This is Shabbir. We met at the 7-Eleven in Sag Harbor because I dropped by to ask when they tossed the Sunday paper, and if I could get a few from the trash. I just wanted a few more copies of one special page, because this was the first time I was seeing my photograph on a full page in the New York Times. To explain the situation, I opened the Arts and Leisure section to this ad for the film, He Named Me Malala.
When he saw the picture I wanted, Shabbir put his hand on Malala's face, became quite emotional and nearly began to cry. He said he loved Malala. I said I did too, and felt so lucky and honored to have worked so closely with her, her father and The Malala Fund throughout 2014 while Davis Guggenheim was making this film.
I asked Shabbir if he was from Pakistan. As he shared his story, I wanted to cry myself. His connection to Malala was not to the radiant young woman I know, but to the Taliban who tried to silence her.
Shabbir was from a town called Ganesh, in the Hunza Valley, near the Chinese border, about 200 miles from where Malala lived in the Swat Valley. He lived with his wife and six children in a beautiful mountainous area. He guided city and country tours, treks, and camping trips there for foreigners, apparently with a large amount of Californians passing thorough, and he traveled back and forth to the US often.
In 2005, after a devastating earthquake in Pakistan, he helped gather donations from people in the US to deliver to people who had lost so much in Pakistan. Beginning five years earlier, in 2000, the Taliban began to harass him, and demand money from him because of the successful business he was doing. The threats and demands for payment increased after the earthquake until one day a small group of Taliban supporters simply dragged him from his jeep and set him on fire. Yes, they set him on fire...alive. He tried to put it out, and remembers nothing else. He only remembers waking up in a hospital, surrounded by strangers. To this day, he believes he only survived the attack thanks to the grace of God.
Two years later, in 2007, he met a man who had witnessed the entire incident and told Shabbir he had planned to take his jeep after watching the Taliban set him on fire and leave him for dead. Apparently that same man, formerly a member of the Taliban, but not part of the crowd who set him on fire, realized he was blinded by the Taliban teachings, realized that Shabbir was still barely alive, and chose to drive him to the hospital, which saved his life.
Shabbir was badly burned from his chest to his knees, and has the scars to show for it.
He finally left Pakistan for good, and settled here on the East End of Long Island, still trying to navigate the maze of seeking asylum in the US, while worrying about his family he had to leave behind in Pakistan. So many times as we spoke, he said "God is good", in spite of all he has endured. What an amazing man. What an incredible story.
He loves #Malala. He loves what she stands for, and that she has the courage to speak up against the Taliban, and speak up for education for girls. We both agree that education is the answer to violence born of ignorance and hatred. Thinking of her and her courage, seeing this photo, makes him very emotional. The entire experience was quite emotional for me as well. Malala and her family are like family to me and I promised to share this photo with them. Then I realized I should share it with a few more people, because we are all connected in more ways than we realize.
Everyone has a story. Sometimes you just have to ask.
I asked if we could go to see the movie together when it comes to Sag Harbor. We are going to see it today at a sold out screening for the Hamptons International Film Festival.