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Statement of the kidnapped doctor’s father






 

“My name is Habib Shah Alaquadar, ” said the old man, standing straight and tall.§ “I am married. I am from Sayed Karam, in Paktiya Province. When Taraki came to power we started our jihad. At this time, my son, Dr. Abdul Sumad Durani, worked among the freedom fighters as a medical doctor. He took care of wounded people … After we came to Peshawar, he founded the doctors’ union here. This union represented other medical unions from Italy, Germany, America and France. He was the representative and director of this medical union. He received medicine and other humanitarian help from America and other countries and took them inside Afghanistan for distribution among the people. But now Gulbuddin has kidnapped him! On May 25, at 12 p.m., he was taken away by Gulbuddin party members. We don’t know where he is now. He must be in one of Gulbuddin’s prisons. We have reported this incident to different authorities. We have told the Commissioner, and the police. But Abdullah, the Commissioner, is a supporter of Gulbuddin.”

As he talked, the old man unbuttoned his shirt and reached inside to show the Young Man his cartridge belt. His voice was firm and calm. “Dr. Sumad was not an ordinary man, ” he said. “He was a leader. We Afghans have a custom of taking revenge. Gulbuddin has killed a leader of ours. We must kill one of their leaders. The leader that we must kill could be Gulbuddin himself, or Sayaf or another leader. About eighty percent of the freedom fighters in Pakistan belong to our party, and we are stronger than Gulbuddin.”

 

STATEMENT OF DR. NAJIBULA, JAMIAT-I–ISLAMI (FUNDAMENTALIST)

 

The Jamiat-i-Islami had two separate offices. The Young Man was always directed to the Political Office, which was right around the corner from the street by whose low white-brick wall a vendor of little red plums stood watching the Young Man, smiling without really smiling, a red cloth around his head; and his sons big and small stood holding plums and staring at the Young Man, and the vendor looked youngish except that his stubble on chin and chest was gray; and the Young Man bought a handful of plums, which were delicious, and then he turned that corner and strode into the central courtyard, where the young boy with the AK-47 would stop him. Then the Young Man had to wait until someone could identify him. Meanwhile the guard smiled, puffed out his chest, and gestured that he wanted a photograph taken of him for the Afghanistan Picture Show. When the Young Man obliged, he beamed in delight. This happened every time.

Dr. Najibula (or Najib, as the Mujahideen called him) was a young-looking man with a black beard, piercing eyes and a high, clear voice. He had the Young Man over for supper several times. There were always young Mujahideen present at those occasions, sitting cross-legged on the carpet, polishing their Kalashnikovs (those who had them) and talking earnestly about the Panjsher situation. The Roos were trying to crush Masoud’s army that summer. They bombed clockwise, round and round the ring road; but always they singled out Panjsher Valley.

Jamiat-i-Islami had a strong presence in Panjsher.

At the end of the afternoon, when it came time to break fast, the Mujahideen washed themselves and prayed. Then they sat on the carpet and ate their vegetables and rice. There was one dish for every three or four men. You took your dordai and tore off a piece to scoop up food from the dish. (When the Young Man tried it, he usually spilled a little onto the floor.) After dinner everyone listened to Radio Afghanistan, the free station, and the only word that the Young Man could understand was “Panjsher, ” “Panjsher, ” “Panjsher.”

Sometimes when the Young Man was at the Jamiat-i-Islami he sat and listened to Professor Rabbani speak. Rabbani was a grave mullah with an iron-gray beard. He sat at a table and talked, and his followers sat motionless on the carpet and listened. The Young Man understood nothing. When there was a break, the Mujahideen smiled at the Young Man and teased him. They touched his shoulder. — “Afghanistan? ” they said. — “Yes, yes, ” the Young Man replied in Pushtu. “I go there, see Mujahideen fight the Roos.” —“You are white, ” they laughed, “too white! When the Roos see you, you must say: ‘ Ya Nooristani; Pukhto na pwaygum.’a And they all laughed. — But they did not really want him to accompany them. They thought him too young.

In his notebook he wrote such entries as:

Went to Najib at Jamiat again. He said take as little as possible inside —but must bring passport, Afghan clothes.

 

Sat around for a long time. Asked Najib what they’d set up for me. Nothing. Group leaving early this week if passes open (blocked by tribal fighting). “If you are lucky you can go with one of these groups.”

 

“Otherwise how long will I have to wait? ”

 

He spread his hands.

But at least the Young Man could interview the Mujahideen to his heart’s content. He turned on his tape recorder in Dr. Najib’s office. — “I’ve met a number of people who seem to think that the Mujahideen are much less unified than they claim …”

Dr. Najib had the office cleared of other people. “First of all, ” he said, “it is unfortunately true that there is not as much unity as we would like, but you might know that efforts are being brought about to make a new organization called Islamic Unity of Afghan Mujahideen.”

“Is there one organization by that name or two? ”

There was a pause. — “Two, ” said Najib finally. “But I’m talking about the main one, you see; and we are working together, and in a month or two this problem of unity will have been solved. About the other group, it is true that they have established propaganda against our organizations. It must be kept in mind also that the Russians have puppets and agents in this area, and they exaggerate our disunity.”

 

THINGS THAT PEOPLE WOULDN’T SAY ON TAPE [3]

 

If a man were to switch political parties, he’d be killed. If my informant’s party were to find out that he told me this, he’d be killed.


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