Afghanistan

�鶹ֱ��app visiting scholar pairs Afghanistan advocacy with a passion for physics

Christopher.Sorensen — Wed, 27 Mar 2024 15:41:32 +0000

�鶹ֱ��app visiting scholar pairs Afghanistan advocacy with a passion for physics

Christopher.Sorensen Wed, 03/27/2024 - 11:41

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Tahir Shaaran, a visiting scholar in �鶹ֱ��app’s department of physics in the Faculty of Arts & Science, is teaching the next generation of scientists (photo by Johnny Guatto)

Tabassum Siddiqui

Topic

Global Lens

Afghanistan

Faculty of Arts & Science

Global

Physics

Subheadline

A former director-general of Afghanistan's nuclear energy agency, Tahir Shaaran is keen to use education to help his country and drive change

Growing up in Afghanistan, Tahir Shaaran was endlessly curious about the world around him – including the seemingly endless conflicts that engulfed his country.

“I was always thinking about the connection between me and my surroundings and how the universe is functioning – ‘What is the meaning of being here?’ – and those kinds of complicated philosophical questions,” he says.

Shaaran found at least some of the answers he was seeking in physics – and quantum physics in particular. He would go on to spend nearly two decades studying and working around the world before returning to Afghanistan to work as director-general of its nuclear energy agency – an effort, he says, to use his knowledge to help his country.

Now a visiting scholar in the University of Toronto’s department of physics in the Faculty of Arts & Science, Shaaran is teaching the next generation of scientists and says he’s once again reminded of education’s power to drive change and social progress.

“So many people who had the right education and skills to help Afghanistan in terms of development ended up having to leave,” he says. “At the end of the day, it’s about humanity – the crisis in Afghanistan is not just local to that country. Even though it feels like something may not directly affect us, the consequences of such situations are much bigger than for just one place or group of people.

“A lot of the time, we’re looking for quick fixes, but we have to advocate for long-term, sustainable solutions – and we can only do that through education.”

Born during the Soviet invasion in Afghanistan in the 1980s, Shaaran left his native Bamyan province with his family when he was still a young child due to civil unrest in the region. He was raised in Mazar-e-Sharif in northern Afghanistan and later fled to Europe in 1999 following persecution and attacks on the minority Hazara community to which his family belonged.

Settling in the United Kingdom, Shaaran completed several degrees in physics at University College London. Throughout his studies, he collaborated with international institutions, including the Rutherford Appleton Laboratory in the U.K. and the neutron-scattering facility at Institut Laue–Langevin in France.

He went on to work abroad on atomic and nuclear physics, including at the Max Planck Institute for Nuclear Physics in Germany, the French Alternative Energies and Atomic Energy Commission (CEA) and the Institute of Photonic Science in Spain.

Yet, Afghanistan was never far from his mind – and he began thinking about how his studies could help improve the economic and social situation back home.

“I had met the vice-president of Afghanistan in Germany and told him about my plan: the dream of building a national research centre for science and technology back in Afghanistan,” Shaaran says.

“I wanted to have a bigger impact, so I thought the research centre was something that could help more people.”

He was invited to Kabul to meet then-president Ashraf Ghani. While there was no money to fund his research centre dream, Shaaran was tapped to become director-general of Afghanistan’s Nuclear Energy Agency in 2018 – a job he hoped to slowly expand to include a research element. At first, he says was encouraged by the government’s stated openness to scientific progress and development, but soon found himself disillusioned as the political and security situation in the country deteriorated.

“I didn’t receive the support the president had promised,” Shaaran recalls. “Some of it was understandable, as there was a war and a complicated political situation, but I had a feeling the system was going to collapse so I resigned in early 2021.”

Looking back, he says his exit came just in time – the Taliban captured Kabul later that year and the United States withdrew its military. The situation remains volatile, with a crackdown on women’s rights, threats of terrorism, extreme poverty and other challenges.

“In a way, we are all responsible for what has happened to Afghanistan – from human rights activists to the police to policymakers – [because] we didn’t think about how we could build the country independently without relying on anyone from the outside,” says Shaaran, who has been a longtime advocate for human rights and the rights of Afghanistan’s minority Hazara population.

Shaaran says teaching at �鶹ֱ��app helps keep him inspired and optimistic about the future – thanks in no small part to a steady stream of engaged physics students. He also leads an advanced physics lab this semester that offers 40 different experiments for five different courses.

“His expertise allows him to supervise a range of projects, covering topics from optics to particle physics, and help students progress through their experiments. In addition to that, he is a great colleague – willing to learn from more experienced members from the team, while sharing his expertise with teaching assistants and junior colleagues,” says Shaaran’s colleague Ania Harlick, an assistant professor, teaching stream.

“Tahir brings considerable expertise in theoretical and nuclear physics from his work in academia and at Afghanistan’s nuclear agency,” adds Professor Kimberly Strong, chair of the department of physics.

“He has been actively engaged in the life of the department this year, and it has been such a great pleasure hosting him here.”

As for his ongoing advocacy efforts, Shaaran continues to speak with politicians and organize rallies and workshops to ensure Afghanistan and its people remain in the public consciousness.

“Despite all the difficulties, I’m an optimist because when I call someone in Afghanistan – even in a remote area and even though young women and girls are not allowed to go to school – they still have drive and hope,” he says. “Many people send me emails or texts saying they are looking for online education as they want to learn.

“Those small things give me a lot of hope.”

Once a teenage refugee, new graduate Omer Malikyar is now a powerful voice for the world’s displaced

siddiq22 — Fri, 02 Jun 2023 19:15:03 +0000

Once a teenage refugee, new graduate Omer Malikyar is now a powerful voice for the world’s displaced

siddiq22 Fri, 06/02/2023 - 15:15

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While on a �鶹ֱ��app Summer Abroad program, student Omer Malikyar attended talks on migration and the accommodation of refugees at the European Commission (all photos courtesy Omer Malikyar)

Topic

Faculty of Arts & Science

Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy

Political Science

Woodsworth College

Subheadline

After escaping Afghanistan, Malikyar set his sights on a post-secondary education at �鶹ֱ��app

University of Toronto student Omer Malikyar will never take education for granted.

On the road to his graduation with a degree in political science and Canadian studies from the Faculty of Arts & Science, Malikyar has had to summon courage and perseverance that is almost difficult to imagine.

He was born and raised in Ghazni, a trading and transit hub in southeastern Afghanistan. His father, a school principal, has spent the past 25 years operating a school for girls. Under the country’s extremist regime, the students are forbidden from pursuing formal learning past the Grade 6 level.

“Education has always been really important to my family,” Malikyar says. “Back home, we children spent most of our time studying and I did really well. So when I came to Canada, it was always a dream to attend a good school.”

Escaping to the West, while difficult, was an absolute necessity for Malikyar. During his high school years, he was involved in activities that unfortunately caught the eye of Islamic extremists.

“My friends and I created a summer camp where we taught girls and guys about their rights – how women can contribute to society, about gender equality and that sort of thing. It was [considered] scandalous, and we received threats. It became really scary for me after that. We were told that we were promoting Western values in an Islamic country.”

So in 2018, Malikyar made his way to New York state, enrolling in a summer camp for international students. But summer ended quickly.

“By that time, Ghazni had been taken over by the extremists, and all I was hearing was bad news,” he says.

As the Trump administration began enacting stricter policies toward undocumented immigrants, the teenager knew that neither his new home nor his old one would be open to him. He managed to cross into Canada at Roxham Road, a well-known entry point on the Quebec border that was used by many refugees until its closing in March of this year.

Finally, after an arduous and solitary journey to Toronto, Malikyar set his sights on post-secondary study.

“I found out about �鶹ֱ��app and really wanted to study here. I went to UTSC and took a campus tour – I wished I could enroll, but it wasn’t that easy because I didn’t have the requirements.”

Malikyar was frustrated – he had been an excellent student at home, and had already completed a year at Kabul University, one of the most prestigious in the country. But he did what he had to, returning to high school and completing his Grade 12 year. After entering Woodsworth College through the Diploma to Degree program, he was finally able to realize his dream: enrolling at �鶹ֱ��app.

With his educational path set, he next turned his energies toward helping others.

As a volunteer with Children Without Borders, he has helped children in Afghanistan receive educational opportunities. With the Afghan Youth Development and Engagement Initiative, he currently mentors young refugees as they navigate new lives in Canada.

And while at �鶹ֱ��app, Malikyar managed to realize yet another ambition.

“I wanted to re-establish the Afghan Students Association at the University of Toronto, and I was so happy that we were able to create it as a charter student club this year,” he says with pride.

Omer Malikyar is set to graduate from the Faculty of Arts & Science this month and will begin graduate studies at the Munk School in the fall

This spring, the club convened students from a variety of different cultures to celebrate Eid al-Fitr, the holiday marking the end of Ramadan.

“Most of the students in our club were born and raised in Toronto,” Malikyar says. “It’s been really great to share my experience with them, and to learn from them as well.”

In addition to his activities at �鶹ֱ��app, Malikyar has taken advantage of travel opportunities to further his interests in refugee issues and the politics of forced migration. He took part in the �鶹ֱ��app Summer Abroad program in Germany, taking extra time to meet and speak with Afghan refugees in Europe; he also attended talks at the European Union commission in Brussels to learn about that organization’s approach to migration and refugee accommodation.

For his academic and extracurricular efforts, Malikyar was recently selected as a McCall MacBain Regional Award recipient. He also received the Master of Global Affairs Fellowship Award from the Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy, where he will be pursuing graduate studies in the fall.

“My goal is to work with an organization such as the United Nations, or with the government of Canada,” he says.

His internship last year with the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, where he raised funds for refugees from Ukraine and Afghanistan, was a stepping stone to building such a career.

But although Malikyar’s future in Canada is secure, he will always have an eye on those seeking escape from his home country, as well as those languishing in refugee camps in Iran or Pakistan. He notes that even before the extremists’ return to power in 2021, they retained a stranglehold on activities in the cities and towns outside Kabul.

Right now, there is no end in sight – in particular, Malikyar underscores the plight of women and girls in Afghanistan today.

“Girls cannot go to secondary school. They don’t have any rights,” he says. “They cannot walk outside without male company.”

Prior to the regime’s ban on higher education for girls, his sister studied math at university in Ghazni.

“She is still teaching,” he says. “But I’m really concerned about what would happen to her if they banned all school for women and girls.”

Education is a basic human right, but in many places it is one that is far from guaranteed. Omer Malikyar’s long and difficult journey to convocation is a powerful reminder that learning is a precious resource – and one well worth fighting for.

After fleeing the Taliban, Afghanistan’s former ombudsperson Ghizaal Haress finds a new home at �鶹ֱ��app

Christopher.Sorensen — Wed, 30 Nov 2022 18:07:41 +0000

After fleeing the Taliban, Afghanistan’s former ombudsperson Ghizaal Haress finds a new home at �鶹ֱ��app

Christopher.Sorensen Wed, 11/30/2022 - 13:07

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Ghizaal Haress, a visiting scholar at �鶹ֱ��app, served as Afghanistan’s first presidential ombudsperson but was forced to flee the country last year following the Taliban's takeover of Kabul (photo by Johnny Guatto)

Rahul Kalvapalle

Topic

Global Lens

Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy

Afghanistan

Faculty of Arts & Science

Faculty of Law

Global

Scholars at Risk

Taliban militants looking for Ghizaal Haress showed up at her apartment building three times in the days following the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul.

A legal practitioner and scholar who served as Afghanistan’s first presidential ombudsperson, Haress was home with her family. But the building’s security guard convinced the Taliban that they had already fled.

“Somehow, the Taliban believed it,” says Haress, who was previously chair of the department of law at the American University of Afghanistan. “We were so thankful to that security guard because if that didn’t happen, we didn’t know what would happen to us.”

That was a little over a year ago. Haress and her family later fled Afghanistan on military planes, arriving in Toronto earlier this year. She is now a visiting scholar at the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Law and Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy, and is supported by the Institute of International Education (IIE) Scholar Rescue Fund and �鶹ֱ��app’s Scholars-at-Risk funds for displaced academics and students.

“The people I’ve met at �鶹ֱ��app have been extremely kind and supportive – the kind of people who not only encourage you to pursue your goals but actually try to facilitate, help and guide you,” she says, adding that her home country is never far from her thoughts.

“I want to make sure that I don’t just benefit from the great academic and intellectual environment at �鶹ֱ��app, but that I also contribute my experiences in a country that struggled with rule of law and constitutionalism.”

Haress’s life has been intertwined with Afghanistan’s tumultuous history. Born in Kabul, Haress and her family fled to Peshawar, Pakistan in 1992 to avoid a civil war. There, she attended a school for refugees and later Afghan University – until the government shuttered the institution at the Taliban’s request. Haress later landed a job at a legal non-profit, returning to Kabul as the country began rebuilding in the wake of the U.S.-led invasion.

“There was a lot of hope, especially from people of my age and my generation, because we could see that there was a lot of potential for change,” says Haress, who went on to earn a law degree from Kabul University, complete graduate studies at SOAS University of London and become a professor at the American University of Afghanistan.

After serving as a commissioner at the independent commission for overseeing the implementation of Afghanistan’s constitution, where she was the only woman among 7 members, Haress was appointed the country’s first ombudsperson in 2019 – a role that entrusted her with setting up a new institution devoted to tackling corruption in the halls of power.

She says it was the most difficult job of her legal career.

“Most of the institutions within the legal and judicial system – which were supposed to curb corruption – were deeply corrupt themselves. So, we didn’t make any friends during the process of setting up the institution.”

There were obstacles everywhere and pushback at every turn. Struggling to acquire chairs, computers and an office space, Haress spent her first few months working out of Kabul’s coffee shops. Her insistence on monthly progress reports on cases referred to ministers, the attorney general and the courts met stiff resistance. “Those were the places where corruption was rampant,” Haress says. “All we wanted was to have an idea of where cases stood.”

But there were significant victories, too. When media accused provincial authorities of mis-using COVID-19 response funds, the Office of the Ombudsperson investigated cases and helped direct more than 200 officials to the attorney general for criminal investigations.

Haress’s openness with the media – she gave monthly press conferences and took questions from reporters – also marked a sea change in the relationship between press and government. “This was a big success for us because the independent media outlets had gained trust in our institution, to the point that they didn’t dispute the findings of our research,” she says.

Unfortunately, none of it would last. The government soon moved to reign in her office’s powers, prompting her to step down in May of 2021.

Haress vividly recalls the feeling of dread on the streets of Kabul as the Taliban entered the city as U.S. troops withdrew from the country. They seized control of Kabul on Aug. 15, 2021 as police abandoned their posts and women began to cover up their appearances.

“I didn’t know whether they would come and kill me, kill my family members or take us into custody,” Haress says. “We didn’t know what awaited us.”

Haress had just enough time to grab essential documents and belongings before she went into hiding for a week at a relative’s house. She eventually boarded a military plane to Abu Dhabi, along with her parents, brother and her brother’s family. “We left our lives behind,” she says. “We left our houses, our assets, our money in the bank.”

While Haress is grateful to now be safe in Canada – and at �鶹ֱ��app – she says she misses Afghanistan and is pained by her country’s plight.

“The fact that we lost the achievements of 20 years and it got replaced by the Taliban is a big loss, a shocking loss,” she says. “The way the country fell into the hands of Taliban, the way we were abandoned – whether by the international community or our own political leaders – has really traumatized each and every one of us.

“If times change and I have the opportunity to go back to work for Afghanistan, I will. That’s my country. It has given us a lot and it doesn’t deserve to be abandoned.”

From fixer to reporter: After escaping the Taliban, �鶹ֱ��app's Jalal Nazari is on his way to becoming a journalist

Christopher.Sorensen — Wed, 10 Aug 2022 17:13:15 +0000

From fixer to reporter: After escaping the Taliban, �鶹ֱ��app's Jalal Nazari is on his way to becoming a journalist

Christopher.Sorensen Wed, 08/10/2022 - 13:13

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Jalal Nazari, who would go on to study journalism at �鶹ֱ��app as part of the Dalla Lana Fellowship in Global Journalism, snaps a selfie in front of a Ukrainian military plane before fleeing Afghanistan on Aug. 20, 2021 (photo courtesy of Jalal Nazari)

Jalal Nazari

Topic

Global Lens

Afghanistan

Dalla Lana School of Public Health

Global

Journalism

Jalal Nazari fled his home country of Afghanistan one year ago this month following the Taliban takeover. He found his way to the University of Toronto, where he participated in the Dalla Lana Fellowship in Global Journalism – a program that trains and mentors subject matter experts from around the world so they can provide deeper reporting for global media outlets. Working with �鶹ֱ��app News writer Mariam Matti, Nazari agreed to share, in his own words, the details of his difficult and often dangerous journey from Kabul to Toronto – and what his future holds.

My last week in Kabul, Afghanistan was filled with uncertainty.

At the airport under the blistering heat, I was surrounded by more than 20,000 Afghans who were desperate to leave – some even clinging to an American military jet as it was attempting to take off.

I did not know then that my journey would eventually take me to the University of Toronto.

The Taliban took over major cities on August 15, 2021, shortly after the U.S. military withdrew operations in the country. Since I worked as a fixer for the Wall Street Journal in its Afghanistan bureau, I was lucky to have colleagues who helped me navigate the scary and chaotic situation.

At the Kabul airport, people were dehydrated, exhausted and scared. I saw dead bodies and people being beaten by members of the Taliban for no reason. The U.S. military fired shots in the air to disperse crowds.

Along with my Journal colleagues, I accessed the American military’s side of the airport.

People wait at the airport in Kabul in August 2021 (photo courtesy of Jalal Nazari)

I remember the moment we crossed to safety, sitting in the back of a U.S. marine’s pick-up truck with the wind blowing on my face. I would spend three nights sleeping under the wing of an airplane, but I felt free. I felt like I was released from prison.

After spending a week at the Kabul airport, our plane took off on August 21, 2021, bound for Kyiv. During my three-month stay in Ukraine, I decided to apply for an asylum visa in Canada. The Wall Street Journal helped me enroll in �鶹ֱ��app’s Dalla Lana Fellowship in Global Journalism so I could continue to pursue one of my passions.

Looking back at my life in Afghanistan, I now realize how hard it was to live in a conflict zone. In the last five years I lived in Kabul, there wasn’t a day without an explosion or suicide attack.

I lost several friends in these attacks and escaped several attacks myself. I was not able to visit my parents because they lived in another city and the highways were dangerous for people like me. I’m part of one of the most discriminated minority groups in Afghanistan – the Hazaras. We’ve faced persecution for decades and now fear the rule of the Taliban.

I studied English language and literature at Balkh University back home. It wasn’t my first choice – I have always been interested in gender and sexuality studies, topics that are considered taboo in Afghanistan. Since there’s very little sex education in the country, it has always been a dream of mine to fill that gap. Before the pandemic, I organized secret meetings of up to 15 to 20 young people. I led discussions and recommended books for people who wished to learn more about gender and sexuality.

(Photo courtesy of Jalal Nazari)

While I was doing that, I was also teaching English in my second year of university. I started taking on jobs as a translator for local companies, researchers and journalists.

Working as a translator opened my eyes to the world of journalism, which I found fascinating.

That’s around the time I met freelance photojournalist Paula Bronstein on an assignment. I started working with the Wall Street Journal after she introduced me to the paper’s Chief Foreign Affairs Correspondent Yaroslav Trofimov. I contributed to stories by scheduling and translating interviews.

My experience with the Journal made me think deeply about the media’s role in shaping public discourse and informing people’s thinking. It also helped me become a more empathetic person who was understanding of people’s adversities.

In short, I came to believe the work that journalists do is very important.

My day-to-day life has been very different since arriving in Toronto last November. I lived at an airport hotel until Rob Steiner, director of the Dalla Lana Fellowship, suggested that I move to Massey College. With the help of Nathalie Des Rosiers, the college’s principal, and Catherine Fowler, the college’s chief administrative officer and bursar, I was able to move in at the end of January.

As a Dalla Lana Global Journalism Fellow, I was able to learn even more about my craft. I learned about podcasting, story writing and structure, investigative journalism, and the policies and procedures Canadian media outlets follow. I learned how to pitch a story and how to follow up with an editor – all skills that will help me in my professional career.

It was a pleasure to meet my classmates, who all came from different backgrounds. There was constant collaboration in the classroom – brainstorming story ideas and reading each other’s articles and providing feedback. I’ve built a reliable community and network through the fellowship – one that I valued immensely as a newcomer trying to navigate my personal and professional life in Canada.

I called Massey home for more than six months. I was immediately drawn to the small water fountains, four benches in the courtyard and the beautiful lighting at night. About 60 students live at the college before the summer vacation and they come from all corners of the world and vastly different social and academic backgrounds. I loved getting to know prominent authors, experienced journalists, award-winning researchers and many great people.

Apala Das, a PhD candidate in English literature from India, was my first friend at �鶹ֱ��app. I met her in the courtyard the night I moved in, and we quickly connected. I figured it was because of our cultural similarities and the fact that we were both far away from our families. Our conversations often centered around topics like race, migration and cultural differences between South Asia and Canada. She shared with me how hard it was for her to adjust to unfamiliar social and cultural norms when she first moved to Canada four years ago, a process I’m going through as I navigate living in Toronto.

When I think back to my last week inside the Kabul airport, it was hard to picture my future. I am grateful to be in Canada and to be a part of the �鶹ֱ��app community because it has given me a sense of direction. I also feel a sense of freedom to pursue my interest in gender and sexuality studies – while I continue to pitch stories and work in the journalism industry.

I have continued pursuing my side passions as well – writing poetry in Farsi and practicing the art of calligraphy in Farsi and Arabic. I’ve been invited to Australia later this month to perform poetry as part of a theatre show called A Poetic Crash Course in the Language of Love.

These are opportunities I do not take for granted.

Unfortunately, my freedom has not come without a price. It is not easy to watch my family and Afghans experience hardships under the Taliban rule. But my experience has made me all the more determined to be somebody who can help advocate for a better world.

'A story of great resilience': After fleeing Taliban, stranded �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga student turns to profs for help

Christopher.Sorensen — Fri, 28 Jan 2022 17:06:33 +0000

'A story of great resilience': After fleeing Taliban, stranded �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga student turns to profs for help

Christopher.Sorensen Fri, 01/28/2022 - 12:06

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Passengers are loaded aboard a U.S. Air Force plane at the Hamid Karzai International Airport on Aug. 24, 2021 in Kabul, Afghanistan (photo by Master Sgt. Donald R. Allen/U.S. Air Forces Europe-Africa via Getty Images)

Topic

Undergraduate Students

Exam season is a stressful period for many students – but for Sana Hashim it was also the moment when her world was turned upside down.

Hashim, 20, is currently in Dubai on a short-term visa after fleeing her home in Afghanistan last year. She was living in Kabul with her family when the U.S. military withdrew from the area after two decades at war with the Islamic fundamentalist Taliban.

“I went from being a university student with full-time parents to being a sole provider for my siblings,” says Hashim. “Everything came crashing down on us. We’re losing our identity, our home, our country.

She adds that, even before the Taliban’s takeover, life had become extremely dangerous.

“We had kidnappings in our family and murders in our building, so we didn’t go out often,” she says. “From time to time, there would be bomb blasts that would require us to get out of our house and go somewhere else for the day.”

Despite the upheaval, Hashim worked to keep up with her studies at �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga, where she is pursuing a major in geographic information systems and a double minor in sustainability and business, science and entrepreneurship.

“My studies were the only thing in my life that was normal,” she says. “There was constant chaos. The only thing that shielded me was my studies. When I focus on my studies, I don’t have to focus on people dying or my own life being at risk.”

Knowing the exit of U.S. forces would lead to turmoil in Kabul, her family put together an exit strategy without realizing how soon they would need it.

“One day we were at home and my father rushes in. He says, ‘Quickly, come with me,’” Hashim recalls.

Neighbouring countries were closing borders to fleeing Afghan civilians, so Hashim’s family activated a previously obtained United Arab Emirates (UAE) visa.

“My dad booked four tickets for the kids,” she says. “We had a backpack with our clothes, a little bit of food, some money and then we were on a flight to the UAE.

“It was terrifying. Everything was so rushed. It was the last time I saw my parents.”

Hashim realized she was now the guardian of her siblings, aged 12, 14 and 16.

“I’d never been on my own,” she says. “My father said, ‘Sana, I trust you. You have to take on this responsibility and you have to take care of your siblings.’ With my siblings crying, we just had to push through it.”

Evacuees from Afghanistan sit in a hall upon their arrival at Al-Maktoum International Airport in the United Arab Emirates on Aug. 19, 2021 (photo by GIUSEPPE CACACE/AFP via Getty Images)

Shortly after Hashim arrived in Dubai, the Taliban took over Kabul, where her parents remained.

“It was our worst nightmare,” she says, explaining they made seven or eight evacuation plans for her parents, but they kept falling through.

Unable to contact her parents for fear they would face reprisals from the Taliban, and not knowing what to do, Hashim reached out to one of her professors for help. She had taken Professor Sergio Tenenbaum’s introduction to philosophy course remotely during her first year at �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga.

“I was very impressed that someone was taking my class from Afghanistan under very difficult conditions,” Tenenbaum says, recalling that Hashim regularly dealt with power outages. “I asked her to let me know if there was anything I could do to make things easier.”

When he learned about Hashim’s evacuation and separation from her family, Tenenbaum mobilized resources in Canada to try to help. He reached out to contacts who worked for the United Nations or on behalf of refugees. “Then I asked her if it would be OK to put a call out on social media not identifying her.”

Through that social call, Tenenbaum connected with a U.S. marine who had worked to bring his translator back along with Afghanis.

Hashim’s parents received a pass to go to the airport and board a plane. To get there, however, they had to drive through several Taliban checkpoints.

“They were beaten, shot at and forced to return back during their multiple attempts to get into the airport,” says Hashim, who was following their movements with a GPS tracker.

Her parents were forced to abandon their vehicle and walk to a back gate of the airport, where they joined the chaotic crowd trying to flee.

“My family had to push through thousands of people to reach a ditch where there was sewage in order to get near the gate,” recalls Hashim, who had been relaying her parents’ location to a team contacted by the marine. The marines had photos of her parents so they could enter the U.S.-controlled area of the airport and board a transport to Norway, where they remain.

“At that moment I could take a sigh of relief because they were safe,” says Hashim.

The family is now pursuing reunification through the Norwegian Directorate of Immigration, but have been told the process will take at least 20 months. Meanwhile, Hashim’s UAE visa will soon expire, meaning she and her siblings could face daily fines or other consequences as they will no longer have legal status.

“Going back to Afghanistan could have such serious consequences for her,” says Tenenbaum, who has put Hashim in touch with Canadian immigration lawyers to try to find other options.

Meantime, Alexandra Gillespie, vice-president and principal of �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga and the International Education Centre (IEC) have been looking for other ways to assist Hashim.

“Sana has been in touch with the IEC’s immigration advisers throughout this experience who have supported her in ensuring she has the documentation she needs to continue to pursue her studies at UTM and, hopefully, join us in person once she completes the reunification process,” says IEC Director Veronica Vasquez.

Recently, Hashim has joined Gillespie’s international team of researchers in her Old Books New Science lab, who examine global development of early book technologies.

“It looked like she was going to be stuck in the UAE for a while, so we thought, ‘How can we help support her?’,” says Gillespie. “Her professors told us she was an outstanding student. It was clear just from talking to her that she is intellectually gifted, curious, passionate about learning. I thought she could help out in the lab remotely, and get credit for her work.”

Gillespie’s group is currently examining the use of birch trees in book making. So Hashim and Gillespie reached out to faculty and staff in �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga’s department of geography, geomatics and environment to design an independent study course. They want to use existing data – including studies of ancient pollens – to map the distribution of Betula species, specifically ‘paper birches,’ relative to human population and climate.

Gillespie says the team has been impressed with Hashim’s dedication despite her difficult circumstances.

“We have lab meetings every Friday for a couple of hours, and she’s always there, even though it’s the middle of the night for her,” says Gillespie. “She’s put her siblings to bed and then she’s there participating, while still getting great grades. She’s a story of great resilience.”

She praises Hashim as “a hero” who is “doing amazing things with grace and courage.”

Hashim’s findings will be presented at a 2022 workshop on birchbark, hosted by �鶹ֱ��app Mississauga with support of the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation. She will present alongside international bookmaking and conservation specialists.

“In my dream world, Sana gets status in Norway and then we can work on getting her here in person for the workshop,” says Gillespie.

Hashim says she is “so grateful” for the support she has received.

“My whole world quite literally turned upside down. During all the chaos and unpredictability, the one thing that remained constant was my studies,” Hashim says. “Even now when pretty much every other aspect of my life is uncertain, I know that I’m extremely lucky because I have the unwavering support of Principal Alex, Professor Sergio, and so many others at UTM.

“I can still continue to pursue my education and that gives me hope.”

With files from Scott Anderson, editor, University of Toronto Magazine

Canadians should feel proud to be part of Maryam Monsef's story, says �鶹ֱ��app prof

lavende4 — Tue, 27 Sep 2016 13:21:35 +0000

Canadians should feel proud to be part of Maryam Monsef's story, says �鶹ֱ��app prof

lavende4 Tue, 09/27/2016 - 09:21

Cutline

Maryam Monsef (Photo by Seyit Aydoan/Anadolu Agency/Getty Images)

Terry Lavender

Author legacy

Terry Lavender

Topic

Global Lens

Munk School of Global Affairs & Public Policy

When the Globe and Mail published a story last week that said federal cabinet minister Maryam Monsef was born in Iran, and not Afghanistan as originally thought, the reaction was mixed. Some observers shrugged, others – including Conservative MPs Tony Clement and Michelle Rempel – demanded an investigation, while yet others were indignant at what they saw as mudslinging. �鶹ֱ��app News spoke to Aisha Ahmad, an assistant professor in the department of political science, the director of the Islam and Politics Initiative and a senior researcher at the Global Justice Lab at the Munk School of Global Affairs, about the issue.

Is this a controversy?

Let me be unequivocal here. Maryam Monsef is an Afghan, a Canadian, a refugee, and a survivor of one of the most brutal civil wars of the modern era. Nothing about her story is even remotely controversial or unusual. In fact, she has lived the most authentic experience of the war.

The war in Afghanistan was so savage and brutal that everyone fled. Absolutely everyone was displaced. Those lucky enough to make it across a border alive found themselves in some of the fiercest refugee camps I've ever seen. At their peak, the camps in Pakistan and Iran housed six million men, women, and children. These camps were rough, crowded, poor, and generally terrifying. The camps were infiltrated by armed groups and heavily militarized, and most families tried to find distant relatives in safer areas just to stave off the violence.

On a personal note, I remember the Jalozai camp in Peshawar in the late 1980s. You cannot begin to describe the desperation. Millions of people were scrambling over the mountains to find safety, and the war followed them across these borders. It was hell. As the war dragged on for years, people became accustomed to running back and forth across these borders, based on how fierce the fighting was in their villages. All Afghans I know have survived this experience.

The only "controversy" about Maryam Monsef is that her pregnant mother braved the roads to bear her children in a place a few miles away from the heavy shelling and rape gangs. She lost her father. It's a miracle she's alive.

Does her birthplace matter?

I think her birthplace matters to her, but the so-called controversy is being made worse by the fact that there are a few ignorant people out there who are saying she's not a real Afghan. Anyone who thinks that she's not Afghan has no idea what it means to be from a country that has been at war for 37 years. In fact, I'm not even the least bit surprised that she didn't know where she was born. It actually makes her story more real and authentic.

There is also nothing easy about what happened to Monsef. Being a refugee in a neighbouring state means that right after you've managed to escape the heavy shelling and rape gangs, you get to be desperately poor and treated like a second class citizen. Monsef had no status and no power. Iran doesn't consider her Iranian. Pakistan doesn't consider her Pakistani. She's an Afghan. And on the day she was born, she was one of the least powerful Afghans in the world.

What Monsef went through is, quite frankly, the world's worst position to find yourself in. I just returned from the Syrian border where I met with scores of newly arrived refugees who had no papers and no power. There were pregnant women who had just barely made it alive. The idea that a woman in that situation gave birth to a future Canadian cabinet minister is both humbling and inspiring.

How should Canadians react to this news?

If anything, I think that Canadians should feel even more proud of our country for being part of Monsef's story. This is a cabinet minister who has come from what I believe to be the hardest place. Those who are forced to flee are actually weaker than those who have the power to stay. So what does this truly say about both Canada and Minister Monsef? It means that our country is a light unto the world, and our leaders have a deep and profound knowledge and experience of the suffering of the least fortunate. I trust that this makes us stronger, together.

Aisha Ahmad (@ProfAishaAhmad) is an assistant professor in the department of political science, the director of the Islam and Politics Initiative and a senior researcher at the Global Justice Lab at the Munk School of Global Affairs, and a former fellow at the Belfer Center on Science and International Affairs at the Harvard Kennedy School. She has conducted field research in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia, Kenya, Lebanon, and Mali. Her forthcoming book with Oxford University Press, Jihad & Co.: Black Markets and Islamist Power, explores the relationship between clandestine business and Islamist movements in civil wars across the Muslim world.