that even when she went on a scholarship to study in Australia (after she had been widowed and left to raise two children on her own), she did so in a sari. Even as she took her last breath, that was the dress she wore, as it was for many migrant women who were accustomed to wearing the traditional Indian dress after marriage.

As I think back further, I am also reminded of the Sindhi classes that we had to take at my elementary school in Karachi, and showing off about being able to say, "what is your name?" in the Sindhi language. Anyone who has ever been to school in Karachi can relate to this, I am sure.

And then there are the beautiful memories I have of going to Lahore every summer, as that is where my mother's family resides. From imagining the Mughal kings and queens walking around during my tour of the Shalimar Gardens to visiting the Lahore Zoo every single year and hearing the story of the slave girl Anarkali upon visiting the famous Anarkali Bazaar, Lahore is anything but dull. And then there were instances of picking up Punjabi words from my half Punjabi cousins and being amused by their Punjabi accents and being reminded by them of the famous Punjabi proverb: "the one who has not seen Lahore has not been born". And of course, the food! Lahore is nothing without its food.

Lastly, there is the ongoing memory I have of being confused about why my dad's last name is Khan when he looks anything but Pathan and have him tell me stories of how his paternal great great grandfather came from Afghanistan. Since my grandfather died when my dad was very young, I have been unable to find out if this story is real or if it's another one of my dad's ongoing jokes.

Either way, the truth is, Pakistan is so vibrant and so alive, so much so that it is almost hard to define what it means to be a Pakistani. But this dilemma should not serve as a clash of identities. It should be proof of the fact that Pakistanis are perfectly capable of co-existing with one another regardless of differences in cast, creed and socio-economic status.  Many of us have multiple identities residing peacefully within us, so why not let these identities exist at the national level and live in peace?

We, the Youth

I always find it interesting how there is so much burden placed on the shoulders of the youth. Any present mistake that our community elders helped create or are unable to get rid of are automatically passed down to us. It is up to the youth, they often say, to eradicate these troubles. Is it because the youth are passionate, more active and more driven than any other age groups to achieve their goals? Or perhaps because they are unaware about the unpredictable nature of life and are therefore never afraid to dream, and to fight till the very last moment to make their dreams come true?

Either way, sometimes I feel that there is too much burden placed on our tiny shoulders. Personally, I know that I have yet to learn about and work on my own self. How is it that I can take on such big tasks? My biggest fears continue to revolve around my growing student loans. The job market is still a new concept for me, and I am still learning about people, about friendships, and about love. Everyday is a new day for me. Everyday brings its own challenges. Its own smiles. Its own struggles. How do I save the entire world, when I barely know my own purpose in life? Sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe.

But then I stop. And realize. I realize that the world can't wait either. It can't wait for me to grow. Things need to be taken care of now. And for that, we sometimes need the endless hope that the youth are able to offer, to at least try to make things better.

As an overseas Pakistani who is well aware of people always counting on the youth to get rid of Pakistan's problems, I think I am finally starting to understand why. Going back, I have often felt that there are ways in which I can connect with my cousins, but there are also many ways in which I can't. You see, the Pakistani youth itself is so divided among its class and ideological differences that I often feet like I can never truly fit in.The only group of people that I have always felt connected to are the other overseas Pakistani youth, or any other immigrant youth for that matter, that live here in North America. But now things are starting to change. For the first time, I have felt more connected than ever to the youth in Pakistan.  For the first time, I think, the youth in Pakistan itself is starting to connect with one another.

And it's the country's problems and struggles that are bringing us together. The youth, more than anyone else, want change. Elections are coming up, and the youth seem to be the most excited, the most lit up, even pushy at times to get people to vote and vote for change especially. And maybe that's exactly what the country needs. The push of the youth. As a group who has hardly experienced life to know that life is not as predictable, as smooth, and as long as we often make it out to be, we are being forced to come to terms with these realities. And that's what is starting to hit us hard. We have seen those among us being targeted, time and time again, when all they really should be doing is dreaming about life, like the rest of us.

So perhaps, when we go out to vote on this upcoming election day, it will not be for ourselves, but rather, it will be for the rest of our comrades. So that their dreams and aspirations can live on as well. So that the youth will never have to be hit so hard with life at such an early age. We will vote on behalf of Shahzeb Khan and we will vote on behalf of Malala. We will vote and we will push for change so that no one can destroy our ability to dream. That is the power of the youth. I think I get it.

Life, eh?

I really should be studying right now. REALLY. And I told myself I wouldn't blog about my recent thoughts, because reading them afterwards would just make me sad again. I need to, or at least want to, forget about my recent thoughts. But I feel like I can't escape them.

I have been thinking a lot about death lately. I feel like every other person around me is dying. Yesterday, I read the story of a woman who fought breast cancer for about five years and  died from it just last March. Then I read the story of a little girl who was diagnosed with cancer at the age of two and and died from it this past June. I was reading her mother's blog and it just tore me apart inside. She spoke about visiting her daughter's grave and talking to her and updating her on the other family members' lives after the little girl had passed away. She talked about trying to catch glimpses of her daughter in her other children. And I guess, more than making me feel sad, it just made me so scared. Life can be so unpredictable. Today, I am sitting here reading about that woman's journey through cancer or that other woman's struggle to learn to live happily again after the passing of her daughter, but what if tomorrow I am one of those women? What if? How would I ever cope with the thought of having my child die in front of me? How does anyone cope with such things? How do you keep on having hope when your cancer keeps on returning year after year?

And then there are other sorts of deaths. For my Master's, I am doing my major research paper on whether a shift in political speech led to a tipping point in the Rwandan genocide. I recently learned that the radio broadcasts that were used as a propaganda tool to incite hatred against the Tutsi population were done so because they would attract the illiterates among the Hutus. The broadcasters also played popular music in between the messages  to attract youth. To think human beings could stoop so low as to strategically plan out the killing of others is so disgusting. There are diseases, famine, poverty and so many other problems as is, so why do we add to these problems? Why do we add to the death and destruction?

More importantly, what do I do now? Every time I reflect on life and the craziness of this world, it always helps to remember those who put a smile on my face. Those, who without realizing, touch my heart. I have met plenty of these people and sometimes I just haven't had the words to thank them. Just the other day, when I was trying to stuff my wallet in my backpack while talking to my dad on the phone, this girl saw me struggling and offered and then proceeded to close my zipper for me. It was a very small gesture of kindness, but at that moment, it really touched me. I hold doors open for others. I try to offer my seat in the bus to the elderly, but those are all things I have been taught to do, time and time again. I have never gone out of my way to be extra helpful and caring, and her gesture really moved me. I have another professor that is just so incredibly helpful in so many ways. Sometimes I just want to run up to her and give her the biggest hug in the world or bake her a whole batch of cupcakes. I am afraid that she might get creeped out, (haha) so I have been too shy to express my gratitude to her.

The point is, thinking about these people and their random acts of kindness is something I need to remember doing. This world is full of sadness and the unpredictable nature of life scares me to a great extent. But as long as I am surrounded by people who care--this includes strangers as well as family and friends--I am sure life will work out just fine and in the end, I will manage to smile no matter what. I hope so, at least.

Fobs

"Fobs." I have been thinking about that term and the use of that term a lot recently. I was listening to a song in Algerian Arabic, and showed it to a friend who approved of the song, but disapproved of the singers. She felt that they were trying too hard to look cool. "Typical fobs," she said. I was a bit surprised to hear that. And at that point, I realized how much we bash fobs and make fun of them. For trying to be like the rest of us, when they're apparently so different. For trying to act cool. For trying to fit in and seek others' approval.

But is that really so wrong? Haven't we all been there, done that? Is it not human to want others to approve of you, to like you and to appreciate you? If that was not the case, then why would anyone of us wear what's "in," follow the music that everyone else is talking about and behave in a manner that society expects us to behave. At times, in fact, I feel that a lot of our actions are done because society and our surroundings have conditioned us to act in a certain way. Was this not how horrifying acts like slavery took place? Because everyone else was doing it, so it seemed okay. Thinking otherwise would have been stepping outside of the norm, and as a professor recently told me, such action can only be left to a few heroic individuals who are born every so often. Most of us are sheep; in other words, mere trend followers, following that one trend setter.

So why blame others, when we are all at fault? In fact, wanting to fit in is not even something that should be considered faulty unless it comes at the expense of oneself and others. It is human nature. So, be human and let others be human. Live and let live.

Chasing a Mirage

Have you ever dreamed hopelessly about something, knowing that it may never become real? Or, have you dreamed and convinced yourself that it would turn into reality, even if thoughtful reasoning would lead you to believe otherwise? Have you ever chased a mirage?

Why is it that human beings do such unreasonable things? Why do we like bumping into the same brick wall time and time again, knowing that the wall will not budge? Or, is it just those of us who are hopeless dreamers that act on instinct and not reason?

Have you ever been drawn to someone knowing that they may never like you back? Have you tried hopelessly to make them like you, knowing that it may very well get you nowhere? Or maybe, just maybe, it is the sheer pleasure of being in that person's company and enjoying those few temporary moments that cause you to act that way. To not care, if the other person likes you back or not, but to just be satisfied with the feeling of being in their company. To hear them talk. To see them smile. To be amazed by their very presence. And just live in the moment. Even if in the long run, it turns out to be a bitter sweet moment. But at least, it is sweet while it lasts.

The power of one's emotions can be highly incomprehensible at times.

"Brown People"

Ahhh. I was having a discussion with a friend recently and it dawned on my how much people tend to generalize. Even about the smallest of things. Now, when people generalize, their intention may not be to cause harm and what they say may not necessarily be offensive, but it is still wrong. And I do take offense to it, for the simple reason that I don’t want others to come in and inform me about what my people are like. What I am like. That just comes off as plain ignorance. 

The discussion that I had with a friend revolved around “brown people” and the fact that she thought that we can easily be differentiated from the crowd, but how that’s not the case with Arabs who can easily be mistaken for white folks at times. Now, at the outset, this doesn’t seem to be mean and it’s not, but I was just annoyed at the fact that my friend was convinced that all brown people are literally brown with similar features and attitudes. I have used the term “brown people” myself many times but it was not up till now that I realized the damage the term has done to my identity. I tried to convince my friend that South Asia is a HUGE place and that brown people come in all shapes and sizes and colours and I know many fair skinned brown folks, who can be mistaken for Caucasians, and I know many dark skinned people also, but she would not buy it.

I guess what really bothered me was the fact that people can be so easily ignorant about foreign cultures. I am from Pakistan, you see, and in spite of being a small country, we have quite a few sub-cultures and languages. From the Pashtuns of the north to the Kashmiris, and the Hazaras of Balochistan; from the Makranis in Karachi who are said to be descendants of Africans to the Sindhis; from the Punjabis to the Mahajir, who form the migrant population from India, Pakistan is filled with a wide variety of people. A beautiful variety. A variety that has made me proud to be who I am. In my elementary school in Karachi, I grew up learning Sindhi. My grand parents were Mahajir or migrants from India and several of my aunts and uncles married into Punjabis and some of my cousins can speak Punjabi also. I am a product of all these different sub cultural influences, and therefore know that each is quite distinct from the other. So, how can an outsider come in and tell me that we all look the same; that we are all the same? 

Now I know I can only speak on behalf of Pakistanis but even within India, there’s a HUGE diversity of people. Travelling from the north to the south is a completely different experience of cultures, languages, tastes and traditions. 

How can anyone define what an Indian or Pakistani is? It can’t be done! So, next time you use the term “brown people,” think twice. Do not take it in literal terms and do not form preconceived notions about an entire population. Do not be ignorant.