Banker to the Poor Read Online Free PDF Page A

join me in this, he is free to do so. Those who do not join Bangladesh, I will consider Pakistani and an enemy of my country."
    There was silence. Everyone was taken aback by the way I posed the question of allegiance. I suggested that we form the Bangladesh Citizens' Committee and immediately issue a press release for the Nashville print and electronic media.
    We decided three things:
     
 
We would try to meet all the news reporters of the local TV stations and the editors of the local dailies to explain our decision and to seek support for the Bangladesh cause.
     
We would each immediately donate $1,000 to create a fund for the struggle.
     
We would give 10 percent of our monthly salary to the fund until Bangladesh became independent. If needed, we would increase the percentage.
     
    Everybody pulled out his checkbook or borrowed from others to make the first deposit.
    The next day, March 27, we made appointments with local TV stations and newspapers. I was elected secretary of the Bangladesh Citizens' Committee and spokesperson for the group. The local TV stations were thrilled. They rarely got a chance to scoop international news stories, and for them we represented a red-hot international news break with a local angle. I was a teacher in a local university, the other five were medical doctors in city hospitals, and here we were—declaring ourselves citizens of a country not yet born.
    That afternoon we reassembled at Zillur's house to watch the local evening news. My interview was telecast in full. The interviewer asked, "Do you have a message for the Tennesseans?"
    "Yes, I do," I replied. "Please write to your congressional representatives and senators immediately to stop military aid to Pakistan. Your arms and ammunitions are being used to kill innocent unarmed civilians of Bangladesh. Please ask your president to put pressure on Pakistan to stop genocide in Bangladesh."
    I was pleased that all six of us, from differing political tendencies and socioeconomic backgrounds, had cooperated with immediate action. We now wanted to know what other Bengalis around the United States were doing. We decided to contact Mr. Enayet Karim, a Bengali official in the Pakistan embassy. He gave me some important news: There would be a demonstration against the Pakistani army's crackdown on civilians on March 29 on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. The biggest group of Bengalis would come from New York. He urged us to join.
    Though my doctor friends could not go because of their responsibilities at the hospitals, I announced that I would leave the next day. It was decided that I would go at my own expense. I could also use the $6,000 we had already raised if there was need for it in Washington.
    Where would I stay in Washington? I did not know anybody. Though I had never met Enayet Karim, he sounded like a friendly person. Why not try him? I called him again. I proposed to be his guest the next day—would he mind? He immediately told me to come right over. His hospitality surprised me. I suppose the crisis had brought all us Bengalis together.
    Until midnight we monitored every single radio station on Zillur's giant shortwave radio. Between news items we ate delicious food supplied by Zillur's American wife, Joanne, and speculated on what might have happened to Sheikh Mujib. * Finally, the news came that he had been arrested at Chittagong railway station while he was fleeing from the army (he was actually arrested at his house in Dhaka). We were in tears on hearing the news. All our fantasies of Sheikh Mujib leading the nation to victory were dashed. What would the Pakistani army do with him? Bring him back to Dhaka and execute him by firing squad? Hang him? Torture him to death?
    I left for Washington, D.C., in the early hours of March 28, arriving at Enayet Karim's beautiful house in the late afternoon. Mrs. Karim, who was also a native of Chittagong, welcomed me warmly. It was a busy day. The telephone never stopped ringing. Some