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Whenever the world erupts in an orgy of violence and mayhem, Babak and his crew fly right into the midst of it. They are the people that set-up the cameras and plan the interviews. They also secure accommodations and ensure security before the TV newscasters fly in and are filmed looking fearless in front of fire.
Although large in physique and quite strong, I recall Babak as a big teddy bear. I took advantage of his reluctance to engage in mindless confrontation (as one does) by bullying him during sports scrimmages (while fully realising he could crush me like a flea if he truly desired). It never occurred to me that Babak would ever make a living dodging bullets. Whilst most of us were either students or working in our first mindless jobs after
graduating, Babak was working as a production trainee with NBC by day and organising
after-hours parties by night. By the early 90s, he was managing production operations
and showing competence and in 1996, was transferred to London to practice his trade.
But I did understand one thing: If I am so intoxicated by these stories, surely
young people may find them spellbinding, if not outright inspirational. Perhaps inspirational
enough to pursue a career in news production or journalism. Perhaps inspirational
enough to try and make a difference. September 11th gave me a chance to find out. As American-Iranians, Babak and I also understood the unpredictable and dangerous nature of the Afghan conflict. It didn't help that this hotspot had a crazed lunatic Mullah calling for a holy war, a maniac terrorist threatening mass destruction, several thousand suicidal fighters, hordes of local bandits and terrain similar to Mars. Add daily bombings, millions of landmines and no infra-structure whatsoever, and you can see why this time we really were worried. As a native Iranian, Babak speaks Farsi, and this meant he would be taking an
even more pronounced role during this campaign as a translator and facilitator. To
me, it was quite clear. It was imperative that his experiences somehow filter to
people back home. Interestingly and unbeknownst to me, Babak's brother, Behdad, also
felt the same way across the Atlantic. The result was three people bringing together
different components that have helped create a very lively online community on the
Internet. On November 12, Johanne Sutton of Radio France Internationale, Pierre Billaud of France's RTL radio station and Volker Handloik, a freelance writer for the German magazine Stern, were killed when the Taliban ambushed the Northern Alliance armoured personnel carrier they were riding on. It was an outrageous act. But it was to get worse. On November19, Harry Burton, an Australian television cameraman with Reuters; Azizullah Haidari, an Afghan-born Reuters, Grazia Cutuli, a reporter with Italy's Corriere della Sera, were all killed when gunmen ambushed the convoy they were travelling in. Eight journalists had been murdered in the space of one week.
In effect, we needed a full-on project manager in touch with Babak at least 2-3
times a week to make the campaign dynamic. The problem was logistics and resources.
And then came a timely email from an old friend in Detroit. He had come across an
article about the brother of a journalist and thought I may be curious, as the name
sounded Iranian.
I emailed Behdad immediately, we too were old friends and I explained that his website was the missing piece of the puzzle. The process chain was now complete. Babak was our 'content provider', Behdad became the 'content manager' via his dedicated website and I had the audience through Schoolmaster.net. Behdad's site in effect became the mini-portal I required to make the campaign dynamic. The production team at Schoolmaster.net created a number of 'teasers' and promotions within the many pages of their online community as well as post promotions in chat and discussion forums. We sat back and watched the fireworks. The questions for Babak poured in, and the traffic to Behdad's website hit the roof. Typically, the questions delved into queries on front-line conditions and the fear factor. Sophie Palmizi,14, asked; "Do you ever fear for your life being so close to the front-lines?" The response from Babak was; "Sometimes we have to be very close to the fighting in order to get a better understanding of the story. But we take many precautions to insure our safety. We wear Kevlar helmets and flak jackets. If we are able to, we travel in bullet-proof cars. We research the area we visit and gather as much intelligence as possible. Eight of my colleagues have been killed so far in this conflict. But with the proper preparations we try to minimize the risks we confront in covering war stories." There were even questions about exams. Mario Pisaneschi, 15, of Western Isles of Scotland asked: "Do 15 year olds in Afghanistan sit exams?" Babak's replied: "The Afghans take pride in their attempt to educate the youth despite all the obstacles that stand in their way. In the Panshir Valley, many students attended classes. But they also had to work in the fields in the morning. There is a shortage of books and the teachers are poorly qualified. In Kabul the situation is somewhat better. There is even Kabul University with a large campus and many professors. But the bombing campaign has taken its toll and it will be sometime before the schools will be fully functional again. And yes, even in Afghanistan, students have to sit exams."
For me, the most telling exchange was with thirteen year old Chris Marr who asked
Babak if he were scared. Babak's answer was potent in its simplicity; "Covering
a war is always scary. You have to always be careful because trouble can be around
every corner. Being scared prevents you from making a stupid mistake and keeps you
alive. Anyone who says they are not scared is not telling the whole truth."
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