Abdullah Abdullah

 Mr. Abdullah was considered old in his village at age 50. He felt his years, but he also felt vibrant and alive, with a good future. His health was good, thanks be to God. Despite only having a fifth grade education he had sound understanding of many things in the world. Abdullah the father and goat herder and garden grower, also known as Sayed Ifi (EE-FEE) to close friends and cohorts, liked to unravel the riddles of God, his village, his world, and the nature of weather. The celestial orbs and points of light were pretty window dressing above, but he could wrap his mind around heat, wind, rain, sand, and snow. That which interfaced with the earth. And that was enough for him; the skies ended where the giant planes flew overhead. The space men were for others to contemplate. Abdullah had enough to deal with here on terra firma.

Abdullah, like most of his village, district, province, and region, and Afghans writ large, had lived through many struggles in his life. Living under the Taliban was hard, because he felt it was unfair that women and girls could not learn to read and write. Most boys and men were limited in learning, too. He had seen in times before when the women and girls were allowed to read, to recite poetry, and be part of the group that was considered smart. Even to sing! What beauty! Abdullah did not approve of the thugs who proclaimed that only males should be as the literate, and those allowed in public. Most of them, these overbearing zealots, were heavy handed and unfair to the common workers and children, too. Not right.

Abdullah had seen many things in his lifetime, he had learned much from his parents, uncles and aunts, and even seemed to have gained knowledge from those before them. Tales and stories of the past remembered always had value.

 

I know that the world is a place where God allows us to make choices and build relationships and patterns that either help us or hurt us. We are all made by God, but there are those who believe in Him differently. Some Soviets, and later I learned some Americans and some of New Zealand, a former British colony island, do not believe in God. But most of the English speakers believe in God. There are even Muslims among them; he has seen them and prayed with them. Allah be praised. They truly worshiped Allah.

 

Okay, the Soviets claimed that they were kufir, infidels, bound for hell fire, but he was told many of them secretly believed in God, but the bosses of Moscow did not allow it. Meanwhile, in the United States, there were the Christian believers as presidents like Carter and Bush, the son, both believers and Christian, yes, but they claimed that their faith in Christ allowed them to love all, their Muslims were brothers, even such as I. I know that they did not lie to me, and we prayed together as well.

 

Hmmm.

 

Yes, the world is more complicated than the Taliban and the local imams would have us villagers in this far off part of the world would believe. And of course the Arab clerics and other traveling religious men, some from Chechnya or Uzbekistan, he even recalls one from Morocco --their versions of the true religion and submission to God did not seem right. I want to talk to one of them, he always thought, to see if Chechnya or the Muslim north of the Amu Darya or parts of Africa could be so strict and confined as they preached.

No, the average Muslim is like me. He loves his wife and children, he does not want to kill his neighbors, even those who disagree in the everyday or special beliefs of Islam. No, Muslims are all brothers and sisters. Those who hate and subjugate the women? Also wrong, most definitely.

Abdullah was kind to his wife. She had born him 9 children, six surviving. He knew that God had provided him with such a companion; she was special, and so were his kids. Even the dead ones were special, now with God again in the heavens. God had them all covered eventually, and for now he needed to focus his attentions on the ground. Abdullah had stewardship, responsibility, for that which he could touch, observe, feel, and sway. This was a world that he shared with many others, so many others, seemingly endless...

 

I am aware of the people that I can affect; I must show mercy upon them as much as possible. God is and will be that way with me eternally. I know some of my family and villagers within my valley that are harsher and stricter in their ways of interacting, and treat their women, children, and other men in cruel and awful ways. Many of the men treat their animals better. Not me. My wife and children and fellow man are extensions of my own flesh. I cannot harm them as much as I would not disfigure my own face or limbs. The soldiers, the freedom fighters, and many so-called terrorists, and their drug kingpins and runners are usually desperate and mean, they fight and live like barbarians, marauders,

Abdullah's father was killed in the anti-Soviet insurgency in 1985 when he was was 15 years old, his dad was about 35. Qari Abdullah, his father, was not actively fighting the Soviet occupiers when he met his demise, but a wayward missile hit him on the way home from the market in town, late that day after an honest day's work. Kind passers by were kind enough to gather all the money that his dad had earned that day, selling fruits, vegetables, and fattened goat during the course of the day. His mother married his brother maintained as much of her family as she could, but at that point Abdullah was old enough to work and make money so he became independent. He found his wife three years later in 1988.

 

I am blessed to have six surviving children: all of them have had children, and none of the grandchildren have died. Some of them are very promising, smart, industrious.  I believe that the new technologies and the new living standards, with more modern medicines and vaccines will make us all better, healthier, happier. I believe in the future, I believe in God.

 

The Soviets were bad and mean, but there were always the normal good ones. He learned that some were Russians, which was what they required all their soldiers to speak, but among them were many Ukrainians, who had their preferred way of speaking. Some of them seemed to be more religious, and even pious, too. Some Russian men, and on occasion he saw their women, were not evil, but very human like everyone else. Abdullah's father and more some uncles would get involved with some clandestine Americans, or maybe some were British, or perhaps there was that funny maple leaf type, those of Canada... Most tried to nice to the Afghans, promising them hope and liberation from the Soviets.

 

The Soviets lost too many troops, especially the Ukrainians, and they left by the time Abdullah was 19. They took his dad away, tragically, and many other villagers. And many more fled the country to Pakistan and beyond, Iran, Europe, the West.

Surely my country was best when I was a small child, because the time of the U.S.S.R was terrible, like their leader known as Ivan. Very Terrible like him.

But when they left, the Taliban and the Northern Alliance and others went to and fro and killed even more at times, indiscriminately. These were bad times... We could eke out a peaceful life most years. But the schooling and medicine stopped, and only those with huge sums of wealth could afford anything. Those who preached no drugs versus those who sold it for exorbitant prices. Crazy money. And violence always with it.

Al-Qaida grew, and attacked the United States, and the U.S. troops and others came. Life was not like under the Soviets, but all the violence of chaos came still.

They arrested me at age 35 for being a spy or a Talib or some such nonsense.

I went to Bagram to the unknown to me central province where it is colder. But I did not see much of those beautiful mountains in that valley, just a couple of times. I was not outside much. They kept me and many others penned up in stalls, like horses or donkeys. We ate well, and the toilets were clean. Hard, modern toilets. I got used to those... They brought many people to interview me, but I certainly learned more from them than they of me. I was not involved in any violent nonsense, nor even poppies and their cultivation or trade. So found out I was not a threat. But I helped them, as an asset against the bullies that I disdain.

I am an honest worker and I do not cheat my fellow man. God has blessed me and will bless me forever, because He is all Good and completely Just.

 

 Abdalluh was locked up in the U.S.-ISAF Detention Center in Bagram, Parwan Province, for seven months from 2005 to 2006. It was a cold winter there but he was mostly inside and he ate well; he learned a lot. He enjoyed talking to the foreign guards and interrogators, because he knew he himself was not guilty of anything, and the men and some women offered so much to his intellectual curiosity to observe and understand in new ways, that Abdullah came closer to God, and realized the the further blessings of his family, his station, the wonder and wonders of life.

 

I spoke to many people in the Detention Facility, with those that tried to extract information from me, and their interpreters,  some of the medical and military police, and some soldiers and a few security and food/sanitation workers there. Once they figured out that I did not get involved in terrorism or drug cultivation, and that I added many details to all I know, which was a lot... I trusted them, and they ended up trusting me. I like them, and I think that they liked me. They saw that I am a good Muslim, not a zealous idiot. I do not want to hurt others, but let God work through me. They saw that. As long as I they promised that no one would know what information that I shared, I provided much information and details. Any actions or movements or tactics that they used.

I don't need all those thugs coming around, killing our kids, making us terrified of everything. They talk to me like a dog or donkey sometimes, even the young ones. They think that they invented piety, that the new way of living and worshiping is the way to please God. Fools. We have always been good, solid Muslims. God knows my heart.

With the Americans I saw goodness and compassion. Some of them were forceful and impertinent, but most of them showed me respect. They showed me the same humanity, but in most cases better humanity, than I see in my village and district. I met Americans that were Muslim. They talked to me about the goodness of God. I saw Afghan interpreters that had lived in the United States; they confided in me that it was a good place of freedom. There was a Christian soldier who offered to make the call to prayer, and he recited the fatihah; he warmed my heart in the coldest and darkest days of the prison.

I prayed as much as I wanted; I was amazed at the understanding of my captors. I believed me when they told me, that like me, they were separated from their families far away and that only wanted to do what is right and return to them and be happy.

That is what they did: they were not hypocrites; they released me in May and I was free to come home with my increased knowledge. I did not like the being locked up, but I very much enjoyed the exposure to humanity and my brothers from all lands. The Russians and Ukrainians have their ways, and the Americans are even bolder but nicer, warmer.

There are some that are colder and try to be rigid and mean, but even many of those spoke to me in soft tones when they realized that I was a good man and I was helping them.

I am Abdullah Abdullah, and I wish to live to see my children and grandchildren flourish.

I have hopes that they will.

Abdullah Abdullah is a man from a small village in Afghanistan, where he speaks Pashto and Dari. Much of his village conversation is a mix between the two. He is not formally educated, but he is wise and virtuous and hopeful. Some care if he is Pashtun or Tajik, Uzbek or Hazara. 

 

Many care about the differences.

 

Many of us choose to see what we have in common. We love and root for Abdullah Abdullah, and all those like him. He cares about his family and community, he chooses to strengthen others rather than tearing them down.

Many bad and tragic things have transpired in the valleys and mountains of Afghanistan for many years.

 

Foreigners have influenced us in many ways; they have pushed us this way and that for all my life.

I have faith that the future of my people and those that surround me will improve.

We need to be brothers and sisters, and respect all that is good.