Humaira Ghilzai and Khaled Hossesini at the New Strands Festival in San Francisco

VIDEO OF MY INTERVIEW WITH AUTHOR KHALED HOSSEINI

January 27, 2016

By, Humaira

Last Saturday, I had the honor of sharing a stage with Afghan American best-selling author, Khaled Hosseini, at the New Strands Festival in San Francisco.

I interviewed my friend, Khaled Hosseini, about the adaptation of his beloved second book, A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS, into a play. We had a fun chat about his process for creating authentic and memorable women, Laila and Maryam, the protagonists for A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS.

I learned about his collaboration with director Carey Perloff and playwright Ursula Rani Sarma to bring forth another way for people to experience this beautiful story. Lastly, I asked Khaled about his mother's influence on his writing. You'll have to watch the whole video to hear the answer--his response will surprise you.

Since many of you expressed interest in attending the event but distance or other commitments kept you from participating, here is the full recording of the interview. Your thoughts and comments on the video or this post is welcome.

HELP EDUCATE AFGHAN GIRLS:JOIN #GIVINGTUESDAY

November 30, 2015

As you recover from a food-filled Thanksgiving and a successful Black Friday, I would like to bring one more holiday to your attention—the fourth annual #GivingTuesday—a day to celebrate the abundance in our lives and share our good fortune with others.

#GivingTuesday

As you may know, I co-founded Afghan Friends Network (AFN), a non-profit to improve the lives of women and children in Afghanistan. This #GivingTuesday, we are asking for you to join us in supporting Afghan students in finding solutions, not problems.

As you may remember from my post back in May, AFN provides scholarships to students graduating from the Khurasan Learning Centers, schools AFN started seven years ago.

#GivingTuesday

These scholarships help fill the financial gap for students who are incredibly talented and hardworking—they have been accepted into medical school, computer science and engineering programs—but would otherwise be unable to afford to go to university in Kabul.

The flow of deserving students is unending, so we are continually fundraising to support the next doctors, teachers, and leaders in Afghanistan. If you are interested in contributing to the scholarship program, you can find more information and donate via PayPal here—$450 will support one university for a student for a year and every little bit counts!

#GivingTuesday

If you are interested in following Afghan Friends Network, you can sign up for our email newsletters here or follow us on Facebook and Twitter.

Most importantly, please spread the message about #GivingTuesday, about Afghanistan, about AFN.

What moves you to give?

When you think of the word “giving,” what do you imagine?

Happy holidays, and happy #GivingTuesday!

SECULAR MUSLIM GOES TO MECCA-MY PERSONAL JOURNEY: PART I

September 11, 2015

Part II is available.

By Humaira

My Islamic education came to an abrupt end when I was nine years old.

I was raised in a secular home with Islam as a backdrop for special occasions that required some semblance of order—funerals, weddings and naming of babies. My father was an academic who studied all religions, with a slight preference for Islam. Jeja, my mother, wasn't a devout Muslim either, but feared God’s wrath. So, once a week, she sent my little brother Tamim and me for formal religious instruction at the local mosque.

Ghulam Farouq and Khadija Ghilzai - My parents in Kabul

During one of our Quran lessons the mullah singled Tamim and I out, declaring our mother was a sinner in the eyes of Allah because she wore skirts and showed her legs. This was 1977, long before the Taliban. I corrected the mullah, noting that Islam gave women the right to wear what they want and that he was a big liar for condemning my mother to hell.

The mullah landed a slap on my seven-year-old brother’s face to punish me for my disobedience. As a protective big sister, I did what I was supposed to do—I grabbed my brother’s hand and ran out of the mosque as I called the mullah several names that should not be repeated here.

Here I am with my arms protectively around Tamim

Our hearts thumping we leapt over the shoes piled neatly at the mosque's entrance and plunged into the deep Kabul winter snow in our bare feet, running away as fast as we could. We weren’t followed. Shivering and scared, Tamim with the red handprint on his cheek wanted to go home, but I wanted my boots and revenge. We snuck back to the mosque, grabbed our boots and, as a last act of defiance, filled all the remaining shoes at the mosque's door with snow.

We weren’t invited back.

Living in San Francisco, far from the Afghan community in the Bay Area, I only see the inside of a mosque when there is a funeral. You can imagine everyone’s surprise when I announced my decision to make a pilgrimage to Mecca. Friends and family stared at me blankly, asked if I was “OK” and wondered loudly if I’m having a mid-life crisis.

For those of you who are not familiar with Islam, Umrah, also known as minor pilgrimage, is a visit to Mecca performed by Muslims at any time of the year. In contrast, the Hajj, draws millions of people to Mecca during one 5 day period in the last month of the Islamic year. Hajj fulfills one of the five pillars of Islam that all able-bodied Muslims must complete before their death. I’m doing Umrah.

It was about two years ago when I started fantasizing about a trip to Mecca and Medina—to experience the power of Islam's holiest sights. I imagined it would be moving, sharing this spiritual adventure with thousands of others, all donned in white clothes from head to toe as we follow the footsteps of Prophet Muhammad, Peace Be Upon Him (PBUH) around the Kabba (home of God).

The opportunity to take this trip came sooner that I expected. A few weeks ago I found out my favorite aunt was making the pilgrimage at the end of March with a group of Afghan-Americans elders. I decided to tag along, after all, it’s not everyday I will find someone who wants to go on a pilgrimage.

The euphoria of my decision turned into a burden when elder relatives called to congratulate me for making the holy pilgrimage. Surprised by this reception, I realized I was stepping into a bigger obligation than I had anticipated.