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The mighty heart in person – Mariane Pearl

The mighty heart in person – Mariane Pearl

Published: February 1, 2013

Daniel Pearl was murdered this day, eleven years ago. Here, his wife talks about him, about Pakistan, about Malala, and about how she has managed to stay “the same person”.

BARCELONA: “Hi. I’m Mariane Pearl,” she says, introducing herself to a room full of journalists from the world over attending a Reuters training course in Barcelona.

At the course, I’m representing Pakistan – a country where her husband, Wall Street Journal journalist Daniel Pearl, was abducted and beheaded by terrorists. Where a pregnant Mariane spent the toughest months of her life.

My feelings are a strange mix of awe, excitement and misplaced guilt. I recall a write-up Mariane had written for the New York Times, in which she wrote of her impressions of Pakistan. “Danny and I were told that most people did not share the opinions of fundamentalists.

But this reassuring voice of the moderate majority was nowhere to be seen or heard.” Eleven years later, has anything changed in Pakistan? This collective silence is the source of my guilt. Too often, we are silent, apathetic and unaware.

Mariane has not changed much. Signature curly hair, tied-up tightly, predictably. Her fitness is deceptive – she does not appear to be a woman in her forties. To teach us, she cycles daily to Poblenou, a far beach end of Barcelona, for more than an hour.

Initially, she is just Daniel Pearl’s wife for me. The woman whom Angelina Jolie played in the docudrama “A Mighty Heart”, based on Mariane’s book of the same title. But over the coming days, she becomes more than that. A true story-teller. A passionate journalist. Humble. A little guarded. A woman at peace with herself.

How has that whole experience changed her? “Hopefully not so much. I may have grown and evolved but essentially I am the same person. If Danny were to come back, he would recognise me,” she says.

Mariane never revisited Pakistan but is not averse to the idea. She has not expressed anger for Pakistan or Karachi on record. How has she been so magnanimous is a question that she answers even before I ask her. “The people who murdered Danny have not been able to influence my feelings. Why would I hate Pakistanis? I have no reason to. I have very close relationships with some Pakistanis. Through individual dialogue and friendship these people have proven their value as human beings. No one can change that.”

“During this ordeal,” she had wrote on April 19, 2002 for the New York Times, “I was surrounded by individual Pakistanis and Muslims, as courageous and beautiful as those terrorists were ugly and without souls.”

Her refusal to give in to prejudice is remarkable. “In my life, I have experienced all kinds of things which could have high-jacked my interpretation of the world. But thankfully those things were not strong enough to do that. Otherwise I wouldn’t be free. Neither would my son,” she says.

Currently Mariane is writing a family memoir. The book promises to have a lot of Cuba, France, Mariane’s mother and more. “I have a very funky family story,” she says.

A mother’s pride is written all over her face as she shows me a picture of her and Daniel’s handsome ten-year-old son, Adam. Mariane is currently living in Barcelona. “I had to decide on a place where Adam would be happy and comfortable. Barcelona has beautiful weather, the ocean, mountains. Adam can learn Spanish here. This is the first time I made a choice to live somewhere for the quality of life and not for work.”

“Adam is very much like his father – easy-going, fun-loving. A beautiful human being,” she goes on to say. Adam is the son of two celebrities and has traveled a lot for a child his age. “He has met heads of states, but he has also met normal people and has been on reporting trips with me. He has seen the real world. He doesn’t have a hangover. I have worked hard at keeping him grounded,” she shares.

A part of Mariane is still very connected with Pakistan. “I have people there I care for. You need to really know Pakistan in order to understand Pakistan. You don’t know a country through the news. You can know it through person-to-person dialogue. I don’t rely on the media to know what I know about Pakistan, to feel what I feel about Pakistan,” she says, expressing how it hurts her when people stereotype Pakistanis.

Mariane believes that the power of dialogue is the only way conflicts can be resolved. “It’s especially true for a country like Pakistan. Communication! In both Pakistan and the USA, I have closely observed people on the top and the bottom rungs of society. The bottom can still communicate with each other but the top don’t understand each other at all. That’s scary!”

But she sees hope for humanity in the fact that people of the world continue to reach out to each other, and gives the example of friendships between the people of India and Pakistan, between the people of Israel and Palestine.

Pakistani women, she feels, like women elsewhere are a “very very powerful asset” for the country, especially in terms of how they can influence the men. “A country cannot go wrong by investing in women,” she says.

The conversation moves onto talk about the young Malala, and Mariane is all charged up. “Malala was a hero before she was shot, not because the Taliban shot her. There are a lot of Malalas out there…incredible young women… fearless, strong, a powerful generation to rely upon. Find them and show Malala that she’s not alone…that her cause is being seconded.”

She feels that unnecessary pressure has been put on Malala’s young shoulders by making her an icon. “She doesn’t need that, she’s just a 14- year-old kid. All Malala said was ‘I’m a girl, I have the right to have an education, otherwise I will have a miserable future’.” Perhaps Mariane can relate to what is happening to Malala. “ The media can be like vultures. I’ve been through that. I know how that feels. I feel like protecting Malala from that. The very minimum we owe her is respect.”

In the prologue of her book A Mighty Heart, Mariane said to Daniel, “I write this book to show that you were right: The task of changing a hate-filled world belongs to each one of us.” She reaffirms that undertaking in 2013. “Once you believe this, you cannot go back and hate again, for that would be the biggest defeat. It would mean that you are being manipulated (into hating). And I refuse to be manipulated by anyone.”

Published in The Express Tribune, February 1st, 2013.–mariane-pearl/

Sonia Nazario – Not your average storyteller

TrustMedia Alumni Blog – Sonia Nazario – Not your average storyteller [Reporting on Women’s Issues, Nov. 2012, Barcelona]

By Farahnaz Zahidi | Wednesday at 4:47 PM

Participants gather around a table during the Reporting on Women's Issues course in Barcelona this November.Participants gather around a table during the Reporting on Women’s Issues course in Barcelona this November.

NewsXchange 2012, a gathering of journalists and executives from the media world, started with a hit by American singer Kelly Clarkson, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Moments later, Pulitzer-prize winning journalist Sonia Nazario is invited to take to the stage. Clarkson’s song could not have been more apt. It celebrates strength, resilience, falling down and getting up again. Nazario has done all of this – all for the love of journalism.

A writer with more than 20 years’ experience under her belt, her heart lies in social issues, many of which are complicated, tricky and risky – the lives of illegal migrants and drug addicts, among others. Her interest lies not in superficial collections of data with jargon punched in, but features and stories for which she has risked her life.

Nazario won the Pulitzer Prize for Feature Writing in 2003, after an earlier nomination for the same category in 1998. She won it for series called Enrique’s Journey, which became a book and a national bestseller that won two book awards and was published in 8 languages. That’s enough to make her special. But after listening to her talk, her audience knows there’s more to her than this list of achievements.

Nazario’s real achievement is the stories she has told, stories of ordinary people which became real to her readers. Stories of pain and resilience. Stories like that of Enrique, a boy from Honduras who makes a perilous journey in search of his mother in the United States.

Nazario’s beginning, or childhood, was tumultuous in some ways. As she told those of us in the audience: “I learnt early on in life that journalism does matter.”

She was born in Wisconsin to Argentinean immigrants, which is why a part of her always related to immigrants. She grew up in the U.S. and Argentina. At 13, she knew fear. Fear made sure that she walked to school in pairs. Fear – a by-product of her seeing blood on the streets, and knowing that journalists could be killed for telling the truth.

In her words, “a certain kind of journalism matters. Stories that show complexity and a certain shade of grey.”

“Migration is in my blood. I understand what it’s like to have a foot in two worlds,” Nazario said.

In documenting Enrique’s story, Nazario documents how migrants suffer. Poverty forced Enrique’s mother Lourdes to leave Honduras, leaving behind her children including 5-year-old Enrique, whose quest to find an answer to the question “¿Donde esta mi mami?”  (Where is my mum?) is what the story of is all about.

“I look for stories that move me,” Nazario said. “If they move me, maybe they’ll move you.”

In order to truly capture Enrique’s story, Nazario went through some very perilous situations, travelling on top of a train like one of an estimated 48,000 children who enter the United States from Central America and Mexico each year. Illegally. Without parents. On these journeys, Nazario says she experienced “moments of cruelty and kindness”.

She wants to make her readers feel they are on top of that train to the U.S. with Enrique.

Nazario is still in touch with Enrique and his mother. Follow-up journalism is a dying art.

One writer’s story, written with a heart, helped humanize the faceless and nameless migrants in the US. They became more than numbers and data.

In an age where successful journalism has begun to be gauged by the number of blogs churned out daily or weekly, Nazario continues to set an example for journalists who want to tell stories, move hearts and make a difference through this powerful tool. “Doing this kind of story telling is important,” she said. “Don’t we have an obligation to tell people what’s what?”

I am every woman

11th November 2012. It is the first day of the Thomson Reuters journalism training course for which I have flown to Barcelona, Spain. New continent. New world. New people. 16 hours – the time my journey from Karachi to Barcelona took. 16 hours ago was the Karachi, the Pakistan I am from. Never a dull moment in my country. Especially in the newsroom. Even more so in my life. I am surrounded by 10 other energetic, excited and interesting participants. Each a unique story. But the shoddy parts of Karachi, the humidity of that city I call home, and its problems and joys never leave me, even when I walk down beautiful pebbled streets of the picturesque Barcelona which is almost utopic in its serenity.

My facilitator and trainer is the amazing Mariane Pearl. The first exercise she gives us to write two paragraphs about what it means to me to write about women’s issues and what are my brief impressions after a chat with any two colleagues. Below are those two paragraphs.

I confess I have not grown up in circumstances of deprivation, gender bias or inequality. My father had his roots in rural Pakistan but I grew up as a young urban Pakistani in a very sheltered home, yet given enough independence to be able to spread my wings. I had no idea for the longest time that women in my country and in this world go through the atrocities that I covered as a journalist. Naivety broke with journalism coming into my life and my first feature I wrote about the plight of women inmates in the Karachi Central Jail. That’s when it hit me that women’s lives are complex, interesting and often the greatest stories. All I know is that I am a people-centred person – I love people. I want to know them, relate to them, empathize with them. My struggle remains whether I should be a journalist or a writer. I hope to be both. Because today as I sit down as one of 11 participants whom Reuters has graciously invited to Barcelona to teach us more about how to report women’s issues, my excitement is about stories! Our first exercise involved me sitting with Saraswati Sundas from Bhutan and Alexis Angulo from Mexico – both vibrant young journalists. I cannot wait to talk more with them. Blog about what all we shared. Our commonalities and our differences that make this world so beautiful. Alexis is breaking my bubble when I state defiantly that Pakistan is THE most dangerous place in the world for journalists. That doesn’t seem like that big a deal when he tells me that Mexico is second on the list. He is a proponent of legalizing drugs in Mexico. He explains why. Mexico has lost a hundred thousand people to drug wars in the last six years. Saraswati is talking about her modern urban friend who was not allowed to visit her parent’s home even when a death in the family happened by her UK-educated husband who beats her up. Human differences and commonalities! We bond. We relate.

I have recognized my trainer. It is Mariane Pearl. Wife of Daniel Pearl. Pakistan is where Daniel lost his life in the line of journalistic duty. Pakistan is where Mariane fought many battles. She knows Pakistan, I am thinking. She knows what it is like to report in a conflict zone….in a society polarized, yet with so much good coming out of its people, especially women. My experiences of life have taught me that women need a voice. I am neither anti-men nor a radical feminist. I am a woman and proud to be one. But any vulnerable group needs to have its voice heard. When a woman is beaten or denied her right of inheritance or when she doesn’t have the empowerment to earn or save her earnings, or when she isn’t given the chance to decide which form of contraception to use or at which age should she marry, someone needs to speak up for her or teach her to that for herself. I am her voice. And I am mine.