On the foot steps of a suicide attacker is the social story of a young man, confused and lost in the bloodshed and war.
The child was born and raised in the trenches without sufficient food and water. The belligerents were doing their job, by serving their country or battling the evil or making a better future for others. For everyone else there is a short trip between war and peace, hardship and pleasure. but for a suicide attacker it stays in his heart, his soul, his memories, his habit, in everything...
It’s the feet of a little infant walking on a paved street. Followed by Red army marching boots and vows and prayers of Soviet soldiers. The farewells of sons, husbands and brothers, then destruction and killings of Afghan sons, husbands and brothers.
Every time a son, a husband and a brother is killed, intentionally, or not. The border between peace and war grows larger for the child. Every time a village, a nest, a bridge is blown up the child has less places to go.
He is grown up now. He is walking with wounded feet. He is walking bare feet on the dust and ashes.
American soldiers arrive, with good will and intention to help - just like any other fighter.
Life is now a fragile social accommodation. With very little places to go and very few friends and family. The child is living a strategy of keeping everyone very close.
His steps are tired and weak nevertheless he continues to walk. He walks from place to place and country to country in seek of sanctuary and comfort, somewhere to sit down and let his tired feet relax.
He arrives somewhere nice and quite. the apparent is feels familiar, but he takes a walk and then he finds the walk strange. His feet doesn’t feel very of his own. he feels utterly exposed. he see people looking at him and ticking off their mental boxes: 'Asylum-seeker - maybe; unemployed - probably; sponger - yes; breeds like a rabbit - maybe; Muslim fanatic - probably.’ Then they are confused and curiosity is engaged and ask themselves: “What the hell's he doing here?” he learns something new. He learns to cry.
Too much crying takes the will to live. he starts to walk again. This time with tight steps. He has a pure belief now and uncompromised by politics. A belief to cure the wounds that socialism, Mujheeden anarchy, Taliban radicalism and western reconstruction has failed to heal. He is angry but powerless in his own country. He is raped in changes, seeing different subjective views. He doesn’t hold one. he doesn’t see himself as a terrorist or revolutionary or soldier. Though he has a lot in common with other men through history, he is pushed into action by the simple human need for justice. He goes to Madrasa with other men who had experienced brutal repression; some were simply drawn to bloody chaos. In the Madrasa there are reformers and there were nihilists. The dynamic between them is irreconcilable and self-destructive, but repression is making them take steps faster, so fast that it is almost impossible to tell the philosophers from the sociopaths.
He straps explosives around himself and then jumps into a foreign APC. A big bang inside and soldiers climb out, they are on fire and they are running. There is blood on their footsteps.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Have you heard of Hamburg bombing of 1942? Why do you think Churchill killed tens of thousands of civilians? Why did one of the world biggest democracies, with rights and moralities in the centre of it, committed such an immoral action.
My version is, to piss off and humiliate Hitler, so he would retaliate with similar action. it worked, Hitler focused on bombing civilian targets in london, this enabled Churchill to save his navy and prevent german amphibious attack.
Hamburg was tragic, but at the end England was saved. Same here buddy, 9/11 made westerners rethink their policy. Without 9/11 the west would continue to back one or another group, they would continue to bomb osama hide outs from time to time or arrange convert operations for his capture.
9/11 made the westerners think that achieving peace in a disaster zone like afghanistan might be to everyone's interest.
Five years after 9/11 and five years of less anarchy for afghanistan. Five years that regional and western powers haven't shoved each their own maniacs to power. Five years without hearing the roaring of artillery and screams of children.
Whoever did 9/11 for whatever reason, I am telling you, it was damn good for afghanistan.
My version is, to piss off and humiliate Hitler, so he would retaliate with similar action. it worked, Hitler focused on bombing civilian targets in london, this enabled Churchill to save his navy and prevent german amphibious attack.
Hamburg was tragic, but at the end England was saved. Same here buddy, 9/11 made westerners rethink their policy. Without 9/11 the west would continue to back one or another group, they would continue to bomb osama hide outs from time to time or arrange convert operations for his capture.
9/11 made the westerners think that achieving peace in a disaster zone like afghanistan might be to everyone's interest.
Five years after 9/11 and five years of less anarchy for afghanistan. Five years that regional and western powers haven't shoved each their own maniacs to power. Five years without hearing the roaring of artillery and screams of children.
Whoever did 9/11 for whatever reason, I am telling you, it was damn good for afghanistan.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Hiraty theft
Haji
Haji is my aunt’s son in law. He was born and brought up in a peasantry a few kilometres from Kabul. Inspite proximity to the biggest urban center in the country his family adopted a very rural style of life. He was brought up in a big family with a lot of brothers and sisters. Rural areas around Kabul resents urban culture than distant area as their style of life more threatened to change than distant peasantry. Most of the men in paghaman has some sort of none farm business and travel every day to Kabul. But Kabul culture of the seventies doesn’t; it weakens socio-family ties and disrupts the power of those who are the top of those hierarchies. With the soveit’s invasion Haji’s family immigrated to Pakistan where his sister married one of the most prominent Mujaheeden leaders, who was nominated for the prime ministry of the interim Mujaheeden government in Pakistan. The visible obstacle was the public perception; he went university in the states where he married an American to take on this job he needed to have an Afghan wife.
As a result of this marriage the entire Haji family was involved in his business life. It goes without saying that the family financially benefited a lot. There was close ties with the Saudi Arabia and the family was travelling there quite frequently; for conducting Mujaheeden related and private businesses.
Haji is a calm man who weighs around 100kg; he enjoys the nature and loves his home town for its beautiful landscape and appealing weather. He is a man of family, he is a medium size family. He has certain hobbies, he is quite strict when it comes to maintaining what he enjoys and wouldn’t give it up for quite a lot of things which matter for others. He is a good muslim. He exercises his religious obligation regularly. He is also a very influenceble man, his urge for his children education and life style is what he has been influenced by abroad in aristocrat families. The children were under extreme pressure to act like rich Saudi kids. They were named as them; the only one which crosses my mind right now is the oldest son whose name is Usama.
In November 2001 smiley faces, full of energy was sign happiness on peoples faces after the oust of Taliban. I was passing by one of the hotels owned by Haji and I decided to stop by and say hello. Haji asked me if I wanted a job with him and he offered me to manage his hotel. I accepted the job and started right afterward. It was very challenging; I established an accounting system and management. But it kept falling apart as I had no previous experience, and even if I did I doubt if it had worked in the chaos of the hotel. Haji wanted to have his own say, so did his brothers, one of whom was very self confident and perceptive. There was also all his closer relatives who saw me as an outsider and didn’t quite appreciate my presence and their competition was in the form of obstacle creation and disruption of my work and at best not being helpful. Unfortunately all of the hotel staff was Haji’s relative and they all had such an attitude. I introduced computer to do the balance of accounts, no one was sure of it’s capacity to do such job. One day haji said he wanted to talk with me and he told me with all due respect to my decision and he has heard a great deal about computers but he wanted me to the accounting in the old notebook style so he can also keep track of income and expenses. In the evening I was showing Arabic belly dance on the computer. At the beginning there was low turn out of the spectators and in the morning I was hearing some of the old man fussing about it. But the number of spectators increased substantially in a week and the computer room turned into a room for watching half naked girls by pious. Here is a story by one of the guests.
It wasn’t very long until Mujaheeden from nuke and corners of the country started arriving to Kabul to take their share of the government. They were old war time buddies of Haji and were expecting him to be their host. Haji told me we are going to have these guys in the hotel. He said we will never be like Mustafa hotel which was a place for foreign journalists and aid workers because we are rooted in the people of the country and we will please them. Besides it’s never going to happen; we are not doing the appropriate marketing and branding for the foreigners. I guess he was right, he didn’t believe in long time business investment. He wanted to cultivate and collect the fruit right afterward.
I said who is going to pay for this he said the government will pay for their accommodation and meals. I was not sure if it’s easy to get money which has been spent from the government. I have heard stories about how money and private property could disappear in government bureaucracy but I never thought I would have to deal with it. I’ve also heard how easy it was for others with the right connection to make millions and claim others property with some bribery which is a speck to the total gain. But this is the idea of investment in corrupt societies; you bribe the authorities and they will look into it might not happen your expenses counts toward your investment for having the connection inside and insurance to your own property.
Mujaheeden were arriving from different parts of the country in dozens, one of them was appointed as a minister or deputy minister. But the others were just there to accompany him and provide physical and psychological security.
They were relentless they wanted to hunt some property and take some part of government property into their own.
When talking these men they were always asking what kind of government job has the most income. They wanted to know how they can get their hands on some cash either from selling government property or in exchange for doing some favour for others. If cash was not available second class work was to be in logistics and secure part of the good which is for daily administrative function of the government.
If it wasn’t this then we were talking about material such as cars, property and money. I can’t recall an incident where we talked about ideas and thinking.
They only other thing they were talking about was religion.
This job was very stressful and I wanted to quit but it wasn’t easy one can’t quit a family business. Some of the guys have been working with Haji for over ten years. Haji some how heard about this and asked one of the guys to condemn my decision and I shouldn’t even think about bringing it up with him. This is an Afghan way of dealing with things first you are indirect by asking somebody else; secondly the person condemns the way you think so you start to feel guilty therefore sanction your behaviour and third the guy just give you some general reasons why not to leave the business. There is no listening or understanding, the relevance of your decision is not taken into consideration. The only thing which matters is the principal.
I found a very good job with nice people in an international media development NGO, but i couldn’t dare to tell haji that I was moving to another job. I told him that I was going to study he thought it was a good principal but he wanted me to secure all the money the government owes for hosting around 50 people, according to my calculation it was well over 50000 dollars. There was no way to get that kind of money from the government; I spent a couple of weeks running around ministries, but no joy. I was really frustrated and was under a lot of pressure, people were rude and polite, they were uncaring and inefficient, I was only 20 years old when doing all this at a point I was so frustrated that I didn’t want deal with any of the hotel related issues it turned into my nightmares, I was happy in the evening so I am done with it but mornings were sad.
Haji found a replacement for me and I was taking this guy to every hope I had to get this money so he can follow up on the hope and has an idea of who owes what.
I only got 2000 dollars and there was another over 48000 to get and it has been almost five years, but there is no money yet.
**************************************************
Hiratys
Among the state sponsored guests arrived around 25 boys from Hirat. Their only job was to accompany Mahmood Saddiq to snatch the ministry of women affairs. Mahmood is the son of Ismail Khan the notorious warlord from the west of the country. Khan is the minister of power and energy now, but back then he didn’t come to Kabul as he was considering himself above the state and any law. His pride and power columns were shaken down as he engaged in some fierce battles with a minority group and especially after national army was deployed in the west and government extended its control in his area.
The 25 group and Mahmood were all living in Iran under Taliban and this was their return back home. The second in command was an elder guy named Ahmad. Ahmad is around 35, a war veteran as a symbol of which he doesn’t have some fingers and some scars on the face. The guys were around 22 and they all respected Ahmad. Ahmad was to provide protection for the minister and the boys who will occupy civilian positions in the ministry of women affairs. Ahmad set up an HF long range radio in his hotel room to maintain communication with his headquarters. Despite my warnings of not carrying weapon inside the hotel. He was always armed.
Mahmood had picked 25 guys who have an educational degree from abroad and were never part of war and misery to come with him and help him deal with women. They seemed to be good in dealing with women than anyone else in the country. Of course except women, but it wasn’t yet the time to let women deal with each other without men supervision.
The guys talked about women usually and were dressed adequately. On the other hand Ahmad was picked by Khan to accompany them. He was not the much-loved man of Mahmood. He was the tough guy. He thought the guys are soft and at the end of the day what makes the real difference is a sweeping military power; his theory was endorsed by his life time experience. His perception might have been more satisfied after he saw that the majority of the group couldn’t either find their preferred job, or couldn’t do their job or it wasn’t what they were looking and returned back home. More dramatically he witnessed the assassination of Mahmood Saddiq who then was the minister of aviation and tourism by Khan’s rivals.
The group brought a lot of military gears, in case of a war occurrence in Kabul, which obviously couldn’t be accommodated in their rooms. I made a depot room available. The weapon included 20 brand new MP5 German manufactured sub-machine guns donated by Islamic Republic of Iran. The equipment was worth tens of thousands of dollars. Ahmad assigned 24 hour sentry for the depot, in addition I also had Jawad watching over all depots. The problem was none of the guards were taking their jobs seriously the guy from Hirat thought he is going to get some job in a ministry not sitting in a slum. Jawad never had a job to sit some where and to pay attention to what he is supposed to do, in a family business people feel entitled to certain things including the right not to do anything.
One night somebody broke into the place and significant amount of the equipment was stolen. The next morning four arrests were made and they were all locked up in a container for four days until they were bailed out by Haji and Ahmad. I was taken into the police station for questioning. I was accused of having an illegal AK47 in my office. I told them it belonged to haji, but of course they can’t bring him in. furthermore everyone in the country had one. This plus I was playing along with them helped to get out of there in three hours.
Hussein was arrested as a prime suspect who was the closest to the supply the three other guys were also hotel staff and they were arrested on the scene as they made some comments in order to be helpful to the investigators. Ghafar the cook was arrested because he showed them a window at the back entrance.
There are three rules when you are arrested by police in Afghanistan:
1. You have to play along. You are not supposed to smile, reason or question anything. If you do, they will require you to answer more questions and they are in the written form and every word you write will generate more questions. This will go on until you are exhausted. Once you start to play along then they can get what they want out of you, some money.
2. The public doesn’t know their rights and the investigators never explain. They kept the guys in custody for four days without any court authority. You don’t get a lawyer or public defendant. You get tortured as routine.
3. The poor and less powerful had to stay indefinitely. That’s why Jawad suffered more than anyone else, he was disabled after an explosion and he lost his parents in the early childhood. At the end he plays along better than anyone else or he will never make it out.
I went to Mahmood and Ahmad. I told them how equally it could be more the fault of their guard too and he is the one who should first be hold responsible for thievery therefore as the first suspect. While no one even think like that. Secondly, there are clear footprints and finger prints of the thieves and it’s easy to identify who it was, but this will inescapably result in identification of the thief and this is not what the police want. The police want to hold four guys and extract some money out of them. They also want to pop in every now and then and get some gain out of the hotel.
Eventually Ahmad went to the prosecutor and he said he believes the thief is an outsider and he should let the guys go and conduct the investigation in a more effective manner. The guys were released a few hours later.
It’s been almost a year after the burglary and I was working at Internews. For eight months during which I never went to see Haji. I wasn’t really missing him and I was happy to have a new start.
One day I was heading out of the office to get some lunch, outside the office I saw the prosecutor/investigator and Jawad.
I said “Hi” and wanted to get away,
Jawad said: ”we were actually looking for you.”
I said: “no shit. What do you want?”
The prosecutor said let’s go to police headquarter we will tell you there. I wanted to take my car. The prosecutor said no need; you are going to stay there for awhile. At the end of the street he had parked his vehicle; a taxi with a secret service driver. This was a very common technique of the secret service they were usually making arrests in the taxis. The secondary task of these taxi drivers was to talk to their passengers about politics. This was an easy way to trap a civilian for sharing his thoughts with a fellow citizen. As the voice was recorded they had hardcore proof of guilt. The passenger either had to pay some substantial amount or go to jail for a very long time.
This made the citizens highly suspected of taxi drivers and they never talked with them while riding. `
They took me to the police headquarter. In the car Jawad asked: “where the hell have you been?”
I said: “in the office, why should I tell you anyway?”
He said: “they have been looking for you?”
I said: “why?”
Jawad said: “they need to do a follow up on the Hiraty’s theft. They think they have got some new hints.”
Jawad and I were sitting in the back seat, the prosecutor, Mr. Sarnwal, was in the front, I asked him what was going on. He didn’t answer. I asked him again where we are going. He didn’t answer again. Jawad looked at me and whispered so the prosecutor could also hear: “don’t piss him off. Shut up!!”.
Mr. Sarnwal put on a very nasty face. He was sweating. His shaved, sweaty face was shining as the sun rays reflected on his face. A CD was hanging from the back mirror. The ‘safe journey prayer’ was written on it. It was bouncing around as we went down the bumpy road of Wazir Akbar Khan. It was reflecting sun into the driver eyes. The safe journey CD was definitely working by keeping the driver awake.
The driver was playing an old classic tape. I was not particularly enjoying it, but the other seemed to don’t mind.
We arrived at the station. Mr. Sarnwal dismissed the driver and took me and Jawad to a basement. It was dark with tiny skyroof fenced by strong steel bars. The glasses were broken some windows were covered by plastic. There were two big metal boxes in either corners of the room for storing files. There was some desks and chairs in the room. The wall was the actual colour of the concrete, grey with yellow stains created by leaking water. The room was situated in a long corridor with similar door on both sides. At the end of the corridor there was a cell. A small cell with one bed, it was very dark. The corridor was illuminated by the deem lights from the windows on the top of the doors.
As we entered the room, Mr. Sarnwal started beating me up. After ten minutes of beating he told me to stop smiling. I couldn’t help it, so he started again with a metal bar. It really hurt and I was in pain and I couldn’t smile anymore.
He said: “that helped you”.
He asked Jawad to sign a piece of paper and let him go. Jawad said good luck to me and left. After an hour I got bored and wanted to use my phone to call somebody to get me out of there. He saw me and he jumped and took my phone and all other belongings and locked them up in a draw.
He said “you are a major criminal and you are under prosecution. You can’t make phone call anymore and you can’t keep your belongings. He continued: “where the fuck have you been? son of a bitch. We have been looking for you all over”
I said: “Haji billed me out”
He said: “but he no more knows where you are, so he withdrew it. Now I have to put you in jail so I can have access to you all the time”
“why did you leave Haji? You have caused him great losses. You have to go back and collect the money the government owes him”
I had nothing to say.
then he handed me ten questions on five sheets and asked me to answer them. It took me two hours to answer them, as I was careful in what I was writing; his strategy was to use any word that I say against me. In this period some five or six other guys popped into the room and they asked him what I have done.
He was telling them: “this son of a pimp has stolen a lot of money and weapons, yet he refuse to come and see me. It’s like I am his fucking servant to find him”
all of the other guys were nodding the same way in agreement and saying “it’s a very bad boy”
I got it, the agenda was to show me that he was not alone on this and it’s a common practice and all his other colleagues would have done the same thing. The colleagues didn’t show the slightest respect, this is so I feel inferior and throw myself at the prosecutor’s mercy. I told one of the guys, who seemed nicer “Mr. Sarnwal has no reason to have me here. He hasn’t conducted any new investigation and he has no evidence for questioning me again.”
He said: “you are a very good boy but you should agree with Mr. Saranwal. There was another guy just like you, we brought him here. He had a pistol and he refused to answer any question and he wanted to phone somebody, but we put the questions in a way so he couldn’t answer and we got him and no one could help him out until he apologized and we let him go”.
Mr. Sarnwal said: “you know how I found him? He was on TV the other night and he was talking about journalists” they all laughed loud. During all this my phone was ringing in the draw of Sarnwal’s desk. He didn’t know how to deal with it or turn it off. He left the room and the other prosecutor gave me the phone to answer. It was Zalmai, a good friend of mine.
“where the fuck are you? I have unpacked and installed the computers downstairs. Do you want to check it out?”
“I am in the fucking jail dude”
“What? Why? What the fuck did you do?”
“nothing, it’s the Hiratys case”
Zalmai was also working in the Hotel for awhile and he knew all about it. He said:
“but it was a year a go and its fucking over. Ahmad give up on it and he withdrew any claim”
“I know but you have to get me out of here now”
“I am on it”
This is when Mr. Sarnwal walked in again and said: “get off the phone and turn that thing off.”
He locked it in his draw. I give him my answers and he was observing it carefully he didn’t find anything interesting in it. Then he walked to one of the shelves and found a form. He filled it out, sign and stamp it. He said:
“Let’s go!”
“Where to?”
“Look, stop asking too many questions! When I said go, you move. I’ve got more important things to do than answering your questions”
We went to a big office, the secretary said; “the boss is in a meeting, wait here for a minute”
after a minute the secretary let us into another room. There was the boss with a big picture of Massood hanging on the wall behind him and another one on his table. There was a big bouquet of colourful, fake - plastic flowers on his table; this is a common tradition in Afghanistan to keep all plastic flowers you received on your promotion to the new position.
Mr. Sarnawal walked up and said: “Sahib, there has been a major burglary in a Hotel and this guy is the prime suspect. It took us several months to find him; to be safe I suggest we put him under supervision in one of the cells, so he is accessible for questioning and proving the crime.”
“Sir, this stuff is not true, I am a very law obeying citizen and I train journalists” I showed him my internews ID.
He said: “so you are saying we are lying?”
I had this situation before, you can’t say NO because the boss will be insulted and merciless and I sure didn’t want that. If I say YES, then he will go ‘good, then you get what you deserve’. So I opt to remain silent.
The boss asked Mr. Sarnwal “Do you have the form?”
“Yes Sir”
He signed it and Mr. Sarnwal said “lets go” I was walking down the stairs and I saw signs on the doors, they all looked different, they felt different, there was an emptiness in their words, there was despair and deception in what they tried to mean. “Department of Social Justice” “ISAF – Building Afghan police capacity project” I saw dozens of such signs.
We walked out of the main building walked a couple of hundred meters and I saw a big sign on a door guarded by eight soldiers ‘Kabul Correction House’ we walked in and made a turn, we entered the office. A police major was sitting behind the desk. Mr. Sarnwal walked up and put the form on the desk and said: “I want to put this guy in temporary custody, please sign the delivery form”
The major said: “we don’t take temporary custodies anymore. I am surprised how your boss signed this. The minister of interior issued a decree a few days ago. If you are finished with him and sending his case to the court then we can keep him. We can’t keep him for your questioning. The police station can keep him for awhile, why is he not there?”
Mr. Sarnwal said: “never mind”
We walked out and he said: ”I can’t keep you, you have to find someone else to bill you out”
“That’s great”
“Let’s go to the office and I’ll give you, your belongings”
We went to the office three other prosecutors were drinking tea and chatting there.
Mr. Sarnwal gave me my phone; I turned it on and wanted to make a call
He said “who are you calling?”
“someone to bill me out”
“who?” I give him a few names and he asked what they were doing, I said they work at the ministry of defence. They should be reliable people; they will not lie or ignore their promise, they are professional soldiers.
Mr. Sarnwal yelled at me: “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
one of the prosecutors said: “if you call somebody at the ministry of defence then we really can’t put him in jail if he fail to bring you in. don’t you know a service shop, a store or a pharmacy owner. Let me tell you how it works, if you start to cooperate with us then we will cooperate with you and you are the one who will benefit”
I said “sure I do know, what shall I do?”
He gave me a form and told me to get my friend to fill and sign it. He told me to be there tomorrow at 1100. He sent a police with me.
I went to see Zamir a friend in downtown who was a professional calligrapher and painter. He was sunbathing and drinking tea; he saw me and said: “hey are you here to make a painting of yourself?”
I said “no” and I explained the situation.
He looked very sorry and did the form and gave it to the soldier. The soldier said I should go with him, I said I really don’t want to go back there. I gave him some money to pay for a Taxi and have some Kebab. He took his way. I had some tea with Zamir and he dropped me off at home.
I couldn’t sleep that night; I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell my parents, neither brother nor sister, and they yet don’t know about it. I was trying to not think about all the hideous things, but I couldn’t help it. I was vengeful and scared at the same time; how people could be that horrible. The only way to finish this was to bribe, I didn’t like the idea in principal but there was no other way out. I felt alone, I felt like every one would say bribe them, but I didn’t want to. I started to have nightmares. I hate to see space and the stars and the galaxies in my dreams, especially when it’s coloured. But that night I was floating in the space and between the rugged meteorites. I woke up and I was sweating.
The next day I stopped by the office. I saw Adib and Dominic there, Adib was the operation director and Dominic is my boss. I told them about what happened. Dominic even didn’t stop typing; when my story was finished he didn’t even bother to look at me. He didn’t get it at all. He couldn’t imagine how it feels to be wrongly accused of something, and then tortured and used to proof it on you.
Adib said: “Afghan police definitely acts very slowly. But can you make sure that they don’t come to the office looking for you”
Their attitude really made me upset. This is when I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry loud.
My sophisticated colleagues could have talked about conflict management under lawlessness, corrupted authorities and poverty for hours; but would never understand what it feels like. However, they attempt to understand, they ask questions, for example when you are in Kabul you can’t miss the mud and rock houses on the mountains. They tried to understand by inquiring, and it sounds like: “how do they take construction material and house appliances up there? how many people live in a house? How do they define their neighbourhood? Why some has small and others big houses? They must have a nice view up there; why isn’t there any rich people?” I heard Dominic is back in Kabul, I guess I have to go and see him and ask him some questions I have always been curious to know: “have you had beer? How often do you drink beer? Do you like Heineken? Have you tried Tyskie? Do you like can or bottle?”
There are two kinds of people in the world. The one who breaks the law and the morality and the standards, just like Mr. Sarnwal. But often a lot of people are compelled to do this and they don’t mean harm. The one who lies, is aiming to gain more from the situation or at least hoping to look better; not for the sole reason to deceit and cheat others.
The second type of people simply does the wrong thing, just like Haji and Dominic.
I met Zalmai and asked him to come with me. Zalmai weighs over 90KG, and it changes a lot, depending if he does exercise and eat less. He has studied some branch of agriculture but he couldn’t apply much in the family farming, because the drought destroyed their orchards. He later joined Taliban 6th infantry division; which we together witnessed its destruction at the wake of allied bombing campaign. He didn’t do the faintest to help. We enjoyed watching demoralised Taliban panicking in despair. He was just waiting when they are going to be finished.
On the way to the police station, we went to see Ahmad; he said he had no idea that the investigation is ongoing. He said we asked the police to call off the investigation as we know there is no hope of finding our weapons and it’s going to create extra headaches.
He also asked me: “are you sure if haji has nothing to do with this? Because last time I saw him he was not happy with you; and he thinks you have caused him great losses”.
Mr. Sarnwal handed me another bunch of questions. Zalmai was trying to chat with one of Mr. Sarnwal’s colleagues. I was answering the questions. There was the three of us in the room, Zalmai, Sarnwal’s colleagues and me. Sarnwal’s colleagues, who is a prosecutor too, has shortly trimmed grey beard, round eyes pushed into his skull. He is wearing a sweater made in Afghanistan; it’s famous for its endurablty and warmth. It’s usually produced in grey, so it mingles with the environment. He had grey strip suit on. If I see this man on the street I would naturally label aim as secret service. In Afghan law enforcement system; it’s hard to tell the difference between a prosecutor, police, secret service and judge. An ordinary Afghan would use one word to describe any of them. He told Zalmai, “Your friend didn’t behave good yesterday.”
“Yes I know, he doesn’t have much experience of this kind. You have to forgive his rudeness” replied Zalmai.
“you know, he shouldn’t take the questions that seriously”
They all started to communicate with me through Zalmai; and Zalmai was communicating with Sarnwal through his colleague. Sarnwal’s colleague and Zalmai fixed an appointment to meet in a Chai Khana later in the afternoon.
I saw Zalmai in the afternoon he said he is heading to the meeting. I asked him if he needed some cash. He said it’s ok. He has got it.
He called me later and said the guy was a bit scared in the beginning but it’s all sorted now. “I told him I don’t want any trouble in the future and this shouldn’t turn into a ‘Milking Cow’ for the police, which they could extract some money once every few months. I want to buy the entire investigation file. First he was reluctant to sell it and then couldn’t think of the price. But we came to an agreement. You wouldn’t believe how much bullcrap is there. I am a potential suspect too.” He laughed
I haven’t heard from them in the last three years.
Haji is my aunt’s son in law. He was born and brought up in a peasantry a few kilometres from Kabul. Inspite proximity to the biggest urban center in the country his family adopted a very rural style of life. He was brought up in a big family with a lot of brothers and sisters. Rural areas around Kabul resents urban culture than distant area as their style of life more threatened to change than distant peasantry. Most of the men in paghaman has some sort of none farm business and travel every day to Kabul. But Kabul culture of the seventies doesn’t; it weakens socio-family ties and disrupts the power of those who are the top of those hierarchies. With the soveit’s invasion Haji’s family immigrated to Pakistan where his sister married one of the most prominent Mujaheeden leaders, who was nominated for the prime ministry of the interim Mujaheeden government in Pakistan. The visible obstacle was the public perception; he went university in the states where he married an American to take on this job he needed to have an Afghan wife.
As a result of this marriage the entire Haji family was involved in his business life. It goes without saying that the family financially benefited a lot. There was close ties with the Saudi Arabia and the family was travelling there quite frequently; for conducting Mujaheeden related and private businesses.
Haji is a calm man who weighs around 100kg; he enjoys the nature and loves his home town for its beautiful landscape and appealing weather. He is a man of family, he is a medium size family. He has certain hobbies, he is quite strict when it comes to maintaining what he enjoys and wouldn’t give it up for quite a lot of things which matter for others. He is a good muslim. He exercises his religious obligation regularly. He is also a very influenceble man, his urge for his children education and life style is what he has been influenced by abroad in aristocrat families. The children were under extreme pressure to act like rich Saudi kids. They were named as them; the only one which crosses my mind right now is the oldest son whose name is Usama.
In November 2001 smiley faces, full of energy was sign happiness on peoples faces after the oust of Taliban. I was passing by one of the hotels owned by Haji and I decided to stop by and say hello. Haji asked me if I wanted a job with him and he offered me to manage his hotel. I accepted the job and started right afterward. It was very challenging; I established an accounting system and management. But it kept falling apart as I had no previous experience, and even if I did I doubt if it had worked in the chaos of the hotel. Haji wanted to have his own say, so did his brothers, one of whom was very self confident and perceptive. There was also all his closer relatives who saw me as an outsider and didn’t quite appreciate my presence and their competition was in the form of obstacle creation and disruption of my work and at best not being helpful. Unfortunately all of the hotel staff was Haji’s relative and they all had such an attitude. I introduced computer to do the balance of accounts, no one was sure of it’s capacity to do such job. One day haji said he wanted to talk with me and he told me with all due respect to my decision and he has heard a great deal about computers but he wanted me to the accounting in the old notebook style so he can also keep track of income and expenses. In the evening I was showing Arabic belly dance on the computer. At the beginning there was low turn out of the spectators and in the morning I was hearing some of the old man fussing about it. But the number of spectators increased substantially in a week and the computer room turned into a room for watching half naked girls by pious. Here is a story by one of the guests.
It wasn’t very long until Mujaheeden from nuke and corners of the country started arriving to Kabul to take their share of the government. They were old war time buddies of Haji and were expecting him to be their host. Haji told me we are going to have these guys in the hotel. He said we will never be like Mustafa hotel which was a place for foreign journalists and aid workers because we are rooted in the people of the country and we will please them. Besides it’s never going to happen; we are not doing the appropriate marketing and branding for the foreigners. I guess he was right, he didn’t believe in long time business investment. He wanted to cultivate and collect the fruit right afterward.
I said who is going to pay for this he said the government will pay for their accommodation and meals. I was not sure if it’s easy to get money which has been spent from the government. I have heard stories about how money and private property could disappear in government bureaucracy but I never thought I would have to deal with it. I’ve also heard how easy it was for others with the right connection to make millions and claim others property with some bribery which is a speck to the total gain. But this is the idea of investment in corrupt societies; you bribe the authorities and they will look into it might not happen your expenses counts toward your investment for having the connection inside and insurance to your own property.
Mujaheeden were arriving from different parts of the country in dozens, one of them was appointed as a minister or deputy minister. But the others were just there to accompany him and provide physical and psychological security.
They were relentless they wanted to hunt some property and take some part of government property into their own.
When talking these men they were always asking what kind of government job has the most income. They wanted to know how they can get their hands on some cash either from selling government property or in exchange for doing some favour for others. If cash was not available second class work was to be in logistics and secure part of the good which is for daily administrative function of the government.
If it wasn’t this then we were talking about material such as cars, property and money. I can’t recall an incident where we talked about ideas and thinking.
They only other thing they were talking about was religion.
This job was very stressful and I wanted to quit but it wasn’t easy one can’t quit a family business. Some of the guys have been working with Haji for over ten years. Haji some how heard about this and asked one of the guys to condemn my decision and I shouldn’t even think about bringing it up with him. This is an Afghan way of dealing with things first you are indirect by asking somebody else; secondly the person condemns the way you think so you start to feel guilty therefore sanction your behaviour and third the guy just give you some general reasons why not to leave the business. There is no listening or understanding, the relevance of your decision is not taken into consideration. The only thing which matters is the principal.
I found a very good job with nice people in an international media development NGO, but i couldn’t dare to tell haji that I was moving to another job. I told him that I was going to study he thought it was a good principal but he wanted me to secure all the money the government owes for hosting around 50 people, according to my calculation it was well over 50000 dollars. There was no way to get that kind of money from the government; I spent a couple of weeks running around ministries, but no joy. I was really frustrated and was under a lot of pressure, people were rude and polite, they were uncaring and inefficient, I was only 20 years old when doing all this at a point I was so frustrated that I didn’t want deal with any of the hotel related issues it turned into my nightmares, I was happy in the evening so I am done with it but mornings were sad.
Haji found a replacement for me and I was taking this guy to every hope I had to get this money so he can follow up on the hope and has an idea of who owes what.
I only got 2000 dollars and there was another over 48000 to get and it has been almost five years, but there is no money yet.
**************************************************
Hiratys
Among the state sponsored guests arrived around 25 boys from Hirat. Their only job was to accompany Mahmood Saddiq to snatch the ministry of women affairs. Mahmood is the son of Ismail Khan the notorious warlord from the west of the country. Khan is the minister of power and energy now, but back then he didn’t come to Kabul as he was considering himself above the state and any law. His pride and power columns were shaken down as he engaged in some fierce battles with a minority group and especially after national army was deployed in the west and government extended its control in his area.
The 25 group and Mahmood were all living in Iran under Taliban and this was their return back home. The second in command was an elder guy named Ahmad. Ahmad is around 35, a war veteran as a symbol of which he doesn’t have some fingers and some scars on the face. The guys were around 22 and they all respected Ahmad. Ahmad was to provide protection for the minister and the boys who will occupy civilian positions in the ministry of women affairs. Ahmad set up an HF long range radio in his hotel room to maintain communication with his headquarters. Despite my warnings of not carrying weapon inside the hotel. He was always armed.
Mahmood had picked 25 guys who have an educational degree from abroad and were never part of war and misery to come with him and help him deal with women. They seemed to be good in dealing with women than anyone else in the country. Of course except women, but it wasn’t yet the time to let women deal with each other without men supervision.
The guys talked about women usually and were dressed adequately. On the other hand Ahmad was picked by Khan to accompany them. He was not the much-loved man of Mahmood. He was the tough guy. He thought the guys are soft and at the end of the day what makes the real difference is a sweeping military power; his theory was endorsed by his life time experience. His perception might have been more satisfied after he saw that the majority of the group couldn’t either find their preferred job, or couldn’t do their job or it wasn’t what they were looking and returned back home. More dramatically he witnessed the assassination of Mahmood Saddiq who then was the minister of aviation and tourism by Khan’s rivals.
The group brought a lot of military gears, in case of a war occurrence in Kabul, which obviously couldn’t be accommodated in their rooms. I made a depot room available. The weapon included 20 brand new MP5 German manufactured sub-machine guns donated by Islamic Republic of Iran. The equipment was worth tens of thousands of dollars. Ahmad assigned 24 hour sentry for the depot, in addition I also had Jawad watching over all depots. The problem was none of the guards were taking their jobs seriously the guy from Hirat thought he is going to get some job in a ministry not sitting in a slum. Jawad never had a job to sit some where and to pay attention to what he is supposed to do, in a family business people feel entitled to certain things including the right not to do anything.
One night somebody broke into the place and significant amount of the equipment was stolen. The next morning four arrests were made and they were all locked up in a container for four days until they were bailed out by Haji and Ahmad. I was taken into the police station for questioning. I was accused of having an illegal AK47 in my office. I told them it belonged to haji, but of course they can’t bring him in. furthermore everyone in the country had one. This plus I was playing along with them helped to get out of there in three hours.
Hussein was arrested as a prime suspect who was the closest to the supply the three other guys were also hotel staff and they were arrested on the scene as they made some comments in order to be helpful to the investigators. Ghafar the cook was arrested because he showed them a window at the back entrance.
There are three rules when you are arrested by police in Afghanistan:
1. You have to play along. You are not supposed to smile, reason or question anything. If you do, they will require you to answer more questions and they are in the written form and every word you write will generate more questions. This will go on until you are exhausted. Once you start to play along then they can get what they want out of you, some money.
2. The public doesn’t know their rights and the investigators never explain. They kept the guys in custody for four days without any court authority. You don’t get a lawyer or public defendant. You get tortured as routine.
3. The poor and less powerful had to stay indefinitely. That’s why Jawad suffered more than anyone else, he was disabled after an explosion and he lost his parents in the early childhood. At the end he plays along better than anyone else or he will never make it out.
I went to Mahmood and Ahmad. I told them how equally it could be more the fault of their guard too and he is the one who should first be hold responsible for thievery therefore as the first suspect. While no one even think like that. Secondly, there are clear footprints and finger prints of the thieves and it’s easy to identify who it was, but this will inescapably result in identification of the thief and this is not what the police want. The police want to hold four guys and extract some money out of them. They also want to pop in every now and then and get some gain out of the hotel.
Eventually Ahmad went to the prosecutor and he said he believes the thief is an outsider and he should let the guys go and conduct the investigation in a more effective manner. The guys were released a few hours later.
It’s been almost a year after the burglary and I was working at Internews. For eight months during which I never went to see Haji. I wasn’t really missing him and I was happy to have a new start.
One day I was heading out of the office to get some lunch, outside the office I saw the prosecutor/investigator and Jawad.
I said “Hi” and wanted to get away,
Jawad said: ”we were actually looking for you.”
I said: “no shit. What do you want?”
The prosecutor said let’s go to police headquarter we will tell you there. I wanted to take my car. The prosecutor said no need; you are going to stay there for awhile. At the end of the street he had parked his vehicle; a taxi with a secret service driver. This was a very common technique of the secret service they were usually making arrests in the taxis. The secondary task of these taxi drivers was to talk to their passengers about politics. This was an easy way to trap a civilian for sharing his thoughts with a fellow citizen. As the voice was recorded they had hardcore proof of guilt. The passenger either had to pay some substantial amount or go to jail for a very long time.
This made the citizens highly suspected of taxi drivers and they never talked with them while riding. `
They took me to the police headquarter. In the car Jawad asked: “where the hell have you been?”
I said: “in the office, why should I tell you anyway?”
He said: “they have been looking for you?”
I said: “why?”
Jawad said: “they need to do a follow up on the Hiraty’s theft. They think they have got some new hints.”
Jawad and I were sitting in the back seat, the prosecutor, Mr. Sarnwal, was in the front, I asked him what was going on. He didn’t answer. I asked him again where we are going. He didn’t answer again. Jawad looked at me and whispered so the prosecutor could also hear: “don’t piss him off. Shut up!!”.
Mr. Sarnwal put on a very nasty face. He was sweating. His shaved, sweaty face was shining as the sun rays reflected on his face. A CD was hanging from the back mirror. The ‘safe journey prayer’ was written on it. It was bouncing around as we went down the bumpy road of Wazir Akbar Khan. It was reflecting sun into the driver eyes. The safe journey CD was definitely working by keeping the driver awake.
The driver was playing an old classic tape. I was not particularly enjoying it, but the other seemed to don’t mind.
We arrived at the station. Mr. Sarnwal dismissed the driver and took me and Jawad to a basement. It was dark with tiny skyroof fenced by strong steel bars. The glasses were broken some windows were covered by plastic. There were two big metal boxes in either corners of the room for storing files. There was some desks and chairs in the room. The wall was the actual colour of the concrete, grey with yellow stains created by leaking water. The room was situated in a long corridor with similar door on both sides. At the end of the corridor there was a cell. A small cell with one bed, it was very dark. The corridor was illuminated by the deem lights from the windows on the top of the doors.
As we entered the room, Mr. Sarnwal started beating me up. After ten minutes of beating he told me to stop smiling. I couldn’t help it, so he started again with a metal bar. It really hurt and I was in pain and I couldn’t smile anymore.
He said: “that helped you”.
He asked Jawad to sign a piece of paper and let him go. Jawad said good luck to me and left. After an hour I got bored and wanted to use my phone to call somebody to get me out of there. He saw me and he jumped and took my phone and all other belongings and locked them up in a draw.
He said “you are a major criminal and you are under prosecution. You can’t make phone call anymore and you can’t keep your belongings. He continued: “where the fuck have you been? son of a bitch. We have been looking for you all over”
I said: “Haji billed me out”
He said: “but he no more knows where you are, so he withdrew it. Now I have to put you in jail so I can have access to you all the time”
“why did you leave Haji? You have caused him great losses. You have to go back and collect the money the government owes him”
I had nothing to say.
then he handed me ten questions on five sheets and asked me to answer them. It took me two hours to answer them, as I was careful in what I was writing; his strategy was to use any word that I say against me. In this period some five or six other guys popped into the room and they asked him what I have done.
He was telling them: “this son of a pimp has stolen a lot of money and weapons, yet he refuse to come and see me. It’s like I am his fucking servant to find him”
all of the other guys were nodding the same way in agreement and saying “it’s a very bad boy”
I got it, the agenda was to show me that he was not alone on this and it’s a common practice and all his other colleagues would have done the same thing. The colleagues didn’t show the slightest respect, this is so I feel inferior and throw myself at the prosecutor’s mercy. I told one of the guys, who seemed nicer “Mr. Sarnwal has no reason to have me here. He hasn’t conducted any new investigation and he has no evidence for questioning me again.”
He said: “you are a very good boy but you should agree with Mr. Saranwal. There was another guy just like you, we brought him here. He had a pistol and he refused to answer any question and he wanted to phone somebody, but we put the questions in a way so he couldn’t answer and we got him and no one could help him out until he apologized and we let him go”.
Mr. Sarnwal said: “you know how I found him? He was on TV the other night and he was talking about journalists” they all laughed loud. During all this my phone was ringing in the draw of Sarnwal’s desk. He didn’t know how to deal with it or turn it off. He left the room and the other prosecutor gave me the phone to answer. It was Zalmai, a good friend of mine.
“where the fuck are you? I have unpacked and installed the computers downstairs. Do you want to check it out?”
“I am in the fucking jail dude”
“What? Why? What the fuck did you do?”
“nothing, it’s the Hiratys case”
Zalmai was also working in the Hotel for awhile and he knew all about it. He said:
“but it was a year a go and its fucking over. Ahmad give up on it and he withdrew any claim”
“I know but you have to get me out of here now”
“I am on it”
This is when Mr. Sarnwal walked in again and said: “get off the phone and turn that thing off.”
He locked it in his draw. I give him my answers and he was observing it carefully he didn’t find anything interesting in it. Then he walked to one of the shelves and found a form. He filled it out, sign and stamp it. He said:
“Let’s go!”
“Where to?”
“Look, stop asking too many questions! When I said go, you move. I’ve got more important things to do than answering your questions”
We went to a big office, the secretary said; “the boss is in a meeting, wait here for a minute”
after a minute the secretary let us into another room. There was the boss with a big picture of Massood hanging on the wall behind him and another one on his table. There was a big bouquet of colourful, fake - plastic flowers on his table; this is a common tradition in Afghanistan to keep all plastic flowers you received on your promotion to the new position.
Mr. Sarnawal walked up and said: “Sahib, there has been a major burglary in a Hotel and this guy is the prime suspect. It took us several months to find him; to be safe I suggest we put him under supervision in one of the cells, so he is accessible for questioning and proving the crime.”
“Sir, this stuff is not true, I am a very law obeying citizen and I train journalists” I showed him my internews ID.
He said: “so you are saying we are lying?”
I had this situation before, you can’t say NO because the boss will be insulted and merciless and I sure didn’t want that. If I say YES, then he will go ‘good, then you get what you deserve’. So I opt to remain silent.
The boss asked Mr. Sarnwal “Do you have the form?”
“Yes Sir”
He signed it and Mr. Sarnwal said “lets go” I was walking down the stairs and I saw signs on the doors, they all looked different, they felt different, there was an emptiness in their words, there was despair and deception in what they tried to mean. “Department of Social Justice” “ISAF – Building Afghan police capacity project” I saw dozens of such signs.
We walked out of the main building walked a couple of hundred meters and I saw a big sign on a door guarded by eight soldiers ‘Kabul Correction House’ we walked in and made a turn, we entered the office. A police major was sitting behind the desk. Mr. Sarnwal walked up and put the form on the desk and said: “I want to put this guy in temporary custody, please sign the delivery form”
The major said: “we don’t take temporary custodies anymore. I am surprised how your boss signed this. The minister of interior issued a decree a few days ago. If you are finished with him and sending his case to the court then we can keep him. We can’t keep him for your questioning. The police station can keep him for awhile, why is he not there?”
Mr. Sarnwal said: “never mind”
We walked out and he said: ”I can’t keep you, you have to find someone else to bill you out”
“That’s great”
“Let’s go to the office and I’ll give you, your belongings”
We went to the office three other prosecutors were drinking tea and chatting there.
Mr. Sarnwal gave me my phone; I turned it on and wanted to make a call
He said “who are you calling?”
“someone to bill me out”
“who?” I give him a few names and he asked what they were doing, I said they work at the ministry of defence. They should be reliable people; they will not lie or ignore their promise, they are professional soldiers.
Mr. Sarnwal yelled at me: “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
one of the prosecutors said: “if you call somebody at the ministry of defence then we really can’t put him in jail if he fail to bring you in. don’t you know a service shop, a store or a pharmacy owner. Let me tell you how it works, if you start to cooperate with us then we will cooperate with you and you are the one who will benefit”
I said “sure I do know, what shall I do?”
He gave me a form and told me to get my friend to fill and sign it. He told me to be there tomorrow at 1100. He sent a police with me.
I went to see Zamir a friend in downtown who was a professional calligrapher and painter. He was sunbathing and drinking tea; he saw me and said: “hey are you here to make a painting of yourself?”
I said “no” and I explained the situation.
He looked very sorry and did the form and gave it to the soldier. The soldier said I should go with him, I said I really don’t want to go back there. I gave him some money to pay for a Taxi and have some Kebab. He took his way. I had some tea with Zamir and he dropped me off at home.
I couldn’t sleep that night; I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell my parents, neither brother nor sister, and they yet don’t know about it. I was trying to not think about all the hideous things, but I couldn’t help it. I was vengeful and scared at the same time; how people could be that horrible. The only way to finish this was to bribe, I didn’t like the idea in principal but there was no other way out. I felt alone, I felt like every one would say bribe them, but I didn’t want to. I started to have nightmares. I hate to see space and the stars and the galaxies in my dreams, especially when it’s coloured. But that night I was floating in the space and between the rugged meteorites. I woke up and I was sweating.
The next day I stopped by the office. I saw Adib and Dominic there, Adib was the operation director and Dominic is my boss. I told them about what happened. Dominic even didn’t stop typing; when my story was finished he didn’t even bother to look at me. He didn’t get it at all. He couldn’t imagine how it feels to be wrongly accused of something, and then tortured and used to proof it on you.
Adib said: “Afghan police definitely acts very slowly. But can you make sure that they don’t come to the office looking for you”
Their attitude really made me upset. This is when I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry loud.
My sophisticated colleagues could have talked about conflict management under lawlessness, corrupted authorities and poverty for hours; but would never understand what it feels like. However, they attempt to understand, they ask questions, for example when you are in Kabul you can’t miss the mud and rock houses on the mountains. They tried to understand by inquiring, and it sounds like: “how do they take construction material and house appliances up there? how many people live in a house? How do they define their neighbourhood? Why some has small and others big houses? They must have a nice view up there; why isn’t there any rich people?” I heard Dominic is back in Kabul, I guess I have to go and see him and ask him some questions I have always been curious to know: “have you had beer? How often do you drink beer? Do you like Heineken? Have you tried Tyskie? Do you like can or bottle?”
There are two kinds of people in the world. The one who breaks the law and the morality and the standards, just like Mr. Sarnwal. But often a lot of people are compelled to do this and they don’t mean harm. The one who lies, is aiming to gain more from the situation or at least hoping to look better; not for the sole reason to deceit and cheat others.
The second type of people simply does the wrong thing, just like Haji and Dominic.
I met Zalmai and asked him to come with me. Zalmai weighs over 90KG, and it changes a lot, depending if he does exercise and eat less. He has studied some branch of agriculture but he couldn’t apply much in the family farming, because the drought destroyed their orchards. He later joined Taliban 6th infantry division; which we together witnessed its destruction at the wake of allied bombing campaign. He didn’t do the faintest to help. We enjoyed watching demoralised Taliban panicking in despair. He was just waiting when they are going to be finished.
On the way to the police station, we went to see Ahmad; he said he had no idea that the investigation is ongoing. He said we asked the police to call off the investigation as we know there is no hope of finding our weapons and it’s going to create extra headaches.
He also asked me: “are you sure if haji has nothing to do with this? Because last time I saw him he was not happy with you; and he thinks you have caused him great losses”.
Mr. Sarnwal handed me another bunch of questions. Zalmai was trying to chat with one of Mr. Sarnwal’s colleagues. I was answering the questions. There was the three of us in the room, Zalmai, Sarnwal’s colleagues and me. Sarnwal’s colleagues, who is a prosecutor too, has shortly trimmed grey beard, round eyes pushed into his skull. He is wearing a sweater made in Afghanistan; it’s famous for its endurablty and warmth. It’s usually produced in grey, so it mingles with the environment. He had grey strip suit on. If I see this man on the street I would naturally label aim as secret service. In Afghan law enforcement system; it’s hard to tell the difference between a prosecutor, police, secret service and judge. An ordinary Afghan would use one word to describe any of them. He told Zalmai, “Your friend didn’t behave good yesterday.”
“Yes I know, he doesn’t have much experience of this kind. You have to forgive his rudeness” replied Zalmai.
“you know, he shouldn’t take the questions that seriously”
They all started to communicate with me through Zalmai; and Zalmai was communicating with Sarnwal through his colleague. Sarnwal’s colleague and Zalmai fixed an appointment to meet in a Chai Khana later in the afternoon.
I saw Zalmai in the afternoon he said he is heading to the meeting. I asked him if he needed some cash. He said it’s ok. He has got it.
He called me later and said the guy was a bit scared in the beginning but it’s all sorted now. “I told him I don’t want any trouble in the future and this shouldn’t turn into a ‘Milking Cow’ for the police, which they could extract some money once every few months. I want to buy the entire investigation file. First he was reluctant to sell it and then couldn’t think of the price. But we came to an agreement. You wouldn’t believe how much bullcrap is there. I am a potential suspect too.” He laughed
I haven’t heard from them in the last three years.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
one week in kabul
One week in Kabul, a lot of mixed feelings. I haven’t had this feeling at least for a couple of years; I wanted to write so I could record this feeling and come to it when I wanted to make drastic decisions in the future or work-cross-culturally.
i am frustrated and upset when I am lost and I am lost when I go through a cultural, job and intellectual change. Once I adapt to a society, I have an opinion and social stand which goes against the majority and I could go extreme on this. In afghan society I can’t stay in the mainstream, I had to go to the margins in opposition with what all wanted. In a European society, I am socially pragmatist and political left – realist. Standing for values such as no war, human rights, homosexual rights, etc, etc.
here in Afghanistan I have been struggling between my previous values and the ground realities.
At this very moment I feel like I can’t have my European values system. I can’t be a political activist; I have a very liberal view of things. I hated liberals two weeks ago; I thought their decadents sucks. Unlike artists they can’t be appealing. but now I see myself as a liberal someone who is not involved with the deep socio-political issues. Someone who just want to do something to help and bring good. two weeks ago I wrote an open letter to expatriates in Kabul to provide an alternative view on them, but I wouldn’t do that now.
The hard part is if you choose to do something in another culture, but you might not like it in the beginning. The key is not too think to much and see how it goes.
And the hardest is when you are in love. Something you don’t want to fuck with.
i am frustrated and upset when I am lost and I am lost when I go through a cultural, job and intellectual change. Once I adapt to a society, I have an opinion and social stand which goes against the majority and I could go extreme on this. In afghan society I can’t stay in the mainstream, I had to go to the margins in opposition with what all wanted. In a European society, I am socially pragmatist and political left – realist. Standing for values such as no war, human rights, homosexual rights, etc, etc.
here in Afghanistan I have been struggling between my previous values and the ground realities.
At this very moment I feel like I can’t have my European values system. I can’t be a political activist; I have a very liberal view of things. I hated liberals two weeks ago; I thought their decadents sucks. Unlike artists they can’t be appealing. but now I see myself as a liberal someone who is not involved with the deep socio-political issues. Someone who just want to do something to help and bring good. two weeks ago I wrote an open letter to expatriates in Kabul to provide an alternative view on them, but I wouldn’t do that now.
The hard part is if you choose to do something in another culture, but you might not like it in the beginning. The key is not too think to much and see how it goes.
And the hardest is when you are in love. Something you don’t want to fuck with.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
follow up on expatriate responses
I got almost a dozen varied responses on my letter to expatriates.
Some responders saw part or more element of truth in it. Never the less, they raised some circumstantial concerns; most important of all is security. This means in the face of deteriorating security there is going to be less and less understanding and interaction.
I think trust and respect shall be brought to bear on security in a practical as well as principle fashion. Having that said the level of risk needs to be analysed and dealt with according the UN policy working group on the UN and Terrorism recommendation. The report published in 2002 says: ‘the protection and promotion of human rights under the rule of law is essential in the prevention of terrorism.’ This is not only because such an approach is right and any other method destroys the democratic credentials of the expatriates, but also because terrorists ‘exploits human rights violations to gain support for their cause’ which explains why Taliban elements are getting stronger in the south of Afghanistan where the coalition (and afghan forces) has killed, tortured and illegally detained and searched villagers.
As the secretary general Kofi Annan said in a speech to the security council in the beginning of 2002 “while we certainly need vigilance to prevent acts of terrorism, and firmness in condemning and punishing them, it will be self-defeating if we sacrifice other key priorities in the process” exactly, in the process of providing security Mr. Annan’s very own organisation has forgotten about the priorities. We need to find a common ground which reaches behind the particulars of our identity and culture, the overreaction to security challenges the ethical basis behind such a project, or at very least undermines it’s utility.
How can the expatriates build the trust and respect? I would say through showing a strong commitment to Afghanistan and human rights, and the full set of values that underpin the human rights ideal will have every chance of emerging from the current violence not weakened but rather strengthened, forged in the heat of battle into something tougher and therefore more durable. But this outcome is not preordained; I am sorry to say that I got responses which were not convinced about Afghanistan and human rights (I don’t want to make a direct quote). In the bigger picture back in your home there are very powerful elements (as well as in the rest of the world) that are not convinced that each of us deserves equality of esteem. ‘Conflict of Civilisations’ a famous essay by Huntington is a good proof of my point here.
With all due respect; what upsets me the most is the hypocrisy surrounding the whole security fuss. Expatriate’s exclusive outlooks have increased since last year while the security has got worst. Incidents happen, there is a lock down for a few days then everyone carries on as before. There is no learned lesson or change of tactic and life style.
The second kind of feedback said “no distinguish was made between expatriates. It was a sweeping generalisation which could be no where close to accuracy; as a matter of fact this kind of stereotyping is used when one fail to identify the right person”.
I have been stereotyped too, and I tried to prove differently. Attached please see some of my friends who believed it was unfair to stereotype me.
In my case stereotyping is not only about some guy sending an email; I abused by individual and institution.
I have been discriminated and was treated badly because I was from Afghanistan and I looked different. My very basic human rights were violated; I was subject to different treatment, which are politics and government laws. However the most crude and stinging form of abuse was individuals’ stereotypical conduct.
I felt it was unfair and I wanted to help them realise that. I delivered the letters from my friends, it didn’t help.
I appealed to justice and the court said that if I am stereotyped by an individual it’s not something claimable or if I am denied because of regulation then what I am saying is not enough to review government politics.
I am hoping that you could find a better way to deal with it.
I have a suggestion, maybe we write such letters for each other. But this is when we trust each other.
Another number of responders thought it was a pessimistic Afghan approach; it was a flawed criticism without offering a better approach. Let me quote something for you, “If the Afghan people do not want to engage themselves, to make the best use out of Help/Foreigners/Money: just tell us and it will be no problem, to spent it elsewhere.”
This is exactly what I was fearful of, the word foreigner, help and money has been used interchangeably as synonyms. From a rational point of view an individual or NGO has close to NO say where the money is spent. It’s a political decision. It’s very unlikely that you could convince your government who spend billions on military budgets to aid starving people in Liberia. or to cut down US military research which is 73% of all research projects and use that money to cure AIDS or cancer.
As a matter of fact Israel is the largest US aid recipient both in term of per capita and in blunk numbers in the world. Pointless to comment how Israel spend aid money and weapons.
Talking about aid weapons, quite a lot of that came to Afghanistan in the 80s and then some how the aid community forgot to send the aid medicine for the victims in the 90s, sugar coated and coloured with democracy, so they died.
Starting from the end of Second World War, throughout the cold war and until today western politicians’ weapon of choice hasn’t been WMD but aid money. International law has always been disregard under the pretext of providing or not providing aid.
Further more, why is the word “help” so often mentioned; it’s not only in my friend’s statement above but every aid website has a lot of it. This in itself is politicizing the aid mission; it makes the aid community a target of political opposition. “Help” becomes a hypocritical and double standard concept just like everything else in power politics game.
It will be more welcomed by Afghans if you say “I am here because I want to be and I enjoy it”
it sounds cooler too.
Some responders saw part or more element of truth in it. Never the less, they raised some circumstantial concerns; most important of all is security. This means in the face of deteriorating security there is going to be less and less understanding and interaction.
I think trust and respect shall be brought to bear on security in a practical as well as principle fashion. Having that said the level of risk needs to be analysed and dealt with according the UN policy working group on the UN and Terrorism recommendation. The report published in 2002 says: ‘the protection and promotion of human rights under the rule of law is essential in the prevention of terrorism.’ This is not only because such an approach is right and any other method destroys the democratic credentials of the expatriates, but also because terrorists ‘exploits human rights violations to gain support for their cause’ which explains why Taliban elements are getting stronger in the south of Afghanistan where the coalition (and afghan forces) has killed, tortured and illegally detained and searched villagers.
As the secretary general Kofi Annan said in a speech to the security council in the beginning of 2002 “while we certainly need vigilance to prevent acts of terrorism, and firmness in condemning and punishing them, it will be self-defeating if we sacrifice other key priorities in the process” exactly, in the process of providing security Mr. Annan’s very own organisation has forgotten about the priorities. We need to find a common ground which reaches behind the particulars of our identity and culture, the overreaction to security challenges the ethical basis behind such a project, or at very least undermines it’s utility.
How can the expatriates build the trust and respect? I would say through showing a strong commitment to Afghanistan and human rights, and the full set of values that underpin the human rights ideal will have every chance of emerging from the current violence not weakened but rather strengthened, forged in the heat of battle into something tougher and therefore more durable. But this outcome is not preordained; I am sorry to say that I got responses which were not convinced about Afghanistan and human rights (I don’t want to make a direct quote). In the bigger picture back in your home there are very powerful elements (as well as in the rest of the world) that are not convinced that each of us deserves equality of esteem. ‘Conflict of Civilisations’ a famous essay by Huntington is a good proof of my point here.
With all due respect; what upsets me the most is the hypocrisy surrounding the whole security fuss. Expatriate’s exclusive outlooks have increased since last year while the security has got worst. Incidents happen, there is a lock down for a few days then everyone carries on as before. There is no learned lesson or change of tactic and life style.
The second kind of feedback said “no distinguish was made between expatriates. It was a sweeping generalisation which could be no where close to accuracy; as a matter of fact this kind of stereotyping is used when one fail to identify the right person”.
I have been stereotyped too, and I tried to prove differently. Attached please see some of my friends who believed it was unfair to stereotype me.
In my case stereotyping is not only about some guy sending an email; I abused by individual and institution.
I have been discriminated and was treated badly because I was from Afghanistan and I looked different. My very basic human rights were violated; I was subject to different treatment, which are politics and government laws. However the most crude and stinging form of abuse was individuals’ stereotypical conduct.
I felt it was unfair and I wanted to help them realise that. I delivered the letters from my friends, it didn’t help.
I appealed to justice and the court said that if I am stereotyped by an individual it’s not something claimable or if I am denied because of regulation then what I am saying is not enough to review government politics.
I am hoping that you could find a better way to deal with it.
I have a suggestion, maybe we write such letters for each other. But this is when we trust each other.
Another number of responders thought it was a pessimistic Afghan approach; it was a flawed criticism without offering a better approach. Let me quote something for you, “If the Afghan people do not want to engage themselves, to make the best use out of Help/Foreigners/Money: just tell us and it will be no problem, to spent it elsewhere.”
This is exactly what I was fearful of, the word foreigner, help and money has been used interchangeably as synonyms. From a rational point of view an individual or NGO has close to NO say where the money is spent. It’s a political decision. It’s very unlikely that you could convince your government who spend billions on military budgets to aid starving people in Liberia. or to cut down US military research which is 73% of all research projects and use that money to cure AIDS or cancer.
As a matter of fact Israel is the largest US aid recipient both in term of per capita and in blunk numbers in the world. Pointless to comment how Israel spend aid money and weapons.
Talking about aid weapons, quite a lot of that came to Afghanistan in the 80s and then some how the aid community forgot to send the aid medicine for the victims in the 90s, sugar coated and coloured with democracy, so they died.
Starting from the end of Second World War, throughout the cold war and until today western politicians’ weapon of choice hasn’t been WMD but aid money. International law has always been disregard under the pretext of providing or not providing aid.
Further more, why is the word “help” so often mentioned; it’s not only in my friend’s statement above but every aid website has a lot of it. This in itself is politicizing the aid mission; it makes the aid community a target of political opposition. “Help” becomes a hypocritical and double standard concept just like everything else in power politics game.
It will be more welcomed by Afghans if you say “I am here because I want to be and I enjoy it”
it sounds cooler too.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
brand new kabul
“Healthy children have brighter future….. Children born from parents under eighteen will be ill. There is a fourth percent more chance of death for ill kids before the age of five…… to have healthy kids marry above the age of 18”
This was a PSA on the radio. As I was listening to this the driver took over a bus narrowly passing by a truck approaching from the opposite direction.
“watch it blind mother fucker” the truck driver shouted.
Our driver said “its better to be early”
“Where is Rajab? Today” asked Massood “he plays videogame. He goes so fast….
he was interrupted with a sudden break, an old man was crossing the street, covering his mouth with his scarf to protect from the dust.
He didn’t pay much heed to the cars. The pedestrian in Afghanistan is even getting prouder, that is a change for sure.
my next daring adventure would be to take a walk in town.
i just want to be ready for this; it's going to be a lot to take in.
All I’ve done so far is to go to work and visit a few friends. Last night I went to see a bunch of friends and as I arrived I was surprisingly welcomed by Trumpet and fire crackers. Ten minutes later the security guards from the neighbourhood entered with rigours steps and marched to us with straight chest. “you are not to be too noisy, you should be vigilant, more than ten security sources know about you by now. You have disturbed the area”
When leaving my friends place I noticed a little paper “…. the enemies are active and plotting against us. If you come across a terror act, do not panic and remain calm. Please contact us at the following numbers….”
This was a PSA on the radio. As I was listening to this the driver took over a bus narrowly passing by a truck approaching from the opposite direction.
“watch it blind mother fucker” the truck driver shouted.
Our driver said “its better to be early”
“Where is Rajab? Today” asked Massood “he plays videogame. He goes so fast….
he was interrupted with a sudden break, an old man was crossing the street, covering his mouth with his scarf to protect from the dust.
He didn’t pay much heed to the cars. The pedestrian in Afghanistan is even getting prouder, that is a change for sure.
my next daring adventure would be to take a walk in town.
i just want to be ready for this; it's going to be a lot to take in.
All I’ve done so far is to go to work and visit a few friends. Last night I went to see a bunch of friends and as I arrived I was surprisingly welcomed by Trumpet and fire crackers. Ten minutes later the security guards from the neighbourhood entered with rigours steps and marched to us with straight chest. “you are not to be too noisy, you should be vigilant, more than ten security sources know about you by now. You have disturbed the area”
When leaving my friends place I noticed a little paper “…. the enemies are active and plotting against us. If you come across a terror act, do not panic and remain calm. Please contact us at the following numbers….”
Thursday, July 06, 2006
an open letter to expatriates in afghanistan
Dear expatriates,
The existence of foreign workers in Afghanistan was perceived by most Afghans as a neutral, impartial and unbiased development force, exactly what Afghanistan needed when they couldn’t trust each other. In the traditional Afghan civil and social system the inferior–superior relationship is personal. Expatriates on the other hand, didn’t represent an authority as they are not to establish one but are there to do their job; the job was legitimized by a belief in the fair and correctness of the process. Expatriates were not loyal to a tribe or ethnicity or individual; they rather function in an impersonal order, toward an aim which served for the better of Afghans, not to the specific country or interest.
When one shifts the focus of attention from foreign assistance to the role of individual expatriate worker, substantial positive differences were noticed in comparison to the traditional Afghan system. An expatriate is not selected for his job on the basis of such considerations as ethnicity, family position or political loyalties. His recruitment is based on formal qualifications that testify the applicant has the necessary knowledge to accomplish his duties effectively and bear Afghanistan.
This was briefly the belief after the fall of Taliban; however, there were a few factors which were not calculated then or only materialized as consequences. There was no strategy to measure the size of foreign organisations and expatriates and then to alarm in the face of overwhelming proportions.
The number of foreign agencies has been increasing ever since and there is no exit strategy, not much of foreign operation has been Afghanised. Expatriates, paid well from tax free Afghan aid money, have heavily intervened in the economic sphere. The sky high rental costs, inflation and formidable increase in living cost for ordinary Afghans are now starting to affect his attitude and perception. Yet there is no sign that foreign organisations are going to change their strategy and tactics. The organisations are trying to expand and pursue the old tactics. Lack of Afghan and international trust in the civil authorities played in favour of expatriates. Expatriates in their foreign organisations created another layer of national administration which has substantial economic as well as political influence and has deprived the traditional class of control means on international assistance, human capital and production. The effective control of Afghan economy and of political power is now in the hands of expatriates. The invisible hand has cleverly neutralised administrators of the state bureaucracy. Though I should admit that the historical irony of this phenomenon never ceases to amaze me. Both post and pre Taliban eras are marked by oligarchic order: warlordism rooted out whatever was left of state infrastructure and committed all sorts of atrocities. The post Taliban period is marked by Expatlordism - a new type of oligarchy.
The internal politics of foreign organisations has resulted in control of few expatriates; this domination of the expatriates might run against the ideals and intentions of both the ruler and ruled.
Let’s see how organisational politics results in expatriate control: There is an increasing concentration of the means of communication at the top, this is due to communication culture, instruments, language and tendencies in foreign organisation, this results in an ensuing apathy in both the expatriate and Afghan staff.
The power position of the expatriate has become unquestionable. Not only can the expatriate manipulate information and use the communication network but also, by the exercise of his functions, the expatriate acquires specialized knowledge and political skills that make him almost irreplaceable to the organization. In this way both the structural position of the expatriate and the ruled lead to a political system perpetuates the dominance of expatriate class.
This situation is established today, but still the control of the expatriate goes unrealised, because this might not be the intention which exactly results in further dominance as the expatriates, unaware of their dominance, develop more and more formal and informal networks. For instance the UN has compulsory weekly drinking parties for expatriates to promote team spirit or they have exclusive guest houses as they are scared of rumours in the village of Afghans mingling with them. As you see this is not any more limited to organisation, organizational oligarchy has brought about societal oligarchy.
Just like everything else a society can absorb certain dose of foreigners over a certain period of time. Afghanistan can take a very small dosage of foreigners as they are allergic to them. Every page of history witnesses the low *absorption capacity* – if I may borrow the term from EU. My ideas embodied in the term are different than the one EU have. I am making a reference to the history of a proud and individualistic man who defends his way of life. In response westerners say this is no way to live anymore. And I do agree with you there, but let me ask you why the ancient home of your civilisation is using the term?
In my case it might be a ‘wrong’ concept but in yours it’s a dishonest one. It’s remarkably dishonest because it contradicts two of EU's greatest achievement to date; first is to anchor newly democratised economies in a larger framework of rules and to provide them with incentives against reverts. And second is to keep the old and new enemies (old being France and Germany, capitalism and socialism; the new being Muslims and Christians) in a framework of cooperation to reduce enmity, but these functions would be seriously at risk if EU apply the absorption concept. Europeans say that the concept suggests that it’s empirically and "objectively" impossible to accommodate Turkey. The Europeans has cleverly used the phrase to deflect attention from political arguments that Muslims do not belong to Europe.
My point is for one reason or another we are all protective. Except the difference is in your network everyone should play by your rules, which is fine. But you play by your rules in my network too. You don’t have the faintest idea of my network and you even don’t try to acquire some. You never think of shifting our stand, and redesigning your aims and your way of work.
Yours truly,
Sanjar
sanjar qiam
media and cultural studies
warsaw university
0048 511 185342
The existence of foreign workers in Afghanistan was perceived by most Afghans as a neutral, impartial and unbiased development force, exactly what Afghanistan needed when they couldn’t trust each other. In the traditional Afghan civil and social system the inferior–superior relationship is personal. Expatriates on the other hand, didn’t represent an authority as they are not to establish one but are there to do their job; the job was legitimized by a belief in the fair and correctness of the process. Expatriates were not loyal to a tribe or ethnicity or individual; they rather function in an impersonal order, toward an aim which served for the better of Afghans, not to the specific country or interest.
When one shifts the focus of attention from foreign assistance to the role of individual expatriate worker, substantial positive differences were noticed in comparison to the traditional Afghan system. An expatriate is not selected for his job on the basis of such considerations as ethnicity, family position or political loyalties. His recruitment is based on formal qualifications that testify the applicant has the necessary knowledge to accomplish his duties effectively and bear Afghanistan.
This was briefly the belief after the fall of Taliban; however, there were a few factors which were not calculated then or only materialized as consequences. There was no strategy to measure the size of foreign organisations and expatriates and then to alarm in the face of overwhelming proportions.
The number of foreign agencies has been increasing ever since and there is no exit strategy, not much of foreign operation has been Afghanised. Expatriates, paid well from tax free Afghan aid money, have heavily intervened in the economic sphere. The sky high rental costs, inflation and formidable increase in living cost for ordinary Afghans are now starting to affect his attitude and perception. Yet there is no sign that foreign organisations are going to change their strategy and tactics. The organisations are trying to expand and pursue the old tactics. Lack of Afghan and international trust in the civil authorities played in favour of expatriates. Expatriates in their foreign organisations created another layer of national administration which has substantial economic as well as political influence and has deprived the traditional class of control means on international assistance, human capital and production. The effective control of Afghan economy and of political power is now in the hands of expatriates. The invisible hand has cleverly neutralised administrators of the state bureaucracy. Though I should admit that the historical irony of this phenomenon never ceases to amaze me. Both post and pre Taliban eras are marked by oligarchic order: warlordism rooted out whatever was left of state infrastructure and committed all sorts of atrocities. The post Taliban period is marked by Expatlordism - a new type of oligarchy.
The internal politics of foreign organisations has resulted in control of few expatriates; this domination of the expatriates might run against the ideals and intentions of both the ruler and ruled.
Let’s see how organisational politics results in expatriate control: There is an increasing concentration of the means of communication at the top, this is due to communication culture, instruments, language and tendencies in foreign organisation, this results in an ensuing apathy in both the expatriate and Afghan staff.
The power position of the expatriate has become unquestionable. Not only can the expatriate manipulate information and use the communication network but also, by the exercise of his functions, the expatriate acquires specialized knowledge and political skills that make him almost irreplaceable to the organization. In this way both the structural position of the expatriate and the ruled lead to a political system perpetuates the dominance of expatriate class.
This situation is established today, but still the control of the expatriate goes unrealised, because this might not be the intention which exactly results in further dominance as the expatriates, unaware of their dominance, develop more and more formal and informal networks. For instance the UN has compulsory weekly drinking parties for expatriates to promote team spirit or they have exclusive guest houses as they are scared of rumours in the village of Afghans mingling with them. As you see this is not any more limited to organisation, organizational oligarchy has brought about societal oligarchy.
Just like everything else a society can absorb certain dose of foreigners over a certain period of time. Afghanistan can take a very small dosage of foreigners as they are allergic to them. Every page of history witnesses the low *absorption capacity* – if I may borrow the term from EU. My ideas embodied in the term are different than the one EU have. I am making a reference to the history of a proud and individualistic man who defends his way of life. In response westerners say this is no way to live anymore. And I do agree with you there, but let me ask you why the ancient home of your civilisation is using the term?
In my case it might be a ‘wrong’ concept but in yours it’s a dishonest one. It’s remarkably dishonest because it contradicts two of EU's greatest achievement to date; first is to anchor newly democratised economies in a larger framework of rules and to provide them with incentives against reverts. And second is to keep the old and new enemies (old being France and Germany, capitalism and socialism; the new being Muslims and Christians) in a framework of cooperation to reduce enmity, but these functions would be seriously at risk if EU apply the absorption concept. Europeans say that the concept suggests that it’s empirically and "objectively" impossible to accommodate Turkey. The Europeans has cleverly used the phrase to deflect attention from political arguments that Muslims do not belong to Europe.
My point is for one reason or another we are all protective. Except the difference is in your network everyone should play by your rules, which is fine. But you play by your rules in my network too. You don’t have the faintest idea of my network and you even don’t try to acquire some. You never think of shifting our stand, and redesigning your aims and your way of work.
Yours truly,
Sanjar
sanjar qiam
media and cultural studies
warsaw university
0048 511 185342
Saturday, May 27, 2006
schengen visa
I am in Europe until August 2006; before my departure to Afghanistan I wanted to go and see my sister and her family in Nederlands. I have filled an application for a schengen visa in the royal Dutch embassy. This was a month ago. I have made such attempts before, but there was either something wrong with my invitation letter or my polish visa, the dutch only issues a visa if these are valid for three months at the time of applying.
First attempt was during the winter holidays a few months ago, but they rejected my application on the ground of not having the three month valid polish visa. This is while during the first six months of my stay in Poland, the polish immigration was only issuing me one month visa and that is after waiting in a queue of 30 people. I was spending two days every month to get my polish visa. I went to the immigration office to ask for a three month visa, but they said I can’t file two residency applications at the same time. They were processing my temporary residency card valid for five months. So I give up on Dutch visa.
Before the Ester holidays which was a month ago I asked my sister to send me another invitation, by the time it got through all bureaucracy and it reached me it was ten days later.
I thought since I have all the documents I might give it another shot and luck may accompany me this time.
The room was packed with a lot of Belarusian running away from an ugly dictator and Dutch provide them a safeheaven with better life. There are around 30 people in a 30m2 it was scorching and noisy, it resembled a prison cell but the inmates were not relaxed they weren’t as though they were going to stay there. They were all as there body was itching they all wanted to reach the officer desk. There are four cabins but there was only one woman and she was moving in between, she was doing the job of cashier, receptionist to hand out blank forms and interviewer. The room was full with the odour of sweat. it’s a glass room that is perhaps why it was so hot comparing to the outside, it’s a very modern room with those modern glass doors that you don’t know how to open there are four glass doors while one is required and visa applicants who usually comes from poor countries, as rich people of course don’t need visas, would inevitable trap themselves in between and it took me some time to make my way through them. The whole building is modern, the walls are made of tree-shaped metals bundled together and curves into each other; some are palm some are banana, but they are blue as oppose to natural green tree colour. I was surprised while I saw the visa section in one room; applicants were waiting, filling the form, paying the fee, getting the form and visa in the same room. I am sure Nederland could afford to make another room, I am not an architect but looking at the amount of money spent on the decoration of the building, if that money was spent on the visa section, you could easily make another room. Inside the visa room is also very modern, there are two huge post-modernist pictures of faces, played with very brutally in Photoshop, I easily spotted how they had used the liquidize, squash and stretch options. The colour effect was horrible, they look like a post nuclear radiation generation. My first impression was if it was reminding the Belarusian anything, I was wondering if it was reminding them the Chernobyl, a human catastrophe, seven million people who suffer from malbody shape, kids with four times bigger forehead than normal people whose parents either suffer blood or skin cancer, whose parents can’t go to the work and buy him medicine, because he can’t grow anything on the farm because the high radiation kills the plant and the soil and it will continue to do for another at least 900 years. The only way of survival is to live off 40 cent a day from the government to buy uncontaminated food. Pain is torturous for some people but exotic for other. The hardship and survival style of the poor inspires the glamorous art of the rich.
Half a dozen shabby Belarusians seemed more in pain, there fat bodies were occupying more space in the room and they were sweating more. Their skin was wet, they looked uncomfortable, it resembled as they had acid on their skin and constantly were using tissue paper or a piece of wet cloth to wipe off the sweat. in this world of 30m2 there were some people singly standing, frowning depressingly, at a corner of the room. There were also crowd of four to seven people in the corners of the room they were in circles and they whispering loud to each other, if it wasn’t in this room I would have thought that they are playing American football and they are planning an attacks. In this one team there was guys only wearing a waistcoat, some were wearing dutch sport cloth, one was orange with bold letters saying Nederland.
These guys were together because an employer in Nederland needed five cheap east European labour and found these guys and sent an invitation letter for four to be granted work visa in the embassy.
Women were separate in a corner of the room, four blond women were discussing something, and each of them took something out of their purse, an apple and some punchok. They were sharing it. One had a big plastic bottle of coke cola; they more often needed to go to the toilet. Every time you needed to go to the toilet you had to ask the visa section woman to open it, you were only able after her approval and her pressing some button.
There is an A4 size notice on the consulate window saying ‘if you volunteer to provide us with medical insurance of more than 25000euros we will probably issue you a visa tomorrow, this is if you submit all other documents’.
This explained why I saw some polish company brochures everywhere in the room. They were trying to sell health insurance.
I wanted to make some clarification to make sure I have the right insurance. But they closed they said there time is over and they don’t take anymore questions.
I dashed outside and tried to put this insurance together.
The next day I returned. Same thing, but new Belarusians, yesterday ones might have already been in Holland.
I waited for four hours until it was my turn, I happen to be the last person, although people who came after me made it before me. It’s the Belarusians who screwed me over. The clerk shouted something in Russian and I guess what she said: she asked how many people waiting.
And the Belarusians said six and I said no seven. The woman handed out a piece of signed paper. a Belarusian asked for some more and he distributed in the room and kept some for his mates who came later.
I had enough of it and I told this guy:
- Look mate, I have been here before you and I think it’s my turn
- He said: No you are the last.
- I said: what are you talking about I have been here before all of you guys.
- He said: but you are not whiting in the line.
- I said: I do, he said the line is here but you are standing over there.
- I said: what difference does that makes, we are not waiting in Red Army queue. I am here and I wait; we don’t have to be in one line.
Once this didn’t work he said, but can I go first because I have something urgent in an hour which I have to get to. I wanted to tell him that I had a class in an hour and many other things. I wanted to tell him that it was such a bullcrap to ask people if you could go first because you have some thing to do. We are always in a rush and everyone has something to do. But I said fine you go ahead, because I knew he was not going to give up he was determined to go first. And I knew it was going to turn out like one of those many instances where you are the minority and a majority who support their member unjustly and blindly. Six other Belarusian already started murmuring and they were establishing that I was an asshole. This is not about this room; this is how life in Europe is if you don’t have a European passport.
The next person wanted to go and I said “oh, no dude. It’s my turn”.
The clerk said: “give me your paper.”
I give it to her; she showed me the number on it and it was saying ‘seven’ while the other guy was ‘four’.
I realised when the clerk handed out the signed papers it was actually numbers and the Belarusians decided to give me the last number.
I submitted everything, except she didn’t like my photo and she made me to go and get another one with 75% of my face. I had to be back in an hour before they close. That was quite a race. After I delivered my new photo she asked me to come tomorrow at three.
The next day the room was packed and yesterday applicants were receiving their visas. She shouted out my name but she pronounced it really bad. In polish they read Sanjar; like sanyiar. So I missed it the first time; I went closer to see my picture or passport and I managed to spot it, she pronounced the name wrong again.
I got my passport but there was no visa.
I said: “where is my visa”
- and she is: “we are not going to give you today you have to wait two to three weeks.”
- I said: “but why? Everyone else is getting their visas”
- and she said: “We have to run a background check on you at the ministry of foreign affairs”.
She said I have to call in three weeks.
This is still fine and I thought if I get the visa on 22 or 23 then I can fly out on 26 and get to see my sister for a few days before her departure to Kabul on 29. I purchased a non-refundable but cheap ticket on 26. I called the embassy on 23 as 22 was a holiday and they said your visa is not yet here. He asked me if my host in Nederland has been questioned by ministry of foreign affairs and I said it was a week ago and they delivered all the required documents.
I asked him if he could advice anything, what shall I do with the ticket? He said he can’t dare to say anything. I said you have the experience of working in the embassy and there must be precedents. “Please, help me”.
- He said: I should call again before 26 to see if my visa is there. I also sent him an email, which he didn’t reply to.
It turned out that the embassy was not working on 24 and 25 was a Dutch holiday. Now it’s the 26th and I can’t go to see my sister. I am stuck in Warsaw. I paid 60euros to change my flight to July 24th, when my sister returns to Nederland; returning back to Warsaw on the 3 of august.
But I just realised that my polish residency expires on July 31 and I can’t return here to catch my flight to Kabul. Now I have to pay another 60 euros to change it to some other dates. Nothing can be planned; there are so many things which could go wrong. Maybe the visa is only valid for one month, I didn’t ask for it, but what I ask or didn’t ask for doesn’t matter it depends what they issue me. If it’s less than three months I can’t use it because my sister is going to be in Kabul for a month then I have a conference and faculty diploma jury panel to defend my thesis and exams. Maybe I wasted so much of my time for nothing I missed classes to file application I spent a lot of money on the tickets and visa; but I won’t be able to use it. There are so many things that could go wrong. It’s very frustrating, because I know they make up all these regulation to make you not to travel but you can’t do much because everybody accepts it. You can’t say it’s unjust and irrational because its part of a process and it’s hidden in bureaucracy.
The good old John Locke said: all persons have natural rights just because they are human beings. Everyone is born with these rights. No one can take these rights away and they include: the right to life, property and liberty. The right to liberty is to be free. It includes what you want to speak and travel wherever you want to go.
This sounds logical but not necessarily practical.
First attempt was during the winter holidays a few months ago, but they rejected my application on the ground of not having the three month valid polish visa. This is while during the first six months of my stay in Poland, the polish immigration was only issuing me one month visa and that is after waiting in a queue of 30 people. I was spending two days every month to get my polish visa. I went to the immigration office to ask for a three month visa, but they said I can’t file two residency applications at the same time. They were processing my temporary residency card valid for five months. So I give up on Dutch visa.
Before the Ester holidays which was a month ago I asked my sister to send me another invitation, by the time it got through all bureaucracy and it reached me it was ten days later.
I thought since I have all the documents I might give it another shot and luck may accompany me this time.
The room was packed with a lot of Belarusian running away from an ugly dictator and Dutch provide them a safeheaven with better life. There are around 30 people in a 30m2 it was scorching and noisy, it resembled a prison cell but the inmates were not relaxed they weren’t as though they were going to stay there. They were all as there body was itching they all wanted to reach the officer desk. There are four cabins but there was only one woman and she was moving in between, she was doing the job of cashier, receptionist to hand out blank forms and interviewer. The room was full with the odour of sweat. it’s a glass room that is perhaps why it was so hot comparing to the outside, it’s a very modern room with those modern glass doors that you don’t know how to open there are four glass doors while one is required and visa applicants who usually comes from poor countries, as rich people of course don’t need visas, would inevitable trap themselves in between and it took me some time to make my way through them. The whole building is modern, the walls are made of tree-shaped metals bundled together and curves into each other; some are palm some are banana, but they are blue as oppose to natural green tree colour. I was surprised while I saw the visa section in one room; applicants were waiting, filling the form, paying the fee, getting the form and visa in the same room. I am sure Nederland could afford to make another room, I am not an architect but looking at the amount of money spent on the decoration of the building, if that money was spent on the visa section, you could easily make another room. Inside the visa room is also very modern, there are two huge post-modernist pictures of faces, played with very brutally in Photoshop, I easily spotted how they had used the liquidize, squash and stretch options. The colour effect was horrible, they look like a post nuclear radiation generation. My first impression was if it was reminding the Belarusian anything, I was wondering if it was reminding them the Chernobyl, a human catastrophe, seven million people who suffer from malbody shape, kids with four times bigger forehead than normal people whose parents either suffer blood or skin cancer, whose parents can’t go to the work and buy him medicine, because he can’t grow anything on the farm because the high radiation kills the plant and the soil and it will continue to do for another at least 900 years. The only way of survival is to live off 40 cent a day from the government to buy uncontaminated food. Pain is torturous for some people but exotic for other. The hardship and survival style of the poor inspires the glamorous art of the rich.
Half a dozen shabby Belarusians seemed more in pain, there fat bodies were occupying more space in the room and they were sweating more. Their skin was wet, they looked uncomfortable, it resembled as they had acid on their skin and constantly were using tissue paper or a piece of wet cloth to wipe off the sweat. in this world of 30m2 there were some people singly standing, frowning depressingly, at a corner of the room. There were also crowd of four to seven people in the corners of the room they were in circles and they whispering loud to each other, if it wasn’t in this room I would have thought that they are playing American football and they are planning an attacks. In this one team there was guys only wearing a waistcoat, some were wearing dutch sport cloth, one was orange with bold letters saying Nederland.
These guys were together because an employer in Nederland needed five cheap east European labour and found these guys and sent an invitation letter for four to be granted work visa in the embassy.
Women were separate in a corner of the room, four blond women were discussing something, and each of them took something out of their purse, an apple and some punchok. They were sharing it. One had a big plastic bottle of coke cola; they more often needed to go to the toilet. Every time you needed to go to the toilet you had to ask the visa section woman to open it, you were only able after her approval and her pressing some button.
There is an A4 size notice on the consulate window saying ‘if you volunteer to provide us with medical insurance of more than 25000euros we will probably issue you a visa tomorrow, this is if you submit all other documents’.
This explained why I saw some polish company brochures everywhere in the room. They were trying to sell health insurance.
I wanted to make some clarification to make sure I have the right insurance. But they closed they said there time is over and they don’t take anymore questions.
I dashed outside and tried to put this insurance together.
The next day I returned. Same thing, but new Belarusians, yesterday ones might have already been in Holland.
I waited for four hours until it was my turn, I happen to be the last person, although people who came after me made it before me. It’s the Belarusians who screwed me over. The clerk shouted something in Russian and I guess what she said: she asked how many people waiting.
And the Belarusians said six and I said no seven. The woman handed out a piece of signed paper. a Belarusian asked for some more and he distributed in the room and kept some for his mates who came later.
I had enough of it and I told this guy:
- Look mate, I have been here before you and I think it’s my turn
- He said: No you are the last.
- I said: what are you talking about I have been here before all of you guys.
- He said: but you are not whiting in the line.
- I said: I do, he said the line is here but you are standing over there.
- I said: what difference does that makes, we are not waiting in Red Army queue. I am here and I wait; we don’t have to be in one line.
Once this didn’t work he said, but can I go first because I have something urgent in an hour which I have to get to. I wanted to tell him that I had a class in an hour and many other things. I wanted to tell him that it was such a bullcrap to ask people if you could go first because you have some thing to do. We are always in a rush and everyone has something to do. But I said fine you go ahead, because I knew he was not going to give up he was determined to go first. And I knew it was going to turn out like one of those many instances where you are the minority and a majority who support their member unjustly and blindly. Six other Belarusian already started murmuring and they were establishing that I was an asshole. This is not about this room; this is how life in Europe is if you don’t have a European passport.
The next person wanted to go and I said “oh, no dude. It’s my turn”.
The clerk said: “give me your paper.”
I give it to her; she showed me the number on it and it was saying ‘seven’ while the other guy was ‘four’.
I realised when the clerk handed out the signed papers it was actually numbers and the Belarusians decided to give me the last number.
I submitted everything, except she didn’t like my photo and she made me to go and get another one with 75% of my face. I had to be back in an hour before they close. That was quite a race. After I delivered my new photo she asked me to come tomorrow at three.
The next day the room was packed and yesterday applicants were receiving their visas. She shouted out my name but she pronounced it really bad. In polish they read Sanjar; like sanyiar. So I missed it the first time; I went closer to see my picture or passport and I managed to spot it, she pronounced the name wrong again.
I got my passport but there was no visa.
I said: “where is my visa”
- and she is: “we are not going to give you today you have to wait two to three weeks.”
- I said: “but why? Everyone else is getting their visas”
- and she said: “We have to run a background check on you at the ministry of foreign affairs”.
She said I have to call in three weeks.
This is still fine and I thought if I get the visa on 22 or 23 then I can fly out on 26 and get to see my sister for a few days before her departure to Kabul on 29. I purchased a non-refundable but cheap ticket on 26. I called the embassy on 23 as 22 was a holiday and they said your visa is not yet here. He asked me if my host in Nederland has been questioned by ministry of foreign affairs and I said it was a week ago and they delivered all the required documents.
I asked him if he could advice anything, what shall I do with the ticket? He said he can’t dare to say anything. I said you have the experience of working in the embassy and there must be precedents. “Please, help me”.
- He said: I should call again before 26 to see if my visa is there. I also sent him an email, which he didn’t reply to.
It turned out that the embassy was not working on 24 and 25 was a Dutch holiday. Now it’s the 26th and I can’t go to see my sister. I am stuck in Warsaw. I paid 60euros to change my flight to July 24th, when my sister returns to Nederland; returning back to Warsaw on the 3 of august.
But I just realised that my polish residency expires on July 31 and I can’t return here to catch my flight to Kabul. Now I have to pay another 60 euros to change it to some other dates. Nothing can be planned; there are so many things which could go wrong. Maybe the visa is only valid for one month, I didn’t ask for it, but what I ask or didn’t ask for doesn’t matter it depends what they issue me. If it’s less than three months I can’t use it because my sister is going to be in Kabul for a month then I have a conference and faculty diploma jury panel to defend my thesis and exams. Maybe I wasted so much of my time for nothing I missed classes to file application I spent a lot of money on the tickets and visa; but I won’t be able to use it. There are so many things that could go wrong. It’s very frustrating, because I know they make up all these regulation to make you not to travel but you can’t do much because everybody accepts it. You can’t say it’s unjust and irrational because its part of a process and it’s hidden in bureaucracy.
The good old John Locke said: all persons have natural rights just because they are human beings. Everyone is born with these rights. No one can take these rights away and they include: the right to life, property and liberty. The right to liberty is to be free. It includes what you want to speak and travel wherever you want to go.
This sounds logical but not necessarily practical.
i am a terrorist
I am a terrorist… I am a personal terrorist … I use terror tactics to scare myself and so sabotage my progress. So by being a terrorist I often never attain the goals I want to reach and can do easily. I haven’t yet figured out what goes wrong.
So what form of personal terrorism do I practice? I am afraid of failure and yet I am an efficient person, when it comes to helping others I am a pioneer. I volunteer to talk about my neighbours or the attitude of the bus driver or the baker for an hour. As a habit I need to visit some friends or relatives everyday. It’s my very strict religious duty to distribute part of my wealth to the poor, no matter if they deserve or not as a matter of fact the distribution system is decided by someone else.
It doesn’t finish here. There are other codes of morality in the society too. I am strictly obliged to be hospitable, generous, aggressive, protective of my wife, sister and mother.
I terrorize myself by constantly letting other people’s feelings and anticipated feelings come first. The more I do this the better person I am accepted in the society. am I a martyr because I have always lived for others and therefore avoiding painful situations and am seen by others as a good person? I even don’t know how to enjoy myself without doing something for others. As a matter of fact I don’t know if there is anything I could do for myself. I tend to feel selfish If I do something I want to do, and even that is not enough the moral orders of society make me feel not only selfish but terrorized.
My terror started long ago when I was a kid; it started when I was a little boy. By the time I was six or seven, I had lost something very important. I didn’t know I had lost it, nor did I know what it was, and it was a very long time before I knew. But what I had lost was my mother. I didn’t know I had lost her because she was still there. But I had lost her because she had stopped being my mom. She became an embroiderer. Traditionally in our family, a girl can’t get married before she learns how to do embroidery and sewing, and every mom in the family knows how to do it.
She had to do embroidery so she can sell it to Agha Badar across the street. Agha badar is a tall man with long beard and light skin. He comes from Kandahar.
Agha Badar had a big gold ring with a piece of diamond sparking on it and a yellow watch on his rest. I always liked to run to his shop and ask him for time. Agha badar owned the only watch in my street and everybody was coming to him for time.
When playing with the boys on the street I was hearing rumours that he has big businesses abroad and he exchanges the embroidery for foreign currency.
This was all rumours, but what I knew for sure was that he was always praised by my mom for being a respectable person who always helps others and he doesn’t care about his well being and comfort. I remember my mom was saying that Agha Badar has some money to support himself without working but he chooses to help others.
My mom didn’t have the money to buy the materials and tools to do her own embroidery and sell it for a higher price. Even if she had the money the materials and tools were hard to get around my village. So Agha badar was a good person, because he provided the tools and materials and a reliable market for selling embroidery products. He was also putting orders for more and more embroidery, he also was supplying the designs and colours he needed every week. But in exchange for all this he was buying the product for 50% of the price.
I also heard that foreigners liked to wear hand made embroideries from Afghanistan.
I never understood “why?”. Apparently, they thought it was fashionable. That made me more confused; I thought it was the tradition of my village and it’s only fashionable here. One day I thought so and I run home and asked my mom.
- Mom, is embroidery the tradition of our village?
- Yes, of course it is. That is why I know how to make it and so does every other woman in the village.
- Then can I have a new embroidered dress?
- I will make you one day.
- can I have the one you are working on?
- no this is not for you. This is not for the village.
I soon learned that my mom would never be able to make me embroidery; she was too busy sewing for Agha Badar. She was sitting by the flickering oil lamp until mid-night sewing. In the morning her nose and eyes were black like the factory chimney. So was every body else. In the dark long winters we closed all air holes to protect ourselves from bitter winter. In a way the black thick smoke was appealing it kept us warm but black the next day.
In the summers it was better; my mom was sitting on the roof under the moon light and sewing most of the night. This way she could have saved the oil for cooking. But I hardly remember any hot food, first she couldn’t make time for cooking and every once in awhile when I asked for food she was telling me there is not available in the village to cook. So all I had was bread, and in the evenings with grounded garlic in salty hot water.
From time to time I was thinking about the embroidery and the kind of people who would wear them. I was wondering about what they do and I often thought if they were bothering to think who make their fashionable clothes.
My mom started the embroidery after my father’s death; after she had to support our family.
One day four men delivered a bed covered with white clean sheet to our house as soon as my mom saw it she knew what has happened, she started weeping loud, grabbing and pulling her hair, I never seen her so emotional before.
Neighbours started to visit my mom and in every visit my mom had to repeat the same torture. She had to go through the same process of deep grievance and stress. To my total surprise all the neighbours were also doing this with my mom. It was like the whole village was trained how to make themselves deeply upset and how to help others become sad by spreading their grievances. First I thought my dad’s death meant he went to a long, deep, clean sleep somewhere; especially when I saw the men taking him out in the same bed with the white sheet on it and some red tulips too.
After a few months I realised that no one in the village, neither my mom herself, tries to get out of mourning and continue with her life. In fact she and everybody else wanted her to be sad and it was the best to show her caring toward my dad.
I doubt if my dad wanted to kill my mom emotionally by his physical death.
I sometimes think I have inherited from my mom; the will to sacrifice my desire in order to meet others anticipations.
In my highly stratified village, with very little opportunity for people to move out of their given social positions, when you are to mourn you should only mourn in the village way, there is no other way. a code of rights and duties serves the village which at least serves to curb some excesses, and to mitigate the effect of domination. I was not sure whose domination is served by my mom’s behaviour. Maybe Agh Badar had a benefit. Maybe all the men of the village.
I was depressed as I saw there was no possibility for my mom to go outside it; and raise any question of the village in am more fundamental way. It was inconceivable for my mom to negotiate with Agha Badar. The question of needs and interests can’t be brought to the open in my village.
In my village there seems to be many situations where people resort to moralistic considerations about what they ought to do in relation to others, when it would be perfectly possible to consult those others about what they actually want.
Then I started to see more and more men in the village going to sleep and they were carried out of the village on a bed with white sheet and red tulips. The same process of moaning was repeated over and over again. After the moaning the lives of women had totally changed; they transformed into depressed creatures. I was really surprised how everybody reacted the same way to mourning and lost of their loved ones. Later I came to realise if these women continue with their normal life and with their own way of dealing with the crisis; the village can’t tolerate that, there was not enough room for everybody to be themselves. I started to understand how the moral order worked.
As I was growing up my thought were evolving. First I thought my dad was asleep then I was convinced he is in a secret place, then I liked to believe he has joined his soul and is in another parallel world and finally I just accepted the termination of his physical existence. But it’s weird that everybody in the village no matter how old they are they all think my dad is living with the angels.
With the increased number of deaths in my village more and more women had to do embroidery to support their families. There were more cloths than Agha Badar could sell to the rich foreigners, one day Agha Badar said the foreigners don’t want to buy them in the usual price so he had to bring it down. Every body was sad at the beginning but they started to get used to it as Agha Badar was buying it cheaper and cheaper; and one day everybody decided to stop doing embroidery because they couldn’t make enough money. Instead they started waving carpets. My mom started to make more money again. But it didn’t take that long until the carpets lost its profit too. Agha Badar was saying the foreigners still like our carpets but it’s not something they can consume everyday.
One day my mom wanted to talk with me. We were sitting in our garden. Her hands were shivering, her eyes were flat and watery, she was pale, her cheeks had lost its colour, she was covering her head with a piece of very old scarf. She started:
“You know I am old now I can’t do embroidery or waving anymore. My eyes can’t see, my hands don’t help me anymore. But I still have to bring some food for us.”
She was really looking worn out and old, but my mom wasn’t old, she was seventeen when she got married and it was twelve years ago. She started to believe she has no control of the difficult situation anymore, she showed more emotional stress than ever before; more than when she believed its all going to be over soon. My dad’s death and support of the family caused my mom to face the difficult situation of life and experience a more intense shock of life as more uncomfortable than before.
She asked me to find a job and help her support the family.
This is the day when my mother becomes my daughter whom I had to look after her and be responsible for her. This meant that I had to be very old, almost as old as king Zahir shah, who also had daughters. And I had to look after the young little boy as well. Of course I didn’t want to be an old man because it made me very anxious. But I became two people in one, a young little boy who wanted his mother, and an old little boy looking after his mother/daughter.
I had no skill and no idea of what to do, the only thing I had was the blessing from my mom, and she blessed me clearer in spirit, simpler in thought, greater in love, more confiding in hope more ablaze with faith more humble in spirit.
The village was brining up a new generation of teenagers after the war, whose fathers were dead in the battle and whose mothers were dead in their very alive bodies. some modification in the village culture came about in response to variation and destruction of village agricultural and irrigation system, the fortitude of villagers, and the discovery and adoption of some new material technique like the carpet waving. This is not the end of it; the air of the village was filled with smoke of the war and the rooms were dark and filled by the thick smoke of oily lamp and sadness.
The teenagers decided to revive the agriculture and resort to the pre-war condition of their fathers. But it wasn’t possible in the short term, to live the teens started to grow poppy. It was introduced by Agha Badar, he said the foreigners will buy the product at higher price and it is not like embroidery or carpet. The market for Heroin is unsachetable, because there is always more and more need for it. This started to become a single social life-world. A single framework of shared meanings; a single way of agriculture and survival. All the social practices, both those which we describe as having mainly instrumental function (such as procuring food and shelter) or those primarily expressive (such as music or story-telling) fitted together into a single pattern. The symbolic structure of myth and religion helped to make the fears, tension and contradiction of poppy cultivation acceptable in daily life. Then the interpretation was not enough and using the religious myth my village started to promote the open expression of emotions. Hyper emotionality replaced some other expressive instruments such as music and story telling. Emotionality banned music in my village.
This is when the terror got deep in us; I was not the only terrorist in the village. All of us shared the same faith, and terror didn’t remain a personal issue. We started to terrorize each other. Village control was a collective principle and responsibility; the principle sanction of action was shame, a public loss of face. There was no internalised sense of ought. Punishment became a collective action for losing the face of guilty.
So what form of personal terrorism do I practice? I am afraid of failure and yet I am an efficient person, when it comes to helping others I am a pioneer. I volunteer to talk about my neighbours or the attitude of the bus driver or the baker for an hour. As a habit I need to visit some friends or relatives everyday. It’s my very strict religious duty to distribute part of my wealth to the poor, no matter if they deserve or not as a matter of fact the distribution system is decided by someone else.
It doesn’t finish here. There are other codes of morality in the society too. I am strictly obliged to be hospitable, generous, aggressive, protective of my wife, sister and mother.
I terrorize myself by constantly letting other people’s feelings and anticipated feelings come first. The more I do this the better person I am accepted in the society. am I a martyr because I have always lived for others and therefore avoiding painful situations and am seen by others as a good person? I even don’t know how to enjoy myself without doing something for others. As a matter of fact I don’t know if there is anything I could do for myself. I tend to feel selfish If I do something I want to do, and even that is not enough the moral orders of society make me feel not only selfish but terrorized.
My terror started long ago when I was a kid; it started when I was a little boy. By the time I was six or seven, I had lost something very important. I didn’t know I had lost it, nor did I know what it was, and it was a very long time before I knew. But what I had lost was my mother. I didn’t know I had lost her because she was still there. But I had lost her because she had stopped being my mom. She became an embroiderer. Traditionally in our family, a girl can’t get married before she learns how to do embroidery and sewing, and every mom in the family knows how to do it.
She had to do embroidery so she can sell it to Agha Badar across the street. Agha badar is a tall man with long beard and light skin. He comes from Kandahar.
Agha Badar had a big gold ring with a piece of diamond sparking on it and a yellow watch on his rest. I always liked to run to his shop and ask him for time. Agha badar owned the only watch in my street and everybody was coming to him for time.
When playing with the boys on the street I was hearing rumours that he has big businesses abroad and he exchanges the embroidery for foreign currency.
This was all rumours, but what I knew for sure was that he was always praised by my mom for being a respectable person who always helps others and he doesn’t care about his well being and comfort. I remember my mom was saying that Agha Badar has some money to support himself without working but he chooses to help others.
My mom didn’t have the money to buy the materials and tools to do her own embroidery and sell it for a higher price. Even if she had the money the materials and tools were hard to get around my village. So Agha badar was a good person, because he provided the tools and materials and a reliable market for selling embroidery products. He was also putting orders for more and more embroidery, he also was supplying the designs and colours he needed every week. But in exchange for all this he was buying the product for 50% of the price.
I also heard that foreigners liked to wear hand made embroideries from Afghanistan.
I never understood “why?”. Apparently, they thought it was fashionable. That made me more confused; I thought it was the tradition of my village and it’s only fashionable here. One day I thought so and I run home and asked my mom.
- Mom, is embroidery the tradition of our village?
- Yes, of course it is. That is why I know how to make it and so does every other woman in the village.
- Then can I have a new embroidered dress?
- I will make you one day.
- can I have the one you are working on?
- no this is not for you. This is not for the village.
I soon learned that my mom would never be able to make me embroidery; she was too busy sewing for Agha Badar. She was sitting by the flickering oil lamp until mid-night sewing. In the morning her nose and eyes were black like the factory chimney. So was every body else. In the dark long winters we closed all air holes to protect ourselves from bitter winter. In a way the black thick smoke was appealing it kept us warm but black the next day.
In the summers it was better; my mom was sitting on the roof under the moon light and sewing most of the night. This way she could have saved the oil for cooking. But I hardly remember any hot food, first she couldn’t make time for cooking and every once in awhile when I asked for food she was telling me there is not available in the village to cook. So all I had was bread, and in the evenings with grounded garlic in salty hot water.
From time to time I was thinking about the embroidery and the kind of people who would wear them. I was wondering about what they do and I often thought if they were bothering to think who make their fashionable clothes.
My mom started the embroidery after my father’s death; after she had to support our family.
One day four men delivered a bed covered with white clean sheet to our house as soon as my mom saw it she knew what has happened, she started weeping loud, grabbing and pulling her hair, I never seen her so emotional before.
Neighbours started to visit my mom and in every visit my mom had to repeat the same torture. She had to go through the same process of deep grievance and stress. To my total surprise all the neighbours were also doing this with my mom. It was like the whole village was trained how to make themselves deeply upset and how to help others become sad by spreading their grievances. First I thought my dad’s death meant he went to a long, deep, clean sleep somewhere; especially when I saw the men taking him out in the same bed with the white sheet on it and some red tulips too.
After a few months I realised that no one in the village, neither my mom herself, tries to get out of mourning and continue with her life. In fact she and everybody else wanted her to be sad and it was the best to show her caring toward my dad.
I doubt if my dad wanted to kill my mom emotionally by his physical death.
I sometimes think I have inherited from my mom; the will to sacrifice my desire in order to meet others anticipations.
In my highly stratified village, with very little opportunity for people to move out of their given social positions, when you are to mourn you should only mourn in the village way, there is no other way. a code of rights and duties serves the village which at least serves to curb some excesses, and to mitigate the effect of domination. I was not sure whose domination is served by my mom’s behaviour. Maybe Agh Badar had a benefit. Maybe all the men of the village.
I was depressed as I saw there was no possibility for my mom to go outside it; and raise any question of the village in am more fundamental way. It was inconceivable for my mom to negotiate with Agha Badar. The question of needs and interests can’t be brought to the open in my village.
In my village there seems to be many situations where people resort to moralistic considerations about what they ought to do in relation to others, when it would be perfectly possible to consult those others about what they actually want.
Then I started to see more and more men in the village going to sleep and they were carried out of the village on a bed with white sheet and red tulips. The same process of moaning was repeated over and over again. After the moaning the lives of women had totally changed; they transformed into depressed creatures. I was really surprised how everybody reacted the same way to mourning and lost of their loved ones. Later I came to realise if these women continue with their normal life and with their own way of dealing with the crisis; the village can’t tolerate that, there was not enough room for everybody to be themselves. I started to understand how the moral order worked.
As I was growing up my thought were evolving. First I thought my dad was asleep then I was convinced he is in a secret place, then I liked to believe he has joined his soul and is in another parallel world and finally I just accepted the termination of his physical existence. But it’s weird that everybody in the village no matter how old they are they all think my dad is living with the angels.
With the increased number of deaths in my village more and more women had to do embroidery to support their families. There were more cloths than Agha Badar could sell to the rich foreigners, one day Agha Badar said the foreigners don’t want to buy them in the usual price so he had to bring it down. Every body was sad at the beginning but they started to get used to it as Agha Badar was buying it cheaper and cheaper; and one day everybody decided to stop doing embroidery because they couldn’t make enough money. Instead they started waving carpets. My mom started to make more money again. But it didn’t take that long until the carpets lost its profit too. Agha Badar was saying the foreigners still like our carpets but it’s not something they can consume everyday.
One day my mom wanted to talk with me. We were sitting in our garden. Her hands were shivering, her eyes were flat and watery, she was pale, her cheeks had lost its colour, she was covering her head with a piece of very old scarf. She started:
“You know I am old now I can’t do embroidery or waving anymore. My eyes can’t see, my hands don’t help me anymore. But I still have to bring some food for us.”
She was really looking worn out and old, but my mom wasn’t old, she was seventeen when she got married and it was twelve years ago. She started to believe she has no control of the difficult situation anymore, she showed more emotional stress than ever before; more than when she believed its all going to be over soon. My dad’s death and support of the family caused my mom to face the difficult situation of life and experience a more intense shock of life as more uncomfortable than before.
She asked me to find a job and help her support the family.
This is the day when my mother becomes my daughter whom I had to look after her and be responsible for her. This meant that I had to be very old, almost as old as king Zahir shah, who also had daughters. And I had to look after the young little boy as well. Of course I didn’t want to be an old man because it made me very anxious. But I became two people in one, a young little boy who wanted his mother, and an old little boy looking after his mother/daughter.
I had no skill and no idea of what to do, the only thing I had was the blessing from my mom, and she blessed me clearer in spirit, simpler in thought, greater in love, more confiding in hope more ablaze with faith more humble in spirit.
The village was brining up a new generation of teenagers after the war, whose fathers were dead in the battle and whose mothers were dead in their very alive bodies. some modification in the village culture came about in response to variation and destruction of village agricultural and irrigation system, the fortitude of villagers, and the discovery and adoption of some new material technique like the carpet waving. This is not the end of it; the air of the village was filled with smoke of the war and the rooms were dark and filled by the thick smoke of oily lamp and sadness.
The teenagers decided to revive the agriculture and resort to the pre-war condition of their fathers. But it wasn’t possible in the short term, to live the teens started to grow poppy. It was introduced by Agha Badar, he said the foreigners will buy the product at higher price and it is not like embroidery or carpet. The market for Heroin is unsachetable, because there is always more and more need for it. This started to become a single social life-world. A single framework of shared meanings; a single way of agriculture and survival. All the social practices, both those which we describe as having mainly instrumental function (such as procuring food and shelter) or those primarily expressive (such as music or story-telling) fitted together into a single pattern. The symbolic structure of myth and religion helped to make the fears, tension and contradiction of poppy cultivation acceptable in daily life. Then the interpretation was not enough and using the religious myth my village started to promote the open expression of emotions. Hyper emotionality replaced some other expressive instruments such as music and story telling. Emotionality banned music in my village.
This is when the terror got deep in us; I was not the only terrorist in the village. All of us shared the same faith, and terror didn’t remain a personal issue. We started to terrorize each other. Village control was a collective principle and responsibility; the principle sanction of action was shame, a public loss of face. There was no internalised sense of ought. Punishment became a collective action for losing the face of guilty.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
going to moscow - still trying
We should all enjoy the right to question and try to understand the very basic principals and common point of any society we live in, given if it’s given to us which is the case in democracies.
Role of law, civil institutions and philanthropic organization are to ensure these rights for us. But they are not to hinder our perception of society and very same values they promote.
If we are offended or we think our rights has been violated we could undertake endeavors to know why without necessarily filing petition against the perpetrator in one of the above institutions.
But the trend seems to be changing, increasing, the right to creativity is being undermined by strong institutions with bias mandates. Their pre-established system procedure is assumed to be applicable to all situations, if not they make it applicable. Most of these pre-established system procedures (Pre-ESP) is imported from academia with high level of intellectual capacity and is not well understood by implementers at local levels. This in a way is counter productive and breaches conscious citizens’ right of creativity and freedom of investigation.
Creativity is not necessarily about bringing about new way, solution or method, but it’s also about self-expression and new artisitic way of perception.
Psychological experiments in the fields of motivation and learning have disclosed the power of novelty as an inducement to action. Lack of novelty or the inability to cease them at a point of time in the hope of perfectionism will lead to inaction.
Microcosm of society stimulates the tension between the establishment and maintenance of structural constancies and the interruption of achieved equilibria in the interest of new possibilities of experience. This doesn’t mean that new possibilities meet resistance; it’s simple the character of an healthy evolvement of the society.
Role of law, civil institutions and philanthropic organization are to ensure these rights for us. But they are not to hinder our perception of society and very same values they promote.
If we are offended or we think our rights has been violated we could undertake endeavors to know why without necessarily filing petition against the perpetrator in one of the above institutions.
But the trend seems to be changing, increasing, the right to creativity is being undermined by strong institutions with bias mandates. Their pre-established system procedure is assumed to be applicable to all situations, if not they make it applicable. Most of these pre-established system procedures (Pre-ESP) is imported from academia with high level of intellectual capacity and is not well understood by implementers at local levels. This in a way is counter productive and breaches conscious citizens’ right of creativity and freedom of investigation.
Creativity is not necessarily about bringing about new way, solution or method, but it’s also about self-expression and new artisitic way of perception.
Psychological experiments in the fields of motivation and learning have disclosed the power of novelty as an inducement to action. Lack of novelty or the inability to cease them at a point of time in the hope of perfectionism will lead to inaction.
Microcosm of society stimulates the tension between the establishment and maintenance of structural constancies and the interruption of achieved equilibria in the interest of new possibilities of experience. This doesn’t mean that new possibilities meet resistance; it’s simple the character of an healthy evolvement of the society.
Friday, April 14, 2006
judith's thought
PRECONDITIONS:
A: Person X is from Afghanistan
B: Person X applies for a Visa to Russia
C: Person X is refused to get a VISA
A: Person X is from Afghanistan
B: Person X applies for a Visa to Russia
C: Person X is refused to get a VISA
QUESTION:
Why does Person X get no VISA?
Circumstances?
o 1. Lack of necessary documents
o 2. No allowment for people of this origin
o 3. A special case/special circumstances of that person make it impossible to give a VISA (e.g. criminal past…)
o 4. Arbitrary treatment/decision-making by institutions or/and individuals
Why does Person X get no VISA?
Circumstances?
o 1. Lack of necessary documents
o 2. No allowment for people of this origin
o 3. A special case/special circumstances of that person make it impossible to give a VISA (e.g. criminal past…)
o 4. Arbitrary treatment/decision-making by institutions or/and individuals
Solutions/Approaches:
To 1.) provide all needed documents
partly in applicants responsibility
partly applicants dependence on others
(analog: Why does Person X does not get the required documents? -> Circumstances…)
To 3.) Person X is probably incapable of changing anything about this decision (in case
his special preconditions are proven and acknowledged [by ?])
Number 2 (???) and 4 go together considering their absence of valid and internationally acknowledged rules in the determination of the reasonable neglection of VISA:
To 2. and 4.) Person X can look for judicial opportunities to
claim his rights
possible institutions/judicial background:
o human rights
o court of justice (international context)
o UNO?
Precondition:
1. Person X is from Afghanistan
2. Person X is refused to get a VISA for Russia
3. The refusal is not based on any reasonable or internationally acknowledged basis.
Question:
Why Person X is refused to get a VISA?
Circumstances?
o Individual decision
o Inofficial set of rules
o Bureaucratic structures
Approach (not solution!):
The level of individual
The level of institutional
Both intertwined?
Both levels base their decisions on the same criteria as racism does?
The determination of the human individual and its qualities and weaknesses
through their origin, their appearance, their language.
Within this framework the individual does not even have the right or the
opportunity to proof its individuality.
The result is the stigmatization of a certain group of people who are described as
having decisive aspects in common, such could be religion, ideology, thinking,
same solutions for conflicts, goals, world view etc.
Through this the individual is no longer acknowlegded as such. It is dissolved in
stereotypes, which is in fact other people’s ideas of the group the individual is
associated with.
To 1.) provide all needed documents
partly in applicants responsibility
partly applicants dependence on others
(analog: Why does Person X does not get the required documents? -> Circumstances…)
To 3.) Person X is probably incapable of changing anything about this decision (in case
his special preconditions are proven and acknowledged [by ?])
Number 2 (???) and 4 go together considering their absence of valid and internationally acknowledged rules in the determination of the reasonable neglection of VISA:
To 2. and 4.) Person X can look for judicial opportunities to
claim his rights
possible institutions/judicial background:
o human rights
o court of justice (international context)
o UNO?
Precondition:
1. Person X is from Afghanistan
2. Person X is refused to get a VISA for Russia
3. The refusal is not based on any reasonable or internationally acknowledged basis.
Question:
Why Person X is refused to get a VISA?
Circumstances?
o Individual decision
o Inofficial set of rules
o Bureaucratic structures
Approach (not solution!):
The level of individual
The level of institutional
Both intertwined?
Both levels base their decisions on the same criteria as racism does?
The determination of the human individual and its qualities and weaknesses
through their origin, their appearance, their language.
Within this framework the individual does not even have the right or the
opportunity to proof its individuality.
The result is the stigmatization of a certain group of people who are described as
having decisive aspects in common, such could be religion, ideology, thinking,
same solutions for conflicts, goals, world view etc.
Through this the individual is no longer acknowlegded as such. It is dissolved in
stereotypes, which is in fact other people’s ideas of the group the individual is
associated with.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Going to Moscow
I want to go to Moscow for Easter holidays, and I didn’t want to question the perception of individuals who didn’t give me equal treatment as well as organizational bureaucratic systems which promotes racial profiling. But things are not easy; it’s not just like getting a visa and going there.
Young friends at the university who are hard working and pluralistic and don’t have a single image of issues and narrowly defined stereotypes understands the concept of how Moscow could be fun for me.
But individuals who are burden by organizational processes and has predefined image of me provided by stereotype can’t understand why I go to Moscow. They question my sense of adventure and enjoyment.
I am filming the perception of people. The different faces of their perception and how different and the same they are.
These are so abstract concepts. My interviews with the people translate these abstract concepts by building their relationship to my daily life. You’ll see how I am getting increasingly vulnerable to human rights violations and marginalization. Specifically you’ll see here in this documentary what kind of challenges an individual faces when he wants to travel.
Stereotypical image of me by media, HR organization and governments PR is not my reality. This is the reality made by some person some where who doesn’t know me. It’s setting expectations, and a lot of the time we don’t do as expected. I might not do what it’s expected of me, but thousands of people who are potential receipiant will expect me to do this. this expectation is reflected in stereotyping. information builds a negative stereotype. No information will build a neutral stereotype if not positive.
There is a two layer of the issue. The tangible and intangible part of the issue. The tangible is about the visa. I can’t get a visa. I will use available means. The second part is intangible part of the issue.
It’s about a person. Who wants to travel, this person wants to be anyone, but he can’t, he can only be the one who he is perceived to be by the people in the society. Majority perceive me through a generalized image of stereotypes.
Majority’s image of me affects my life.
This confidence and ignorance is projected in stereotyping. We all live in stereotypes. I am not going to bore you out with bla bla reasons of why we live in them, but I will see how people project them on me as an individual which is not part of their society. The stereotype is an image: built of excessive information from the media being over simplified and individuals encounter and experiences. The stereotypes build confidence in individual and help one to think less and react natural with an unknown person or situation.
The media, the governments and the international organizations is helping individual build a stereotypical image of a Muslim who has pre-existing feelings of resentment and frustration; and the current conflict and social segregation exacerbates it and erodes their confidence in the authorities and any established system and they are at the prevailingly supporting organizations that advocate violent methods to protest injustices suffered by Muslims, including terrorism.
Human right organizations warn the majority population that experiences of discrimination and exclusion may result in Muslims adopting behaviors that further underscore their segregation in relation to the majority population. This warning in itself leaves no other option for the majority than to perceive any Muslim as a treat.
I have been to various organizations such as media outlets, HR organizations and university, the people who disseminate information or heavily depend on information to prove the point such as Amnesty international, to disagree about their coverage. Their coverage contributes to build stereotypes, and like most of contemporary stereo types these are negative image in the European public and they also predicts a stereo typical reaction of the Muslims.
Young friends at the university who are hard working and pluralistic and don’t have a single image of issues and narrowly defined stereotypes understands the concept of how Moscow could be fun for me.
But individuals who are burden by organizational processes and has predefined image of me provided by stereotype can’t understand why I go to Moscow. They question my sense of adventure and enjoyment.
I am filming the perception of people. The different faces of their perception and how different and the same they are.
These are so abstract concepts. My interviews with the people translate these abstract concepts by building their relationship to my daily life. You’ll see how I am getting increasingly vulnerable to human rights violations and marginalization. Specifically you’ll see here in this documentary what kind of challenges an individual faces when he wants to travel.
Stereotypical image of me by media, HR organization and governments PR is not my reality. This is the reality made by some person some where who doesn’t know me. It’s setting expectations, and a lot of the time we don’t do as expected. I might not do what it’s expected of me, but thousands of people who are potential receipiant will expect me to do this. this expectation is reflected in stereotyping. information builds a negative stereotype. No information will build a neutral stereotype if not positive.
There is a two layer of the issue. The tangible and intangible part of the issue. The tangible is about the visa. I can’t get a visa. I will use available means. The second part is intangible part of the issue.
It’s about a person. Who wants to travel, this person wants to be anyone, but he can’t, he can only be the one who he is perceived to be by the people in the society. Majority perceive me through a generalized image of stereotypes.
Majority’s image of me affects my life.
This confidence and ignorance is projected in stereotyping. We all live in stereotypes. I am not going to bore you out with bla bla reasons of why we live in them, but I will see how people project them on me as an individual which is not part of their society. The stereotype is an image: built of excessive information from the media being over simplified and individuals encounter and experiences. The stereotypes build confidence in individual and help one to think less and react natural with an unknown person or situation.
The media, the governments and the international organizations is helping individual build a stereotypical image of a Muslim who has pre-existing feelings of resentment and frustration; and the current conflict and social segregation exacerbates it and erodes their confidence in the authorities and any established system and they are at the prevailingly supporting organizations that advocate violent methods to protest injustices suffered by Muslims, including terrorism.
Human right organizations warn the majority population that experiences of discrimination and exclusion may result in Muslims adopting behaviors that further underscore their segregation in relation to the majority population. This warning in itself leaves no other option for the majority than to perceive any Muslim as a treat.
I have been to various organizations such as media outlets, HR organizations and university, the people who disseminate information or heavily depend on information to prove the point such as Amnesty international, to disagree about their coverage. Their coverage contributes to build stereotypes, and like most of contemporary stereo types these are negative image in the European public and they also predicts a stereo typical reaction of the Muslims.
Friday, February 10, 2006
the cartoon crisis
The number of deads rose to eleven in Afghanistan today as the cartoon crisis spread to the southern part of the country.
The cartoons were originally published in a Danish paper, Jyllands-Posten, after Danish writer Kare Bluitgen complained he was unable to find an illustrator for his children's book about the Prophet, because no one wanted to break an Islamic tenet banning the portrayal of his image.
I believe there have been more reasons to publishing the cartoons than what Kare Buitgen has been saying. Why would the cartoons need to be published if it’s for children illustration in Denmark’s leading daily newspaper, is Denmark a nation of three year olds?!
I was reading some of the Muslim newspapers and weblogs in reaction to this incident and there were two reasons which were most commonly spread. The more extreme writers believed it’s another manifestation of Western–Christian hostility toward Islam. They claimed the western “Politicians and the media have a tendency to see Muslims only as criminal, anti-social elements and as potential rapists” This could be seen in the irony of the cartoons, where the media connects the most prominent Islamic character with backwardness, bomb and criminality.
The other reason was, it’s also connected with a lot of home issues which still remains unsolved in Europe, such as freedom of expression. The traditional European censorship comes to a dead end with the rise of right wing governments in power.
Twentieth century history of the Scandinavian countries has had a reputation for being peace-loving and harmless.
That might still be true. But the perception among millions of Muslims has changed; the cartoons are not only breaking the ban and insulting, but it’s also provocative and hostile. Many Scandinavian’s has realized that their reputation is at risk and latest figures shows that almost 80% of the Danes regret the action of Jylland Posten. Many Muslim governments have demanded an official apology from the Danish government, I believe if the Danish government responds positively that would make a big difference.
The polish daily Rzeczospolita decided to republish the cartoons the other day, following the lead of many other papers in France, Germany, and Norway. This is after Jyllands-Posten apology, which admitted that their right of free expression has insulted some other people.
This clearly means that Rzeczospolita realizes the reprint of Mohammad’s cartoon portray is a provocative action, but they still want to go ahead with it. This brings up a good scenario for the polish government; will they allow the cartoons to reinforce their commitment to western values at the cost of exacerbated relationship with the Muslim countries and Muslims inside Poland. Poland is especially interesting to picture in this crisis as it has deep rooted Catholicism tradition and it’s currently ruled by PiS, a socially conservative party who is more toward religious values.
The sentiment of the Scandinavians as very secular societies where religion has never been much important is understandable, but Poland is even more religious than ‘classical countries’ such as Italy. How would a very religious European country insult to another religion? Will Poland standby if Rzeczospolita publishes similar cartoons of Jesus.
The tenet banning of Mohammad’s portrayal in Afghanistan also led to an over exaggeration of the caricatures. No one knew what was originally drawn and this is where the rumors start. rumors of the picture which has gone around Kabul is more obscene.
But even if the presumed cartoons were published I believe violence and attacks are no way to go.
I wonder how would Mohammad (pbuh) reacted if he was around. It has been said he was a very tolerant person with a very good sense of humor, and if he could have understood the Danish sense of humor, he would have set a good precedent for a lot of his followers.
Freedom of expression and information access has been one of the deadliest phenomena since volatile peace has return to this country in 2002. Protests in May 2005 against the alleged insult to Quran in Guantinamo brought at least 15 causalities.
آيا اروپا واقعا به آزادی بيان اعتقاد دارد و آن را رعايت می کند؟ ... شايد اگر دقت کنيد، در می يابيد که برخورد اروپا و غرب با آزادی بيان مانند بسياری از برخوردهای ايرانيان، متناقض است و غرب در رفتار خود کاملا عمل متناقضی را از خود بروز می دهد.
بعنوان مثال، میتوان به مساله هولوکاست در غرب اشاره نمود. اينجانب هولوکاست را نفی نمی کنم اما آيا اروپاييان برای ارايه نظرات مخالف خود پيرامون هولوکاست از آزادی بيان لازم برخوردارند؟
kazemzadeh.blogfa.com
نه محمد، ما سانسور نمی کنيم ... - همه چيز درباره آمريکای من - ۵ فوريه
... به نظر می آيد هربار "جهان اسلام" از چيزی رنجيده می شود، حتی چيزی خيلی کوچک، عکس العمل بسياری از آنان خشونت است. پرچم ها يا اشياء و حتی ساختمان ها را به آتش می کشند، غارت می کنند، انسان های بی گناه را می کشند و خواستار اعدام "توهين کنندگان" به باورهايشان می شوند.
تقدس و آزادی بيان - فرنگوپوليس - سيما شاخساری - ۳ فوريه
من فکر می کنم که مقوله هايی مثل "آزادی" و "دموکراسی" و "سکولاريسم" در دنيای امروزی ما شکل تقدس به خود گرفته اند. يعنی سکولاريسم در خود به مذهب تبديل شده و بعضی از حاميان آن تا حد بنيادگرايی هم می روند.
... و اين کارتون ها هم در مقطعی از تاريخ و در مکانی چاپ شده اند که جو ضد اسلام و مسلمانان باعث شده که مهاجران مسلمان مورد تبعيض و تنفر جوامعی که در آن زندگی می کنند قرار بگيرند. ... نمی شود تحت نام "آزادی بيان" خشونتی که اين کارتون ها در سطح ملی و فراملی به همراه دارند را ناديده گرفت.
... بنيادگرايی مذهبی، تصوير آيينه ای بنيادگرايی سکولار است. حالا خشونتش چه به اسم آزادی بيان باشد چه به اسم محمد، چه به اسم مسيح، چه به اسم شيوا، چه به اسم موسی.
farangeopolis.blogspot.com
کاريکاتورهای توهين آميز و جنگ هويت - مداد - حسين نوش آذر - ۳ فوريه
اعتراض يکپارچه و گسترده مسلمانان جهان به دولت دانمارک و تحريريه روزنامه "يولاندز پستن" نه تنها در اعتقادات مذهبی مسلمانان ريشه دارد، بلکه بيش از هر چيز از بحران هويتی نشان دارد که از شروع انقلاب اسلامی در ايران هر دم بر ابعاد آن افزوده می شود.
جنگ های اخير با ابعاد جهانی و فرا ملی در خاورميانه تنها جنگ ميان غرب و جهان اسلام نيست. اين جنگ ها، جنگ هويت است. مسلمانان استعمار شده در يکسو قرار دارند و مسيحيان و صهيونيست های استعمارگر در سوی ديگر.
www.medad.net/wpm
فرهنگ افراطی نرنجاندن - BuzzMachine - جف جارويس - ۵ فوريه
من اغلب از اين ناليده ام که آمريکا به فرهنگ نرنجاندن تبديل شده، جايی که هر چه ممکن است موجب رنجش کسی شود را نبايد گفت ...
... آيا ما نبايد بيشتر، از عکس العمل خشونت آميز در مخالفت با بيان يک عقيده ناراحت شويم تا از ابراز آن عقيده؟ آيا نبايد اين موضوع را بيان کنيم؟ ... آيا ما - دولت ها، ناشران، روزنامه نگاران، شهروندان - مرعوب خشونت شده ايم؟ ...
آيا روزنامه نگاران آمريکايی برای ابراز همبستگی با ناشران اروپايی بايد اين کاريکاتورها را منتشر می کردند؟ ... آيا اين تصاوير بخشی از داستان نيستند که برای فهميده شدن بايد به نمايش در می آمدند؟ آيا حقی برای ديدن آنها هست؟ آيا مسئوليتی روزنامه نگارانه که آنها را در گزارش ها نشان دهيم وجود ندارد؟
وقتی اهانت، به گناه و جرم تبديل می شود و موجبی برای مجازات و حتی خشونت، هيچ وقت مشخص نيست که خط قرمز کجاست؟ اما زمانی که ابر
The cartoons were originally published in a Danish paper, Jyllands-Posten, after Danish writer Kare Bluitgen complained he was unable to find an illustrator for his children's book about the Prophet, because no one wanted to break an Islamic tenet banning the portrayal of his image.
I believe there have been more reasons to publishing the cartoons than what Kare Buitgen has been saying. Why would the cartoons need to be published if it’s for children illustration in Denmark’s leading daily newspaper, is Denmark a nation of three year olds?!
I was reading some of the Muslim newspapers and weblogs in reaction to this incident and there were two reasons which were most commonly spread. The more extreme writers believed it’s another manifestation of Western–Christian hostility toward Islam. They claimed the western “Politicians and the media have a tendency to see Muslims only as criminal, anti-social elements and as potential rapists” This could be seen in the irony of the cartoons, where the media connects the most prominent Islamic character with backwardness, bomb and criminality.
The other reason was, it’s also connected with a lot of home issues which still remains unsolved in Europe, such as freedom of expression. The traditional European censorship comes to a dead end with the rise of right wing governments in power.
Twentieth century history of the Scandinavian countries has had a reputation for being peace-loving and harmless.
That might still be true. But the perception among millions of Muslims has changed; the cartoons are not only breaking the ban and insulting, but it’s also provocative and hostile. Many Scandinavian’s has realized that their reputation is at risk and latest figures shows that almost 80% of the Danes regret the action of Jylland Posten. Many Muslim governments have demanded an official apology from the Danish government, I believe if the Danish government responds positively that would make a big difference.
The polish daily Rzeczospolita decided to republish the cartoons the other day, following the lead of many other papers in France, Germany, and Norway. This is after Jyllands-Posten apology, which admitted that their right of free expression has insulted some other people.
This clearly means that Rzeczospolita realizes the reprint of Mohammad’s cartoon portray is a provocative action, but they still want to go ahead with it. This brings up a good scenario for the polish government; will they allow the cartoons to reinforce their commitment to western values at the cost of exacerbated relationship with the Muslim countries and Muslims inside Poland. Poland is especially interesting to picture in this crisis as it has deep rooted Catholicism tradition and it’s currently ruled by PiS, a socially conservative party who is more toward religious values.
The sentiment of the Scandinavians as very secular societies where religion has never been much important is understandable, but Poland is even more religious than ‘classical countries’ such as Italy. How would a very religious European country insult to another religion? Will Poland standby if Rzeczospolita publishes similar cartoons of Jesus.
The tenet banning of Mohammad’s portrayal in Afghanistan also led to an over exaggeration of the caricatures. No one knew what was originally drawn and this is where the rumors start. rumors of the picture which has gone around Kabul is more obscene.
But even if the presumed cartoons were published I believe violence and attacks are no way to go.
I wonder how would Mohammad (pbuh) reacted if he was around. It has been said he was a very tolerant person with a very good sense of humor, and if he could have understood the Danish sense of humor, he would have set a good precedent for a lot of his followers.
Freedom of expression and information access has been one of the deadliest phenomena since volatile peace has return to this country in 2002. Protests in May 2005 against the alleged insult to Quran in Guantinamo brought at least 15 causalities.
آيا اروپا واقعا به آزادی بيان اعتقاد دارد و آن را رعايت می کند؟ ... شايد اگر دقت کنيد، در می يابيد که برخورد اروپا و غرب با آزادی بيان مانند بسياری از برخوردهای ايرانيان، متناقض است و غرب در رفتار خود کاملا عمل متناقضی را از خود بروز می دهد.
بعنوان مثال، میتوان به مساله هولوکاست در غرب اشاره نمود. اينجانب هولوکاست را نفی نمی کنم اما آيا اروپاييان برای ارايه نظرات مخالف خود پيرامون هولوکاست از آزادی بيان لازم برخوردارند؟
kazemzadeh.blogfa.com
نه محمد، ما سانسور نمی کنيم ... - همه چيز درباره آمريکای من - ۵ فوريه
... به نظر می آيد هربار "جهان اسلام" از چيزی رنجيده می شود، حتی چيزی خيلی کوچک، عکس العمل بسياری از آنان خشونت است. پرچم ها يا اشياء و حتی ساختمان ها را به آتش می کشند، غارت می کنند، انسان های بی گناه را می کشند و خواستار اعدام "توهين کنندگان" به باورهايشان می شوند.
تقدس و آزادی بيان - فرنگوپوليس - سيما شاخساری - ۳ فوريه
من فکر می کنم که مقوله هايی مثل "آزادی" و "دموکراسی" و "سکولاريسم" در دنيای امروزی ما شکل تقدس به خود گرفته اند. يعنی سکولاريسم در خود به مذهب تبديل شده و بعضی از حاميان آن تا حد بنيادگرايی هم می روند.
... و اين کارتون ها هم در مقطعی از تاريخ و در مکانی چاپ شده اند که جو ضد اسلام و مسلمانان باعث شده که مهاجران مسلمان مورد تبعيض و تنفر جوامعی که در آن زندگی می کنند قرار بگيرند. ... نمی شود تحت نام "آزادی بيان" خشونتی که اين کارتون ها در سطح ملی و فراملی به همراه دارند را ناديده گرفت.
... بنيادگرايی مذهبی، تصوير آيينه ای بنيادگرايی سکولار است. حالا خشونتش چه به اسم آزادی بيان باشد چه به اسم محمد، چه به اسم مسيح، چه به اسم شيوا، چه به اسم موسی.
farangeopolis.blogspot.com
کاريکاتورهای توهين آميز و جنگ هويت - مداد - حسين نوش آذر - ۳ فوريه
اعتراض يکپارچه و گسترده مسلمانان جهان به دولت دانمارک و تحريريه روزنامه "يولاندز پستن" نه تنها در اعتقادات مذهبی مسلمانان ريشه دارد، بلکه بيش از هر چيز از بحران هويتی نشان دارد که از شروع انقلاب اسلامی در ايران هر دم بر ابعاد آن افزوده می شود.
جنگ های اخير با ابعاد جهانی و فرا ملی در خاورميانه تنها جنگ ميان غرب و جهان اسلام نيست. اين جنگ ها، جنگ هويت است. مسلمانان استعمار شده در يکسو قرار دارند و مسيحيان و صهيونيست های استعمارگر در سوی ديگر.
www.medad.net/wpm
فرهنگ افراطی نرنجاندن - BuzzMachine - جف جارويس - ۵ فوريه
من اغلب از اين ناليده ام که آمريکا به فرهنگ نرنجاندن تبديل شده، جايی که هر چه ممکن است موجب رنجش کسی شود را نبايد گفت ...
... آيا ما نبايد بيشتر، از عکس العمل خشونت آميز در مخالفت با بيان يک عقيده ناراحت شويم تا از ابراز آن عقيده؟ آيا نبايد اين موضوع را بيان کنيم؟ ... آيا ما - دولت ها، ناشران، روزنامه نگاران، شهروندان - مرعوب خشونت شده ايم؟ ...
آيا روزنامه نگاران آمريکايی برای ابراز همبستگی با ناشران اروپايی بايد اين کاريکاتورها را منتشر می کردند؟ ... آيا اين تصاوير بخشی از داستان نيستند که برای فهميده شدن بايد به نمايش در می آمدند؟ آيا حقی برای ديدن آنها هست؟ آيا مسئوليتی روزنامه نگارانه که آنها را در گزارش ها نشان دهيم وجود ندارد؟
وقتی اهانت، به گناه و جرم تبديل می شود و موجبی برای مجازات و حتی خشونت، هيچ وقت مشخص نيست که خط قرمز کجاست؟ اما زمانی که ابر
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
for Katowic victims
It’s snowing outside - like usual
I opened the window and touched to see if it was cold
In deed, I felt you; i felt the coldness of your body
I felt all the cold concrete rubbles coloured with cold white snow
Closed the window
I saw a man putting a new ad on the board across the window
I want them to put a big white pigeon
You know which one I am talking about
The one you liked the most
Yes, that one ;-)
The one you liked too much and decided to soar with it without farewell
We wondered where you went … Magda and Łukasz was looking for you
The dog misses you too… I saw him drunk last night; he had lost his second rotten tooth
Want to clear all roofs from snow
But usual story… my muscles can’t help me … I am a blind in the dark …bothered but not afraid
Today we mourn for you… flags half masted and decorated with couple of black ribbons
Wanted to tell you we’ll remember you after today too
If man does nothing because he feels not like it… then that causes the triumph of even concrete over us
our diminutive act could have prevented your sudden departure… this is no chaos theory
Maximum respect!!!
I opened the window and touched to see if it was cold
In deed, I felt you; i felt the coldness of your body
I felt all the cold concrete rubbles coloured with cold white snow
Closed the window
I saw a man putting a new ad on the board across the window
I want them to put a big white pigeon
You know which one I am talking about
The one you liked the most
Yes, that one ;-)
The one you liked too much and decided to soar with it without farewell
We wondered where you went … Magda and Łukasz was looking for you
The dog misses you too… I saw him drunk last night; he had lost his second rotten tooth
Want to clear all roofs from snow
But usual story… my muscles can’t help me … I am a blind in the dark …bothered but not afraid
Today we mourn for you… flags half masted and decorated with couple of black ribbons
Wanted to tell you we’ll remember you after today too
If man does nothing because he feels not like it… then that causes the triumph of even concrete over us
our diminutive act could have prevented your sudden departure… this is no chaos theory
Maximum respect!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)