From Kabul to the World | Column 3
Afghanistan’s Earthquake Tragedy

On the night of August 31, Afghan people woke up from a terrible dream, a dream so violent and painful that at first I told myself it must be over, that it was only a nightmare. But this was not a dream. Under the Afghan sky, the earth had really broken. Houses flattened, roofs collapsed and a country that slept in the dark woke up to ruins. 

What happened to children? What became of the families? The homes that were once full of noise and life are now empty.

I think of Ghulam Ali, whose wife and children were killed while his body lay under the Afghan sky. The earth had really broken. Only two of his children survived, one who had been at school and another who had been sleeping on the highest ground so they might have been safe. But wishes are small when everything is gone. 

I think of Bibi Gul an elderly grandmother who had only her grandchildren. Now they are all gone. She cries that she would rather have died in their place. What is left for her now in this lonely world? Sometimes disasters are so harsh that a person does not know where to fall apart. If only we could know beforehand what will happen, but we cannot. 

Fate decides when and where to strike. This deadly earthquake in eastern Afghanistan has taken more than 2200 lives and wounded over 3000 people. Thousands of bodies were carried and buried. Many of the dead were women, elderly and children. Villages were wiped out, people who had whole lives tied to one home lost everything in a single night. 

Sometimes I ask myself; if we are going to suffer like this, after building our hopes and wings to reach our dreams, why are those wings cut? Why are we bound and held back, and then shaken again while still asleep? You wake up and your hands find nothing; your loved ones are no longer at your side. They are gone in a single moment. Maybe they did not want to leave, but they have gone and the father’s last hope, the small child’s trust, remains broken. Why must life pass under such a sky full of pain? Natural disasters are always unpredictable and we cannot control them. But we can see the cost; the ruined houses, the cold nights without shelter, the faces of people who have lost everything. We must not forget them. Even in the middle of such sorrow, we still hold a small hope, hope for a day when things will be better, when no family has to bury their children and will help will reach everyone who needs it. Until then, we remember the lost, we care for the injured, and we keep faith that our country will heal.