Mustafa
January 20, 2057
Today has been a whirlwind of experience and I have decided I need a few moments to myself on this historic day. My name is Mustafa Benjamin Maharib and my story begins 40 years ago on a cold January day.
My father, Harun, was a 25 year old PhD student from Yemen who was returning to NYU from his winter holidays. Unbeknownst to him, an overnight executive order was going to prevent him from entering the airport where hundreds of protesters, journalists and lawyers had descended to his (and many others’) defense. After several hours of patiently waiting, my father and his fellow passengers were told they would be able to enter the country thanks to the work of the lawyers and activists. My father decided he wanted to meet one of these brave lawyers and thank them in person. When he exited the plane, he quickly found the lawyers huddled en masse in a corner typing or writing away. He realized they must be busy and he shouldn’t disturb them when he turned and bumped into one who had been sprinting to bring the others coffee.
Coffee spilled everywhere, and my father quickly dashed to clean up the displaced mocha lattes. He quickly apologized to the young lawyer who introduced herself as Jennifer, and offered to buy the replacement coffee. While they bought coffee my father learned she was also attending NYU for her law degree and was only an unpaid intern that was here because the cause motivated her to help anyway she could. She and my father talked for hours that day before he finally summed up the courage to ask her to dinner. Little did he know, that she was my mother.
My father and mother had been dating only a few months when they found out she was pregnant with me. They immediately told both sides of the family and everyone was ecstatic. My parents quickly got engaged and were married on November 16, 2017 in a small ceremony outside my father’s apartment (I was told it was actually really nice as far as urban Manhattan weddings go). I came into this world on March 5, 2018 weighing an even 8 lbs 8 ounces. My father named me Mustafa after the first leader of Turkey, and my mom coined Benjamin after her father.
Growing up, I had an amazing childhood filled with love and joy. My parents were very different from each other but were the closest couple I’d ever seen. My father a Yemeni Sunni Muslim and my mother as devout an Irish Catholic as possible, but they were perfect for each other. I always had a love for sports frustrating my academic parents to no end. Basketball was especially fun and came easy to me. My parents came to every game, and I swear they screamed louder than the other parents. I was a born leader on the court quickly earning the nickname of my namesake: Attaturk. I played basketball until the end of high school before accepting an athletic scholarship to Columbia to play point guard for their basketball team. Admittedly, my grades and test scores were not the best out there, but Columbia wanted to revive their athletic programs to be good again and graciously accepted me.
While at Columbia, I began to study Environmental Law while still juggling basketball. For four years I slugged out both getting my grades and maintaining my starting position on the team. I averaged a double double my senior year, and I began to see pro scouts at our games. When we were eliminated in the Sweet 16 my senior year, I started getting asked by everyone if I was going to go pro. Finally, after much thinking I decided to enter the NBA draft.
I was drafted 22nd over all in the 2040 NBA draft by the Honolulu Tsunami, and, after saying goodbye to my parents and 3 siblings, moved west to settle into my new life. I played in Honolulu for 5 seasons before being shipped around the league for another 5 years. After a memorable retirement season, I was approached to run for political office. I was living in Seattle and had recently gotten married to my wife Maria and needed a new job. I said I would think about it, but by the end of the night i was running for senate.
Thanks to name recognition and likability I emerged as the Democratic senate nominee with no challengers. In November, I swept my opponent by 22 percent scarcely 8 months after retiring from basketball. I packed my expecting wife and all our belongings in our SUV and drove to Washington to be a senator. I had big plans for helping a troubled country, but did not know how far they would go. My wife, a journalist for the ACLU, and I had met while attending a fundraiser in Seattle in 2047 and had been together since. Our daughter Fatima was born February 8, 2051 in Washington D.C. My goals for our country changed after that, and I began to get much more involved in politics. In 2055, I was approached by the DNC about running in 2056 for president. After a lot of thinking and talking to my wife, I accepted the offer and began my campaign.
When I began my campaign, I was a nobody. 6 years in the Senate and 10 years in the NBA afforded me little name recognition. But I was determined. In 5 months, I had a plurality of the vote and most challengers were still finding a foothold. I emerged as the front-runner for the party and quickly drummed up support from the fallen candidates. I was going to lead a new progressive movement to the White House. The incumbent was terribly unpopular and I quickly won the general election in 40 state landslide.
So now we come to today. This is the day where I thank every single one of those lawyers, activists, journalists, and students. 40 years ago you gave me life whether you know it or not. My father would often say he can remember the various races, religions, and ethnicities chanting, “No Ban, No Wall”.
So thank you. Without you I would not be here today oh happiest of days.
At the end of the hall, a door opens and a man in Judge’s garb holding a Quran walks into the room and says, “We’re ready for you, Mr. President”.
“We’re ready for you, Mr. President”.
I could get used to that.
