San Antonio Express-News (Sunday)
Two Afghans, but only one journey to safety
Grainy cellphone video from the Kabul airport bombing's aftermath lit up my phone as I strolled H-E-B's produce aisle.
In the 37-second clip, people yelled as they struggled to help the wounded. Bloody bodies covered the ground and floated in the canal's murky water. A young man with a head wound sat in the muck and waved for help.
All around me, people knocked on watermelons, inspected strawberries and gripped peaches. They talked about dinner plans, not the carnage from the other side of the world that I held in my hand.
The video came from Abubaker, a 24-year-old Afghan who worked as a coalition linguist for the past two years.
He'd battled the mob scene at the Abbey Gate for three days and nights, and described Taliban fighters using smoke bombs, tear gas and machine guns to disperse the crowd of more than 20,000. Sounds of women and children crying and small arms fire filled the air. People were passing out in the extreme heat.
He fled the area a few hours before the bombing that killed 13 U.S. service members and more than 150 Afghans, and wounded hundreds more.
On another day, as I hunted for a sprinkler part at Lowe's, Abubaker shared a video of Taliban forces knocking on doors in search of Afghans who'd helped
allied troops. He typed three words: “I'm so scared.”
These are two examples of the steady barrage of grim realities from Afghanistan that have rocketed into my home over the last few weeks … during breakfast, between work meetings, while talking with my kids or as we slept.
After the bombing, Abubaker didn't go back to the airport. And despite being a special immigrant visa applicant, he hasn't made it out of Afghanistan. I check on him often via WhatsApp, and his words paint a darker picture with each passing day.
“I don't know what's gonna happen and when they are coming for me,” he wrote recently. “I am still hiding myself — everywhere is under the control of the Taliban.”
It's tough to respond to messages like this. The best I could manage was, “I'm so sorry.”
I asked if he's taken precautions to veil his coalition ties. He said he's burned his documents, stays inside, tells his friends he's not there, deleted photos and hides his face if he must go out.
Abubaker's co-worker Zarif, who goes by Zee, has had a very different journey.
The 30-year-old who worked as a coalition linguist for two years also battled the crowds at the Abbey Gate. The day before the bombing, he lowered himself into the sewage canal and pleaded with a U.S. soldier on the other side of the gate. Zee told the soldier he was an interpreter and showed his documentation.
Luck or fate intervened, and soon Zee, who's also a special immigrant visa applicant, found himself inside the airport compound. Then he was on a plane to Bahrain. A few days later, he landed in Italy and shortly thereafter boarded a plane to Philadelphia.
Zee is now in the refugee camp at Holloman Air Force Base, N.M. He's had initial interviews with State Department officials and looks forward to starting a new life in America. He has an undergraduate degree and wants to pursue a career in cybersecurity, so I've been telling him about the opportunities in San Antonio.
In Kabul, Zee and Abubaker worked for Jason Campbell, a recently retired Air Force lieutenant colonel who deployed to Afghanistan several times throughout the war. From October to May, he was a civilian adviser to an Afghan deputy minister.
Zee and Abubaker translated documents coming from the Afghan ministry and vice versa. Campbell wrote both letters for their SIV applications and said he feels “fantastic” that Zee made it out of Kabul. He's less hopeful for Abubaker now that the U.S. has left.
“Is he more or less deserving than someone else to go? No. Is he going to make it out? Are we going to make every effort like we did prior to Aug. 31? I don't believe so,” he said. “I think once the last American that wants to leave, leaves — his chances drop even further.”
The contrast between Zee and Abubaker's journeys is stark. Zee is starting a new life full of liberty, opportunity and hope, while nearly 8,000 miles away Abubaker's options and freedoms dwindle with each passing minute.
And sadly, while Campbell knows there's little he can do to help Abubaker, he tries to stay positive, and the best advice he can offer is, “Good luck. Keep trying.”