Dateline:
September 1, 2008

“…things here are pretty bad. we had a suicide vbed hit our FOB today. and last night we went out late and got hit. we are surrounded by these assholes. cant go anywhere without getting into some kind of trouble lately. i have no idea what the news is saying, but this place is going to hell in a hand basket.”

I received the above communication last week from a Military source inside Afghanistan. Normally, I would make calls to friends in Kabul, making sure they were all OK and then I would go on with my day, safe, in my relatively peaceful world in New York City. But, because I was heading to Afghanistan in 3 days time, it was a bit more difficult to let the information pass and move on. However, my thinking was, the source was not where I was heading, Nangahar Province.

Something told me that my source was probably in Kandahar. Formerly the home of the one eyed, illiterate and elusive leader of the Taliban, Mullah Omar. Omar has rarely been photographed; some speculate that he is hiding in plain sight somewhere in Kandahar, which isn’t that far out of the realm of possibilities. Within the last few weeks, Kandahar has once again fallen under Taliban control, one of the consequences of troops and funding being diverted to the Mission Accomplished, Iraq. Once it was clear that Afghanistan would no longer be a priority for the Bush Administration, the writing was on the wall for the Afghan people. Inch by inch the Taliban had taken back its deadly hold on the people of Kandahar. There are some estimates that the Taliban has taken back 75% of the country.

“We are surrounded by these assholes. Can’t go anywhere without getting into some kind of trouble lately. ”

It is also rumored that Omar could be somewhere in the North West Frontier Province, and/or perhaps, Waziristan, hanging with Bin Ladin. Waziristan has been one of the less familiar “Stans” to westerners, however, it is more and more on the lips of international intelligence as the safe haven for Al Queda and Shia extremists.
The NWFP is a no-mans-land that lies between the Pakistan and Afghan border. I have driven through this part of the region on my way to and from Afghanistan. As I passed the red, white and blue graffiti screaming; AMERICA GET OUT, I was reminded of the one hard and fast rule in the NWFP; drive hard and fast. Also, best to never travel after dark and never, ever, stop for any so called “check points”. No matter how many guns are pointed in your direction or you think you glimpse a uniform you recognize as friendly, hit the gas and duck. Friends to Westerners in the NWFP, are few and far between.

It is presumed that Bin Ladin, Al Zarwari and Mullah Omar escaped capture during the battle of Tora Bora, back in 2001/2002. A battle, which some of the journalists covering it (including yours truly) dubbed, Tora Boring. In my opinion, the simple fact that there were more journalists on the ground than boots during this conflict, more than likely, played a crucial part in Omar, Bin Ladin and Zarwari’s clean break.

It is also possible, that my source could be doing hard time in Helmand Province, the region in Afghanistan where opium is the most cultivated crop and, the main source of funding for both Al Queda and the Taliban. (The world gets about 90% of it’s heroin from Afghanistan.) Recently, over two hundred Taliban were eliminated by coalition troops in Helmand. However, it is openly discussed (among Afghans) that, allegedly, President Hamid Karzai’s family benefits greatly from the obscenely lucrative drug trade that thrives in Helmand. Helmand is the Karzai family home province.

But then again, the source could be in Kabul. Just a few months ago, the Indian Consulate on Passport Road, was attacked by a suicide bomber. This building was less than a block from my friend Fatana’s home in the old section of Kabul, which, is where I would be staying for a few days before traveling to Jalalabad. When the suicide blast hit, many of their windows were blown out from the impact.
Which…brings me full circle to why, in less than 72 hours, as contempt for Westerners was becoming palpable, security was a thing of the past, I was going to a place that was:

…”going to hell in a hand basket.”

In 2007, Fatana called me from Kabul and pleaded with me to help bring the eyes of the world back to Afghanistan. Over the 20 plus years I have known Fatana, as I reported about Afghanistan, I’d never heard this desperate tone in her voice. Before she hung up, she said all would be lost again…please help us.
Try as I might to get the media’s attention away from Brangelina’s adoptions and or/pregnancy and, Britney Spears shaved head, it became painfully apparent that something else needed to be done. It would be beyond foolish (not to mention) financially impossible to simply travel to Afghanistan and write random stories hoping to make it in print. I needed a plan “b”. Thus, the creation of the Afghan Art Mission. With the help of about 40 generous friends, I was able to raise enough money to bring two artists to Kabul and teach art to about 80 women and children. The artwork that emerged was unfiltered, profoundly painful and ached with a feeling of loss. Yet, in each and every work of art, the resilience of the human spirit shone through.
Most of these students had never picked up a paintbrush before. Over four days of classes, each student was fed a hot meal and enjoyed a brief respite from the insanity. A few mortars went off, threats were made on the anniversary of the defeat of the Soviets, Westerners were warned to stay indoors, but, all in all, it was a quiet, creative time, not unlike a typical classroom in any other part of the world. That was 16 months ago. A lot has happened the last 500 days.

I arrived in Kabul yesterday, early in the morning, after traveling for more than 24 hours. I was surprised to find the airport interior construction finished and a proper passport area set up. Just last year, it was nothing but twisted rebarb and chunks of concrete slabs. This was heartening. Progress, I thought to myself.
The young, talented, artist, Kimberly Mason and I, were met and customs was a breeze. My luggage was retrieved within minutes after my passport was stamped. Kimberly’s, unfortunately, was MIA. Lost luggage, we were told, was a common problem for Afghans traveling out of Dubai International’s, terminal 2…which, the Afghans call, the poor person’s terminal. This terminal is designated for flights to and, from, Syria, Pakistan, Iran and Iraq, as well as Afghanistan.

Terminal 2 is approximately a fifteen minute drive from the main terminal in Dubai International. It is also known (amongst my journalist friends) as Terrorist Terminal #2. Seems rather harsh but, this is typical of a war correspondent’s black sense humor.

My luggage passed through a metal detector to get OUT of the airport and we were on our way to the Gailani compound in the Old Kabul section on Passport Rd.
There were several checkpoints along the way, which gave me comfort (unlike in the NWFP.) Although security in Afghanistan has broken down, what there was left of it, seemed to have been beefed up a bit. At the first checkpoint, as the heavily armed police looked intensely into the back seat,directly at us, I reflexively covered my head with the chador (scarf) I had draped around my shoulders. Kimberly followed suit.
Last year, I didn’t feel the need to cover my head at all times, but these looks told me this trip is different, this time I should do all I can do to blend in and not telegraph the fact that I am Western. Pass the burka.
To be continued…