Day 1: Returning to Kabul

Atlanta, USA

Naeem Randhawa

July 4, 2008

Email from Rolf, July 3, 2008:

"...let me implore you not to take this trip right now. It's one thing to make an interesting piece in a somewhat dangerous area, I have traveled there myself. It is another to misjudge the severity of the situation and I think this is really not a good time to go right now. I think it would be much better if you could go in a little while when things have cooled off just a tad. If it was my judgment at this point, and I have been known to take risks, this would not be a risk I would take.
Remember man, you have a family, wife and kid and all. You bear a responsibility for them.
God takes care of those that take care of themselves I have learned when I was little. I am pretty sure the Qu'ran says something similar.
Delaying it a bit is wise, not cowardly.
Whatever you do, be safe,"

I arrive in ATL, I wait for my connection, Delta flight DL8, a Boeing triple seven. We'll leave here at 9 pm, and get in to Dubai at 7 pm, minus the time-zones, it's a long haul, no matter how you cut it. The giant metal bird sits outside the glass wall in front of me, they're prepping her, cleaning out the left-overs, spilled drinks, crumpled magazines, and left behind cell phones. They'll bring in the airline food, including a half dozen Halal meals, for me and the hijabis in the lounge. She'll be vacuumed, cleaned and restocked for another hop over the Atlantic - and when she lands, lather, rinse and repeat again.

I'm thinking about Rolf's email, and everyone else's echo, Sonia, my parents and friends who found out my plans to return to Kabul. I smile at the irony of Rolf's email - an atheist quoting the Quran to a Muslim, I'm touched by his concern. Things have gotten much worse since last year. A couple of months after I left last year, a co-worker got his brains splattered on the sidewalk in front of the Serena hotel. I'd been to that place on several occasions. They weren't aiming at him, the scope was aimed at a government official, the co-worker just happened to be in the way at the wrong time. Bad timing. Bad luck.

My Google alerts don't read too well either;

"In Afghanistan, Taliban grows stronger
People's Weekly World - USA
On June 27, nearly seven years after United States and NATO troops ousted the Taliban government of Afghanistan, the Pentagon issued a comprehensive report ..."

"Bush Acknowledges Tough Fight In Afghanistan
By Human Security Report Project
EXCERPT: "June was the deadliest month for US and NATO forces in Afghanistan since the US-led invasion in 2001. It was also the second month in a row that coalition troop loses in Afghanistan were greater than in Iraq. ..."

I've asked Sonia to turn the alerts off on her laptop, and try not to get caught up with news of the region. It's too easy to let your imagination get the best of you, I think this will be tougher on her in many ways, than on me. I'll be too busy to sit and think about any of it, at least until I get back that is. I've shut out the voices of caution, not because I'm hard-headed, but because I've spoken to my contacts there, and while they agree it's gotten worse, it's not quite as bad as the headlines - as usual. I just have to work smarter, I don't know if I'll go through with my plans to meet with the Taliban, like I did last year. I'll rendezvous with Jonathan, the school teacher from Vermont, in Kabul in a few days - he's been on edge, more than usual, before going this year. If I do venture into Taliban country, it'll be without him. I'll have to have some serious conversations with my fixers, and figure out, if it's safe. Play it smart.

Yes, I'm going to film a documentary about Jonathan and me building two schools for village kids - but somehow it feels like I'm using that as an excuse to go back. Something under the surface is calling me back. Since I got back last year, I fell into a depression, I put on ten pounds, and have found it hard to focus on anything. Maybe my return will be healing. I remember hearing about a European photographer who took a world renown picture of a little boy during the Ethiopian famine, vultures crouched behind him, waiting for the sick and dying child to fall over from where he sat. The image is still burned in my memory. The photographer committed suicide some months after he got back. I've been asking "how" and "why" many times since I got back.

In the lounge, families are gathering for the flight, next to me, two girls are eating ice cream and playing. Across from me, three guys from Blackwater are sitting on the lounger chairs, one of them's reading the Lonely Planet Guide to Afghanistan.

I'm on my way back, where the silk road and the spice road cross, I don't know what I'll find, but beginning the search feels good.

God - grant me speed, God - grant me courage, keep Sonia and Zak in your embrace.