I believe a similar conviction holds true for the use of the telephone by women. If the women were allowed to speak freely, and in private, more chaos could ensue. First, women allowed to watch TV might pass on their new found knowledge to their other female friends. Secondly, several women might plot a getaway plan, to escape their life of repression. Again, men could not stand for this type of rebellion. Thus, they severely restrict the habits of their women and the women follow their commands, because they know no other way of life.
Re-visiting the shame discussion again, I was taken aback by one answer (which I heard on several occasions) in response to this topic. Upon asking for an example of a shameful activity, several men replied “Pimping out your wife” or “Being a pimp”. The first time I heard this, I thought my interpreter translated improperly. I asked him to repeat the question and confirm the man’s answer. The word “pimp” was, indeed, the correct interpretation. Much to my surprise, I discovered yet another unreported, but also not uncommon, habit among Pashtun men.
A woman cheating on her husband, with another man, is a crime punishable by death in Afghanistan. I would like to say that this pertains only to voluntary cheating, but, as discussed above, this tends to include cases of rape as well. That aside, some men literally “pimp out” their wives, in order to make money. This practice is never spoken of, but is known amongst most Afghan citizens. Because a husband technically “owns” his wife, he can do with her what he wants. Therefore, if he insists that she have sex with another man, she must do it or risk a horrible beating. The total contradiction to this is that, if the man demands she do this then it is not punishable by law (i.e. the death penalty). Of course, no man would ever report such behavior to any law enforcement entity anyhow, as it would incriminate himself. Contradiction and hypocrisy reach far and wide throughout this culture.
One local young man, who I will call Najibullah, or Naji for short, was probably no more than 25 years old, and worked in the mechanic shop on our base. I ran across him one day when my truck had a flat tire. I drove over to the shop to fill the tire and Naji took care of it for me. In the couple of minutes I spent at the shop, I discovered his English language skills were impeccable. At first glance, I never expected it. He appeared to have a partial cleft lip and was dressed in dirty, tattered clothing. But, when he opened his mouth, I discovered we could have a completely intelligent conversation.
Over the months, I ran into Naji on several occasions. He was always so friendly and greeted me with respect. He even went so far as to call me his “best friend on base.” That touched my heart, even though he did not know one thing about me, with regards to personal details about my life. Whenever we saw each other, we spoke for a few minutes and he told me stories of his family. His father had been paralyzed during the Russian invasion a couple decades prior and had not been able to work for years. Naji was the sole provider for his family, which included his parents, siblings, wife and his children…sixteen people in all. At the mechanic shop, he made approximately $150 per month. It was enough to just barely get by, but he told me stories of how he, and his family, sometimes only had rice for dinner, because they had run out of money.
An American-Afghan interpreter (who is now an American citizen, but born in Afghanistan) who occasionally worked with my team, set aside $200 every month out of her paycheck, and found a local Afghan in need to give the money to. One month, she came to me and asked if I knew of anyone who could really use the money. Naji immediately came to mind. I knew the $200 would go a long way, as it was more than one month’s salary for him. The day I took him the money, his eyes and face lit up like a child. Initially, he was too proud to take the money, and tried to deny the gift. But, I insisted and told him it was a donation from someone else. Finally, he did take the money and I was so happy he did.
When Naji and I talked, he often told me stories of his mother and said she was curious why an American female would be-friend him and offer him money. He had to explain to his mother that men and women speak to each other on the base, and that it was not abnormal. Naji also told me his mother was quite interested in meeting me. He had explained to her, however, that I was not allowed to leave the base to visit their house, and, therefore, it was impossible for us to meet. But, I proposed an alternate idea. I asked Naji to bring his mother to the front gate at the base. I explained that I would make arrangements for the guards to let her through the checkpoint, and that I could meet her by the gate. I knew this idea was plausible, as women occasionally came to the base for medical treatment. Of course, they were always accompanied by a man. Naji pondered the idea and said he would speak to his mother about it. I was quite excited because I had never met an Afghan woman before.
From then on, every time I saw Naji, I asked him about my idea. He continued to say he would work on it, but I could tell something was holding him back. He made excuses, saying his mother was ill and could not travel well. Eventually, he admitted to me that his family was very traditional. He said it would be immoral and inappropriate to bring his mother to the base, even though she desperately wanted to meet me, and vice versa. I explained that she could wear her burqa and remain covered, but he insisted that he could not do it. He said he could take me to his house, under the cover of darkness (for safety reasons) and we could meet there. But, he was adamant that that was the only solution. I would have willingly done this without a second thought, but it would have been a breach of my contract and I would have been fired immediately. Plus, the logistics of actually leaving the base were impossible to arrange. I was disappointed by the outcome, but there was nothing I could do about it. Unfortunately, there was no wiggle room when it came to some Pashtun traditions.
Despite the disappointment, there is a place in my heart for this family. After giving Naji the $200, he sent me a text message to my cell phone. It read: “Jen, with the money you gave me I bought good good food for my family. Food they have not had in six months. When they ate the food, they blessed you with a good future and good health." A message like that reminded me that maybe it was worthwhile for us (Americans) to be in Afghanistan.
By the time I left Afghanistan, Naji had secured a better paying job as an interpreter. The company he worked for finally approved him to take their English test and he passed with flying colors, resulting in his promotion. I saw him the day before I left and he was all smiles, because he finally felt that he could adequately provide for his family. It brought a smile to my face, but a tear to my eye, to see the perseverance of this young man. I only wished there were millions more like him.
Sadly, with the 2014 deadline looming for the departure of NATO forces from Afghanistan, some women are taking matters into their own hands. Many Afghan females fear the Taliban will return to their country and take over once again. These women expect the future government, no matter who is in charge, to reverse the rights that have been afforded to them in recent years. According to Kabul-based Non-Government Organization (NGO) Humanitarian Assistance for the Women and Children of Afghanistan (www.hawca.org), scores of women are finding ways out of Afghanistan, to avoid the possible harassment and oppression that awaits them in a couple years. Unfortunately, the only women who have a decent possibility of leaving their country are those who are well-educated, although some are seeking collegiate scholarships in foreign countries. With a college degree and/or professional experience under their belt, they realize they have a decent chance of finding residence and employment in other countries.
The vast majority of female Afghan citizens do not have the luxury or knowledge to even consider a change of venue for themselves. Most do not have one penny to their name, as the familial patriarchs control the finances. Those with children are not likely to leave their offspring, in order to improve their own lives, nor could they afford to take their children with them. The security situation in many parts of the country is worsening, resulting in higher rates of civilian deaths, particularly among women. Some areas are essentially still control
led by the Taliban, or other insurgent groups that operate similarly. None of these groups believe in equality for women. Therefore, females who live in these areas are still denied the opportunity to educate themselves and/or seek employment. With the primary focus of the government being security, women’s rights have fallen by the wayside, leaving the impression that, after ten years, some things have not changed a bit.
For those readers who believe the U.S. meddles in other countries’ business for the purpose of serving our own needs (i.e. oil), I hope this chapter delivers a message that there are crucial human rights worth fighting for. I also anticipate this chapter will open readers’ eyes to some of the less-publicized issues we have been fighting for in the two most recent wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
THE PHOTOGRAPHY PROJECT
Several months into my time in Afghanistan, I came up with an idea to feed my curiosity of the situation outside the base. Per my contract, I was strictly banned from leaving the base I was assigned to. All the locals I spoke with told me about the shopping “bazaar” downtown, their villages, their farming land, and their overall way of life. Yet, I could never experience any of this first hand. I yearned to see for myself their lifestyle, their families and daily lifestyle. One day I brainstormed up an idea. I ordered a simple digital camera that I planned to give to some of the local Afghans to take outside with them for a few days each.
My initial thought before ordering the camera, was that it might create problems for those who chose to take it outside the base for me. Cameras are not something most Afghans generally possess, and having one might put a target on their back. An expensive (to them) piece of equipment such as this might give away the fact that they were working on an American base or they might even dubbed as spies. This, in turn, could make them a target for insurgents. Insurgents looked for any sign of association with the government or Americans as an excuse to attack Afghan citizens. However, after speaking to a couple of the local men I knew fairly well, they assured me they could take some photos discreetly, without drawing attention to themselves. Thus, my photography project began.
These men traveled through their villages, the local shopping market, and even up to Kabul, to capture images of everyday life in Afghanistan. The photos they returned to me were more than I ever envisioned, painting a picture encompassing hope, innocence, resilience and a multitude of other descriptions. Interestingly enough, even though I felt I had a trustworthy relationship with these men, none of them took pictures of their own homes. I believe they still had a bit of suspicion that I might use any photographs of their residences against them.
The images on the following pages are a sampling of the hundreds of digital photos provided to me by these brave Afghan men. When picking the pictures for this book, in order to protect these men, I purposely did not include images showing the faces of the photographers themselves. In addition, I omitted the specific names of particular villages and cities, also to shield certain men’s identities. The photographs as you see them are exactly as they were presented to me. None have been touched up or altered in any way.
The local “bazaar” (shopping market) in the summer. The large ice block is used to preserve perishables.
The “guard monkey”, belonging to the Afghan Border Patrol.
Piles of cookies at the local bakery.
A local school, built by our Provincial Reconstruction Team.
The future of Afghanistan.
A standard unpaved road through a typical local neighborhood.
The bustling downtown area of the nearby city.
Men waiting for work, as grocery haulers, at the local market.
Homemade straw goods for sale on a downtown sidewalk.
Students at the local university.
Tribal elders gathering for a “Shura”, a meeting to discuss political and religious issues in the community.
The innocence of an Afghan child.
Typical Afghan dress and makeup on a female baby.
“Snoopy”, a golden lab puppy my team and I helped rescue. He was adopted by one of the local men who worked on our base.
A local auto repair shop.
Local children playing in a field.
Nomadic tents in the countryside.
A billboard in Kabul, bearing the picture of Ahmad Shah Massoud, former leader of the Northern Alliance, now deceased.
Children giving their version of a “thumbs up”.
EPILOGUE
December 2011
As I landed at Bagram Air Base, my first stop on my way out of Afghanistan, my departure from country immediately became upsetting. I switched on my cell phone and found a text message from one of the local Afghan security guards I had known well. His message saddened me, as I read that his cousin and two neighbors had been shot and critically wounded by local insurgents the night before. There was a good chance these murder attempts were due to his employment on a U.S. base. He was asking for my help, but there was nothing I could do. Even if I had still been at the base, it was doubtful I could have helped much, beyond providing emotional support. A majority of the time, these shootings were not investigated and no one was ever arrested, charged or convicted of the crime. The prevalence of these attacks was simply too much for the local police to handle, and sometimes, the police themselves were involved.
It was rather heart-breaking to know I was leaving this war-torn country and that the future for the Afghans was grim. Those who have never deployed to a war zone cannot comprehend why it is difficult to leave. Even before I departed, I knew my attachment to the country would never truly end. The reality was that some, possibly many, of the local Afghans I grew to know, might not live much longer. The statistics were not on their side. The other reality was that very little had really changed or progressed in the fourteen months I spent there. Coalition Forces had sacrificed so much time, energy and soldiers’ lives to the cause, only to see the status quo remain the same. Although technological improvements were obvious, through the prevalence of cell phones and laptop computers, it seemed like the country had failed to progress at all, during the ten years since 9/11.
Quite honestly, I am not sure the people of Afghanistan truly want to change. In the Pashtun-prevalent areas in the South and the East, it appears the locals are happy to tend their fields and sell their vegetables to support their families, so long as they can do it in peace. Sadly, these areas were more peaceful during the Taliban Regime, though much more oppressed. Even if the males are content to live life as they wish, the women and children are worthy of better. Both deserve access to education and vocational opportunities, but, as the old saying goes “Ignorance is bliss.” Most are so sheltered from outside influences, they have no clue as to the opportunities denied to them. They are confined and their restricted way of life seems perfectly normal to them.
When I departed Afghanistan, I felt fairly satisfied with the job my team and I had done. There had not been one coordinated attack against the base in the fourteen months I spent there. The only damage incurred by the base was caused by rockets fired at it. Obviously, I cannot credit myself and my team with the absence of any attack. But, I do feel we played a key role, by creating trust and forging relationships with many of the local workers on the base. I know our efforts resulted in the collection of valuable information, vital to the safety of everyone living on our base.
Six months after I left, a suicide bomber driving a vehicle loaded with explosives destroyed the Dining Facility and Post Exchange at the base I had been assigned to. Reading the emails from my friends still working there, and the (limited) news reports, brought a feeling of great doom over me. Later, the news network al-Jazeera released a Taliban propaganda video, clearly showing footage of the bombing. Watching it made my stomach churn. Based off the detailed mock-up of the base, shown in the video, I was certain some local Afghan base workers had provided at least limited support to the planning and execution of the attack. I wondered if any of them were men whom I had come t
o know in my time there. I thought about the several Afghan kitchen workers who had been killed in the blast, silently grieving for them and their families. They were likely innocent working men, simply trying to earn enough money to make ends meet.
I was also angered to see the use of Google Earth, during the training the insurgents conducted prior to the attack. It was obvious they had used this website to download detailed imagery of the base and that it was a key piece of information used in their planning process. I am not sure why our government, or Google Earth, condones the presence of such imagery on the internet, available to anyone. It clearly puts the lives of our soldiers in danger and I find this unacceptable.
This kind of destruction continues to rage on throughout Afghanistan. Suicide bombings, Improvised Explosive Devices, rocket attacks and “green-on-blue” incidents are on the rise, rather than on the decline, as they ought to be ten years into a war. An optimistic viewpoint towards the future is very hard to come by.
there is no goat Page 18