Afghanistan in the first person: our dreams of peace and the end of the war

KABUL, Afghanistan – It was the fourth day of peace talks between Americans and Afghans last week and we were in the New York Times office in Kabul, sitting in front of our office, face to face, when we looked up and our eyes. they crossed. At that moment, we both thought, "It could really happen."

Then we ask ourselves: what now?

"If we lived in peace, what would you do first?" Asked Fahim in Fatima.

"I'll roll," Fatima replied. The last time he did it, he was a girl and he was in his hometown, which has always been under the control of the Taliban. "Then I would go to my town and you, what would you do?"

Fahim stopped to think for a minute. "I would buy a motorcycle, install two GoPro cameras and visit all the places now controlled by the Taliban: Uruzgan, Zabul, Helmand, then Daikundi and Bamian, I want to see these places up close, not from a plane."

Sharing these dreams was very exciting, even though after all we have seen, our lost friends and the attacks on innocent citizens, we know very well that a peace agreement is not reached.

Even if a peace treaty is concluded, we know that its implementation would take time, at least months, even years. In addition, it is quite possible that under this agreement, the Taliban will retain control of the places we want to visit, or even take over some of the ministries and try to tell us where to go.

In any case, like many others, friends and enemies, we let ourselves be carried away by the hope that reigns in an unprecedented moment.

Then, it seemed to us that our friends might also dream of everything they could do. Like us, most have never lived in peace; only those who are almost 50 years old have memories of this kind and most young people barely remember the time of the Taliban.

The only thing we know is a country at war.

(We have often read that the war in Afghanistan is the longest lived in the US It is also the longest war for us.) Even in the history of Afghanistan, it is would be necessary to spend many years to find a war at forty. years).

So we searched, on Facebook to begin, where were our friends. In times of war, it is even more important for Facebook to keep in touch, as it is safer to meet in public places.

One of Fahim's friends, 35-year-old Nasim Pakhtoon, who is in charge of a government television channel, announced that as soon as peace prevails, he plans to open a restaurant in the province. isolated from Nuristan, a place nestled in the mountains. access so difficult that for a long time it was compared to Shangri-la fiction.

A friend of Fatima, Tahera Rezaee, a 28-year-old documentary photographer, also had projects.

"I'm going to take my suitcase, some dresses and my camera," he said. "I will use public transport, not a private car, I will go on excursions in the Panjshir, listen to music in Helmand and visit the new town of Aino Mena in Kandahar because I heard to say that it was like Dubai, I will photograph girls in Badakhshan and dance with Sikhs in Nangarhar ".

The dreams of many of our friends were not at all complicated.

Rafiullah Stanikzai, 30, an employee of the US Peace Institute, said he would get in a car and go around the country in the winter, stopping at places where the snow snows. accumulated. "I'm going to light a fire and sit around the fire with my friends at night," he said. "Now I could not do it."

Laila Noorani, a 23-year-old radio producer, wants to jog, since she has only seen women do it in movies.

During the peace talks in Qatar, we heard more laughter than usual in our newsroom. The news seemed to indicate that it was increasingly likely to reach a peace agreement. So we were overwhelmed by emotions.

We wondered if the Taliban would also dream of peace, so we asked some of them.

Fatima contacted a jailed Taliban, who asked to remain anonymous, for fear of having problems with the insurgents when he is released (which is likely if the peace agreement is finalized).

He admitted that it was a relief to be arrested, so he did not have to keep fighting, which he has done since his memory. He is 36 years old.

"My first toy was a gun, a real one," he said. "We are tired of fighting."

And his dream? "Bride me, my fiancee has been waiting for me for five years already".

Our colleague Najim Rahim, who works in the city of Mazar-i-Sharif, has managed to get in touch with another Taliban, Shah Mohammad, governor of the opposition in Jowzjan province (the Taliban have created their own virtual heads of government in the country). provinces and districts, even in places where the government is virtually in control).

Shah Mohammad's dream was very simple.

"The first thing to do is to visit my parents," he said. He has not seen them for six years. Subsequently, he plans to visit northern cities such as Sheberghan and Mazar-i-Sharif, just for the sake of roaming the streets without fear.

Unfortunately, at the end of the week, we had to get back on the ground. The negotiations in Qatar concluded after six days without an agreement being reached. The atmosphere was optimistic, according to all participants, but we have heard about it in the past.

Suddenly, the obstacles became insurmountable again, as for so many years.

On this occasion, we felt a particular disappointment because our expectations had increased. Afghans hardly ever talk about our dreams of a peaceful life because we almost stopped believing it was possible.

We immediately felt shame for allowing us to lower our guard. The laughs disappeared from the newsroom.

We came back to remember the war, which we had almost forgotten during those few days full of hope.

In the case of Fatima, the worst memory of the war was the scene of 2016 in Deh Mazang Square, where two suicide bombers of the Islamic State perpetrated an attack on protesters, killing 120 people and killing hundreds more. wounded. Although it's just right, his physical injuries were slight.

The worst memory that Fahim has of the war dates back to the age of 11 years. He witnessed the killing of Taliban prisoners in his hometown, Mazar-i-Sharif, in 1997.

Hundreds of Taliban corpses lay in the streets after being defeated by jihadists, and brought a group of Taliban prisoners and jihadist militia members who were tortured and shot dead.

"They behaved like animals," said Fahim. "We fled the city before the Taliban came back to settle their accounts, they did the same with the prisoners they captured."

We had several ideas to conclude this story.

Last week, we had so much hope. We think of all the friends we have lost, but with the idea that we might not lose others. I could not sleep well last night. I wanted to cry, but I could not.

Last week, I fantasized about my childhood. I saw myself in our city with my father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather. I was about 5 years old. The walls around our house were very high.

As now, everyone was fed up with the war and the country's leaders were criminals; the Taliban had just emerged and everyone thought that they were good people and that everything would change.

Then my great-grandfather pointed at me and said, "I hope he's the first of our family to finally experience peace." My great-grandfather lived until the age of 105, but he died before we found peace.

Last week, I could not get rid of the thought that his wish could perhaps come true. This week, I'm not so sure anymore.

Fahim Abed, 30, and Fatima Faizi, 24, are Afghan journalists who write for the New York Times in Kabul.

Rod Nordland collaborated on this report from Kabul and Najim Rahim from Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan.

* Copyright: 2019 The New York Times News Service