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Abdullahs seal, on the ration book of the kidnapped Afghan doctor
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A lesson at school (Hangu Camp)
So the school is closed today? the Young Man asked. The administrator nodded earnestly. It is closed today. They have been given leave.
Because of the heat?
Because of the heat. There were, um, so many illnesses in this school, you see. But the other school is open. The students are studying. Well take you there.
How often are the students given leave?
The administrator sighed. Only when it is extensive heat, like nowadays. Oh, it is terrible. He fanned himself. For us it is terrible; for them it is, um, killing, you see.
They walked up to the school. The children were reciting aloud, in unison. The nearest one was a tiny boy in blue, leaning over the cloth pages of the book that was almost as big as he was, his hands clasped as he studied the picture of the tent, beneath which were three lines of Pushtu cursive, then the picture of the parasol, and he huddled very close because the tent was dark. The Young Man thought in anguish: so I have seen him, recognized him; but I can never see all the others! For he could not get over this recurring difficulty. When the administrator and the Young Man arrived, the schoolteacher stopped the lesson immediately, in order not to waste the Young Mans valuable time.
What are they taught here? he asked.
The administrator interpreted.
The schoolteacher stood at attention. Pushtu, Urdu, English, ABC, and so forth.
But religion is the most important course? the Young Man hazarded.
Yes, it is compulsory, you see.
How many students do you have?
The total number is about 290. But the smaller ones, they have allowed them not to come, because of the heat.
What is your biggest need?
Books, the schoolmaster said. He was a young, very serious man. These have been supplied by Hezb-i-Islami. The education department, they have not supplied them to this school.
The children stared up at him from their mats.
And, you see, the administrator added, I was feeling very thirsty just now, so I asked them what about these people when they become thirsty and there is no arrangement for water? I have now told one of their watchmen to have a big jug and fill it up.
I see, said the Young Man. How odd that no one had thought of this until now! Perhaps by some coincidence the children had never been thirsty before today. That must surely be it.
Still, this water problem is general, confided the administrator. In every camp we face this insufficiency of water.
How do you manage to teach students of different ages all at the same time?
The administrator did not bother to translate. But it is all the same class!
Could you tell him for me that Im very sorry to have interrupted his class?
No, no, never mind; it is too hot! the administrator laughed. They want some diversion. There are very few diversions in their lives, you see.
A THOUGHT (1987)
Strange as it may seem, I did not understand the nightmare that I was seeing. Partly it was because I was sick that I was sometimes little more than a data collector; partly it was because I was so young that the exoticism of the experience made the greatest impression on me; partly it was because, thanks to my background, I had little understanding of physical suffering. Now, when I reflect upon this school without books, open on a day so hot that the other school was closed this school without water, this single class for all students irrespective of age (I saw six-year-olds there, and I saw ten-year-olds, all reciting the same things over and over) I want to weep no, to do something but I dont know what. As for the Young Man, I dont remember precisely what he thought, but the plain of his speculations had already become flat, sandy ground, oval-shaded by a single tree, on which grazed scrawny cattle light and dark. Tents and little stone houses lay along the ridges. It was very hot.
GREAT STRIDES FORWARD [2]
In education, said my informant in 1985, the English language was the main foreign language. Now Russian is. But they do not call it a foreign language; they call it the language of our big neighbor to the north. They are gradually eliminating English in Afghanistan. The puppet government is on good terms with the Cuban government, so now Spanish is taught. This is a new phenomenon on our cultural scene, he said sarcastically. They still have a German Department, but it is now an East German Department.
Surely thy Lord [2]
In every camp he went they were hospitable to him (except, as I said, when he took pictures of their women). They made him tea and served him bread and meat, always waiting until he had had his fill before they ate. Some of them worked with their trucks and tractors, hauling things. A man laughed and showed him how to plait a rope from grass. The boys played ball. Never did he forget the man laughing so happily ha-ha! showing all his white teeth, as he braided grass into rope to show the Young Man, and his elder son watched the Young Man with a polite upward-bowing of lips but the younger son stood half behind, resting his head dreamily on his brothers shoulder
The sum of his failures almost, but not quite, confronted him like the turbaned man who rode his donkey home to the straw-mud-straw house, where he saw the Young Man and stared at him, his two small boys staring at the Young Man also, their arms around each other, and far away, behind the stone wall, a red-veiled woman turned away.
* Tea and cooking oil.
In 1987, there were 3.5 million registered Afghan refugees in Pakistan alone. By 1989, when the Soviet troops left, the number was near 4 million.
The five deletions here were made by Abdullah.
I was told that vocational education was not permitted by the host country, for fear that still more Pakistanis would be displaced in the labor market by Afghans.