The colour photograph in October 7's Sunday Star brought me back to the late 1980s' Mostapha Zahir, 13 years later. Aside from the fact, he had lost most of his thick mane of black hair, it was the same Mostapha, the same smiling, mobile face.
According to feature writer Peter Gorrie's accompanying article, Mostapha, grandson of exiled, 86-year-old, Afghan king Mohammad Zahir Shah, 'is being groomed to follow the king to the throne'.
The Mostapha of today is 37 years old and was in his mid-20s in the days when I was writing about the Soviet-Afghan war for the Toronto Sun and later the Kingston Whig Standard.
Back then, a political science student at Queen's University, the Afghani prince was living with Alan and Sheila Henriksen. Alan and Mostapha were co-founders of the Afghan Medical Relief Organization (AMRO), which brought wounded Afghans into Canada for medical treatment, through Anderson's Airforce Base.
Scores of patients, convalescing from a variety of operations performed free of charge by Kingston Hotel Dieu hospital surgeons, stayed at the Henriksen's Kingston home. There were so many members of the mujahideen staying at the house, I called it "Fort Henriksen" in one of my Sun columns.
During his Kingston chapter, Mostapha made periodic visits to his aging grandfather in Rome, but no one ever referred to him as the prince. Like his grandfather, who has with little fanfare, conducted diplomatic work on behalf of Afghan refugees, Mostapha worked quietly in the background with AMRO. His irrepressible humour was never far from the surface, and some of Fort Henriksen's domestic misadventures were shared by the student prince. Noting how so much of their personal effects were toted about in plastic, Sheila once complained about there being 'too much plastic in this house.' The Afghanis cheerfully conducted a clean up operation when Sheila was at her job as Ontario Parole Board chair. They turfed out her butter dish and every scrap of Tupperware, proudly announcing upon her return, 'Too much plastic, Sheila Jan.'
Mostapha and Henriksen had their hands full with yours truly, who became emotionally attached to some of the Afghani patients. AMRO's mandate, as promised to the Canadian government, was to have the reconstructive surgery performed and allow the patients a reasonable period of convalescence before shipping them back to the war.
All worked well until the arrival of teenagers Ahmed Zai and Sharif U Din. Sharif U Din, who could speak only a smattering of English, was once found rolling on the floor with laughter at the antics of the Three Stooges on television. During their stay, I took them to the CN Tower whose management treated them to a three-course lunch at the revolving restaurant. With his newfound passion for ice cream, Sharif U Din could not be dissuaded from choosing three different flavours for all three courses.
Mischievous as any Canadian teenager, he sometimes chased ladies down the street with small garter snakes, gaining ground on them--with his leg still in a cast.
In spite all of these winning ways, Sharif U Din, only 14 years of age, was a genuine warrior of the Afghan army. When his departure appeared imminent, I asked him wouldn't he prefer to remain in the safety of Canada. With eyes flashing fire, he retorted, 'My countrymen await my return to the war.' On the sad day of his flight from Pearson International, I wrote in a column that he was returning to his country the same way he left it, 'as a 14-year-old man'.
Through all of this, Mostapha kept his equanimity. Not knowing what kind of fate awaited Ahmed Zai and Sharif U Din back in Afghanistan, his stoicism was remarkable.
Mostapha was only a nine-year-old boy hiding under the table when his grandfather was ousted by his cousin, Mohammed Daoud in 1973. Living in the west, Mostapha never forgot his proud Afghan heritage, and even in his mid-20s was admired as an intellect. Everything I know about the Afghan culture came from him.
Mostapha and his grandfather are long-time advocates of a Loya Jirga, a traditional grand council to plan a broad-based government. In a post-Taliban Afghanistan, they have no wish to return as a monarchy, but to work in the role of consensus builders.
To me, the Henriksens and others who knew him, whether it was a sad goodbye at the airport, a drink at a campus bar or sharing an Afghan meal, Mostapha was a gentleman, a man of the people and most of all a small 'p' prince--a prince of a fellow. His grandfather must be so proud of him.
Someday it may be Mostapha who finally brings peace to a faraway Afghanistan. In shallah, (God willing) Mostapha.Canada Free Press founding editor Most recent by Judi McLeod is an award-winning journalist with 30 years experience in the print media. Her work has appeared on Newsmax.com, Drudge Report, Foxnews.com, Glenn Beck. Judi can be reached at: judi@canadafreepress.com
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