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6 Immigrant Success Stories from Newly Banned Nations

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This weekend, the president signed an executive order imposing a temporary ban on citizens of Iran, Iraq, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Syria, and Yemen from entering the United States. The executive order blocks all refugees for the next 120 days, and all citizens of the aforementioned countries for the next 90. The implementation of the order left scores of refugees and travelers with valid visas stranded in U.S. airports and detained by agents of U.S. Customs and Border Protection. There was also a great deal of confusion around the fate of green card holders—women and men who live, work, and pay taxes in the United States—who can be drafted into the U.S. military in a time of war, though they aren’t yet full citizens.

The order was the continuation of a campaign promise, when Trump called for a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States until our country's representatives can figure out what the hell is going on.”

Many foreign-born and first-generation immigrants from countries now temporarily banned from entering the United States have had an undeniable impact on science, culture, and business in America. Here are a few of them, and what they achieved.


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Before taking a partnership at a private equity firm, Hamid Akhavan was CEO of Unify (formerly Siemens Enterprise Communications); CEO of T-Mobile International; COO of Deutsche Telekom; and even worked at NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory as a telemetry engineer. He’s a graduate of Caltech and MIT. He was born in Tehran, Iran.


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The Apple co-founder’s story has already passed into American legend. The garage. The business acumen. The obsession with design and detail. Steve Wozniak pioneered the first mass-market personal computer, but Steve Jobs delivered it to the world, and in doing so revolutionized the American personal computer industry. Jobs and Apple are responsible, directly and indirectly, for hundreds of billions of dollars in wealth for the United States and the spawning of countless other industries and enterprises. Jobs is a first generation American: His biological father, Abdul Fattah Jandali, was a Syrian immigrant who met Jobs’s biological mother,Joanne Carol Schieble, in Wisconsin while studying Economics and Political Science. Schieble's Catholic father wouldn't allow her to marry Jandali, a Muslim, and the baby was given up for adoption to Paul and Clara Jobs.


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Spacecraft don’t magically appear on Mars. It takes teams of hardworking engineers with the audacity to think they can gently land things on tiny dots in the sky, and the brains to actually make it happen. One of those engineers is Bobak Ferdowsi, who spent nine years on the Mars Science Laboratory mission, and who, during the notorious seven minutes of terror (in which the lander needs to decelerate enough to hit the ground safely), was Flight Director for crews and landing operations. Ferdowsi worked also as a science planner for the Cassini–Huygens mission to the Saturn system. The Curiosity team at NASA would have been left one member short, however, had Ferdowsi’s father not immigrated to the United States from Iran.


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Harry Abdul was born in Aleppo, Syria—the same Aleppo that has recently received international coverage. He immigrated to Brazil and then to the United States, where he met his wife who gave birth to a daughter, who they named Paula. You’ve probably heard of her: She was a cheerleader for the Lakers, a music sensation in the '80s with six chart-toppers, and a Grammy and Emmy winner. She would later be a judge on American Idol for eight years. Without her hit songs and choreography (for both herself and stars like Janet Jackson), the music video as we know it would not exist.


Harvard Medical School graduate and MacArthur Fellow Nawal M. Nour was born in Sudan, and had she not been allowed to immigrate to the United States, we would have been left without one of the world’s foremost experts in treating women subject to genital mutilation/cutting. As the founder of of the African Women’s Health Center—the only center of its kind that focuses on both physical and emotional needs of women who have undergone FGC—she fights against the practice throughout Africa.


No one who has seen Amadeus can forget the mesmerizing performance of F. Murray Abraham, who played Antonio Salieri, avowed enemy of Mozart, who at once adores and despises the more famous composer. The role revitalized classical music in the United States, and Abraham won the 1984 Academy Award for Best Actor. His name has since been associated with everything from Star Trek to Homeland, and Wes Anderson to Arnold Schwarzenegger—and he's the son of a refugee. His father fled Syria during a famine in the 1920s. “My family had to find a refuge, and America opened its arms to them,” Abraham told The Observer in 2016. “I was hoping that would happen again ... I’m hoping that America will regain its sense of compassion.”

A Very Brief History of Chamber Pots

Some of the oldest chamber pots found by archeologists have been discovered in ancient Greece, but portable toilets have come a long way since then. Whether referred to as "the Jordan" (possibly a reference to the river), "Oliver's Skull" (maybe a nod to Oliver Cromwell's perambulating cranium), or "the Looking Glass" (because doctors would examine urine for diagnosis), they were an essential fact of life in houses and on the road for centuries. In this video from the Wellcome Collection, Visitor Experience Assistant Rob Bidder discusses two 19th century chamber pots in the museum while offering a brief survey of the use of chamber pots in Britain (including why they were particularly useful in wartime).

Photo illustration by Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss. Saint Nicholas: HULTON ARCHIVE, GETTY IMAGES. Skulls, backgrounds: iStock
Tomb Raider: The Story of Saint Nicholas's Stolen Bones
Photo illustration by Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss. Saint Nicholas: HULTON ARCHIVE, GETTY IMAGES. Skulls, backgrounds: iStock
Photo illustration by Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss. Saint Nicholas: HULTON ARCHIVE, GETTY IMAGES. Skulls, backgrounds: iStock

Throughout history, corpses have been bought and sold, studied, collected, stolen, and dissected. In Rest in Pieces: The Curious Fates of Famous Corpses, Mental Floss editor Bess Lovejoy looked into the afterlife of numerous famous corpses, including Saint Nicholas, one of the many canonized bodies whose parts were highly prized by churches, thieves, and the faithful.

Don't tell the kids, but Santa Claus has been dead for more than sixteen hundred years. No, his body is not at the North Pole, and he's not buried with Mrs. Claus. In fact, his remains are thousands of miles away, on Italy's sunny Adriatic coast. And while Santa might be enjoying his Mediterranean vacation, he's probably not too happy about what happened to his remains. They were stolen in the eleventh century, and people have been fighting over them ever since.

Of course, the Santa Claus of folklore doesn't have a skeleton. But his inspiration, Saint Nicholas, does. That's about all we can say for sure about Nicholas: he was a bishop who lived and died in what is now Turkey in the first half of the fourth century. Legend tells us that he was born into a rich family and delighted in giving gifts. Once, he threw three bags of gold into the window of a poor family's house, saving the three daughters who lived there from a life of prostitution. Another time, he raised three children from the dead after a butcher carved them up and stored them in a vat of brine. He also protected sailors, who were said to cry out his name in rough seas, then watch the waves mysteriously smooth.

The sailors spread Nicholas's cult around the world. Within a century of his death, the bishop was worshipped as a saint, lending his name to hundreds of ports, islands, and inlets, and thousands of baby boys. He became one of the best-loved saints in all of Christendom, adopted by both the Eastern and Western traditions. Christmas probably owes something to his December 6 feast day, while Santa Claus’s red outfit may come from his red bishop’s robes. "Santa Claus" is derived from "Sinterklaas," which was how Dutch immigrants to New Amsterdam pronounced his name.

As one of the most popular saints in the Christian world, Nicholas had a particularly powerful corpse. The bodies of saints and martyrs had been important to Christianity since its beginning: the earliest churches were built on the tombs of saints. It was thought that the bodily bits of saints functioned like spiritual walkie-talkies: you could communicate with higher powers through them, and they, in turn, could manifest holy forces on Earth. They could heal you, protect you, and even perform miracles.

Sometimes, the miracles concerned the saints' own bodies. Their corpses would refuse to decay, exude an inexplicable ooze, or start to drip blood that mysteriously solidified and then reliquefied. So it was with Nicholas: at some point after his death, his bones began to secrete a liquid called manna or myrrh, which was said to smell like roses and possess potent healing powers.

The appearance of the manna was taken as a sign that Nicholas’s corpse was especially holy, and pilgrims began flocking by the thousands to his tomb in the port city of Myra (now called Demre). By the eleventh century, other cities started getting jealous. At the time, cities and churches often competed for relics, which brought power and prestige to their hometowns the way a successful sports team might today. Originally, the relics trade had been nourished by the catacombs in Rome, but when demand outstripped supply, merchants—and even monks—weren't above sneaking down into the crypts of churches to steal some holy bones. Such thefts weren't seen as a sin; the sanctity of the remains trumped any ethical concerns. The relics were also thought to have their own personalities—if they didn't want to be stolen, they wouldn't allow it. Like King Arthur's sword in the stone, they could only be removed by the right person.

That was how Myra lost Saint Nicholas. The culprits were a group of merchants and sailors from the town of Bari, located on the heel of Italy's boot. Like other relic thefts, this one came at a time of crisis for the town where the thieves lived, which in this case had recently been invaded by a horde of rapacious Normans. The conquerors wanted to compete with the Venetians, their trading rivals to the north, who were known for stealing the bones of Saint Mark (disguised in a basket of pork) from Alexandria in 827. And when the Normans heard that Myra had recently fallen to the Turks, leaving Nicholas’s tomb vulnerable, they decided to try stealing a saint for themselves.

According to an account written shortly after the theft by a Barian clerk, three ships sailed from Bari into Myra's harbor in the spring of 1087. Forty-seven well armed Barians disembarked and strode into the church of Saint Nicholas, where they asked to see the saint’s tomb. The monks, who weren't idiots, got suspicious and asked why they wanted to know. The Barians then dropped any pretense of politeness, tied the monks up, and smashed their way into Nicholas's sarcophagus. They found his skeleton submerged in its manna and smelled a heavenly perfume wafting up from the bones, which "licked at the venerable priests as if in insatiable embrace."

And so Nicholas of Myra became Nicholas of Bari. The relics made the town, and the men who stole them. The thieves became famous in the area, and for centuries their descendants received a percentage of the offerings given on the saint’s feast day. The townspeople built a new basilica to hold the remains, which drew thousands of pilgrims throughout the Middle Ages. Even today, Bari remains a major pilgrimage site in southern Italy, visited by both Roman Catholics and Orthodox Christians. Every May an elaborate festival, the Feast of the Translation, celebrates the arrival of Nicholas’s relics. As one of the highlights, the rector of the basilica bends over Nicholas’s sarcophagus and draws off some of the manna in a crystal vial. The fluid is mixed with holy water and poured into decorated bottles sold in Bari's shops; it is thought to be a curative drink.

But Bari is not the only place that boasts of the bones of Saint Nicholas. If you ask the Venetians, they will say their own sailors visited Myra during the First Crusade and stole Nicholas’s remains, which have been in Venice ever since. For centuries, both Bari and Venice have claimed the saint's skeleton.

In the twentieth century, scientists waded into the dispute. During renovations to the basilica of Bari in 1953, church officials allowed University of Bari anatomy professor Luigi Martino to examine the remains— the first time the tomb had been opened in more than eight hundred years. Martino found the bones wet, fragile, and fragmented, with many of them missing. He concluded that they had belonged to a man who died in his seventies, although because Martino was given only a short time with the bones, he could say little more.

Four decades later, Martino and other scientists also studied the Venetian bones. They concluded that those relics and the ones in Bari had come from the same skeleton, and theorized that the Venetian sailors had stolen what was left in Myra after the Barians had done all their smashing.

As for Demre, all they have is an empty tomb. And they want their bones back. In 2009, the Turkish government said it was considering a formal request to Rome for the return of Nicholas's remains. Though the bones have little religious significance in a nation that’s 99 percent Muslim, there’s still a sense in Turkey that the centuries-old theft was a cultural violation. Its restitution would certainly be an economic benefit: according to local officials, tourists in Demre frequently complain about the barren tomb, and they weren't satisfied by the giant plastic sculpture of Santa Claus that once stood outside Nicholas’s church. Even though Santa has become an international cultural icon, his myth is still rooted in a set of bones far from home.

From REST IN PIECES: The Curious Fates of Famous Corpses by Bess Lovejoy. Copyright © 2013 by Bess Lovejoy. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.


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