May Peace Be Upon You

by Josh ‘Tinman' Rubenstein

Last call! Last call! A bartender announces a plea over the noisy conversation, hoping the intoxicated minds will listen. Conversations lose their flame, as cold air rushes in the open door of the bar. Outside, people are hailing cabs to make the trip home before the sun rises. Cab drivers are moving people throughout the city, whether the customer is drunk or on their way to a board meeting; the taxi operators circulate the urban blood of the city.

Since my arrival in Chicago three years ago, I have been entranced by how people are transported and the character of the selected modes. My first experience with transportation in Chicago was in a taxicab. I arrived at O'Hare Airport and after meeting up with my luggage, I headed outside to a cab line. I had never been in a cab before, unlike the majority of the other waiting people done up in suits and ties. A man whistled to call the cab up to the curb where I stood with my duffel bags, a camera, and two wide eyes of curiosity. The doors slammed and the tires gripped the pavement. The city floated off in the distance like a mirage dancing on the sand and I wondered where I would be among it all, as I told the cab driver my street address. I nestled into the vinyl bench seat and stared, face pressed to the glass, out the window. I was curious to learn about how these places interacted and mainly what means of transportation could I use to move around on this concrete patch of Earth. Overwhelmed, I withdrew and focused my attention on the blurred pavement streaming below the tires of passing cars.

Suddenly, the cab swerved, and tires screeched as the cab driver saved us from the side of an eighteen-wheeled truck, folding like a jackknife. My heart stopped; I know the driver's heart froze too. Our eyes met on the glass of the rearview mirror. The driver began to apologize and I quickly praised his excellent reflexes. We arrived at my address and, after I unloaded my bags from the trunk, I noticed a gleaming silver tissue box through the rear window as the driver closed the trunk. My hand reached out with the cab fare and a tip. His hand shook, telling me that he did not want to be paid. I insisted and he understood that I was not mad but thankful. I looked over his taxicab, and it glistened. Later I would learn that not all cab cars of the city were spectacular, yet consistently many of the drivers are kind when they are respectfully treated. The cab driver softly said, “aaslam ulakim” but it did not register with me. In any case I smiled, turned and walked away.

I turned back to the cab business in Chicago with curiosity to learn more about the men who operated taxi cars in the city. The industry is constructed of about 50% Pakistani men who are members of a close-knit community living in the city. In the late 1970's they began to immigrate to the United States . Faced with the difficulty of earning money, many male Pakistanis went into the taxi industry to make a living. Although many of these men had a higher education, professionals in American society were not welcoming them with wide-open “white collar” arms. Instead, the male Pakistani population turned to a profession that not only offered flexible hours but also the title of ‘Boss'. Shortly after the initial wave of Pakistani immigrants, a large student population began to arrive in the United States . Unfortunately, their families couldn't foot the entire bill for college and many of the young men turned to the cab industry for the flexibility and quick cash. Whether as a student or a traveler, most Pakistanis agree that they came to this country for better economic opportunities. In Pakistan , many people have higher degrees of education, but there are not enough jobs to support this highly educated population.

In September of 1999, I discovered a huge parking lot, at O'Hare International Airport, where cabs and limousines wait for their turn to pull up to airline gates and transport travelers all over Chicagoland. It was here that I gathered the majority of information directly from the source. I was a sore thumb: Cameras hung from my neck and I had no cab. In the east I saw planes lining up in the sky just like the cab drivers waiting for their turn. The markings on the planes told me a story as did the languages spoken among the cabs. This was a worldly gathering center. Overhead, planes of all sizes from all around the world glide down to the runways just beyond the cab lot. Nigerian, Indian, Greek, African American, Chinese, and Pakistani meet here on this one hundred by one hundred yard patch of pavement daily. These men and women are ambassadors to the city and an important link to Chicago 's tourist industry. Walking up and down the aisles of cars I heard different dialects and languages. Most had no trace of English to lend me a clue to the content of the discussions. Indian music traveled softly from a cab with its windshield covered with newspapers and an umbrella to shade a napping driver from the sun. After circulating among the cars I began to envision the different continents of the world. Nigerians, Greeks, Chinese, and Pakistanis were gathered in groups like small islands, representative of the continents on our Earth. Talking amongst themselves, the cab drivers were crossing cultural boundaries with the same pace they travel through downtown intersections. Cultural differences were expected, encountered, and welcomed. The element of survival was the common thread that made everyone equal and part of a brotherhood. The cab drivers understood each other not only as cabbies but also as companions. Off in the distance I saw a Muslim cab driver with a skullcap standing on his car hood. His eyes squinted and scanned the lot as if he was searching for a friend. His attention was diverted, and he began to direct cab drivers arriving from the highway to the line that would take them swiftly back to the airport terminal for another fare.

At the front of the cab staging lot along side a small highway within the airport limits, I watched a dozen or so men pray at sunset. They faced the northeast and – amid the chaos of landing planes, automobile traffic, and cab cars dashing to the terminals – these men focused spiritually together. They shared a piece of donated carpet and transformed this urban space into a mosque. Through continued conversations I learned of the struggle to claim this space and the need for its further development to include a year-round shelter, protecting anyone who wished to worship. Although most people who use the space are Muslim, the cab drivers want the space to become more formalized for all. The Muslim holy book, the Qur'an, requires prayer five times a day. While Muslim cabbies wait at the staging lot they need to pray at two major prayer times around noon and dusk. When the weather is poor there is no shelter at the O'Hare staging lot, and this deficiency forces dedicated Muslims to endure rain and snow. In March 1999 Syed Amathulla Quadri, describing this hardship and requesting a covered facility be built at a shared expense, sent a letter to Mayor Daley. It noted the major cities around the world, including Hong Kong , Amsterdam , and Denver that have taken steps to accommodate the needs of their cab drivers. Since a majority of cab drivers in Chicago are Muslim (whether Pakistani, Arab, African, Chinese, or American), Quadri asked that the city officials and O'Hare respond to this request. When I last talked with a group of cab drivers, no response had been received from the mayor's office or from Caroline Shoenberger, the Consumer Services Commissioner.

“Without dreams life is nothing,” Kahn softly spoke, as if he had tried life without dreaming at one time. Our conversation paused as a jumbo jet echoed above our heads. Kahn rested comfortably, perched up against a metal barrier at the front of the lot where up to 2,000 cabs stop daily. He spoke with a humble tone about his experiences driving taxis in Chicago . Most of his stories would have left a trail of quitters, but he, like many others, is in pursuit of his own American Dream. We talked about discrimination and Kahn simplified the situation by saying, “People are unfriendly mostly because of their own frustrations.” Kahn began driving cab a few years ago because he became the sole provider for his children. His regular job was inflexible. “If school calls to tell me my child is sick I must leave work,” he said. One thing I had learned about Pakistanis is that family is very important. Kahn is qualified for what society labels as more “white collar” work than cab driving. He already has a Bachelors degree from New Mexico State University and is currently enrolled in DePaul's medical program. Kahn hasn't given up. He needs the flexibility of the taxi business to persue his chosen field and, most importantly, to be there for his four children.

I went to 845 West Washington to meet Shiob Hassan. Shiob is the vice president of Checker Taxi Association but he wasn't always sitting in the office. In the late 1970's he came to the United States . After a hotel job and tending bar he began driving cab. Before his unique promotion at Checker Taxi in the early 1990's, he had been driving cab for more than ten years. I noticed a scar wrapping around the front portion of his neck. The scar was a physical reminder of being mugged in his cab, but Shiob faced the fear many cab drivers do daily, and he went back to work as usual when he recovered. A 1995 Department of Labor report showed that cab drivers were four times more likely to be killed than policemen or gas station attendants. Public response to the cabbies is, ‘find another job if you're afraid', but this is easier said than done. During the 1997 cab strike in Chicago , Pervez Kahn said, “We are no good to our families if we are shot in the head.” At that point in time six cab drivers had been killed during the year. The independence and being one's own boss have significant trade-offs. Shiob reminded me that cab drivers have no health insurance, sick or vacation pay, and his scar was testimony that their lives are also greatly endangered in their line of work.

In their pursuit of the “American Dream” cab drivers are humble workers, often putting in twelve to sixteen hours just to pay the bills, but society pays little respect to this work force. At 400 West Superior hundreds of cab drivers a day appear in court and most must pay fines as a result of tickets issued by police. Cab drivers receive tickets if they stop in an illegal spot to pick up customers. However, if they avoid these illegal zones the customer can call up and report the medallion number, unaware of the reasons the cabbie avoided their exact location. Trying to please the customer and obey city laws, the cab driver is forced to take risks and pay the consequences. As Shiob explained, the system is even more corrupt. The city has a new policy that can force a cab driver that has been reported to undergo a drug test. This process suspends the driver for seven days, causing financial strain upon the family. Of course, the drug test and suspension may be necessary for a person with a past history of problems but for this rule to affect anyone at random is unjust. What's even more upsetting is that the customer who called in the complaint doesn't have to appear in court when the cab driver shows for a hearing. Treated like animals but expected to provide service of a knightly standard, the cab driver is being torn at the seams to please modern society. Complaints about the cab drivers and the police come from both sides. However, I couldn't keep from wondering how cab drivers would be treated if the presence of white skin was more pronounced in the taxi business. Many of the Pakistani cab drivers I spoke with told me that customers often view their beards with a terroristic negativity, rather than as a symbol of an educated and wise individual. “The fact is they need us and we need them,” said Syed, during an interview. We discussed how the media and Hollywood control peoples' thoughts. Movies depict improper prayer rituals and bearded Muslims hijacking planes and blowing up buildings. Films depict the Muslim male as chauvinistic characters with multiple wives. “ America is the super power of the world, but why is it not the same when it comes to justice?” Syed said. With a close look inside their cocoon, I saw a community that values religion, family, and unity. These high standards shift when we look at society at large. Money and individualism take precedent over family unity and religion. Americas ' problems are rooted in this lifestyle, which fragments and alienates people, beginning within the family and snowballing into the society.

In the New York Times on November 24, 1999 there was an article about a resolution presented to Congress proposing, “the promise of our nations ideals,” by Muslim community leaders. The resolution was in response to many things but in particular to the 1995 terrorist bombing of Oklahoma City . In the weeks following the incident numerous Arab-Americans reported a wave of harassment and intimidation by law enforcement members who initially suspected that Muslim terrorists had been responsible for the attack. The bombing incident highlighted the fact that America is overflowing with stereotypes and misconceptions about Muslims. Not only is this dangerous to our community but it shows our ignorance. The resolution never made it to Congress because it had to be re-written in order to eliminate language about the harassment that the Muslim community experienced following the bombing in 1995. In the four years since the bombing and the inaccurate assumptions about Muslim involvement, society continues its ignorance by assuming the crash of Egypt Air was a suicide mission planned by the pilot. We heard one word of Arabic and assumptions flowed from our mind, blocking our compassion with misguided fears.

Today, as you sit at work, your children are at school learning, sitting next to another child whose father is a cab driver. Parents have a common goal to provide their children with better opportunities, whether they support a family by driving a cab or trading stocks. I don't think most people who utilize the services of a cab driver think about these issues. The little respect and esteem cab drivers have about their job is a direct reflection of the treatment they receive from society. One day while I was eating at Daavat Restaurant I met Miggen. He and I sat for an hour sipping tea and smoking Biddies, which are Indian cigarettes. The most intriguing point of the conversation was how Miggen hid the specifics of his occupation and success in the cab business from his family in Pakistan since he immigrated in 1986. However, most drivers adopt the philosophy that although, they themselves may not rise out of the cab industry, their kids will benefit from their hard work and have more opportunities.

Like many Pakistani cab drivers I met outside of Daavat Restaurant and Babba's Place, Salaam, a cab driver for almost twenty years, just wants a little slice of the American Dream. “Many customers are tough on us because they make assumptions that we are unfriendly and unsafe, but our goals are just the same: to earn money and make life better for our children,” Salaam said with a serious tone.

An American isn't just a certain type of person with the perfect family tree rooting their origins to American soil. At some point or another someone in your family immigrated to the land now called the United States and worked hard to establish a family. Often we forget that, at one point, our family was at the bottom, struggling with an assortment of disadvantages to live and be respected. This soil is transforming into a new nation built upon the hard work of immigrants. The new nation will wear the face of the world. We must not forget our history. Tolerance is generated by accepting that we all share a common thread; an umbilical cord to life. Despite economics, class, and race separations we will not be able to escape each other's problems without accepting our brother/sisterhood. As long as we share the planet we will be responsible for one another.

Society easily bears down upon those who are different. Many Pakistanis came to the United States to find more opportunity. This phenomenon, where the highly educated person is left searching for that dream career, is already occurring in our nation for many graduates obtaining degrees. So, as we bark out street addresses and pressure cab drivers, remember that sometime soon it might be your son or daughter or even you who resorts to driving cab for a living. Imagine sitting in traffic all day: The road rage, the accidents, and the tickets. Chicago is fortunate that the majority of its cab drivers are Muslims, who respect patience as a virtue. The next time your cab experience isn't as relaxing as a bubble bath, remember that it isn't supposed to be. Transportation systems reflect the environment they operate in and Chicago isn't a porcelain tub nestled on a beach of soft sands. Place yourself into the position of the cab driver. If you want peace to be upon you then extend it to others.

During an interview with Syed, a cab driver I met at O'Hare, I asked him if the word gaia had any meaning in the Arabic language. Translated gaia means, “song or sang, but not like preaching, more like music,” Syed said. I hope after reading this article you are amazed and inspired. Re-imagine the world you think you know so well from another persons' point of view that is completely different, in terms of race, class and education. After seeing the injustices, begin your day with that raw material from your visualizations of our present. Reshape the future with those idyllic daydreams of your imagination. Grandiose changes can start in places where you have control.

Until a few years ago I did not realize that my white skin granted me so much power. The democratic forest of our nation was founded and sustained upon actions and beliefs that I am not proud to take advantage of. Our progress technologically and economically is worthless if we can't accomplish them together, equally among one another with the same benefit. In the whirlwind of the day when you race to the curb's edge for a cab, rushing to an appointment, take a second to watch the cars, buses, trains, and feet passing by in their orbit and remember that you are alive among others on this ball of rock called Earth. Where are you going? Remember it's how you get there.

Information is over-flowing from the Internet and the media at every turn; however, information isn't knowledge. My sources are more frequently found by opening my front door rather than listening to the crackling bindings of countless books or browsing the web. I would like to thank the cab drivers at O'Hare and the various restaurants I visited for trusting me with open minds and patience. I hope I have communicated the truth and that something good can come from our relationship.

I would like to thank John Moberg, Shiob Hassan, and Alvin Kupferman at Checker Taxi Association for the time they spent with me discussing the story. In addition I want to thank Syed N. Ali at Asia Motors and the owners of Pakeeza, Zaiqa, and Babas Place Resaurants for allowing me to photograph inside your businesses. Finally, a warm thanks to Mr. & Mrs. Shazad, for opening the door of your home and allowing me to meet your children and learn more about your lifestyles.

Below: At the O'Hare cab staging lot I met many cabbies. One of the notable gentlemen was known as the “Camel Jockey.” He is a spokesperson for many drivers, communicating with authority and maturity. Kazim, has been in the cab business for twenty-five years in Chicago .

Syed and his family invited me into their home; revealing the life which customers' tend to forget the cab drivers maintain. Both parents work hard to care for their sons.

Syed has an obligation to teach his son Arabic before the boy is eight.

I met and talked with Pakistani cab drivers while we dined at their favorite restaurants, such as Babas Place or Pakeeza's. This “down-time” is filled with conversations full of laughter, politics and eating!

Below: Moments before this frame a policewoman approached a cab asking for cooperation in helping an elderly woman get a ride. I hope this can be a model, not only for cab drivers and city officials but for all of humanity to apply to their lives.

Words and photographs by Josh ‘Tinman' Rubenstein. Reprinted by permission of the author. This article originally appeared in Gaia Magazine in 2003. The author can be reached at Game02@mac.com.