108. The beginning

Before I start posting more, it might be helpful to go all the way to the beginning and share how it all started.  September 11th, 2001 is etched in everyone's memory.  However, some of us were more impacted by it then others.  It was a day that changed the course of many people's lives and I was one of those people. Immediately after the attacks, I was laid off from a cushy marketing job I had in Silicon Valley.  I was given a hefty severance check so I was in no rush to find a new job. Instead I decided to spend some time helping to run the nonprofit professional networking organization, the Society of Afghan Professionals (SAP), I had helped establish immediately after graduating from college.  

As the US decided to turn its military focus on Afghanistan where Osama Bin Laden and Al Qaeda were being hosted by the Taliban regime that was ruling the country, the American people's curiosity about Afghanistan grew.  As the only unemployed professional at SAP, I was often the one talking to the media, organizing cultural events with grass roots organizations and speaking at various venues to introduce the people, culture and history of Afghanistan to my fellow Americans.  

For decades Afghanistan had been engaged in war and the Taliban were silently ruling the country with an iron first.  Because there was very little media attention and social media was non-existent, the world was starting to finally hear stories and see videos of the Talibans barbaric rules and laws that the people of Afghanistan were living under.  Images of women being stoned, buried alive, shot in the head in Ghazi stadium and men with long beards and turbans whipping innocent pedestrians with cables and switches filled people's television screens.  Americans have alway been very uninformed about Afghanistan but an anti-war movement was fueling a curiosity about the country that had been dormant for decades.  

I came to the US as a 4 year old child when my parents settled in the San Francisco bay area as immigrants fleeing the communists.  Because there were very few Afghan families here at the time, I grew up very disconnected from my Afghan background.  Although my parents tried their best to keep Afghanistan alive inside our home, aside from the food, music and rare holiday rituals, I was about as disconnected as I could have been from my roots.  When I first help set up SAP, I didn't even speak the Farsi language much. But during that period of time, I was introduced to Afghanistan's history, art, poetry, culture and traditions through the different members and the programs we organized.  So when the requests came in for speaking engagements and cultural events after 9/11, I was "connected" enough to participate in them.  

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Through one of these events, I was introduced to Global Exchange, a human rights organization based in San Francisco, CA.   When I visited them the day after a joint Afghan art exhibit we held where one of their directors spoke about a recent trip she took to Kabul, I was given a tour of their office.  They had a wonderful program called Reality Tours where they organized 2 week tours for Americans who wanted to visit developing and post-conflict countries to build people-to-people ties and find ways to get their communities to help the various projects on the ground.  As a joke, I told them if they ever decide to organize tours to Afghanistan, they should call me.  A week later, they called me.

After working for a month and a half in their San Francisco office organizing their first Reality Tour to Kabul for a group of high profile women's rights activists, it was clear that there were challenges that we hadn't anticipated due to the fact that none of us had any idea of the conditions and how things operated on the ground in Afghanistan.  I was informed that I needed to join the group to go into Kabul to not only lead the delegation but to gather information, hire the necessary staff, and set up the operations on the ground so that when I return, my job of organizing these tours from San Francisco would be easier. Fast forward another month where, I did countless interviews with media who learned that I would be traveling to Kabul, prepped the women of the delegation on what to expect, made all the travel arrangements for the group, got my travel vaccinations, applied for visas and convinced my family and friends I haven't lost my mind, the day came for me to head to the airport.

Back then, there were no commercial flights going into Kabul.  There were no direct flights to Dubai.  Afghan-American's needed to have visas to enter Afghanistan.  And, there was no travel agency to help me figure out all the details of this trip.  So my journey took 3 days and transits through 5 different airports before I arrived in Kabul.  With $50 in my pocket and one suitcase, mainly filled with donations, I boarded my flight in San Francisco, flew to DC to collect my Pakistan and Afghanistan visa. From there I continued on to London, where to my dismay I realized I flew into one airport and had to fly out of another with very little time to transfer between the two. With minutes left before take off, I made it on the plane and met up with the other 12 women on the delegation.  Our next stop was Dubai where I couldn't believe was in the middle east. I was not prepared for the palm streets, the glitz, the lights, the glamour, and that was just the airport. We finally made it to Islamabad where we were swarmed by about 150 taxi drivers as we left the airport.  After begging our way onto the only flight into Kabul, the UN Humanitarian flight, we were about to head to our final destination. Katrin and I were the last ones to board.  As soon as I put my foot on the first step, an intense fear took over.  I pulled on Katrin’s arm and asked her, “What the hell are we doing? We are about to get on a plane to go to Afghanistan!  We have no idea what is going on there and what is going to happen to us.”  The uncertainty in what we were getting ourselves into consumed me and created a debilitating fear that made me want to turn back and run the opposite way back to my home, to my family, to my friends and to all that is familiar and safe.  But Katrin looked straight at me and in typical Katrin fashion said, “Nilufar, it’s too late to have these thoughts or to turn back now.”  She told me that I came this far and would never forgive myself if I didn’t go through with it.  As quickly as the fear had come over me, it went away.  I knew she was right. I had to go. Something was calling me.  I didn’t know at that point what it was but I felt this strong force push me up those stairs and onto that plane. 

About 30 minutes into the flight, I felt an overwhelming magnetic pull from deep within the ground. Seconds later the pilot announced on the intercom that we had entered Afghanistan airspace and should be landing in about 35 minutes at Kabul International Airport.  To this day, I have never forgotten that feeling which took my breath away and still gives me chills when I think about it.  

I looked out the window to the most magnificent view I had ever seen. Below us lay the majestic snow capped mountains of the Hindu Kush range.  I had spent most of my life in Northern California and had never seen a mountain range as impressive as the Hindu Kush.  The bright morning sun above us made the snow glisten on the mountain tops intensifying the brilliance of the view.  

The flight attendant announced that we had begun our descent into Kabul International airport and that we should fasten our seat belts. I looked out the window but couldn’t see anything that looked like a city below us.  I was beginning to get worried because all I could see as far as I looked was mountains and we were getting dangerously close to them.  All of a sudden, the mountains opened up to a circular area of flat land with an intricate grid of buildings below us.  Everything was a grayish brown color with no other colors in sight.  I had heard that Kabul had become really dusty but I couldn’t believe that I would find no green whatsoever.  

I frantically searched for the runway because we were getting really close to landing and I couldn’t see anything that looked like an airport below us.  As soon as I thought about getting worried, I felt the plane land.   Everyone on the plane started cheering except for me because I was in utter shock.  The plane taxied down the short runway and I could hear my heart beating over the roar of the airplane’s engines.  We were going too fast and I didn’t know if there was enough runway for the plane to go down until it slowed to its taxing speed.  A blur of military fighter jets passed us by.  All of a sudden, the plane slowed down enough to make a u-turn.  I couldn’t understand why everything had to happen so suddenly with no warning.  Our landing was sudden, our turning was sudden and finally our stop was sudden.  It was my first introduction to how everything operates in Afghanistan.  

I looked out my window at a beat up two story concrete building with a sign outside that read, “Welcome to Kabul International Airport”.  My eyes moved up to the second-floor balcony and as vividly as if it happened yesterday, I had the vision of my grandfather kneeling in front of me and hugging me goodbye 22 years ago.  The emotional rush was too much. I have no recollection of how I gathered my luggage and walked down the aisle to exit the plane.  All I remember is the intense emotions of excitement and anticipation for having finally made it to Kabul, nervousness and fear for what was going to happen as I stepped off the plane, and utter euphoria for finally coming in contact with the land I was born in.  

I pulled my scarf over my head to cover my hair and took my first step into Afghanistan.  I was quickly greeted by the crisp, cold late winter air.  I had to fight the wind to get down the slippery steps to reach the tarmac.  When I finally stepped onto the ground my legs stopped communicating with my brain.  I couldn’t move.  I felt an overwhelming urge to fall to the ground and kiss it.  All my life I had felt like my life was complete in America.  I had everything a person can ask for. A great job, a nice home, a new car, my family and friends around me.   But at that moment, I realized that there was something missing.  And it was at that precise second I realized what it was.  It was my land, my people, my home.  I finally felt like a complete person.  The missing piece was my Afghanistan.