All sorts of Afghan Winter Feelings: “I was frightened. I cried.”

01 this is my story

“I was frightened. I cried,” she seemed like both a statue and a radio,

numb and alive, not shy about the horrors she had survived.

“There were bombs dropping from the heavens,

and firing from the army, the Taliban,

yes, yes, from everyone,

from everywhere.”

02 burning plastic for fuel

Already like a teenage mother to her younger siblings

who huddled around her, she insisted,

“We had to run, to escape Kunduz.”

Do we really expect her to have stayed put,

to not seek refuge from weapons the powers produce?

“And now? We eat little scraps found on the streets.

See? We burn plastic.”

03 family

A few unwashed glasses were in a corner,

and also Nasriya, their latest sibling,

gazing at her refugee world from a hanging baby cot,

no nursery rhymes, no birthday candles, no photo albums.

Sadly, such stories are not news these days,

not ‘attractive’ enough for viewers,

though it ought to be important to a humanity that is intact and engaged:

it is a brutal mirror of how we adults

are successfully destroying everything children dream of.

04 burning incense among cars

It is an upside-down ‘Toyota’ car-world

which presumes that kids who do ‘non-job’ jobs are lazy,

like the boy I saw on the road to the refugee camp.

He was burning incense in a black tin while asking for a few Afghanis.

He was really asking for bread.

05 Shuba and her ambition

We forget that Afghan children are like Shuba with the blue scarf,

standing with her friends at the doorway of a makeshift school,

answering me without hesitation,

 “Me? I want to be a doctor!”

It was as if she was daring me,

“Pronounce your judgment!

What did you think I would have become?”

06 refugee vendor selling soup

I tried to imagine the lack of regular meals

for these refugees from Kunduz, Parwan, Kapisa

and returnees from Pakistan and Iran.

This was their share of the solar system,

chucked into corners of unwelcome,

in air so polluted they can’t see the stars.

How could we make millions of humans feel this way,

as if their address was not ‘Mother Earth’?

07 robbed of life's meaning

There was a noisy sense that their souls will never be heard.

Their faces seemed like art which had run out of purpose,

their eyes unable to cope with what we’re doing to one another,

with how we ‘vote’ for our oppressors

and habitually gobble up advertisements and stuff.

Our daily choices no longer seem logical:

we must have already died,

and this! This existence

was an orchestrated taunt, a haunt.

08 Kaka Ghulam lost two sons

One of the elders, Kaka Ghulam, said,

“Several strongmen came to chase us away from this land.

They shot and killed my son for resisting.

No media was allowed to interview us after the incident.”

He would have told any journalist that

it was not the first son he had lost in a year.

And the journalist may have been threatened or killed afterwards.

09 lady in a wheelchair

I regretfully still don’t know her story,

but she is likely to be familiar with fear,

the breathlessness of bullets whistling towards bodies,

seeking to burst through flesh and bone,

to shatter all the best values we long for.

We don’t spare children either.

We don’t bother to count them,

but their transient innocence defies our neglect

as they smile,

giggle,

and flock around the camera,

if only to see themselves acknowledged on the digital screen,

light capturing light.

10 children save us

11 smiles save us

12 innocence is not a sin

13 they should be going to school

14 fun saves us

The human spirit of the adults inspired me too,

that they would cling on to humour,

laugh for a moment

and preserve their sense of happiness and gratitude

despite being misconstrued as potential ‘troublemakers’.

Whatever they may have been,

 farmers, shepherds, shopkeepers, professionals,

they are now all labelled ‘refugees’ or IDPs,

their human needs termed ‘the rights of refugees’,

so governments can cite national security as a sacred reason

to deny them the right to food, water, shelter, safety from death.

15 sharing a moment

16 good spirits despite

17 friends bring laughter

18 gratitude

19 light and dust

In the light, dust, pleas, and duvet distribution lists

were emotions too recent to be assuaged.

I witnessed a broken-ness lost to elitist conferences

that decide on the same old, same old.

Even if we couldn’t imagine the war-torn feelings of one mother,

how could we miss the plight of 65 million refugees worldwide?

Each of their expressions, without speaking, spoke to me,

speech without sound.

20 hurts

21 uncertainty
22 meekness

23 nervousness

24 too many refugees

25 refugee world

What surrounds these 700 refugee families?

10 to 15-storey buildings,

rubbish,

fences,

Commander-in-Chiefs from too many countries,

an economic war disguised as democracy,

and an internet that still can’t relate with the mass human condition.

I could have felt very helpless,

if not for the complex emotions swarming me,

from our human family giving and receiving duvets,

from love which can transform fury.

26 rubbish

27 fences

28 result of capitalist consumersim

29 duvet emotions

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