Quarters in Chinatown

I believe in Mercy – the kind of Mercy that enables us to give to others when we ourselves are in need of help.

Earlier this summer I found myself at a parking meter in the middle of Chinatown. I fumbled through my black hole of a bag, digging for just one elusive quarter. There was no need to panic, I told myself as I searched. A couple minutes passed and I noticed a homeless man walking towards me from across the street. He looked worn, tired, but young, probably in his late twenties or early thirties. His once white shirt resembled slushy traffic snow. There was dirt on his face, his hands, his hair. “Can I talk to you about something sister?” Could I just pretend like I didn’t see or hear him? Honestly, all I remember was something about the homeless shelter he frequented being shut down due to lack of funding. It was going to be replaced with newly constructed condominiums. “I’m sorry I don’t have any cash on me”. Well at least I wasn’t lying. “That’s ok Ma’am. Could you buy a brother something to eat?” Yes, yes of course I thought, as soon as I found this dumb quarter. “Umm. Yea I don’t have any cash right now, sorry.” As he reached for his pocket, I thought, Oh my God, he’s going to pull out a knife or a gun. I was convinced that this man was going to mug me, steal my purse and take my car.

“Here, you can have my quarters.”

I heard the words echo over and over again in my head as though he had spoken them in an open canyon. “Oh no that’s ok. Thanks,” I said with an awkward smile. My face turned crimson, and a sense of guilt spread from the core of my body to the tips of my fingers. I frantically began emptying the contents of my purse on the sidewalk. And then the words came out again:

“Here, Sister. You can have my quarters.”

I realized that perhaps he was a better human than I. Perhaps, he truly knew what it meant to come to someone's aid. I murmured a prayer; please let me see a bank, please let me see a bank. And then, I finally saw it. On the corner stood my redemption, in the form of a Chase bank.

“Would you wait here for me?” I said. “I'll be right back.”

As I walked back to my car, I saw him waiting, sitting on the sidewalk. “I hope your shelter stays open,” I said as I handed him the envelope. It wasn't much, but it was all I could afford at the time. In return he handed me a postcard of Chicago. A beautiful picture of the Chicago skyline on a gorgeous summer day.

This is our city I thought, and there has to be a place for him to live in it.

King of Khans

I read a book recently that changed my life.

Now I know that sounds dramatic, and over stated, but it's true. The title of the book was "Non-Violent Soldier of Islam: Badshah Khan, A Man to Match His Mountains." Until recently, I didn't know much about Badshah Khan and his relationship to Gandhi's philosophy of non-violence. Having attended an Indian school for some 10 years (from 1st - 10th grade), I'm fairly familiar with Gandhi, and the struggle for independence in the sub-continent. Anyone who's even remotely familiar with Gandhi knows that he was a man of faith, a devout Hindu. However, as far as I knew, most prominent Muslim figures within the Satyagraha movement were secular or cultural Muslims at best. That is until I found Badshah Khan.

I stumbled upon this book really - one of the perks of working for the Interfaith Youth Core (www.ifyc.org). And it stumped me. Literally. A non-violent soldier? Wait, a non-violent soldier from the North Frontier Province of present day Pakistan. No, no, let me say that another way... A non-violent Pushtun soldier of Islam from North Frontier Province of Pakistan. This is what Badshah Khan would have to say about my surprise:

"There is nothing surprising in a Muslim or pathan like me subscribing to the creed of nonviolence. It is not a new creed. It was followed fourteen hundred years ago by the Prophet all the time he was in Mecca, and it has since been followed by all those who wanted to throw off an oppressor's yoke. But we had so far forgotten it that when Gandhiji placed it before us, we thought he was sponsoring a novel creed."

Here's the most amazing thing about Khan: His commitment to non-violence stemmed from his commitment to Islam. It was not a foreign ideology to him. His way to becoming part of the freedom movement in India was to start schools, to educate the next generation much to the dismay of the local "mullah's", to encouraged women to become part of the freedom movement.

In the past week I have mentioned my new found fascination with Badshah Khan to a few friends. Every one of them shows signs of surprise upon hearing the title of the book: Non-violent soldier of Islam. And I began to wonder, have we become so incriminated with our portrayal as a violent people that it surprises us when shown otherwise? I digress, that's a whole separate topic...

...coming back to Khan. Here's how his story ends...

Khan manages to mobilize an "army" of non-violent soldiers in the North Frontier Province known as the Khudai Khidmatgars ("Servants of God") aka the "Red Shirts" (as referred to by the British, and it was also the color of their "uniform"). The Red Shirts become so influential in the area that Khan is exiled from the area for a number of years by the British. He spent the entirety of his time away from home either in Gandhi's Ashram or in prison. The Muslim League under Jinnah's leadership pursues the formation of the independent state of Pakistan. Khan is obviously opposed to partition, but ultimately realizes that he can't stop it.

"I delivered many speeches against the division of India, but the question is: has anybody listened to me? You may hold any opinion about me, but I am not a man of destruction but of construction. If you study my life, you will find that I devoted it to the welfare of our country. We have proclaimed that if the Government of Pakistan would work for our people and our country, the Khudai Khidmatgars would be with them. I repeat that I am not for the destruction of Pakistan. In destruction lies no good."

So how is this Non-violent Soldier of Islam treated in newly partitioned Pakistan?

From 1948 -1954, Khan is held under house arrest with no charge. This is after his address to the Pakistani Parliament stating his willingness to support the construction of Pakistan. In 1956 he's arrested again for disagreeing with the government and remains in prison until 1959. Once released, he goes into exile to Kabul for a few years before returning to Peshawar. In 1969 he was named an "Amnesty International Prisoner of the Year." Badshah Khan died at his Peshawar home under house arrest in 1988. He was 98 years old.

When I came to the closing chapters of Khan's life, I was shocked! Shocked! Pakistan, a country created to ensure Muslims their rights puts a man of faith under house arrest for decades! That too a non-violent man of faith! And why? Because he speaks to his beliefs? Because he asks the government to show constructive progress?

Can you imagine devoting yourself to a struggle for freedom, only to have your freedom restricted by the very people you fought for?