Daily Times

Whiling wiping off his tears, he looked at me and said, “I was not one of them, I was not corrupt that’s the only issue they had with me. After Gen. Musharaf’s government ouster, bureaucracy in my division ganged-up against me and put me in jail for violations of authority. I came out on bail, flew to America and, here I am, working in a gas station. I was one of the most powerful guys in Punjab but here I am a no body. I know how the system works, they will set an example out of me and I have no energy to fight it back,” said Aziz Ahmed whom I met in a gas station while coming back from the Embassy of Pakistan in Washington, DC.

Losing your identity and linked prestige has never been easy. After Iran’s revolution, the king of kings Reza Pahlavi’s youngest daughter Leila died of a drug overdose (suicide) in a London hotel in 2001; a decade later his son Ali Reza shot himself dead in Boston, Massachusetts. Speaking of their deaths in 2013 with French magazine Point de Vue, the empress said her two youngest children had been at “sensitive and fragile” ages when the revolution happened and “never quite overcame the shock”.

There are thousands of stories across America and Europe where individuals wakeup in the morning dreaming of returning to their home land where they will be given the red-carpet reception out of the airplane. Their dream goes down as the sun goes down. In 2016, my fellow journalist colleagues witnessed the funeral of former Prime Minister Moeen Qureshi, in the suburbs of Washington DC, where only 18 people showed up including the Imam.

As a Pakistani American immigrant, I think the classical image of an immigrant is that he or she makes a home in a foreign place, adapts to another environment, and then assimilates the culture of the receiving country. Linkages and ties with the home country gradually fade away and what remains is perhaps the (unlikely) dream of returning upon retirement. If it was ever true, however, this picture has lost much of its relevance for a select few. Cultural identity has proven to be too strong. Immigrants who had enjoyed prestige, power and luxury all their life, like ex-prime minister Nawaz Sharif, Gen. Musharaf, they cannot live in exile for so long even though they have millions of dollars in their foreign accounts. They want to return to the country of origin where people line up to shake hands with them, but in a foreign country, like the US, the reality is, we have witnessed them standing in a line to buy groceries at the local grocery store like everyone else.

These powerful elite, living abroad in exile, go through such a great deal of trauma that they are willing to take any risk to go back to their countries. Ex-Prime Minister of Pakistan Benazir Bhutto ignored all warnings to NOT go back to Pakistan and days after her return, she was assassinated.

The majority of immigrants come to US to pursue happiness or chase the American dream, but it is not the case with these powerful elites. They come here with big bank balances, resources and social connections

In 1952, during the Egyptian revolution, King Farouk left his country with his wife, six months old son Fouad and three daughters. Today, Fouad 65 is living in a small town in the Swiss countryside, where many call him “Mr. Farouk”. A small group of loyal Egyptian friends insist on addressing him as “Your Majesty” or “King Fouad”. Fouad says this is “kind of an embarrassment”. His half-sisters – each one a royal princess – were all working women. One was an interpreter, another helped her husband run a hotel, a third worked as a translator. As for Fouad, he says he receives help from Middle Eastern royals and remains especially grateful to the Saudis.

The United States has long been viewed as the “land of opportunity”, where people pursue their American Dream and those who work hard get ahead. The American Dream is the idea that anything is possible in the United States of America. The majority of immigrants come to US to pursue happiness or chase the American dream, but it is not the case with these powerful elites. They come here with big bank balances, resources and social connections. The majority of them already have their businesses established.

Yesterday, I spoke to an ex-senator and parliamentarian of Pakistan, who is living in America now, about living as an ordinary person in America. “It is hard, I can tell you that. I had hundreds of people working for me all over Pakistan. The official protocol, high-end parties, political engagements and media spotlight, it was amazing. The moment I see a sign of hope that I will not be politically revenged and victimized, I will be on the next flight home – Pakistan”, said the ex-senator in one breath. “That’s my land, that’s my home, that’s the place where I belong, and I can’t wait to go back,” said the senator in a deep voice as I heard sobbing and then he hung up.

Like they say, “home is where your heart is” an American poet Robert Frost once said, “Home is the place that, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” In short, “home” is the primary connection between you and the rest of the world. As discussions about the desperation to return become more open and more inclusive, various arguments are being considered and debated but no matter which side you take, loosing identity is a trauma that hardly anyone can ever digest. There are many arguments and opinions on “why these powerful elites risk their life to return home. Some researchers say these “once powerful” elites want to serve their nations as they envision themselves “born leaders” other say they are full of anger, revenge, conceited who can take any risk to get back in power.

The writer is a technology expert who is working with US government based in Washington DC