Thriving In The Face Of Taliban Chaos

[Leader]

06.15.09, 05:50 PM




Despite Pakistan's desperate political situation, Sajida Zulfiqar is proof that business can thrive there--especially when a brave woman is at the helm.


Pakistan's remote Northwest Frontier Province, the focus of fierce fighting between the Taliban and the Pakistani military, is one of the most dangerous, unstable regions in the world. It is also where 48-year-old widow Sajida Zulfiqar has defiantly built a thriving handcrafted furniture business, despite increasing incidents of kidnapping and terrorism.

In recent weeks, Pakistan has stepped up its attacks on the Taliban, resulting in a few retreats by the radical Islamists. In early June, however, a suicide bomber blew himself up near the entrance of the only five-star hotel in Peshawar, the province's capital and a city of 1.2 million, which is close to the Afghan border. But Zulfiqar isn't budging. She's lived through her own hell, and she knows she'll get through this too.


This spring, the elegant mother of three came to New York as part of a U.S. Commerce Department-organized delegation of Pakistani businesspeople and government officials. Zulfiqar, in a head covering of embroidered gossamer fabric that also swathes her long figure, is steely underneath. She insisted on using her halting English, deferring to her Urdu interpreter only when the conversation came to a standstill over an unknown word.

The daughter of a successful building contractor, Zulfiqar, one of four girls, had a comfortable, if traditional, upbringing. In an arranged marriage, she wed her husband, the son of an army brigadier, and spent 17 happy years as a housewife and mother. Seven years ago, that world came to a crashing halt when her husband, a banker, was murdered by a worker over a business dispute. Zulfiqar thinks the conflict may have been over property, but she never got to the bottom of it. The gunman did six months in prison and was then released on probation.

"I was very sad and depressed," says Zulfiqar. She had a breakdown and spent four months on and off in the hospital for stress and an irregular heartbeat. But her kids weren't having it. "My children told me it was selfish. They said I had to come back and restart my life."

For her children--but also for herself, she insists--she decided to start her own business. As a woman who looked after the home and appreciates lovely things, she decided furniture would be a good direction. She had some savings from her husband, which she used to open her factory. Employing the good relationships her husband had in the business world and with government officials, Zulfiqar spread news of her business throughout the affluent community around Pakistan. After just a month, she says, cash flow from sales was sufficient to plow back into expanding the business.

Zulfiqar knew she wanted to make furniture, but she had no business plan. In fact, she concedes, "I didn't know it would get to be such a big business," she says. She simply focused on the aesthetic, designing the furniture herself, with her oldest son helping to handle the administrative work. In a region known for its fine furniture craft and excellent rosewood, Zulfiqar easily found workers and trained them on the job.

She got lucky with one thing in the beginning: factory space. Touring an industrial area outside Peshawar, she came upon a furniture factory for rent that contained all the necessary machinery. A week later, she says, she got orders from 10 women who were planning their weddings.

But to grow her company, Zulfiqar faced serious obstacles in the patriarchal country. When she went to a lumberyard to buy the rosewood used to make her products, the men stared at her with such ferocity that she felt "like their stares penetrated [her] body." She said she was actually scared for her safety and would go home and cry from the trauma.

She kept going back to that lumberyard, though, and eventually the men softened, helping her pick out pieces and greeting her warmly. The clearest sign of victory: They now go to her factory to sell her wood.

Her husband's family was another matter. Not simply unsupportive of her new business venture, they were downright hostile.

When she couldn't afford the high interest rates on bank loans, her in-laws refused to lend her money and even, she said, tried to take the property she inherited from her husband. In the end, she says she went to court to resolve the issue--and was able to protect the property for herself and her children. Zulfiqar chocks up that initial attitude to jealousy and says her father-in-law is now "happy" for her. Still, she says she doesn't look for support from anyone else.

So she's going her own way. To compete with the many other male-owned furniture businesses in her region, she keeps her prices low. She also frequently motivates her 70 factory workers, who aren't always thrilled about working for a woman, with speeches. "This is a joint venture between you and me," she tells them. She also advances them money when they need it--for example, in advance of an operation--and gives them good food. She sees her employees as members of her family.

Zulfiqar's business has gained enough prominence that she supplied all the furniture for the legislative building of the Northwest Province, as well as several banks. She says she exports her furniture to Dubai, the U.K. and the U.S., selling it through her English-language Web site.

The furniture, which is offered in office and home lines, tends toward the dark, heavy, carved variety. A dining table and chairs in oak, without carvings, runs $600-$700.

Down the road, she hopes to inspire other Pakistani women, who for so long have been repressed by the male-dominated culture, to start their own businesses. "Women can't leave the house, and they get depressed," she says, her voice full of sadness. (Although when she was married, her husband never imposed such rules and she had her own car.)

Even though she has created her own life of empowerment--she is the president of the 300-member Women's Chamber of Commerce of her region--she admits that she sometimes still feels defeated as a female business owner in Pakistan.

"Sometimes I get so depressed that it's hard to work," she says. "But I'm inspired by being an example for other women."

http://www.forbes.com/2009/06/15/small-business-owner-forbes-woman-entrepreneurs-pakistan.html

the article from 2009

any hater?

 

[SBD-3]

06.15.09, 05:50 PM




Despite Pakistan's desperate political situation, Sajida Zulfiqar is proof that business can thrive there--especially when a brave woman is at the helm.


Pakistan's remote Northwest Frontier Province, the focus of fierce fighting between the Taliban and the Pakistani military, is one of the most dangerous, unstable regions in the world. It is also where 48-year-old widow Sajida Zulfiqar has defiantly built a thriving handcrafted furniture business, despite increasing incidents of kidnapping and terrorism.

In recent weeks, Pakistan has stepped up its attacks on the Taliban, resulting in a few retreats by the radical Islamists. In early June, however, a suicide bomber blew himself up near the entrance of the only five-star hotel in Peshawar, the province's capital and a city of 1.2 million, which is close to the Afghan border. But Zulfiqar isn't budging. She's lived through her own hell, and she knows she'll get through this too.


This spring, the elegant mother of three came to New York as part of a U.S. Commerce Department-organized delegation of Pakistani businesspeople and government officials. Zulfiqar, in a head covering of embroidered gossamer fabric that also swathes her long figure, is steely underneath. She insisted on using her halting English, deferring to her Urdu interpreter only when the conversation came to a standstill over an unknown word.

The daughter of a successful building contractor, Zulfiqar, one of four girls, had a comfortable, if traditional, upbringing. In an arranged marriage, she wed her husband, the son of an army brigadier, and spent 17 happy years as a housewife and mother. Seven years ago, that world came to a crashing halt when her husband, a banker, was murdered by a worker over a business dispute. Zulfiqar thinks the conflict may have been over property, but she never got to the bottom of it. The gunman did six months in prison and was then released on probation.

"I was very sad and depressed," says Zulfiqar. She had a breakdown and spent four months on and off in the hospital for stress and an irregular heartbeat. But her kids weren't having it. "My children told me it was selfish. They said I had to come back and restart my life."

For her children--but also for herself, she insists--she decided to start her own business. As a woman who looked after the home and appreciates lovely things, she decided furniture would be a good direction. She had some savings from her husband, which she used to open her factory. Employing the good relationships her husband had in the business world and with government officials, Zulfiqar spread news of her business throughout the affluent community around Pakistan. After just a month, she says, cash flow from sales was sufficient to plow back into expanding the business.

Zulfiqar knew she wanted to make furniture, but she had no business plan. In fact, she concedes, "I didn't know it would get to be such a big business," she says. She simply focused on the aesthetic, designing the furniture herself, with her oldest son helping to handle the administrative work. In a region known for its fine furniture craft and excellent rosewood, Zulfiqar easily found workers and trained them on the job.

She got lucky with one thing in the beginning: factory space. Touring an industrial area outside Peshawar, she came upon a furniture factory for rent that contained all the necessary machinery. A week later, she says, she got orders from 10 women who were planning their weddings.

But to grow her company, Zulfiqar faced serious obstacles in the patriarchal country. When she went to a lumberyard to buy the rosewood used to make her products, the men stared at her with such ferocity that she felt "like their stares penetrated [her] body." She said she was actually scared for her safety and would go home and cry from the trauma.

She kept going back to that lumberyard, though, and eventually the men softened, helping her pick out pieces and greeting her warmly. The clearest sign of victory: They now go to her factory to sell her wood.

Her husband's family was another matter. Not simply unsupportive of her new business venture, they were downright hostile.

When she couldn't afford the high interest rates on bank loans, her in-laws refused to lend her money and even, she said, tried to take the property she inherited from her husband. In the end, she says she went to court to resolve the issue--and was able to protect the property for herself and her children. Zulfiqar chocks up that initial attitude to jealousy and says her father-in-law is now "happy" for her. Still, she says she doesn't look for support from anyone else.

So she's going her own way. To compete with the many other male-owned furniture businesses in her region, she keeps her prices low. She also frequently motivates her 70 factory workers, who aren't always thrilled about working for a woman, with speeches. "This is a joint venture between you and me," she tells them. She also advances them money when they need it--for example, in advance of an operation--and gives them good food. She sees her employees as members of her family.

Zulfiqar's business has gained enough prominence that she supplied all the furniture for the legislative building of the Northwest Province, as well as several banks. She says she exports her furniture to Dubai, the U.K. and the U.S., selling it through her English-language Web site.

The furniture, which is offered in office and home lines, tends toward the dark, heavy, carved variety. A dining table and chairs in oak, without carvings, runs $600-$700.

Down the road, she hopes to inspire other Pakistani women, who for so long have been repressed by the male-dominated culture, to start their own businesses. "Women can't leave the house, and they get depressed," she says, her voice full of sadness. (Although when she was married, her husband never imposed such rules and she had her own car.)

Even though she has created her own life of empowerment--she is the president of the 300-member Women's Chamber of Commerce of her region--she admits that she sometimes still feels defeated as a female business owner in Pakistan.

"Sometimes I get so depressed that it's hard to work," she says. "But I'm inspired by being an example for other women."

Thriving In The Face Of Taliban Chaos - Forbes.com

the article from 2009

any hater?

We appreciate anything good for the country.
*We don't harbor any personal hatred for anybody (like the otherside does). The debate is only on political differences but we respect the political standings of national leaders.

 

[Leader]

We appreciate anything good for the country.
*We don't harbor any personal hatred for anybody (like the otherside does). The debate is only on political differences but we respect the political standings of national leaders.

this is hatred and upto some extend when you cannot beat in arguments, you just blame others !!

 

[SBD-3]

this is hatred and upto some extend when you cannot beat in arguments, you just blame others !!

There are manners of debate, when I see people departing from them I simply quit the thing. May you call it "winning by argument" yes by all means I would rather like to get "beaten" then touching moral lows.

 

[Fracker]

06.15.09, 05:50 PM




Despite Pakistan's desperate political situation, Sajida Zulfiqar is proof that business can thrive there--especially when a brave woman is at the helm.


Pakistan's remote Northwest Frontier Province, the focus of fierce fighting between the Taliban and the Pakistani military, is one of the most dangerous, unstable regions in the world. It is also where 48-year-old widow Sajida Zulfiqar has defiantly built a thriving handcrafted furniture business, despite increasing incidents of kidnapping and terrorism.

In recent weeks, Pakistan has stepped up its attacks on the Taliban, resulting in a few retreats by the radical Islamists. In early June, however, a suicide bomber blew himself up near the entrance of the only five-star hotel in Peshawar, the province's capital and a city of 1.2 million, which is close to the Afghan border. But Zulfiqar isn't budging. She's lived through her own hell, and she knows she'll get through this too.


This spring, the elegant mother of three came to New York as part of a U.S. Commerce Department-organized delegation of Pakistani businesspeople and government officials. Zulfiqar, in a head covering of embroidered gossamer fabric that also swathes her long figure, is steely underneath. She insisted on using her halting English, deferring to her Urdu interpreter only when the conversation came to a standstill over an unknown word.

The daughter of a successful building contractor, Zulfiqar, one of four girls, had a comfortable, if traditional, upbringing. In an arranged marriage, she wed her husband, the son of an army brigadier, and spent 17 happy years as a housewife and mother. Seven years ago, that world came to a crashing halt when her husband, a banker, was murdered by a worker over a business dispute. Zulfiqar thinks the conflict may have been over property, but she never got to the bottom of it. The gunman did six months in prison and was then released on probation.

"I was very sad and depressed," says Zulfiqar. She had a breakdown and spent four months on and off in the hospital for stress and an irregular heartbeat. But her kids weren't having it. "My children told me it was selfish. They said I had to come back and restart my life."

For her children--but also for herself, she insists--she decided to start her own business. As a woman who looked after the home and appreciates lovely things, she decided furniture would be a good direction. She had some savings from her husband, which she used to open her factory. Employing the good relationships her husband had in the business world and with government officials, Zulfiqar spread news of her business throughout the affluent community around Pakistan. After just a month, she says, cash flow from sales was sufficient to plow back into expanding the business.

Zulfiqar knew she wanted to make furniture, but she had no business plan. In fact, she concedes, "I didn't know it would get to be such a big business," she says. She simply focused on the aesthetic, designing the furniture herself, with her oldest son helping to handle the administrative work. In a region known for its fine furniture craft and excellent rosewood, Zulfiqar easily found workers and trained them on the job.

She got lucky with one thing in the beginning: factory space. Touring an industrial area outside Peshawar, she came upon a furniture factory for rent that contained all the necessary machinery. A week later, she says, she got orders from 10 women who were planning their weddings.

But to grow her company, Zulfiqar faced serious obstacles in the patriarchal country. When she went to a lumberyard to buy the rosewood used to make her products, the men stared at her with such ferocity that she felt "like their stares penetrated [her] body." She said she was actually scared for her safety and would go home and cry from the trauma.

She kept going back to that lumberyard, though, and eventually the men softened, helping her pick out pieces and greeting her warmly. The clearest sign of victory: They now go to her factory to sell her wood.

Her husband's family was another matter. Not simply unsupportive of her new business venture, they were downright hostile.

When she couldn't afford the high interest rates on bank loans, her in-laws refused to lend her money and even, she said, tried to take the property she inherited from her husband. In the end, she says she went to court to resolve the issue--and was able to protect the property for herself and her children. Zulfiqar chocks up that initial attitude to jealousy and says her father-in-law is now "happy" for her. Still, she says she doesn't look for support from anyone else.

So she's going her own way. To compete with the many other male-owned furniture businesses in her region, she keeps her prices low. She also frequently motivates her 70 factory workers, who aren't always thrilled about working for a woman, with speeches. "This is a joint venture between you and me," she tells them. She also advances them money when they need it--for example, in advance of an operation--and gives them good food. She sees her employees as members of her family.

Zulfiqar's business has gained enough prominence that she supplied all the furniture for the legislative building of the Northwest Province, as well as several banks. She says she exports her furniture to Dubai, the U.K. and the U.S., selling it through her English-language Web site.

The furniture, which is offered in office and home lines, tends toward the dark, heavy, carved variety. A dining table and chairs in oak, without carvings, runs $600-$700.

Down the road, she hopes to inspire other Pakistani women, who for so long have been repressed by the male-dominated culture, to start their own businesses. "Women can't leave the house, and they get depressed," she says, her voice full of sadness. (Although when she was married, her husband never imposed such rules and she had her own car.)

Even though she has created her own life of empowerment--she is the president of the 300-member Women's Chamber of Commerce of her region--she admits that she sometimes still feels defeated as a female business owner in Pakistan.

"Sometimes I get so depressed that it's hard to work," she says. "But I'm inspired by being an example for other women."

Thriving In The Face Of Taliban Chaos - Forbes.com

the article from 2009

any hater?

No one hates the good work...

Appreciated.... I wish better things should come out more regularly... Also wish, we should have competition between parties for good work rather then allegation competition.

 

[Leader]

There are manners of debate, when I see people departing from them I simply quit the thing. May you call it "winning by argument" yes by all means I would rather like to get "beaten" then touching moral lows.

pure hatred !!!

No one hates the good work...

Appreciated.... I wish better things should come out more regularly... Also wish, we should have competition between parties for good work rather then allegation competition.

that should be the approach, but I needed to bring it on to put things into perspective when some pmln guy brought as if she got on to reserve seat due to Khattak, its actually her services to the PTI that earned her a ticket.

plus she is apparently quite a learned and capable person !!