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''' SOULLESS ART IN
SUPREME FORM '''
AT THE WORLD STUDENTS SOCIETY -this great master statistician, Zilli, never ever fails to both startle and amaze me. Here's a recent snippet of a conversation:
''Well, Zilli, ..... what exactly is this unending list all about?'' ''Oh dear, you mean this has the names of all soulless humans you know of ? Really? God, help us then........''
THE BEAUTY - or should I say, tragically and sadly - of this beautiful country called, Pakistan, is that it only sees itself as the world and all other places as terribly foreign.
In tortured cataclysmic convulsion of some decades ago, I took time off from one hopelessly boring Oil Refinery commissioning work, to go take a personal first hand look at Karachi-
As it went about setting new records in man's inhumanity for man.
I saw bodies, after human bodies, decomposed and rotting, with body parts strewn all over, corpses and cut bodies hanging from tree branches, and-
Street dogs having a field day, as I slid and wriggled from one cover to another under a hail of automatic small-arm fire.
Were it not, at the time and now, for this great saint, Maulana Abdul Satter Edhi's Foundation, very few would have any kind of decent burial.
It is to the beautiful and loving memory of this blessed humanitarian, that this research publishing work, is dedicated. Rest in Peace.
IN EVERY -and all ways, this is another example how in this city of almost 8.6 million, minding one's own business is such art form.
Welcome to New York City's Journal.
At 12:34 p.m. on Aug 8, a taxi driver named Mehari Bokrezion pulled into an empty spot next to a basketball court in the SoHo neighborhood of Manhattan, beneath a sign that told cabbies-
They could park for an hour and get some relief. He closed his eyes. So, soon afterwards, he took his very last breath.
THE Life of the city went on around Mr. Bokrezion, an Eritrean immigrant who had driven a yellow taxi for the same company for almost half his life.
Commuters spilled out of the Canal street subway station and walked past the taxi. Drivers parked in front of him and behind him, stood on the sidewalk chatting, and then left.
Workers left the swanky Soho Grand Hotel after their shifts, exiting through the employees entrance, across the street from where Bokrezion sat.
NIGHT FELL,. Down the street, the fabulous showed their drivers' licenses to get into Jimmy, the rooftop bar at the James hotel. And finally, just after the sun rose the next morning, about 18 hours after parking.
Mr. Bokrezion, known as a quiet, kind man, who never made a fuss at work, was finally found.
''It's just so sad that so many people walked by during the day, and no one cared to notice,'' said Ramsey Ahmed, 33, who runs a nearby food cart. ''It's just life in New York. Nobody really cares about anyone besides themselves.''
The discovery was made by his wife and brother, who had been worried about Mr. Bokrezion and traced his GPS device with the help of his garage.
*His wife started crying, screaming, pounding on the window*.
Cabs always parked in a neat line along, the west side of the street, one of 38 taxi stands in Manhattan where drivers are allowed to rest for a short time without risking a ticket.
Drivers always took power naps. Sure, the sign ''Taxi 1 Hour Limit Relief Stand'' --indicated that rules were supposed to be followed-
But on this part of Thompson Street, which makes an abrupt turn into Avenues of the Americas instead of leading straight into Canal street, no one seems to have paid attention to the taxi that stayed a little longer.
YET in some ways, Mr. Bokrezion's long wait to be found was just another example to how in this city of almost 8.6 million, the most crowded in the country minding one's own business is an art form.
*Despite the crowds, New York can sometimes feel like the most isolating place in the world, a city where a man spent as long as five hours riding the No 1 subway line in 1999 before anyone realized that he, too, had died*.
Mr. Bokrezion's family members could not be reached for this article.
At some pint, his family moved from Eritrea to America. He joined the taxi company -Susan Maintenance Corp, -in Manhattan shortly after getting his taxi driver's license in 1991.
As an independent contractor, he could drive as little as or as much as he wanted. Mr. Bokrezion chose to never work weekends. He picked up a Taxi in the morning, and almost always turned it in before 10 p.m.
OTHER taxi drivers said Mr. Bokrezion was the kind of friend who called when they were on vacations, just to check in.
When he spotted a fellow driver walking through Pennsylvania Station, sneaked up and joked that he needed a ride to Brooklyn.
[It's a taxi driver humor; civilians might not understand].
Mr. Bokrezion, who had lived in the West Village, often showed up hours before his shift, to Chat with friends at the two yellow picnic tables inside the Susan Taxi garage, which had moved to Park Slope, Brooklyn, from Manhattan.
It was a mini-United Nations, with drivers and dispatchers from countries like Senegal, Morocco, and Haiti
Most frequently the drivers talked about how tough it was to earn a living, with Uber looming over their livelihoods.
August was also a slow month. Mr. Bokrezion said it was hard to find a fare.............
The sad Honor and Serving of this post on ''Life & Living'' continues. The World Students Society thanks researcher and author Mr. Kim Barker for this unique work.
With respectful dedication to the Students, Professors and Teachers of the world. See Ya all on !WOW! -the World Students Society and........... Twitter-!E-WOW! -the Ecosystem 2011:
''' Size & Strength '''
Good Night and God Bless
SAM Daily Times - the Voice of the Voiceless
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