AFTER "THE LION"

If there was ever a hope for a successful Afghanistan it would have been seen through a man of the country, a freedom fighter for his land who fought like a brave during the Soviet Afghanistan war and continued for another twenty years. I was standing post at the government compound located in the city of Jalalabad in north eastern Afghanistan. The city of Jalalabad is always a bustle of old world and new. Men with multi colored beards are always moving and watching. Afghans run small shops and some would look up at a convoy of Marines passing by with utter despise, others would wave. We would convoy out to the compound and navigate our way through these busy city streets, waiting for a sniper or a road bomb that never came. Donkey drawn carts, sleeping unemployed men, oversized trucks packed full of gear with flowers painted on them in bright colors, and a stray camel herding nomad were the usual sights. I would find myself there a few days a week and would volunteer for the work when it was needed. Life at the government compound was easy for a young Marine. We would work in teams of two, and truly had little to do at the post other than sit in a room and kill time.
I found myself in close quarters with former Taliban who had taken office and were not allowed to leave the compound for fear of assassination. There was an on grounds cook who would run out to town and return with meats and vegetables, a tall lanky man who had nicknamed himself “Snoop Dog” after the rapper. “Snoop” and I would shoot the shit in broken English and sometimes he would watch American films with me on my laptop. A junior Marine standing the post once pulled me aside and nervously explained that “Snoop Dog” had requested a porno and the Marine wanted to know what I thought we should do about this situation. Pulling him out by his collar and shooting “Snoop Dog” for requesting something easily accessible to myself seemed extreme so I explained to the Marine that even though his country forbids pornography,“Snoop Dog’s” adolescent interest in such material is a good sign for the future of democracy in the region.
I would walk the compound and marvel at the notion that twenty years ago this area was swamped with Russian soldiers. The very compound itself had once stood for something different than it did for my generation of warriors in the graveyard of empires. When I had a squad of Marines before the deployment I studied every book I could find on the Russian/Afghan War and had developed a quiet understanding that if and when the Afghan people turn on America, we will know it. When I found myself in the country I would listen to the stale wind and hatred was always the undertone.
One night I was swapping cigarettes with two friendly Afghan policemen. If you ever want information in a foreign country, gifts are essential. Smokes and porno are an acceptable and universal trade for whatever you need. That night I wanted to hear about a man. After handing over a few hard to find American smokes I asked one of the policemen if he had ever heard of Charlie Wilson? Charlie Wilson was a congressman who coordinated the funding necessary to import weapons to the Afghan Freedom Fighters in the 1980’s. The cop electrified and explained with happy intensity that he had met Charlie Wilson. I will never know if he really did but I believed him, the age matched and Wilson had made a visit to the country during the war. Next I asked about the “Lion of Panjshir”, the Afghan became more solemn and he said “Yes, Massoud.” I asked if he had fought the Russians and he replied that he had. These men are carved out of stone, they have fought too many foreigners, they have fought each other when there wasn’t anyone to fight, and now there are policemen trying to form a government. There will be more fighting and all of the American war movies made could never translate the damage done to people by people. I found myself content with the information gathered, it was not groundbreaking, but I constantly found myself staring at Afghan men, wondering if they shot down a MIG, lost their friend to a hind strike, and what hopes for the future these men can have after a lifetime of chaos. If there is one thing to pay attention to in Afghanistan it is that the people will never be conquered, and they are in a constant struggle in which their daily worries are far more serious than anything we in the states could ever empathize with or imagine. The Afghan knows struggle, the Afghan knows war, and there was a man who saw a way out…
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