Once I return home, I end up drinking five cups of hot chocolate. I have never drunk it in huge amounts, I’m so low. My heart sinks, my throat contracts. At least I find refuge and solace in sweets.
I left Dalabistan as a humble boy from a poor Chamyr tribe. Yet, I didn’t let my past define my future. I took what was handed to me and made a life for myself—a good one. I had the ambition and the means. It’s in that ambition that I come up with a new plan—a crazy one for sure, but one that just might save everything.
I call Sara. It’s the middle of the night, and the sleepiness in her voice tells me that I woke her up.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Sara, would you please book the closest flight from Los Angeles to Volkan. I’m flying to the Dalabistan Headquarters.”
“Are you crazy? What did you drink tonight, Alisher?”
“Hot chocolate, nothing strong.”
“This can’t be safe. Please reconsider. Sleep on it?” She no longer sounds sleepy, as my crazy plan has shaken her.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I need to get there before the violence happens.”
“You must be kidding me!”
“Please, just book the flights. I want to leave as soon as possible. Charter a private jet if you need to. We can’t waste time.”
“Please, Alisher. This is insane!”
“Do it, or I will.” The edge in my voice is serious.
“Alri-i-i-i-ght,” she mumbles. “But for the record, I think this is too dangerous.”
After speaking with Sara, I call Bong Ju, but it goes straight to voicemail. I send him a text instead. “You are in charge of the Karabars & Kim Industries while I am gone to Dalabistan. Anar is making a move on our company, and I won’t let it happen without a fight!”
I’m sure as soon as Bong Ju sees the text, he will call me and try and stop me from going. Hopefully, by then, I’ll be in the air. He has to understand that I can’t stand by and let Anar run my homeland into the ground. Not when I have the power to possibly stop him.
I am returning to Dalabistan as a powerful self-made billionaire, with big plans for the Dalabistanis to come.
Chapter 7: The Homecoming
With my mind set and my bags packed, I am finally able to sleep. Tomorrow can be my last day.
In my sleep, I dream about my childhood.
After I close my eyes, I see Elena and Zholan next to me. We’re on the soccer field, and the fresh scent of grass fills my nose. Elena, Zholan, and the rest of my teammates rush onto the field and shower me with hugs and accolades, for I block the penalty kick from the Volkan-Yasba team and bring the win for our team! I can smell the grass on my soccer uniform when Elena, Zholan, and other teammates and fellow students ran to hug me after my Dalab-American School had defeated Volkan-Yasba in the All-Dalabistani School Soccer League thanks to the penalty kick I saved in the penalty shootout. It was one of the few times Dalabistani students didn’t bully me. That moment gave me some of the best few weeks between Erzhan’s invasion of my vital sphere of personal interests and graduating from my school.
The dream shifts and I’m in a different place—a different time. Elena hugs me tight and cries tears of joy on my shoulder. The announcer said that we have just won the 2003 World Debate Cup in Barcelona. I grab our large metal trophy. We lift it together in the air. I wish I would have just grabbed and kissed her that night. Perhaps things would have gone differently for us if I had taken the initiative.
Again, the dream shifts. Now I am with Bong Ju. He’s out on a dance floor with some other Dreamhouse students. We party in college until dawn. There are so many red plastic party cups arranged in triangular formations. Alcohol is all over the floor, making it sticky to walk on—loud music blasting from the speakers. Girls start to advance towards me. The blonde ones, the brunette ones, fat and slim ladies, black and white hotties. A palette of different beauties that I can’t choose which one I would sleep with tonight. A short Hispanic brunette señorita eventually follows my lead in my dorm room.
We are about to take things to the next level when a phone rings. I continue to kiss the woman in my dream, but the phone won’t stop.
I awake to find it is my phone ringing. Sara is calling.
“Please, one last time, reconsider,” she says in a mournful tone. I swear I hear sniffles on the other end of the phone.
“My mind is set. Did you book the flights?”
She lets out a sigh. “There were no commercial flights. But I was able to charter a private jet. It takes off in three hours. You have to be there by 3 a.m.”
“Thank you!” I end the call and start to get ready to drive. I packed my suitcase yesterday, so I’m ready.
The twelve-hour flight goes fast. I spend the time outlining my plan of attack while Sara sleeps in the other seat. One person of interest sticks out above all else: Almat Omarov. He is my business partner, and a lot depends on this man.
I grab my phone and call, “Hello, Mr. Omarov. Did you hear the news about Anar Babayev vowing to seize control over all so-called foreign-funded enterprises?”
“Yeah, it is some shameful news. I assume you have a plan?”
“I’m in the air and should land in Volkan in a few hours.”
“Why on earth would you be flying there? Are you insane to return during these times?”
Many people have asked me that in the last 24 hours. I’m starting to wonder if I am insane. However, it is too late now.
“I plan to have a massive scale strike protest of our workers on May 20. We will protest this decision by the Babayev government by not showing up to work and instead of assembling at our warehouses and factories to march onto the Presidential Headquarters. By disrupting large amounts of production thanks to our company’s vast worker capital, we will challenge Babayev’s regime. I need you, though. With you by my side, the people will surely follow along. Will you help? I will greatly reward you for this important operation.”
“Yes, but you must understand that you are going on a dangerous road. What makes you think that the Hovlyk Asker won’t use force like they’ve done in the past?”
“We will overwhelm them with numbers and ferocity, because they never faced such large-scale protests before.”
“I guess I’m in then. But we need to find protection for our protesters. Babayev, the Dalabistani KGB, the Armed Forces, the Hovlyk Asker, and the police would slaughter all of us on the square.”
“Do you know anyone who we can hire? Maybe someone powerful who is sympathetic to our cause? Money isn’t an issue.”
Almat Omarov takes a deep breath. “Well, I know one general who retired from the Armed Forces due to his criticism of Volkan Babayev’s regime. His name is Abzal Kylyshbayev. I bet he will be a great match for your goal.”
“Great, would you please contact him and ask to contact other fellow military commanders who are against Babayev. Perhaps if we get enough of the military on our side, we can overthrow Anar.”
“I will right after this call.”
“Thank you very much for your cooperation! Would you also please contact any big influencers and protest figures to help mobilize additional people?”
“I will contact Yan Armanov. He is the largest non-violent protest figure right now in Dalabistan, aside from the disgraced oligarch Aibek Ospanov.”
“Perfect!”
“Good luck, hope you’ll reach Dalabistan safely!”
“Amen!”
Chapter 8: The Plan
Eventually, we land at the Volkan Babayev International Airport in the city of Volkan, Dalabistan. As I collect my luggage, I look outside to find a sea of cars and red lights blinking. Inside the airport’s facility after customs, Almat Omarov comes to me with a placard saying, “Alisher Karabars, CEO.” He shakes my hand and shows me the way, “Mr. Karabars, let me escort you to your flat that we rented for you.”
“That will be the main control center of the opera
tion?” I ask while me, Sara, and Almat come to the Lexus car in the parking lot.
“Sure. Ms. Moore told me that you want to strike and take over the Presidential Headquarters with the workers and employees. But how are you going to do that, Mr. Karabars?”
“Peaceful protesting with thousands or millions of my workers. I don’t think the police and the Hovlyk Asker have the guts to shoot at a million unarmed citizens if we would overwhelm the police and the Hovlyk Asker with huge masses this time. My martyred mom couldn’t do against the Hovlyk Asker because they overwhelmed my family. We can beat them at their own game then.”
“Never underestimate them. It is getting very dangerous here, Mr. Karabars. Two days ago, a hundred high school students peacefully protesting over Babayev’s oppressive reign near their school were beaten up by the police and await their trial.”
“But they were just kids!”
“They are guilty from Babayev’s perspective. The recent law passed a month ago says that protesting against the Babayev family is considered treason that is punishable with 10 years, 20 years, or lifetime imprisonment.”
“Wow. Back in the days of Volkan Babayev it wasn’t as bad as it is now”
“Exactly. Please understand that they are getting stronger. I do not want you to commit the worst form of suicide available.”
“I won’t. I know that my plan will work.”
“How?”
I am silent for a little bit. I believe that this is the perfect time to act. “Tomorrow I will make a live video message from the Dalabistan Headquarters that will be broadcasted to all my factories and offices in the country. Because of the desperate circumstances, we need to unite the workers that are in the same boat with each other and me in a common struggle. They have nothing to lose, because the poverty is too horrifying for them now that we provided relative prosperity to these forgotten men and women. They would rather die than live like this under Babayev regime.”
We arrive at the apartment complex. It’s not a bad place, near a few loud casinos nearby. When I get up to the third floor of the ten-story building, I’m surprised to see an older gentleman. He’s Dalabistani, with greying hair and a salt and pepper beard. Is this one of Anar’s goons? I stop and tense up, ready to run back down the stairs if I have to.
The man sees my reaction and holds up his hands. “Please, I am General Abzal Kylyshbayev. Your associate reached out to me.”
I relax. It is only the retired general.
He extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Alisher Karabars.”
“You too, General Abzal Kylyshbayev. Let’s go inside and discuss the details.”
“Sounds good to me. Your partner, Almat Omarov, told me your plans to me. I have few suggestions as well.”
I walk to the living room and get out my laptop. Abzal watches me with a cold face and asks, “How long will it take for you to set it up, Mr. Karabars?”
“You can start discussing your ideas right now, General Kylyshbayev.”
Abzal starts to walk away, “I’ll have to call Yan Armanov right now, then I’ll come back.” Then he goes out of the room.
I sit on a black leather couch. The time is about to come. Abzal returns, and I tell him, “Finally, the laptop is on. What do you want to add to my operation?”
“In your televised address to the company, please tell your workers to unite and be prepared to fight for their freedoms and jobs.”
I ask him, “How should they fight? With fists? Banners? Or firearms?”
“We need to win the support of foreign military stationed here, as well as recruit some soldiers in the Dalab military who deserted and ‘betrayed’ the state. They are ideal agents because they know how to defend well.”
“But General Kylyshbayev and Mr. Karabars, I believe we should use nonviolence because if the people are armed, the first response of the military and the Hovlyk Asker would be to shoot and beat the armed protesters with no mercy,” Sara responds.
I ask, “How are we going to do that, General?”
“We need our military formations to station their troops nearby, near the lake outside of the city. In case things go wrong and the police would start to shoot at us, we will call them to our aid. We will supply the frontline protesters, as well as loyal undercover policemen, with extra bulletproof vests from one foreign military base nearby that would be hidden behind our clothes. Tell this to your workers.”
“Undercover loyal policemen?”
“They are deserted members of the Dalabistani Armed Forces and police who will march for us tomorrow. They will be disguised in civilian clothes while hiding weapons and wearing bulletproof vests from their bases. Civilians are merely a distraction to give us a peaceful image so that they would be less quick to fire at us. This will buy us some time for military deployment to launch a surprise storm at the Presidential Headquarters while all Babayev’s forces will be busy with peaceful protesters. We, patriotic soldiers of the great steppe, will break in the Presidential Headquarters and take down this regime!” The General’s plan for this protest is just the beginning of the military takeover.
I answer, “Sounds decent. Maybe civilians would need shields and guns to defend themselves as well.”
“Alright, I’ll talk about it with my partners then.”
While we are discussing the plan in the apartment, outside of the house, fireworks are exploding to announce the opening of the Grand Khan Babayev Casino. Abzal unpacks his backpack to prepare to stay in this apartment for tonight. The bed is already made for all of us.
I ask, “Alright, General Kylyshbayev. Do you know foreign military troops or deserters who want to overthrow Anar Babayev?”
“Oh yeah, I was about to mention this! One military commander is Major Oliver Evans. He is the main commander from the Karajasyl military base that stations the United States Army in Dalabistan. The United States uses this base along with other bases in Central Asia for the War on Terror in Afghanistan after 9/11. I also have contacts with American soldiers guarding the United States’ diplomatic missions in Volkan and Alakala. Two CIA operatives are working in Volkan since Anar announced his ban on foreign companies and seizing of foreign property.”
“Do you really think that the Americans can help us?”
“Yes, the United States is on our side. While you were flying from Los Angeles, the US President Denzel Campbell publicly rejected Anar Babayev’s demands to shut down American businesses and stated the United States will be committed to protecting American companies, capital, and employees abroad.”
“Abzal, what else did he say?”
“Campbell also ordered Major Evans to prepare for any threat and to get his US Army units ready to defend their military base, diplomatic missions of the United States, and American factories and businesses.” Abzal takes a deep breath, looks nervously around, and continues, “Two hours ago, I spoke with Evans on the phone. He reported that a few hours earlier, Babayev’s forces had made several drone strikes against the Karajasyl military base. This strike killed and seriously wounded several American soldiers. Evans reported that the US troops are preparing to retaliate and consider overthrowing Anar Babayev. President Campbell granted permission to Major Evans for this operation. By tomorrow morning, reinforcements, supporting troops, additional equipment, and weapons will arrive at Karajasyl from American military bases in Central Asia and Turkey. He also told me that the President of the United States now considers you, Alisher Karabars, as a much more favorable figure to lead Dalabistan than Anar Babayev because you want to secure American interests in Dalabistan and Central Asia, unlike Anar Babayev who attacks and destroys American lives and property. Major Evans is willing to cooperate with you in case you want to launch any type of attack against Babayev, which is exactly our plan!” Amidst the chaotic affairs in Dalabistan, I am most stunned by this statement from the American president. To become the third president of Dalabistan? I had not considered running Dalabistan
before, but now the thought burrows into my mind and won’t let go. Would I make a good leader? I can run a multi-billion-dollar company, I could help overthrow this tyranny. Sure, my leadership in the company wasn’t perfect, but who is perfect these days? Maybe I could indeed be the president and benefit my people even more doing what I can do? Am I the best candidate for rebuilding Dalabistan after the Babayev regime is no more? After all, we would have a long way to go to repair our country.
I ask, “But why did it take so long for Americans to realize that one should not work with Babayev?”
“Well, during Volkan Babayev’s regime, the American government decided to operate in Dalabistan because Volkan was friendly with America and traded natural resources with the American companies. Now Anar Babayev cuts ties with the West after seeing the threat to his incompetent rule coming from the West. It seems that Babayev has already started his cleansing of Dalabistan from foreigners by attacking a foreign military base. It is good that you returned to Dalabistan just in time to prevent another attack, this time against you and your workers.”
“General Kylyshbayev, I am glad that the United States is on our side after all. We would need their backing. But what about these humanitarian organizations? Radio Liberty, for example?”
“Alisher, I tried contacting them when we tried to protest. They just covered the protest postmortem, but they did not have the guts to fight or protest themselves. I don’t think the humanitarian and human rights organizations are useful for our cause.”
“What about the tribes of Dalabistan? Which one do you think we can call up?”
Abzal scratches his chin and answers, “Well, Dalabistan is still divided into three wings just like under the Dalab Khanate: the Left Wing of the west, the Right Wing of the south and east, and the Central Wing of the north and center. The West of Dalabistan historically was revered for radical, skillful, and militant warriors.”
The Outcast Presidents Page 7
