Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pakistan. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS: Roads I Have Traveled... Excerpt #3 from November 1995

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist


(continued) Pakistan: November, 1995: The Pakistan International Airline flight left Islamabad about noon, and I headed for Karachi. Everyone had warned me that Karachi is a city where one needs to be extremely careful. Lots of people from India had migrated there, as well as many refugees from the Afghanistan war. Karachi is a big and dirty seaport city with lots of desperate folks. I was pleasantly impressed with the airport, however. It was quite large and clean and well guarded, and lots of porters were there, eager to do anything for a few rupees. I stayed close to the airport during my transfer.

When the flight left from Karachi, I was surprised that we didn’t simply head west and then cut eventually back at a northwest angle to Amsterdam. But, rather, we flew almost directly north back over Lahore to the capital city of Islamabad. We stopped briefly there and then flew directly over Kabul, Afghanistan, where all the fierce fighting had recently taken place.

On the flight I experienced another outstanding serendipity. I was seated next to a distinguished gentleman in a pin‑striped, black suit. Even the plane’s crew came out of the cockpit and greeted him. I turned to him about the time we took off, extended my hand, and introduced myself. Come to find out he is one of the fifty-two-member OIS (Organization of Islamic States) group. He is also a senator in the Pakistan parliament, and in our extended conversation, it came out that he additionally was a past ambassador to Egypt. His name is Raja M. Zafar‑al‑Haq, secretary general of the World Muslim Congress.

After we had talked about Russia, the war in Afghanistan, the Muslims in Bosnia, and other issues, he wanted to know what I was doing in Pakistan. I told him all about Project C.U.R.E. and my trip into Andijon and Tashkent, Uzbekistan, and my Needs Assessment Study at Sandeman Provincial Hospital in Quetta. I told him that I had greatly appreciated my work in Quetta, especially with Dr. Buzdar and Dr. Zehri. I told him that I felt there was a qualitative difference that I observed in the doctors I work with around the world. Many medical institutions within countries that have been used and abused by governments of Communist dictators have been left nearly bankrupt, morally, emotionally, volitionally, and for sure, financially. A lot of doctors who were involved in those kinds of hospitals in the recent past are physically exhausted, but far worse, they have given up hope that things will even get better. They have lost their way and have no one they could turn to. 

I told him that was where Project   C. U. R. E. could come in and make such a tremendous difference. We would come alongside and help by sending desperately needed medical goods … but perhaps most important, we would bring hope.

“The doctors see that, really, there is someone out there who cares about what they are going through,”

I said. “Who’s to know, when all is said and done, maybe that bringing of rekindled hope is the greatest qualitative contribution that Project C.U.R.E. can ever make. Medical supplies will immediately save lives. Rekindled hope has the power to save generations.”

I told that Pakistan leader that he could, indeed, be proud of the culture of his country and the fact that in spite of centuries of hardship, his people, particularly Dr. Buzdar and Dr. Zehri and the other doctors at the Quetta hospital and medical school, had not lost hope. And in spite of the extensive needs they were currently experiencing, they were excited about what they were doing and what the future held for them. They had not lost hope.

He really appreciated what I had to tell him, and then he asked how in the world I got involved in taking Project C.U.R.E. all over the remotest parts of the world. He pushed my button. I started out by telling him about my being in business and getting caught up in the addictive American philosophy of accumulating wealth and things. And one day God brought me to my senses and showed me that however much I accumulated in my journey, it would not make me a happy man. I obeyed God and paid a price that required giving over sixteen million dollars away, and I started over to put deals together the rest of my life that would help bring relief to God’s children all over the world.

Mr. Raja M. Zafar‑al‑Haq, the senator, ambassador, and secretary general who was on his way to hold talks on Bosnia and the Middle East, turned completely around in his seat and said, “All of my life I have heard people talk about giving their life away to do good. But I had never met anyone who actually did it. It was always talk. May God bless you and give you good health to continue what you are doing for a long time. And when you know when you are returning to the capital of Islamabad, please let me know, and I will put a group of important people of Pakistan together in my home and let you tell all of them the story you have just told me about God. God bless you.”

Maybe there was a reason why I went to Uzbekistan and Pakistan during the closing days of 1995. By the time I landed in Amsterdam, flew on to London’s Heathrow Airport, and took off for New York it was December 8 and I was already starting on the third day of being in the same clothes and not having gone to bed. But what I had told that Pakistani secretary general is true. I am so fortunate to get to do what I am doing, and indeed, I am the happiest man in the world.

Next Week: The Promised Trip to Islamabad

© Dr. James W. Jackson   
Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House
  
www.jameswjackson.com  

Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

JOURNAL HIGHLIGHTS, Roads I Have Traveled. . . Excerpt # 2 November, 1995

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist


Uzbekistan and Pakistan: November, 1995: In Andijon Ted and Annette’s house had no shower and no running hot water. But on the backside of the courtyard in the other back corner opposite from the outdoor john was a two-room configuration that was attached to the winter kitchen room. The entry room contained the small hand-operated agitator clothes washer and pertinent supplies and paraphernalia. The entry room also doubled as a room where I would remove my clothes before entering the next room. The next room reminded me a lot of a sauna setup. There was a gas-fired, square-mud, box-type stove in one corner. On top of the stove were two large pots of water. Add all those elements, and I had a wonderful opportunity to create a bath for myself.

I took some of the hot water from the pots, mixed it with cold water sitting in buckets on the floor, scooped a panful of the mixed warm water, and poured it over my head. Next I took my shampoo and worked up a lather my barber would have been proud of, took another panful of warm water, and tried to rinse out the lather with one hand while I poured with the other. The hot water was almost gone, and I needed to finish my shower.

I thought about the procedure off and on that day and figured I had it pretty well mapped out. But the second morning experience threw a curve at me because during the night the town gas pressure dipped low enough for the fire to go out in the mud stove, and all the water was cold. I promised God that I would thank him twice for my wonderful shower when I got back to Evergreen.

Saturday, December 2
On Saturday I was up early. Ted and I walked to a main street in Andijon and caught a taxi out to the airport for my trip on to Islamabad, Pakistan. On that flight I had a window seat and a great view as we flew south over Tajikistan and Afghanistan into Islamabad.

Sunday, December 3
Sunday morning I dressed and went down to breakfast at the hotel. The Marriott in Islamabad is really nice. My mind kept making the comparison between the Andijon bathhouse procedure and the nice warm shower at the Islamabad Marriott. I went to the US embassy, checked in, and told them why I was there and where I could be reached for any messages or emergencies.

One scene I do remember very well, as I headed back out to the airport was that of the recently bombed-out Egyptian embassy located just a few blocks from the US embassy in Islamabad. Some terrorists had run a small truck totally loaded with explosives into the Egyptian embassy just a few days earlier. The only thing that was left was a crater in the ground where the embassy had stood. I don’t remember how many people were killed in the explosion. I thought, Some of these foreign places, like Pakistan, are getting almost as violent and uncontrolled as terrorist America.

On the plane I had a whole row to myself, so I was free to slide over and get a view out the window for the flight. Quetta is west and somewhat north of Islamabad. There are nothing but bleak, barren, and dry mountain ranges and desert valleys in that part of Pakistan. Why, for centuries, people had fought for this territory was beyond me. The entire borderlands between Afghanistan and Pakistan appear to be equally as desolate. We flew between two brown mountain ranges to where the rocky valley widened out, and behold … there was the city of Quetta. It is a city with a population of several million, including some of the nearby region, and even from the air as we landed, I could see that it consists, to a great extent, of military bases and ammunition bunkers and vehicles. That certainly confirmed all I had heard about it being a strategic military border town. The military staff college is located there, so all military staff eventually make their way to Quetta to be trained. In the past, Quetta hospitals and clinics had to take care of many war casualties from the border war in Afghanistan.

Inside the airport terminal I was met by a doctor even before my luggage had cleared through. He was very friendly and escorted me out to where a driver and car were waiting to take me to the Serena Hotel. We had a short time to get acquainted from the airport to the hotel. He came into the hotel and waited to make sure I got checked in all right. Then he left me in my room and said he would be back at 1:30 for a meeting.

At 1:30 p.m. Dr. Abdul Malik Kasi came back and brought with him Dr. Shafi Mohammed Zehri, the medical superintendent of the Sandeman Provincial Hospital. They came into the room, and we talked for about an hour. When they left, they said they would return for dinner in the evening. They informed me that there was a big meeting at the hospital planned for 10:00 a.m., and that Dr. Zehri would have someone pick me up about 9:45.

Monday, December 4
Dr. Zehri himself came with his driver to escort me to the Sandeman Provincial Hospital. The meeting was held in Dr. Zehri’s office, and there were five doctors who met with me, plus several others who slipped in and out during the meeting. They wanted to know all about Project C.U.R.E. and me, so I decided to give them both barrels. I told them my story about business, writing my book What’cha Gonna Do with What’Cha Got?, doing economic consulting, beginning to ship medical goods into Brazil, and so forth. I also told them that I promised God I wanted to do business the rest of my life that would help other people who were in need rather than becoming richer myself. I explained where we were presently shipping and how much we had shipped just this year. I told them that I considered the entire endeavor a miracle, and that I was the happiest man alive because I had been given the opportunity to be a part of helping people around the world.

Wednesday, December 6
The next morning the Serena Hotel was swarming with military ruffians. It was still raining, and the front parking courtyard was jammed with military vehicles loaded with soaking-wet tents and army gear. The troops seemed to be some kind of special-forces group, all of them wearing red-and-white-checkered and black-and-white-checkered head wear like Yasser Arafat. Some had camouflage pants and shirts, but most were dressed in long white tunics. 


I was the only one who even slightly resembled European descent in the whole restaurant. My guess is that they were high mucky-mucks who had just returned from some raid mission with the Taliban forces up in Afghanistan. Needless to say, I was quite respectful and careful that I didn’t do anything that might irritate them—like singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Next Week: A Unique Meeting with a World Muslim Leader

© Dr. James W. Jackson   
Permissions granted by Winston-Crown Publishing House
  
Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Learn the Pattern

Founder, Project C.U.R.E.
Author, The Happiest Man in the World: Life Lessons from a Cultural Economist


It’s hoped that your accumulated education would enhance your cultural value.


The hierarchy of education seems to be (1) expose yourself to vast amounts of facts and knowledge, (2) process that knowledge into some level of understanding, and (3) endeavor to transform that knowledge and understanding into practical wisdom before you die.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once observed, “By nature all people are alike, but by education become different.” Except for DNA, and a handful of other abstruse factors, he’s no doubt right. Never before have we had the ease of access to such a vast accumulation of information. Many colleges and universities have far more enrolled in their adult education and extended education programs than in their regular on-campus classes. And one of the reasons most often given by the students is the fact that unless they enhance their formal education, they are stuck in the “lower salary box.” They are made painfully aware of the presumption that your level of education enhances your cultural value.

In the last decade I have spent considerable time in Asia and along the old Silk Road. On one of my trips to Pakistan and Afghanistan I was hosted by a medical doctor named Malik Kasi, who lived in the border town of Quetta. Dr. Kasi was in charge of the large Pediatrics Department of the main hospital, and a major professor at the Bolan Medical School. He invited me to his historic home to have dinner and meet other leaders of the Baluchistan tribes.

A fireplace was smoldering in the reception area, taking the chill from the old building. All the floors were covered with gorgeous Persian carpets, and the room walls were lined with pillows constructed from small woven Persian rugs about 36 inches by 20 inches, sewn together and stuffed with raw cotton. Tea and condiments were quickly served on the floor, and each man of the welcoming families took a pillow and pulled it up close to the fire. Some, including me, sat on the pillows, and some sat on the carpets and leaned back against the pillows.

As we were all getting acquainted, I commented to Dr. Kasi about the spectacular oriental carpets. Some looked like they had gold fibers woven into the fabric. He was very pleased that I had asked. I explained that I would consider it a great honor if he would teach me how to assess the value of Persian carpets. That led to a complete tour of the home, and a university education on how to buy Persian carpets. Some of his carpets dated back to the 1500’s. He said I could determine value by the number and quality of knots on the reverse side, the designs, styles, weights, quality of either the silk or the wool, and by the different geographical areas where the carpet had been woven. He then asked if I would like to go with him to one of the rural villages were the family made carpets.

At the village home there was a large horizontal loom set up off the floor about eight inches. When the family understood that Dr. Kasi had brought me to see them do a little carpet weaving, one of the daughters jumped right over to the apparatus. She pushed the shuttle mechanism forward and began stringing, through the lateral base strings, woolen threads that had been wrapped around sticks of wood.. She was very confident and quick. Then, with some wooden tools she beat the new strings compactly into place before she pulled the shuttle handles back to align everything. It would take months for the completion of one carpet.

“Dr. Kasi,” I said, as I watched the daughter work, “I see her work so fast and so confidently, but I do not see anywhere a pattern from which she is working. The design in the carpet is very complex and intricate. How does she know what she is doing?”

“Good question, Dr. Jackson,” Dr. Kasi replied. “There is no written down design. The pattern has to be memorized. The instructions are handed down from generation to generation. You see, the grandmother and the mother choose a particular girl in the family, and that girl is allowed to memorize the design and instructions. Because she has been chosen and the secrets have been shared with her, she is considered very valuable, and is honored and respected within the tribe with the assurance that she will marry well. There is a great incentive for her to learn and perform well.”

We are admonished, “If given the opportunity . . . learn the pattern. What you know increases your intrinsic worth, so determine within yourself to become an aggressive ‘Life-long Learner.’” 


Dr. James W. Jackson often describes himself as "The Happiest Man in the World." A successful businessman, award-winning author and humanitarian, Jackson is also a renowned Cultural Economist and international consultant, helping organizations and governments to apply sound economic principals to the transformation of culture so that everyone is "better off."

As the founder of Project C.U.R.E., Dr. Jackson traveled to more than one hundred fifty countries assessing healthcare facilities, meeting with government leaders and "delivering health and hope" in the form of medical supplies and equipment to the world's most needy people. Literally thousands of people are alive today as a direct result of the tireless efforts of Project C.U.R.E.'s staff, volunteers and Dr. Jackson. 

To contact Dr. Jackson, or to book him for an interview or speaking engagement: press@winstoncrown.com