An encounter between an Afghan immigrant and a scientist in a London taxi

Short story, 24 November 2018.

Nina was drop-dead exhausted. It had been an intensive gruelling five days and nights of training where every nerve, synapse and muscle in her body and brain had been stimulated, stretched and twisted to breaking point. First, the need to absorb and digest the truckloads of vital information delivered at express speed by the three super-charged trainers. And then running from room to room playing bit parts in 18 diverse role plays ranging from drunk man hit by a London bus, to rock band member hit rock bottom, insurance agent, flirty lawyer, and aging retired employee on an estate who has a pet beaver wreaking havoc on the property.

Nina and every other trainee had to play mediator in three of these role plays. Calming the emotions of warring parties while skilfully teasing out their underlying motivations under the watchful eyes of the trainers was nerve-wracking at the start. They critically observed, recorded and commented on every misplaced or inappropriate word, phrase and gesture. Nina’s stomach heaved each time the sheet was flipped on the frame, revealing the names of the victims on the top in the row marked ‘Mediator’.

After the first day of naiveté, Nina came to understand that every case had a nitty gritty story under its seemingly innocent front. And these were all apparently masked real-life cases, a good sample of the kinds of issues, characters and ethical dilemmas one was likely to encounter in the real world. A world of indulgence, sleaze and dodgy morals indeed.

Came Friday evening and they were finally done, shafts of steel forged through the fire. Certificate in hand, a big smile on her face and a new nimbleness in her over-wrought body, she headed out into the wickedly-cold rainy dark miserable London evening to celebrate with her friends.

Half an hour of fiddling on the app, and finally there was the Uber driver. The Uber app revealed his name to be Hamid Shah Azizi. Somewhere from ‘the Middle East to Central Asian region’ perhaps but where exactly Nina could not place. They sat in the traffic for about half an hour inching along towards the red light just 200 metres away from the hotel. The light turned green to permit only two cars through at a time. Had the programmer been in a bad mood?

In the time spent waiting, the driver had a long open conversation with Sweety – that’s what he called her and that was the name listed above the number on his phone. His wife perhaps? He finally conveyed to her a takeout order for fried chicken and chips. That was the only part of the conversation delivered in English.

He finished his conversation and then turned his focus to Nina, looking at her full on in the rear-view mirror. “Are you from London?” he asked. “No,” she responded, “I live in Indonesia.” His face revealed all he felt very explicitly, and in this instance, it registered keen interest. “Indonesia? That’s near Malaysia?” he enquired. “Yes,” said Nina.

“Is it a good place? How is it for business?” he continued. “I don’t know,” answered Nina, “but I have heard it can be tough with the legal procedures, visa requirements, etc.”

“That’s the same here too,” he declared matter-of-factly, “but can you make good money?” “I wouldn’t know,” replied Nina, absolutely tired and just looking for some shut-eye, “It’s not my field.” But no break appeared forthcoming. “What is your field?” he persisted in a demanding voice.

Nina wondered if he had secretly attended her mediation course. He seemed to do well in the direct questioning technique that had taken Nina some effort to learn. “I do research and analysis, I am a scientist,” replied Nina.

His face registered even keener interest now and his big eyes bored into Nina, filling up the tiny mirror. “A scientist, excellent!” he stated, “So I would like to ask you a question, tell me about live on earth.”

“Do you mean life on earth?” enquired Nina, taken aback. “Yes, yes, you know they say there were dinosaurs and all. How old is the earth?” he prodded. “About 4.5 billion years old,” ventured Nina.

“And we people, how long have we been there? In the beginning we had big civilizations like Egypt, the first one, right?” he posed. “They say we humans have been around for about 300,000 plus years. The big civilizations you refer to were all from roughly 5000 years ago onwards,” answered Nina.

“Then what did we have before that?” he asked. Nina waded briefly through records of hunter-gatherer societies and agricultural development. She could almost physically hear his mind digesting and working it all out.

“Before on earth, there were dinosaurs,” he proceeded unabated, “and lots of other animals, right? Were they the same like now?” Nina paddled through the epochs, through the waxing and waning of life, of different species, of adaptation to changing environments, very thankful for the National Geographic video she had watched fascinated three months ago. Little did she anticipate that it would come in handy to answer the queries of a curious taxi driver in London.

“For information about the history of life on earth, there is a nice Youtube video by National Geographic called History of the earth,” she suggested. He clarified and confirmed the name and details.

“They are talking about climate change now. What does it mean? We can still live a good life, right? No problem in London!?” he queried. “Ya, we can live a good life but I am not sure about our children, the next generation,” submitted Nina. “Why?” he demanded.

“Melting ice in the polar regions and mountains,” Nina had to indicate what the polar regions were and where they were in relation to London and the ball of the earth, “leading to sea level rises, flooding of small islands and coastal areas, changing ocean temperatures and currents, increased frequency and intensity of storms, droughts, problems for agricultural production, mass migrations.” They had to pull the information apart piece by piece as he let his torrent of questions flow and Nina did her best to answer truthfully.

There was not a moment’s pause. “But you know in religion we believe that if you are a good person, you will be rebirth. If not, you will not rebirth,” he stated, “What do you think of that? How does that fit in?”

Nina sensed that she was on potentially sensitive ground now and the risks of how much to reveal and discuss openly of her thoughts and ideas on the topic passed quickly through her mind. She decided to brave it, paying due attention to the words, tone and body language, as learnt in the obviously life-saving mediation course she had just stepped out of. “You mean about being reborn. Different religions believe different things,” she mumbled.

He was not so easily detracted. “Yes, but are we reborn if we do good and live a good life? What do YOU think?” he insisted. “I don’t know,” replied Nina lamely, “I am not sure what to think about that. But the way we are living now – overusing resources, polluting the air and water, warming the earth – leaves the next generation in a difficult spot. We have a good life now but we don’t know what it will be like for them.”

“What language were you speaking and where are you from?” probed Nina.
“I speak Persian,” he responded, “I came from Afghanistan when I was 14 and I have lived here for nine years now.” “Is it a good life?”, Nina felt emboldened to ask the questions now. “Yes, not bad, you can do things,” he answered.

“What is your education field/topic?” she continued. “Education?” he enquired puzzled. “I mean what did you study at school, university? You seem so interested and curious in so many things,” replied Nina. “Just school,” he said.

“Aren’t there courses you can go to, to satisfy your interest?” inquired Nina.
“You think I can go to learn about these things,” contemplated the big tough-looking Afghan man with an intimidating manner and tone of voice, “that would be very nice.” “I am sure you can look around and explore options,” proffered Nina very generously.

Now they had arrived at Nina’s destination and searched for the house in the dark. Numbers were not illuminated. Mr. Hamid helped her with her suitcases, ensured she had found the right house, and confirmed that she was okay in a loud and formidable voice, before he bid her goodbye and disappeared into the cold dark London night.