It was the night of the 17th 0f
September and the planes were roaring in the sky making a horrible
sound. It was past midnight and I could not sleep because of the angry
roar of the planes. Listening to the ominous sounds I wondered what
calamity was in store for the unfortunate city where I was living at
that time. For where ever these fighter planes had appeared, they had
brought death and destruction: Cambodia, Vietnam, Palestine and many
other nations had all been victims of these harbingers of human
suffering. The roar of the planes brought back the painful memories of
that winter night of 1979 when these fighter planes had zoomed ominously
for hours over Afghanistan, raping the peaceful skies of my country.
That night I remember clearly. That night I was in Kabul, in our
beautiful home. How much I miss that scene, and how clearly I remember
it even today, some 22 years later: Our beautiful dwelling place set in
a valley at the foot of a mountain. The smell of our homeland still
lingers in my mind and I still live in the naïve belief that somehow all
would be well again and one day we would be safe in our homes. That
night of 1979, I recall being disturbed and I could not sleep. My spirit
was uneasy and my dreams were deeply disturbed. In the morning my mother
sent me to buy some fresh bread from the bakery. It was early morning
and the streets were covered with the winter snow. It was white all
around except one place, the place where the Russian soldiers stood
arrogantly with their huge tanks. And so history happened and
Afghanistan was invaded. Our peace disappeared by the arrival of those
planes and it has never returned although two decades have passed since
that fateful night.
I know what planes can do to you. I know
the sheer terror of the planes specially if they are flown by disturbed
minds. I can feel your sorrow living here far away, on the other side of
the ocean. I feel your pain. And I am worried, worried from the fear of
the biggest impending assault of the planes on my home country yet
again. I fear that it can happen any minute, even as I write this story.
For roar of the fighter planes still echoes in my ears, planes that came
to our country in 1979, and I fear a possible war in the aftermath of
September 11, 2001. The US is determined to carry out its threat to
attack Afghanistan. Their military power cannot be underestimated! So
violence must follow violence weaving an unending chain of human
suffering!
I empathize with humanity every where and I
understand your reaction to the September 11 tragedy though I live on
the other side of the ocean. Far away from you yet so close to your pain
and fear. The terror that disturbed your peace on that nasty Tuesday has
been part of my nightmare for many year too, ever since that dreaded
December of 1979 marking the arrival of Russian soldiers on our Afghani
streets. And yet today I consider myself the luckiest person. How can I
compare my insignificant troubles to the relentless and never ending
misery of my people in Afghanistan, the misery that seems to have no
light at the end of the tunnel! My share of suffering is nothing
compared to the rest of the Afghani people.
Today I empathize with you in your sorrow
over the attack on the World Trade Center, the pride of America. But
remember that our pride has been shattered for many years. Our children
have been begging on the streets of Pakistan and Iran. Instead of
protecting us, the police invade our refugee camps every night. I am
deeply sorry for your loss of lives but may I remind you that we have
lost more than two million of our people since 1979, in the war with
Russia and then the war lead by those gangsters, the Taliban, claiming
the leadership of our country. We have lost many lives in the noble
cause of defeating the communists. Yes, once we were considered noble
people. President Ronald Reagan referred to us as noble people and the
senior Mr. Bush walked around our refugee camps praising us. Do you
doubt our nobility? And I agree with you. We are not noble in the
narrow sense of the word. Our nobility is that of a fighter who is ready
to sacrifice his life to protect his family, his home, his human rights
and his cultural values.
Yet today the spirit of our nobility is
lost. The same people who destroyed the magnificent symbols of your
culture, the WTC, demolished ruthlessly our twin statues of the Buddha,
a prophet of peace and harmony. In one fell sweep they destroyed our
culture, our pride, our precious historical landmark and perhaps our
peace. These people ruthlessly wiped out two shining symbols of our
ancient civilization. Do you remember our two Buddhas that disappeared a
few months ago? Did you share my sorrow then? Did you feel the loss of
culture and art represented by these two Buddhas? I think the loss of
these precious monuments was commiserated by people all over the world.
This shared human emotion links our two people together, people living
far away on two opposite sides of the ocean. What really causes Man to
destroy his own history? What causes Man to sacrifice himself? What
causes Man to take the lives of innocent people? Alas the questions have
been asked by Man throughout human history but the answer has evaded us
to this day!
You see there is a huge difference between
you and the people of our homeland. The difference is security. You are
secure and cozy. You wake up with the morning light of hope, the smell
of fresh coffee and the hugs of your family, so you desire life. My
people wake up disappointed that their sleep did not continue forever!
For them the daylight is the messenger of another day’s suffering,
another day of hopelessness! But believe me it was not always so. We
are just as rich in culture as you are. We were cultured, self
sufficient and comfortable once, a long time ago. And today we are in
complete poverty. Who is responsible for our present condition? It is a
futile question to ask because no answer will have a consensus of
opinion. However, what really matters today is how to proceed in the
present world. That matters to me, it matters to you, and it matters to
all who would like to guarantee the continuation of humanity and
civilization. I ask myself again and again: Why should there be
disparity of wealth and prosperity among nations? Why should some people
live in great opulence and others in dire poverty? Surely, future peace
will depend on the wellbeing of humanity at large and not on the
wellbeing of a select few. Let us share. There are enough resources in
the world for all of us to share. I believe this very strongly. There is
enough space for us to live. There is unlimited sky over our heads and
there is enough land for us to walk on.
Do not think that our Afghan blood or the
blood of any human being is cheap just because we are poor. You are
wrong if you think so. We love life like the rest of humanity. When I
cut my finger I feel the pain. We all have the same colour blood in our
veins. Although I condemn terrorism strongly, yet it does not stop my
mind from pondering over some basic questions. Why is a man willing to
put an end to his precious life by blowing himself up? I feel there is
something radically wrong in such an act. There is surely imbalance in
this word, an imbalance of great magnitude! There is a desperation of a
level you and I cannot truly understand. The man who does this has been
pushed to the limit. For him surely living is worse than death; life has
no value for him!
I was visiting California at the turn of
the century. I was a guest there of some Afghani friends and relatives.
While we all enjoyed the festivities, our mind was not totally at peace.
We had the fear of Bin Ladin. We had the fear of the rule of the Taliban
and the possible repercussions of their radical policies on our land.
This fear will continue to be felt by all Afghanis around the world as
long as the Taliban continue to take advantage of the instability and
the vulnerability of our homeland. Like the Afghanis everywhere I
continue to feel this fear. But despite all this fear, we celebrated the
turn of the century, a new millennium of hope and possible dreams, we
celebrated even as an immigrant community, away from our native land!
In one of the American magazines, either
the Times or the Newsweek, there was an article about the contribution
of ten most outstanding men of literature in the past millennium. You
might be surprised to know that Rumi’s name was among these ten men.
Jalaludin Mohammad Balkhi(Rumi) was born in Afghanistan. He was a Sufi
poet, who died in Konya, Turkey. Maulana, as he was sometimes referred
to, lived a long time ago but his philosophy is still alive. His
philosophy is loved and respected. Rumi’s philosophy is taught in most
major universities of the world, Berkeley University in the US is one of
them. I love Rumi’s poetry and can personally relate to his
circumstances of life. For Rumi was forced to leave his country and
become a refugee because of the invasion of the Mongols. His hometown,
Balkh in Afghanistan was not safe. He took refuge in Turkey but all his
life he remained in love with Afghanistan and surprisingly always wrote
in his mother tongue, Farsi. He wrote:
Har kase ke door mand az asle khaish
Baz joooyad roozgare wasle khaish
Whoever is uprooted from his origin
Will seek to go back to his origin
Jalaludin could not go back to his land.
The Mongols remained in Afghanistan in his lifetime. Alas he never
managed to see his childhood friends and his community again. And just
as Jalaludin loved his homeland and I love my homeland so you Yours. Let
us all find peace and harmony. Let us all feel safe in our respective
roots and origins. For refugees crave for their homeland and wish that
they could return safely to their homeland one day. We hope that one day
peace will arrive in Afghanistan. But this may just be wishful thinking!
For I fear: I fear for humanity, and as I lie awake at night I fear
greatly for my countrymen, the ordinary people, women and children on
the street. I wonder how the bombing of innocent people on the Afghan
streets will help the cause of America? I fear for my relatives, who are
still in Afghanistan. I fear for my own sister who is there with her
family. I fear for them all. My country is just as beautiful to me as
your land is to you. I dream of nothing sweeter than the possibility of
going back to my homeland just as Rumi must have wished. I hope I will
be luckier than Rumi! Economic gain is not my ambition. Living outside
my country has brought me no peace. Peace in my homeland is my ambition.
I ask you if you have to choose between two
emotions which would you rather choose: the emotion of revenge and
retaliation no matter what the cost to the innocent people caught up in
the crossfire and the mass destruction of man and Planet or the emotion
of love faith and unity for all humanity. Will you agree with Rumi’s
philosophy of love which so beautifully reflected in his poetry and will
you agree that love is all that matters to most of us at the end of the
day?
Bashir Sakhawarz
Kosovo
20 Sept 2001
