A Far Away Home

by Howard Faber

  “Please come in and have some tea. I did find out something about him. But first, please join me in my home.” Ali enjoyed seeing the colonel so much in a hurry to know. He also enjoyed knowing. He took his time but did start to tell about his encounter with the Talib in the truck, about driving it off the cliff, and seeing it explode below in the river valley. Hassan sat listening to the glorious story, seeing his dad so calm, so strong. It was a scene he would never forget or stop telling about.

  Later that day, the two men, Ali and the colonel, told the story to their men. Hassan told it to his friends, who told it to their families. By evening, all of the people of Sharidure knew how Ali and the “palwahn,” the American wrestler, saved their school and village from the Taliban attack. Ali told them about the additional hero, another Sharidure guard, who saved him from the second Talib up on the hill early that morning. He was anxious to meet the American soldier who wrestled and pinned the Talib into the dirt. They met early that afternoon. They shook hands and exchanged first names. The wrestler’s name was Tom, and became known as “Mister Tom.”

  ***

  The next day Ali went to Colonel Elliot with a request. “Could we build a hospital like we used to have? I can show you where it could be built. It would be a great help to us and to the other towns around us.”

  “That’s part of what we hoped to do. We can start as soon as you want. Let’s get Dr. Bettinga.”

  Dr. Bettinga was excited, almost as much as Ali, who explained how Sharidure used to have a hospital. He talked about both Doctors Hagel, about how he had an operation there to straighten his knee, and about how the hospital was so evilly smashed by the Taliban. They walked to where the hospital used to be. “How big was it? Did it have an operating room?”

  “I think there were twelve rooms for patients. There was an operating room which had beautiful tile covering the walls, and a huge light balanced from the ceiling. I remember looking up at it, as I was lying on the table.”

  Ali went on to tell Dr. Bettinga about how many people would come in the summer to get medical help. “Even the Maldar would stop above town and pitch their tents, while they would get medical help from the Hagels. I was curious about them, but I didn’t go very close because I was afraid of their big dogs.”

  “How did the doctors get their medicine?”

  “Some came by road from Kabul, and some came by plane, a small plane. The place I drove the truck off the cliff was the airfield.” These were some good memories, but Ali wanted to focus on getting a hospital for his town. “We could start work on our hospital tomorrow.”

  And tomorrow it was. The soldiers had cement and the men of Sharidure had the muscle. One of the American soldiers was an engineer. Ali showed him the foundations of the old hospital. The engineer thought they could still use those for the new one, and there were plenty of large stones for the walls.

  The day after that, a helicopter arrived with more supplies for the hospital. It landed on the old airfield, where Colonel Elliot and Dr. Bettinga were waiting to supervise the unloading. They invited Ali to ride with them. Hassan heard about the helicopter coming and wanted to see it, and Ali was happy to have him so interested. When the helicopter flew in, all the other children of Sharidure ran to the airfield to see it. When it was unloaded, the pilot agreed to take Ali and Colonel Elliot up for a short ride. Hassan asked if he and his sister could go too. The pilot helped the children buckle their seat belts, and it was a glorious ride.

  Hassan and Shireen got a birds-eye view of their home. “Look, there’s our house, and there’s the school!” Hassan shouted because of the engine noise.

  “Everything looks so small. Where does that road go? Does it go to Bamiyan?” Shireen knew about Bamiyan and the ancient Buddhas.

  “Yes, Bamiyan is over there.” Ali pointed east. “We’ll go to see the Buddhas, when the road is safe.”

  When they landed at the airfield, Colonel Elliot helped Shireen and Hassan down. All the children cheered and secretly wished they too could go up in the helicopter. Their hopes grew two sizes that day.

  There were lots of changes that summer. The first one was the little room at the airfield. It soon became two big rooms with windows, a sloping roof to keep snow out in the winter, a radio, two stoves (one for each room), and a small radar. The Sharidure airfield had a significant upgrade.

  The hospital was next. It was finished in about a month, complete with a pharmacy, several examination rooms, a comfortable office, an x-ray room, twelve rooms for hospitalized patients, and a modern, sparkling clean surgery, complete with an overhead light like Ali remembered. Dr. Bettinga made sure that this was a hospital to be proud of. He saw many patients each day and kept the pharmacy supplied with the necessary medicine. The next month, they built an additional wing, designed for new mothers and babies. Dr. Bettinga found a newly graduated Afghan doctor to help him. She specialized in seeing the female patients. He was very busy seeing men and boys.

  The American soldiers worked in eight-hour shifts, alongside the now larger Sharidure group of guards. They checked each vehicle coming to town and required each person not from the village to be interviewed and searched.

  When not on duty, the Americans had a special project as their focus, the school. They made wooden desks, larger chalkboards, added classrooms, and put glass and screens in the windows. They saw fifty students in a classroom and decided more classrooms were needed, so they built more rooms on the school, each one having lights. That was possible because the engineer built a small electricity-producing power plant upstream from Sharidure. The school and hospital got the first power lines. There were plans to add another generator and more power lines.

  Next to the school was a new volleyball court, which became a gathering place for the town. On Wednesday evenings, there were matches where everyone cheered, laughed, and felt proud of their town. A grandstand was built on one side of the court, facing a sidewall of the school with the volleyball court in between. The supply helicopters brought a projector, and the Sharidure outdoor theater was born. Ahmroodeen was the master of ceremonies and translator for the shows, mostly children’s videos. Elmo became a favorite.

  ***

  At the end of summer, Colonel Elliot stopped by Ali and Nafisa’s home to ask for his help. “Could you come with me to the American base near Kabul to talk to my commander about Sharidure and the possibility of repeating what you have done here in other communities in this area?”

  It was Nafisa who answered first. “Of course, Ali should go. We are proud of our hometown. We would like others to experience what we have here.”

  Kodamon Valley • By Howard Faber

  It was decided that Ali, Colonel Elliot, and Ahmroodeen would go the next day to Bagram, the American base. They rode in a humvee, stopping first at the beautiful lakes, Bondi-Amir, then in Bamiyan. Ali just shook his head sadly at the sight of the ruined Buddhas.

  They kept going, over the pass, then gradually down toward the road into Kabul.

  It took all day, so it was almost dark when they approached the huge base. The base guards knew they were coming, so security was thorough but quick, and they were warmly welcomed by Colonel Elliot’s commander.

  Ali, Colonel Elliot, and Ahmroodeen were his guests at a big dinner. The
amount of food was mind-boggling, though there were just six people in the room, the three from Sharidure, and three American officers. Eventually, the talk came around to what was accomplished in Sharidure. “We would like to see your home.” This was from the man who seemed to be the leader of the soldiers, a General Ridder. “How long does the trip take?”

  “It took twelve hours on the way down. We stopped twice. The road is not made for very fast travel.” Colonel Elliot wasn’t sure the general had traveled lately in a Humvee.

  “Do you know if there are any small planes available?” Ali was thinking about the airfield at Sharidure. “There’s a small airfield just above the town. A small plane flew there every week. I know the way by air.”

  The Americans talked for a minute. “Yes, there is a small plane a private group uses. We have used it before. Let’s leave in the morning.”

  Early in the morning Ali was flying back to Sharidure, telling the pilot the best route, and about the small airfield. The plane was the same size that Dan and Ali flew what now seemed so long ago. They flew over Bamiyan and the Buddhas.

  Bamiyan Valley • UNO

  General Ridder had never seen them. Ali tried to explain how they used to look. There was a lot in Afghanistan that used to look beautiful, but not now. Soon, the deep blue lakes of Bondi Amir were below them. The pilot circled to see them better. Ali was now looking ahead to see his home. He explained to the pilot that he could follow the river, then circle once to line up with the small runway. The pilot wanted to fly over it once to get a better idea of how it was. When they flew over the river next to Sharidure the sound of the plane got everybody’s attention. Ali asked the pilot to waggle the wings, a signal for Shireen, his sister, so she would know Ali was in the plane and not to worry.

  “It’s a beautiful, peaceful place,” Ahmroodeen said as he translated both General Ridder’s words and tone.

  “Thank you. It’s my home.” Ali thought about his home, as the pilot circled the plane up and away from the river to line up with the small airfield of Sharidure. He thought about his flights with Dan, the pilot who helped him learn to fly, about the small hospital where Dr. Hagen changed his life from a crutch to standing on two feet, about his parents, and about his sister Shireen, his early protector.

  After they landed, his thoughts came back to the present, to his wife and children, and protecting his home and town. There they were, his family, Nafisa, Hassan, Shireen and Shireen. Hassan and little Shireen ran and skipped up to greet him. He introduced them to the American general. General Ridder had gifts for them, a baseball cap for Hassan and a backpack for Shireen. He had done his homework.

  The next day, after much planning, and much hopeful talk, Ali waved goodbye to General Ridder as the plane started down the runway. He walked back down the path to Sharidure, going home. As he walked, he thought back to his life here, growing up, his parents, his operation, school, friends, these were the good things. He also thought about when he left, the fear, the uncertainty. Now, he was back, and it was the right place for him and for his family. This was his home, a place he fought for, and if need be would fight again. It was no longer a faraway home.

  Characters

  Ahmad Nabi

  Husband of Ali’s sister Shireen

  Ahmroodeen

  Translator with the U. S. Special Forces

  Akbar

  Hassan’s friend in Mashed

  Ali

  Main character

  Anisa

  Akbar’s wife

  Askgar

  Head of mujahedeen in Sharidure

  Bibi Jan

  Ali’s father’s mother

  Colonel Elliot

  American special forces

  Dan

  the American pilot

  Doctor Hagel

  Male American doctor

  Doctor Hagel

  Female American doctor

  Dr. Bettinga

  Medical officer with the US Special Forces

  Farid

  Hassan’s cousin in Kabul

  Hassan

  Ali and Nafisa’s son

  Hassan

  Ali’s father

  Homyoon

  Substitute Iranian pilot

  Hossein

  Friend of Ali growing up

  Mariam

  Ali’s mother

  Mohammad

  Akbar’s son

  Naeem

  Bamiyan truck driver

  Nafisa

  Ali’s wife

  Reza

  Iranian pilot

  Sara

  Akbar’s daughter

  Sayeed

  Carpenter in Muhshed (Ali’s father-in-law)

  Shireen

  Ali and Nafisa’s daughter

  Shireen

  Ali’s older sister

  Tom

  American soldier (All-American wrestler from Nebraska)

  Dari Words and Phrases

  aash - noodle and vegetable soup

  bisyar khoub - very good

  kharbooza- sweet melon

  koochi / maldar - nomad

  leeoff - long floor cushion

  Qauzi - Islamic judge

  shafakhona - hospital

  Shia - one of the main Islamic groups

  Sunni - one of the main Islamic groups

  tope danda - ball game

  Places and Names

  Bamiyan - city and province in the area of the Hazara

  Bondi-Amir - series of lakes

  Buddha - two huge statues in Bamiyan

  Chaghcharan - town in central Afghanistan

  Chengis Khan - ancient mongol ruler who conquered Afghanistan

  Hazara - Afghan cultural group

  Hazarajat - area of the Hazara people

  Islam Qala - small town on Afghan / Iranian border

  Kabul - Afghan capital

  Muhshed - eastern Iranian city

  Nooristan - area in Afghanistan

  Salang tunnel - tunnel connecting Kabul with the north

  Sharidure - fictitious town

  Shebar Pass - pass between Kabul and Bamiyan

  Tyabad - Iranian border town

  Author’s Bio

  This is about me and about how I came to write this story. My wife is a retired high school principal. I teach fifth and sixth graders. Our daughter is in college. My education came first on our farm, and continues in lots of ways. My college degrees are from the University of Northern Iowa (BA), Columbia University (MA), and the University of Nebraska (EdD).
/>   I’ve taught since 1965, taking off two years when I was in the US Army. My first teaching jobs were in Kabul, Afghanistan, initially with the Peace Corps in an Afghan high school, and later with schools primarily for children of foreign families living in Kabul.

  For two summers, I worked as a volunteer with a medical group that cared for the people of central Afghanistan, the setting for this story. I met the main character, Ali, in the town that I call Sharidure. He did have a bent knee. He used to race other kids along the tops of the many walls in the town. The doctors later straightened his knee.

  Except for the army and graduate school, I lived in Afghanistan from 1965 to 1975. The closest I’ve gotten back to Afghanistan was to go to Peshawer, Pakistan for two summers in the early 1990s to write textbooks for Afghan children.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the University of Nebraska at Omaha Center for Afghan Studies for some of the photos. Other photos are compliments of people who I worked with in Afghanistan.

  The name of Ali’s town, Sharidure, was suggested by Yasir, a friend who works at UNO.

  I also want to thank David Martin, who encouraged me to publish this story, and who did the initial editing.