The Voting Machine

The Man of Faith

I first met Shahabi through his daughter, Fatima, the teenage girl who was buying an iPhone on my first day doing voter outreach, the day I stood at the strip mall on Rainbow and Spring Mountain Road. She was my only ray of hope that afternoon, when it seemed like every other stranger I encountered hated voting and treated me like a pariah.

When she filled out the registration form, Fatima asked about volunteering with the campaign. She followed up a few weeks later, arriving at our office in mid-June with two other girlfriends in the middle of a strategy session.

She was pretty in a wholesome, unassuming way, like a straight A student who didn't flirt with boys but made sure she looked good enough that nobody would tease her. She wore very light make up and no jewelry. A slender streak of a lavender highlight ran through her dark-black hair.

She wore jeans and a T-shirt with a slogan across the front: Another World is Possible.

She carried the latest version iPhone, the model she bought on the first day I met her. A worn-down book about the Freedom Riders poked out of her backpack. The cover had a black-and-white photo of a white college kid sitting on a hospital gurney after his head had been smashed open by the KKK.

She and the other volunteers were smart, serious, and brave beyond their years. They had a sense of history that my generation never had when we were their age. They gave me hope the world might not be so screwed up in the future.

Fatima and her friends looked on as David and Annabelle led the strategy session in front of a crowd of twenty volunteers. We reviewed the latest progress in our 'Get Out the Vote' campaign. David was clearly disappointed.

"Folks, this isn't going to work unless we figure out a way to reach more voters," David said. His voice was shaky, like a worried grandpa.

"We've studied the latest numbers from the Nevada Secretary of State. The registration numbers are dead even. We have the same numbers as they do. We can't win this election with the same number as them. We need more. We need at least a 20,000-person-lead, because we know our voters are less likely to turn out. That's just the way it is. There are twenty weeks between now and the registration deadline. That means we need to add a thousand new voters a week."

"Now we're not in this alone. The unions and other groups are signing voters up. But we can't rely on them. We need more registrations, plain and simple. Otherwise, we're going to lose."

Annabelle pointed to a map of Las Vegas on the wall. The pins marked strategic locations: The Department of Motor Vehicles; the Job Resource Center; the local post offices and public libraries.

"Remember, Las Vegas is the most transient city in America. The voters are out there but their lives are in constant flux. We've got to find them. They're not going to find us."

Fatima raised her hand and spoke up.

"If the voters are moving around, then we should stay in the same place. We should be the familiar faces for them. They should be able to see us in the same spot every day."

"I like that idea," David said. "This is a city without familiar faces. People have no sense of community. We should try to be that community."

"The problem with that is location. How do we get permission to stay in the same

spot every day? What private property owner is going to let us do that?" Annabelle said.

"I know a perfect place where we can set up," Fatima said. "My father has a store right next to the DMV on Flamingo. You said the DMV is a good location, right? Everyone has to go there, especially if they change their address."

"There's a lot of foot traffic near that DMV," David said. "There's a gas station with a mini-mart and a Dollar Delight discount store."

"That's right," Fatima said. "My father is the owner of Dollar Delight."

Annabelle and David's eyes widened with happy surprise. Dollar Delight was the fastest growing discount chain in Clark County. As the name suggested, the stores sold food, clothes, and a million other things for a buck or less per item. You couldn't ask for a better location to meet our target audience.

After the meeting, David, Annabelle, and I spoke with Fatima in the campaign meeting room.

"Fatima, you really think your father will be OK with this?" David said.

"My father supports me," she said. "He knows I want to go to law school. I want to get involved with politics."

"Yeah, but he has his business to think of as well," David said. "We would never do something like this without his full support."

She invited us to come meet her father. "I can convince him, but I'll need your help. He'll be at the store on Flamingo this afternoon. Showing up in person will make a difference with him. He feels like we don't get a lot of respect in this town."