A special edition of Rubia News honoring the memory of Ghulam Sakhi Rustamkhan

Ghulam Sakhi Rustamkhan, Co-Founder of Rubia and Director of the Afghanistan-based Rubia Organization for the Development of Afghanistan (RODA), sadly passed away on July 14, 2011. We compile here remembrances from friends and colleagues who had the privilege of working with him both in Afghanistan and in the United States.

 The following description of Sakhi’s role in the founding of Rubia is an excerpt from a paper by Rubia Executive Director, Rachel Lehr, entitled “Mending Afghanistan Stitch by Stitch: New Traditions in Textiles.”

When Ghulam Sakhi Rustamkhan — Sakhi — contacted me in 2000, he was a refugee in Lahore, Pakistan, desperately seeking a way to improve the lives of his immediate and extended family. Sakhi and I had been students together at Tajik State University in Dushanbe, Tajikistan, in the early 1980s but had lost contact in the intervening years of conflict in Afghanistan. When he approached me all these years later, his family was living in appalling conditions in Lahore’s slums, along with other Afghan refugees from their home region. He wondered if I might be able to help them somehow.

Full of curiosity, I went to Pakistan to see an old friend, and several weeks later returned to the United States with a plan to work from the grassroots to create a sustainable enterprise with Afghans. As a scholar, textile artist, and teacher I decided to focus on traditional textile techniques, local skills, and a literacy component. Jennie Wood, a textile industry consultant joined the initial effort and gave the organization its name, Rubia. Sakhi, educated in economics in the former Soviet Tajikistan, kept the community central to all aspects of planning and helped contextualize the Afghan family system as he guided Rubia’s programs around existing cultural norms, values, and social structures.

Speaking almost entirely in proverbs, and drawing from Pashto, Dari, and Pashai oral culture to illustrate his intention, Sakhi was enchanting. He loved words and languages, confessing that he was ‘shirin zaban’ [lit. sweet tongued], ‘eloquent, charming, charismatic’ as if it were an affliction. Not always following his poetic reasoning I sought clarification which was inevitably met with a metaphor or story by way of explanation. He was a remarkable communicator who persisted in connecting with others through the warmth of his character in language or gesture.

Sakhi was salt of the earth.

Sakhi’s pen name was ‘Shaŗay’—the Pashto word for hillbilly and indeed he was. He accepted this appellation from his fellow students and owned it, for he was a farmer who made his way from the remote mountains of Darrai Nur to Kabul seeking an education. He achieved a higher degree, foreign education, and international work, never losing sight of his earthy roots. He kept passing the hard-earned diploma from Tajik State University that he so treasured from one hiding spot to another, through repeated regime changes. He delighted in speaking Pashai, his native endangered language, and forced others with pretenses toward the dominant culture to speak it as well, especially in public where people took notice, and minority language speakers stood out.

Sakhi was my guide. He took me by the hand and led me through the warrens of his world, the twisting and turning pathways through Afghan culture, village life, the domestic sphere and the intimacy of the personal. He was my eyes and ears; he both shielded and encouraged me. He left me alone with his sister-in-law Basri long enough to be pinched and stuck affectionately with a needle; he instructed me on proper leave-taking from his eldest brother as I incredulously repeated ‘you want me to pull his beard and kiss my hand and touch my forehead?!?’ worrying whether I would get the order right.

Afghans told me he was a ‘real Afghan’, with old fashioned grace and dignity, self-respect and restraint not seen often these days. He was appreciated by his peers for his intense sense of humor that belied his gravitas.

—Rachel Lehr, Co-Founder and Executive Director, Rubia

I knew Sakhi as Rachel’s partner. It was Rachel who translated Sakhi’s Pashai words to me into English and my responses from English to Pashai. Rachel was Sakhi’s interpreter; but she translated not just words, but worlds. Rachel was Sakhi’s wings. She carried him to a world that was far and different from his own: and with Rachel at his side, Sakhi entered with grace and dignity.

I felt Sakhi’s wise presence in a room full of foreign faces on three occasions. When he visited the United States in 2008, Rachel, Sakhi and I rode the elevator up to the 9th floor of Wilmer Hale and entered a world of glistening chandeliers and panoramic views of Boston: the elegant offices of Rubia’s pro-bono corporate law firm. Rachel had lovingly packed Sakhi a thermos of Afghan tea, so he would feel at ease in these unfamiliar halls. It was extraordinary to witness the distinguished Afghan judge, at the table with three high-powered female American lawyers discussing Rubia’s application to the IRS to become a non-profit organization.

As the founder and director of an Afghan NGO, Sakhi was a valued guest in my class of international development practitioners. After the students had introduced themselves, he acknowledged the Muslims from Somalia and Sudan; but he made the point that Afghans are open to all religions, unlike the image of the Taliban that the American Government propagates.

After showing slides of Afghanistan, Sakhi opened up the class for ques­tions. A 23-year old student from Atlanta asked, “How much does the quilt that the recovering opium abusers embroidered with poppies and the snake in the middle cost?” Sahki seized the “teaching moment.” “It is the process, as much as the product that is the true value of the quilt,” he tried to explain, through Rachel. The process of creation, the therapeutic stitching helps the women to heal, to literally work through their pain. “The human connection between the buyer and the seller must be factored into the price: there is a premium that people will pay for the story of recovery that is woven into the cloth,” he communicated, through Rachel. While the American who asked the question looked a little bewildered at this response, the students from other countries nodded their heads at Sahki, in appreciation.

One chilly night in November of 2008, my husband and I had the privilege of hosting a Rubia fundraiser at our home in suburban Boston, with Sakhi as the guest of honor. With Rachel at his side, Sakhi was a bridge between our modern, fast-paced world and the rural world of the Pashai living in Afghanistan’s Nagrahar province, where women cannot leave their homes without the protection of the chadri (or burqa). In bridging these worlds, Sakhi showed the 50 friends in our living room an Afghan face that is different from the face that the Western media paints of Muslims in Afghanistan.

That night our guests felt the kindness of Sakhi’s smile and saw the wisdom and suffering etched in the lines of his face; and I remember the, vitality, content and beauty in Rachel’s face when she was sitting next to Sakhi. Rachel and Sakhi debunked the “us and them,” mentality that our recent political culture has fostered. The memory of Sakhi’s humanity lingers in the hearts of all those he touched.

—Catherine Rielly, President, Rubia Board of Directors

I met Sakhi while staying with WADAN in Kabul. He was always incredibly cheerful, and struck me as someone who was wise and wordly enough to grasp the need to take life philosophically. Perhaps that came from being from a place like Darrai Nur. But I understood too that he had endured some pretty rough treatment in the past at the hands of authoritarian thugs. Perhaps this or both contributed to his outlook, but it was certainly a very appealing trait.

I had wanted to visit Darrai Nur and he promised to take me the next time he was visiting home. He was as good as his word and one morning we drove from Kabul, Sakhi in the passenger seat upfront and me alongside 2 caged chickens in the back, which he was bringing home to celebrate the birth of a new son. As soon as we arrived Sakhi ran off and returned, proud and grinning with his new born son. After I was shown around—saw some harvesting, people at work, young boys at play, a girl gathering water from a well—we all sat around in the heat of an August night in Nangrahar, eating and sleeping in the open with the night sky as our roof. There is the boy with the bee stings he got during the day, Sakhi lighting a cigarette after the delicious meal. I had a most interesting visit and will always think fondly of Sakhi, his village neighbors and the rich culture from which they spring.

Here are some photographs I took of the trip:

—Seamus Murthy

One of my first and most vivid memories of Sakhi, occurred in the summer of 2006 in Kabul. At that time I was sitting with Rachel and Sakhi in the garden of one of the hotels selling Rubia materials. It was a dry-hot day and we were enjoying the shade with some water, while eating Mantu. The sale was slow due to the heat and there were a number of birds playing, flying together, and at times fighting over their places along a small fountain in the garden. Sakhi, whom always spoke with a mind for poetry said, “those birds are like me and Rachel (pronounced Raquel). Sometimes they fight, sometimes, they play, and sometimes they laugh. The love each other those birds.”

Later, when I learned that Sakhi’s name means generous, I learned from firsthand experience how much he lived up to his namesake. On another trip to Afghanistan, he took me to Darrai Nur to spend a few days with his family. On this trip he showed me a walled garden he was preparing for Rachel. He told me he wished to have Rachel come to Darrai Nur and enjoy the garden he was preparing as a surprise for her. His beloved family stood around him also bursting with excitement at the sounds of Rachel’s name. Later that evening we sat together for dinner. There were 26 people in one room all eating together and talking at the same time. When Sakhi took out his phone and dialed Rachel in the U.S., the noise calmed to whispers and then silence as he spoke to her. The respect, hospitality, and mostly the generosity displayed by Sakhi and his entire immedi­ate and extended family, was a true testament to his many strengths, abilities, and his boundless capacity to seek out the good in people, despite a life time of experiencing and witnessing the very worst of humanity and continual political conflict.

When Sakhi came to my home during his visit to the United States, this was indeed one of my greatest honors. To have a small and limited opportunity to provide him with the hospitality he had always bestowed upon me. It was a delight to be able to serve him food and share conversations. He surprisingly came to enjoy and hold our miniature dachshund (named danger) as if she were his own pet. It was an evening of laughter and enjoyment and a memory I continue to cherish. I am truly privileged to have known Sakhi, his passing is truly a loss to his family, friends, and humanity.

—Jennifer Fluri

The mischievous gleam in Sakhi's eyes when he walked into the Cabul Coffeehouse never failed to lighten my heart. He’d enjoyed a Russian chat with Mary Louise or share stories with Sher Dil. He’d overlook my poor Dari with a laugh and tell yet another story. He knew I didn't always get the full drift of his stories, but the contagion of his smile and laugh were too great to resist and I’d find myself laughing with sheer delight with him. His profound graciousness, charm and generousness of spirit were reflective of the 'old' Afghanistan I had come to love in the 80s—qualities ever more scarcely experienced post-taliban.

His bright spirit is sorely missed, and I am deeply honored to have known him.

—Gay-LeClerc Qader, President of ACTC (Afghan Cultural Training Consultants)

I had met Sakhi on previous trips to Kabul, but on my first trip to Jalalabad where security was heightened and I was required to travel in armed convoys and live inside a secure compound, boy was I glad to see his smiling face when he showed up at our office to see me. We greeted each other like old friends in Russian, our only common language, and I could see other Afghans in the office looking puzzled as they tried to figure out who was this man and what language we were speaking. I always loved the irony of an American female and an Afghan male finding a way to communicate in Russian.

I was lucky enough to have been welcomed into Sakhi’s home in Kabul and in Darrai Nur and then to host him in my home in Washington, DC. His spirit will be missed, but the legacy of his work will live on.

—Beth Gottschling Huber

Sakhi was a storyteller of the highest order. I learned this the day I met him. All the time, he told stories. If you asked him a question, he gave you a story. This touched every element of life, from why, when he was sent to buy chocolate, he bought lemons, to whether or not he would take a sick kid to the doctor. Ultimately, Sakhi was a man who told his life through stories, shaping again and again the narratives of his past, weaving them together with folktales and jokes. Sakhi was a person who lived on the epic level of story, and yet had a big and loving heart. In his absence, I have the afternoon chess games we shared, and the hours of drinking tea in Kabul. But above all, I have Sakhi’s stories - too few of them it seems now — but something I can share in his name.

—Anna Mueser

A few years ago, Sakhi came to visit the Middle School students of Henniker Community School. Each student in their sixth grade year studies the history of the Silk Road under the expert guidance of Rachel Lehr. Our students are used to guest speakers and are often praised for their audience skills. This visit though was different. The conversation Sakhi had with the students that day was rather extraordinary. For one thing, most appreciated Artist-in-Residence and community member, Rachel Lehr was able to translate for us in Dari. We heard Sakhi and Rachel conversing back and forth as she wanted to be sure to communicate accurately the essence of his story. I imagine that the students understood what this meant for their own future possibilities. If a person from rural NH, who was so familiar to them could speak a foreign tongue from such a far away place, what might they dream to do?
Upstaging everyone else, however, was Sakhi. He appeared to us as I imagined a saint would appear. His rugged, deeply lined face betrayed at once a difficult life, while his eyes and his smile belayed a rich and joyous one. You could tell, too, that he loved children and felt very comfortable in their presence and they in his.
Watching the faces of our pre-teens, I saw such stillness and focus. Their eyes seemed to me to shine with reverent interest, and I believe they truly were in the presence of a great and holy man

—Brenda Wright

The news of Sakhi’s death came to us at WADAN just a few hours after he died. Inayat Niazi, our staff member, was called by our Jalalabad office as soon as they heard the sad news from Sakhi’s family. The immediate response from WADAN’s people was to wish his soul peace with Allah. Everyone knew how long Sakhi had suffered from heart problems. And everyone who had ever met Sakhi had been touched by his kind and sweet personality. Sakhi was known as a man with a great spirit; he was proud of Rubia’s accomplishments and he was central to their success. WADAN will miss Sakhi.

—The Welfare Association for the Development of Afghanistan (WADAN), Rubia’s NGO partner in Kabul and Jalalabad

Sakhi was a determined as well as kind person. When I met him for the first time in June 2011, he talked about his work and plans for future and I could see easily in his eyes that he is someone who believes that one person can bring a change, he believes in improving the lives of Dara-I-Noor people. This hope of his was a source of encouragement that made him continue working till the time he left us alone. Meeting him once, made me impressed and I told myself that I should never ever stop working for people and in particular women, if a man like Sakhi who is much older than us, who is suffering from lots of illnesses, then why not me, why not us. I am happy that I could at least meet him once and what I saw in Sakhi, its hope for future, its determination and commitment to work for Afghan people will be a source of encouragement and energy for me to continue the work he started. God Bless Him!

—Zala Ahmad

I knew Sakhi since 2008. At that time I was working with Rosemary Stasek. I still remember our first meeting. It was a sunny summer morning, and by the time I entered into the office I saw him; he was drinking tea outside on the lawn. I said salam after his Introduction. He offered me a cup of tea with a very nice and soft voice. From the first moments, I got that he is a very nice person.
When I was in the US I met him again. His kindness, intelligence and generosity were proved to everybody around him. He had a very beautiful heart, full of love for others and he had a very friendly character. He always wanted to help others. I can say he was a symbol of a good human being. He was a blessing from Allah. Today He is not with us but his memories will be always alive in our hearts, we will miss him…

—Karima Akbary

The importance of young women’s education was a message that Sakhi held sacred. In his honor, Rubia has created the Ghulamsakhi Rustamkhan Women’s Education Fund. We invite you to contribute to Afghan women’s education and empowerment by filling out the form below. Your generosity will enable impoverished women to participate in Threads of Change (ToC) training, our new curriculum that combines literacy, handwork and income generation. While participating in guided discussions with the aid of a skilled ToC facilitator, women learn to embroider images of lessons promoting family health and hygiene, women’s rights to education and voting, and banning child marriage. Targeted at non-literate women, “Threads of Change” communicates visually: re-creating these images by hand reinforces basic information that seclusion and illiteracy have blocked from their lives.

We are adding a new design to our Threads of Change collection, a proud father watching his daughter reading, in honor of Sakhi. Sakhi had the unusual advantage of being highly educated in a society with very low literacy rates as well as being acutely aware of his unique cultural heritage. As Director, Sakhi promoted female education: he established both a women’s literacy and health education program, and an elementary school for refugee boys and girls. His fluency in five languages allowed him to interact with people and groups outside of his own region. He spoke a message of peace, tolerance, and humanity.

Please download the DONATION FORM and mail it along with your check or credit card information.
Mail to: Rubia, Inc., PO Box 100, Warner, NH 03278

Rubia, Inc. is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization. Your donation is tax deductible.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!