We had a house guest this weekend. That was a little unsettling. My wife and I haven’t had somebody stay overnight at our house since before the pandemic. It was nice to have the young woman come to visit us, but it kind of disrupted our routine. Perhaps that was good thing. Karin and I sometimes get into a rut.
I met Sarah, our recent guest, several years ago in Chicago. She was working with a small peace group at the time. Her organization was deeply involved with helping young people, especially young women, in Afghanistan. Members of Sarah’s outfit would frequently go to Kabul to meet with these idealistic Afghan peace activists. The goal at that time was to encourage the new generation of Afghans to build a future without war and violence.
That goal was never achieved.
The last time I saw Sarah was in 2019. Then things radically changed in our lives. Covid struck our home hard, as it did in homes all over the world. Then Karin and I became primary caregivers for our little grandson, Asher. Sarah moved south and became a member of a Catholic Worker community in Alabama. Sarah and I stayed in contact, but there was no opportunity for us to get together, until now.
Things also changed radically in Afghanistan. The United States withdrew its forces from the country in disarray. The Taliban roared back into Kabul, and chaos reigned. The work that Sarah’s organization had been painstakingly doing among the Afghans was literally destroyed overnight. Her group no longer could promote peace in that country. She and her coworkers were suddenly tasked with getting their young Afghan friends to safety. After almost three years, they are still trying to do that.
Sarah spent part of Sunday at our kitchen table sorting through emails on her laptop. I asked her about that. She told me that she got numerous messages from members of what she called “the Afghan diaspora”. These were often cries for help. Sarah told me how careful she had to be in responding to these requests. she said, “I have to choose exactly the right phrase or word. I have to really think about what message I send and how they interpret it.”
I get it. It’s hard. She wants to give these people hope, but not false hope. No, never that. The Afghans who write to Sarah are often grasping at straws. They want to hear good news. They want to read a response that says, “Help is on the way!”, even if that message says nothing of the sort. Sarah has to be cautious not to inadvertently mislead anyone. Some of these people who write to her might be stuck in a bad place, or perhaps they are trying to get family or friends to safety. In any case, Sarah has to be honest with them, and that’s a bitch.
For a while, I was involved with trying to help an Afghan refugee who had fled to Pakistan, like thousands of others did. He desperately wanted me to help him to get into the United States, and I found much to my chagrin that I could do almost nothing to assist him. This man and his young family were rapidly running out of time and money in a poor and unstable country, and they needed to go someplace safe. Eventually, Sarah’s organization was able to get them into Portugal, a place where they had never expected to go. Karin and I helped to pay for their journey to their new home, but that was all we have ever been able to do to help. Well, I also have tried to keep in contact with this family just to let them know that they are not forgotten. I suppose that counts for something.
Sarah told me that her contacts from the diaspora often hear about new immigration opportunities, or rumors of such, before she does. These people have skin in the game, and they scour the Internet looking for countries that might accept them or their loved ones. The pickings are lean. They want Sarah’s organization to look into any possible lead, not matter how unlikely.
There has probably never been a good time to be a refugee. However, this is a bad time to be a migrant, a very bad time. Afghans want to go to Western countries, preferably places where the population speaks English. These displaced Afghans fled their homeland because they had worked with Americans, so they usually know some English. Unfortunately, racist views and xenophobia are now rampant in Western countries. Just think about the southern border of the United States. European countries are also very leery about accepting more foreigners into their midst. Some of this concern is valid. Nations have to control their borders. It’s just that now many countries are slamming their doors on people who were our friends.
The tragedy here is that, at least in the case of the Afghans, they are homeless because they trusted us. We promised to take care of them, and we didn’t. The United States has a moral obligation to welcome these people into our country. We owe it to them. It is wrong that it falls on the shoulders of people working in small, private organizations to rescue Afghans who still admire America. Our government should be helping them.
The Afghans were our allies. We have forgotten them.
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Frank (Francis) Pauc is a graduate of West Point, Class of 1980. He completed the Military Intelligence Basic Course at Fort Huachuca and then went to Flight School at Fort Rucker. Frank was stationed with the 3rd Armor Division in West Germany at Fliegerhorst Airfield from December 1981 to January 1985. He flew Hueys and Black Hawks and was next assigned to the 7th Infantry Division at Fort Ord, CA. He got the hell out of the Army in August 1986.
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